#slight sadness

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Memorabilia & First Kiss - Fingolfin x Anairë

Dear anon, here goes your story! :D

I am afraid that it might have turned out a little sadder than I've anticipated! Tomorrow, I'll be gone the whole day, so I'll post it now. I hope that's okay by you!

Lots of love!

Words: 1 020

Characters: Anairë x Fingolfin

Warnings: Sadness, canon-compliant deaths referenced, Fëanor mentioned, Russingon if you want to read it like that, marital estrangement

Ñolofinwë had never thought of himself as a vain creature, and thus the idea that people might find his collection of memorabilia odd had never even crossed his mind.

While most of the other revenants from that Eru-forsaken world in which he’d been cruelly slain seemed desperate to leave the past behind, he could not help but dwell on all the things he’d lost and still missed.

Soon, it had become common knowledge that the former High King of the Ñoldor collected mementoes—broken weapons, torn banners, and a lot of dented metal—to stare at them sadly.

Unbeknownst to him, other people did worry about his ever-growing hoard of absurd and grotesque trinkets, and when he disappeared into his secret vault once again, his oldest son finally decided to speak up.

“Mother,” Findekáno whispered, clasping Anairë’s slender hands in his own pleadingly. “You must stop him! This isn’t healthy…”

With a long, low sigh, she squeezed the strong fingers that had shed so much blood in the name of a lost cause; she too remembered the pudgy flesh she had, once upon a time, cradled lovingly through many a mingling, and her heart broke at the recollection of what was never to be again.

“Oh son,” she whispered. “You cannot fathom how heavily the past weighs on your father—on us.”

“Do you think that I have not loved and lost people? Even as I kneel at your feet like a child, my soul is burdened with the absence of those I’ve held most dear. Do not presume to know my suffering!”

When her face fell, he instantly kissed her hands devotedly. “Forgive me—I—”

“I understand,” Anairë said soothingly. “I shall seek out your father in his halls of miserable memory. We both know that I lack the fiery determination of the one who might have easily convinced him to set fire to his precious trove, but I shall do my best for you.”

“If he will not desist,” Fingon muttered. “At least convince him to accept symbols of fonder, happier memories to be added to his assortment of knickknacks.”

Reaching into his pocket, he extricated a golden ribbon, knotted around a slender ring into which was woven a gleaming, red stone.

“Fëanáro made that ring,” Anairë gasped. “He fashioned it when Nerdanel—when—back…”

“He made it for his firstborn son,” Findekáno nodded slowly. “I entrust to you, my parents, my guiding stars, the childhood we’ve lost. I’ve spoken to my siblings and to all our returned kin—not one has denied me, and I shall soon be in possession of objects that are more precious than the armour we wore and the banners we carried.”

“So be it,” Anairë smiled, full of pride and yet also deeply humbled by the stubborn, reckless wisdom and determination of her son. “I’ll go to your father right away.”

Before she did so, though, she slipped back into the room she’d occupied during her long abiding as the mere ghost of a wife who was not even granted the quiet dignity of a rightfully grieving widow.

Just like Findekáno, she had kept certain things. Beneath the anger, the resentment, and the burning hatred, there had been stubborn memories, deeper and more precious, that she’d shielded and guarded ferociously, defending them from herself and the devastating violence of her own helpless wrath.

Maybe, she considered, it was now time to return them to the one she had always loved more than hated—a fact for which she’d oft reprimanded and punished herself severely throughout the ages.

“Your children are worried,” she called as she entered her husband’s vault on silent soles; after all this time apart, she no longer knew how to properly address him, and every word that came to mind—his name, his title, husband—burned on her tongue like acid. “Your heir sends me in lieu of that half-brother who might never return.”

Whirling around agonisingly slowly, Ñolofinwë raised his mournful, dull gaze to her radiant face with all the humble penitence of a dolorous supplicant kneeling at the feet of a divine statue.

“He sends you the insignia of his heart rather than of his house,” she went on, laying down her son’s offerings before Ñolofinwë. “And I’d like to add my own most cherished keepsakes to the pile.”

Steeling herself, she opened her other hand and produced a dried flower and a piece of torn fabric.

“I don’t know if you remember, Ñolofinwë, son of Finwë and Indis, and if you don’t, I am here to remind you…These are from—”

“When we danced in the light of the Mingling—you were so beautiful…” he finished her sentence in a quiet but unhesitant voice. “I do remember—I’ve replayed that memory in my heart whenever the dread and doom grew too overpowering.”

“These are from the exact moment I knew that I loved you and that I’d marry you,” Anairë corrected gently. “You swung me around so enthusiastically that my beautiful dress got tangled in an errant branch and ripped. Eru, you were so apologetic…”

“And then we kissed until we were both out of breath with laughter and—”

“Shamefaced horniness?” Anairë cackled. She had missed his sparkling humour as much as his tendency to baulk at salacious subjects, and her shattered heart started to mend. “I remember that as well. Don’t you dare blush now—we’ve conceived and raised the fruits of that sacred desire together. Do you recall?”

“I remember tearing them from you,” Ñolofinwë replied tonelessly. “I recollect their deaths, far from you, far from me…”

“But they were not,” she opined carefully, falling to her knees and cupping his cheek with a love she had deemed dead and destroyed. “Look upon these mementoes, husband, and understand that—from our first kiss to their last breath—not one moment of our story has been forgotten or lost. We’ve all held on to those memories in our own way. Cast away broken crowns and hearts! Feast your eyes and soul on the love that was—and that shall be again, I hope!”

@fellowshipofthefics here's a sweet one, for once

Welcome aboard for a new fic! I love to have you...and today, we'll have a canon ship <3

Lots of love and well-wishes!

-> Masterlist

[herooffire101]

Today's the last day of Tuggerlurina Week, Free Day. This did take me longer to finish, too. @jelliclekay I hope that you read this and enjoy!

Now, this last story I feel like is going to be more…difficult to stomach. Again, I do have many alternate universes, many versions of stories. I’m keeping mainly the theme, I’ve noticed, that I’m following of one specific universe this year, with the exception of Wednesday’s being in one of my Human AUs (or several). BUT, I maintain my thought process here, and remember, I am open to asks. Grizabella is the real Jellicle Choice, mainly because there are sicknesses that Cats can get from the streets, especially if they’re alone. I will maintain this headcanon that Grizabella knew that she was dying and wanted to be with her loved ones one last time. Old Deuteronomy and Jemima knew it the moment she stepped into the clearing, and I personally headcanon that Bombalurina is smart enough to realize that there’s a very good chance that Grizabella is dying due to her and Demeter knowing where Grizabella haunted.

Trying to forgive someone feels harder than it should be.

Bomba thought about her words to both Jemima and Tugger, as she listened to Grizabella’s song after the ball, hiding from a hidden spot was she watched her old mentor look so hurt, broken and yet unyielding in her stubbornness. “I know that Grizabella was driven away from the tribe due mainly to Macavity, but I can’t stop thinking about the words she said to us right before she left! I want to forgive her, but every time I see her, the feelings of hurt and betrayal come up so strong!” Bomba explained as Jemima started asking about Grizabella.

“She left us with nary an explanation, except with some words that affected both of us in the wrong way. We didn’t understand at the time, because we were young enough to participate in the Jellicle Ball, but not old enough to do the Mating Dance.” Tugger added, his eyes never moving from Jemima.

“Your coat glimmers the same way Grizabella’s does in the moonlight, my Stardust Pixie. If the other kittens ever see Grizabella and how her coat shimmers in moonlight like yours, then there is a chance that they will figure out that you are Old Deuteronomy’s grandkitten.” Bomba’s own words echo in her head, “There’s a reason why Macavity has gone after me and Demeter. We hold a similar spark of magic to her, allowing both of us to bear the next leader of the Jellicle Tribe.” As those words of hers echoes in her head, she watched on, her emotions still so confused on how she wanted to feel. “Jemima, I want to forgive her, I really do, but…every time I come face to face with her those hurt feelings come up.”

“Then I’ll remind you!” Jemima declared right then, and to her credit, Jemima did try, but Aunt Jelly and Skimble stopped her from touching her grandmother. The one sign of forgiveness that Jemima wanted to do.

Tugger draped his arm around her, Bomba leaning into him slightly. “I still hear her words from that day.” He muttered, watching as his mother sang her special song, though in a more mournful tone. “Her ‘You’re just like me!’ comment.”

“I know.” Bomba agreed, her voice quiet. He could hear the slight hurt in her voice as she spoke. “I now know what she actually meant, but it still hurts.”

“At least Victoria and Jemima are trying to get everyone to forgive her.” Tugger said, his eyes focused on Grizabella.

“You don’t sound that happy about it.”

“No, I’m not happy about it. She left, Bomba. She left me and Munk to deal with Mac by ourselves, even though it was his fault she left in the first place!” He hissed.

“Now we know that!” Bomba hissed back at him, “Before, we thought that she was extremely jealous of me!” Bomba knew that Demeter was nearby, her a bit more skittish than in the beginning of the ball because of Macavity being nearby. She could feel Demeter’s tail wrapping around hers in an attempt to feel safe. Bomba watched on as Grizabella’s song ended, and she could see what she thought was important. “There! I knew it!”

“Knew what, Love?” Tugger asked, glancing at her. Bomba could feel Demeter slide up next to her, curious.

Bomba gestured to how Grizabella walked off. “She’s limping. She’s been hurt, and possibly the reason why she came back.”

“How do you know what, Bomba?” Demeter asked, knowing about Grizabella’s haunts from living on the street for some time.

“When I went exploring and ended up finding Plato and Admetus due to my mother, I found out some things from observing some of the other queens she hung out with around Tottenham Court, and I can say that some of them had similar afflictions, but they didn’t have homes like us.” Bomba explained, remembering.

Tugger was confused, but still amazed that his beautiful and stunning mate was also incredibly smart. “But what does it mean.”

“It means-“ Bomba cut herself off, realizing what this actually meant, and how the older members were wrong about Grandpa Gus. “It means that she’s dying, Tugger.”

Bomba watched as Tugger’s face drained of colour. “You…you can’t be serious.” She stuttered out.

Bomba looked him directly into the eyes. “I’m sorry, Tugger, but she looks exactly like those queens who were hurt and had no medical attention. And…I have this feeling…that she may be the true Jellicle Choice.”

“B-but Jelly and Jenny…” Tugger stammered, struggling with the conflicting emotions.”

“Are wrong! Even I can see it. Grandpa is annoyed that they think that he’s next. You remember what Grandpa and Old Deut said when we found out about having our kitten with the strong heart but weak body!” Bomba turned to him, tears in her eyes. “’when a cat is the Jellicle Choice, they can later be reborn into a new, Jellicle life. They lose most of their memories, and only have a sense of who they were. If a cat goes to the Heaviside Layer not during the Jellicle Ball, if they have the very, very strong desire to live, then…The Everlasting Cat grants their wish.’ Grandpa is the Theater Cat, and he voiced his desire to remember this life and his previous lives as echoes. It’s how he was able to play a part in East ‘Lin!”

Demeter stared at them, surprised at this. “Gus wants to reborn with his memories?” Demeter asked, surprised, “And you had another kitten?”

Bomba facepalmed and swore. “I keep on forgetting that you came to the yard after he died. Yes, me and Tugger had another kitten in the same litter as Jemima. The abridged version is that it was a three-kitten litter, first one was stillborn, same coat pattern as Grizabella, second was Caramel, a red-gold tabby tom with Tugger’s eyes, and Jemima was last. Caramel had severe seizures and he wasn’t strong enough for me to take him to our humans. But, because of his desire to be our kitten, he will most likely be reborn as our kitten after this Ball. Now, can we let Tugger process this information.”

Demeter, in such a brief time with the Jellicles, bonded with Bombalurina in such a way that she could understand the minute expressions Bomba had on her face, and sometimes the lack there of. Bomba would always state to the older members of the tribe that Tugger understood her in such a way, but the biggest surprise to both her and Munkustrap (and a bit of Tugger) was how quickly and well Bomba got along with Demeter, to the point of where they got along like a house on fire. (Most cats don’t get idioms, but Bombalurina and Gus the Theater Cat are the only two that really do). Thus, Demeter could see the slight panic on Bombalurina’s face in the pale moonlight. “…That’s a lot. Bomba, are you okay?”

“No.” Bomba admitted, “Both of us don’t show a lot of emotion to the others, especially the kittens. For him, it’s a defense mechanism.” Poking her currently quiet mate, so out of character for him. “For me, you understand that I struggle to even verbalize my emotions. My face is definitely one of the hardest to read, I get that from Grandpa. A fool’s face, Grandpa says, is one of the most important things for an actor. You know that Grandpa is going to do Growltiger to prove that he’s still lively enough to not be the Jellicle Choice?”

“Growltiger…? Where have I heard that name before…?” Demeter said, recognizing the name.

“Growltiger had no eye or ear but aught for Griddlebone…” Bomba sang, trying to jog Demeter’s memory of her time with Macavity, feeling really bad for bringing them up.

“GRIDDLEBONE?!? You can’t be serious!”

“Hey, keep it down!” Bomba hissed, her tail rubbing against Tugger in an effort to calm him down. “You know that some of the other cats don’t want to talk about it.”

Tugger then came in. “I still don’t get why or how you know that queen.”

“It’s not my place to say.” Bomba commented, having a far away look in her eyes.

“You know more than me, and that’s saying a lot. I love your intelligence, Love, but where are you emotionally?”

“No better than you, Cariad.” Then Bomba saw as Old Deuteronomy still sat on the tire. “I think that we should go back down to the clearing.”

“Finally.” Demeter sighed, trying to release her nervous tension in a breath.

Tugger leaned to kiss Bomba on the cheek. “I’ll go see how Misto’s doing. I’ll meet you down at the clearing. I’m thinking that I may need to sing his song tonight.”

Tugger started to move away from the queen duo when Bomba grabbed his collar and dragged him to face her. “You are not leaving until I give you this.” Bomba said, and before he could ask Bomba kissed him on the lips. Bomba then pulled away. “Okay, now I’m done.”

“…We’ll pick up that after.” Tugger said, with a lustful look in his eye. And with that, he leapt off into the night, leaving the girls alone to get back to the clearing together.

There was a moment of silence between them as they made their way down from their perch. Bomba then broke the silence. “…I think that we’re going to get our kitten back.”

“I don’t want to even know.” Demeter responded back, slightly off kilter.

“Just you wait until you get your hands on Munkustrap, Deme.” Bomba snapped back, good heartedly, “By the end of the ball you won’t be able to keep your hands off of him. Trust me, it’ll happen.”

“…Can we not talk about this right now?” Demeter groaned, her tail twitching anxiously because of Macavity. “I just don’t want Macavity to get his hands on me again.”

“Amen to that, sister.” Bomba agreed, shuddering as she remembered his last day in the Junkyard. Sometimes, she could even still feel his claws cutting into her flesh. Out in the Junkyard she wouldn’t let it show the phantom discomfort, but Tugger would always see it. They were a pair for a reason. “Come on, let’s get the Ball going again.” As they slinked back into the clearing. None of them expected the rest of the night to go, well, scary, thanks to Macavity.

~~~

Well, it's finished. This years Tuggerlurina week is over. I think that I like prompts to help me direct my writing. A little extra from me. I have several little snippets written with this ship, and I would like to say some of them are similar universes, and some in completely different universes. I would love to share them, but most if not all of them are half-written. I do have like a continuation of the cookie day ficlet but I still don’t know where to take it. I basically have these stories in my head and it’s hard for me to get them out on paper/type them out. For one, I just have dialogue for it and no actual directing words to flesh it out. And I have another one partially written based on a Jelliclekay post on how Bomba likes to groom Tugger’ mane. I have so many created in my head and I struggle to put them into words. It makes me happy, and so far the community is kind to me.

[gabelew]

sad boyzz

[lilybug-02]

Weird Route...

Spoilers for CT Weird Route below.

Please check tags for anything triggering ❤️

Afterlife...

........

This is not cannon, as the weird route is finished and it will not be added upon. But.......I often find myself wanting to draw for it. So here you are...

The weird route ends abruptly and without art for a reason. I wanted to make it painfully obvious that as YOU continue the route/story YOU stop getting anything out of it. You're only hurting the characters, and by the end, there's nothing left to do except start over.

I had thought of Asriel discovering Chara...well, dead. But I think that would have been too much for the scene. I didn't want to get any more depressing than it already was.

tbh I only hope that I can make an ending even half as good as this one. I still think about it often and I'm proud of the amount of work I put into it.

[nesperus]

prometheus

[anghraine]

"Much knowledge that was forgotten because it wasn't needed for many years has been recovered" sounds like something out of a fantasy novel, but it's actually from Voyager mission engineer Kareem Badaruddin wrt Voyager 1, and one of various awesome quotes in this article about the possible effective death of the Voyager 1 mission.

[canisalbus]

One day I hope to have the fondness for my ocs that you do. Yeah, sure, their tale is tragic and ends sadly, but that doesn't stop you from giving them tender moments, or from making aus where they live happily. You care so much for Vasco and Machete, and it's so endearing to see all the soft art of them

Aw geez ;-;

Thank you! They are my darlings, of course I care about them terribly. And even of I can appreciate and see the value and impact of a good tragedy, I also yearn to see my dogs happy and safe, even more so as time goes on.

[soft--dogs]

well i didn't buy anything at the flea market but i did find these vintage very gay jim beam furries that were tragically out of my price range

[3gremlins]

me watching the new fallout series: idk about this ghoul, i think they tried to make him too good looking of a monster, idk if it's working for me

*they show a flashback of this character pre-ghoul* also me: oh no he's much hotter as a ghoul, his pretty ghoul face is growing on me -pause in realization, turn to my partner- omg i'm such a monster fucker i'm so sorry

my partner, sitting next to me: i made my peace with this long ago...

[gt-daboss]

Two Different Worlds

CW: slightly depressing/unequal world? (I'll add more if asked)

Any giant, for whatever reason, can enter human cities. Be it a business negotiation or visiting family and friends, the city will welcome them all, for a price. With giant societies being the proprietors of nearly all the wealth in the frontier, humans are treated as faux second-class citizens. Not generating enough influence to really matter when a problem is presented, especially one where the sole cause is the giants themselves. For but a small cost, any of them can enter a human city, with free reign over everything we've built. Stomping their way through with little regard for the 'equal' citizens below, humans are forced to make way for them as the giant ooh's and aah's degradingly at the city miniaturized for their liking.

Every Human grows up with the constant, oppressive weight of being considered lesser, No, physically BEING lesser. Smaller, tiny, insignificant, a pest, a human. But to be presented with a person so fabulously wealthy, so physically above you and your peers, and all they do when they see your city is laugh...

It's like living in a separate world.

[lotusxpop]

I wonder if Hob ever asked why Morpheus didn't show up in the 1980s for their meeting and if so would Morpheus tell him the truth? That he was captured and imprisoned for over a 100 years? Would Hob be horrified at what Morpheus was implying, at the absolute traumatic experience it must have been? Hob is a good friend, he wouldn't out right show his horror because he knows Morpheus would be skittish and certaintly wouldn't believe anything Hob would tell him so Hob marches on, shows his support enough to not make Morpheus frigthened and run away.

But behind close doors? Hob would fall apart, he would remember all the ill thoughts he had carried, how he thought Morpheus was a jerk for standing him up, how he would berate Morpheus for not accepting his easy friendship, all the curse words he had uttered in the middle of the night.

And then his thoughts would turn to all he did wrong, to how he could have saved Morpheus, how he could have snuck in and broken the glass prison. He had heard about how burgess supposedly had the devil in his basement and at the time Hob had thought nothing of it, he should've, he is immortal, a being defying nature for god sake! He should have looked closer but he didn't because he was too caught up in his own self pity.

Eventually all these thoughts turns to nightmares and in the realm of the dreaming Morpheus catches on. His heart breaks for his friend, he never intended for this to happen he had merely offered an explaination for his absence, an explaination his dear friend was entitled to. Yet it seemed to have only upset him more. Morpheus wonders if all he ever does is hurt the people he love.

[theswedishpajas]

I don’t think I ever posted this but he’s here now about a week late 🦇✨✨✨

[foxalotlposts]

A small poem I wrote, with verse corresponding to the different life series, and with drawings!

[punkkrat]

Nayuta denji familying

[dremdragonfly]

Know I haven`t been very active lately so have this WIP I might finish soon

[gwennybriggs]

Beyond The Classroom

Pt. 1

I don’t expect this one to be very popular, this is a self indulgent piece 🫡

Summary: Once a Little Eagle, always a Little Eagle. Melissa keeps that promise to you year after year as she shows up for you in every possible way.

Warnings: Child abuse, neglect, abandonment, over all sad stuff (Mel makes it better!)

WC: 3.9k

Notes: Wrote this because it’s the week before Mother’s Day and I just want my mama (she’s an awful human being and will never be a part of my life again, 6 years no contact). Melissa is a comfort character for me, so I’m using this as a hug from her. I know there are plenty of other people with bad relationships with their moms (gotta love mommy issues), so I thought I’d share in case someone else would also like this hug.

I see you, I love you.

P.s. This story is about 85% based on events I experienced as a child/young adult. I’m thankful every day for the teachers who stepped in to be the parents I didn’t have.

You grew up in a not-so-wonderful household with abusive parents and older siblings who wouldn’t have noticed if you had decided to run away one day. Melissa Schemmenti knew. She was the one person you felt you could confide in as a child. She called CPS on your parents a handful of times during the year she taught you, in hopes of keeping you safe. Unfortunately, with a broken system and a mother who could sweet talk The Devil himself, your parents got off scot-free, leaving you to deal with the aftermath each time.

You would go into school the next day with a new bruise and tears in your eyes. Melissa would hold you close and let you cry all you could before pulling a chair up next to her own so you could be near your safe person all day. When it came time for dismissal, she would hug you extra tight and send a silent prayer to God that you’d walk through the doors again in the morning. On Fridays, she would sneak a Tupperware container of homemade food and a handful of snacks into your bag with a note that said ‘love you, kid’, knowing that your parents restricted your access to food and that she was probably the only person you heard those words from most days. The world sat heavy on your second grader shoulders and Melissa did everything she knew how to make it a little lighter.

Even as you moved on past second grade, Ms. Schemmenti was there. She would check in with each of your teachers at the beginning on the school year and pop in to say hello at lunch from time to time. If you had a particularly rough night at home you would stop by her room and ask her to hold you for a minute before other students arrived. She always obliged.

The day you moved on to middle school, Melissa cried right along with you. Both of you knew she wouldn’t be able to hug the hurt away or keep tabs on you as often. Of course, she made sure you knew how much she loved you, she gave you her personal phone number and said, “No matter how old you get or how far you go, you’ll always be my favorite little eagle. I’ll always be here for you if you need me and I mean it. If things go south at home, you call me and I’ll be there in a heartbeat. You’re gonna be okay.”

As the years passed, Melissa made sure she remained a constant- the only constant, really- in your life. Through your middle school years she became your tutor, meeting you at your school’s library every Thursday after dismissal to help you with your homework. Of course, those sessions were always a little more than just help with homework; she would bring you food and make sure you had clean clothes and basic necessities. One time you let it slip that your mother had ‘forgotten’ to buy you toothpaste and she dropped off a small bag of Colgate tubes on your front porch that night.

When you entered high school, Melissa made an effort to show up for every one of your art shows and track meets. Your parents never even made it to one, but Schemmenti was there. She always was. Your high school teachers even began to think Melissa was your mother; you never corrected them. And when you started working at the hoagie stand your sophomore year, Ms. Schemmenti would stop by once a week to have dinner with you.

The physical abuse dwindled a little as you got older and were able to fight back, but the verbal abuse got worse as a result. At one point during you senior year, your mother kicked you out after throwing a fit about you not inviting her to see you try on prom dresses. You called Melissa and she drove forty-five minutes at three in the morning to get you. Your mother knocked you to the ground and pulled fistfuls of hair, creating a tangled mess. When you were finally able to get her off of you, she screamed at you the entire time you packed your bag.

“FUCK YOU Y/N, YOU SELFISH BITCH! Couldn’t even include YOUR OWN MOTHER! It hurts, it’s almost like not getting invited to your WEDDING!” You dodged books and trinkets she threw at you as you tossed whatever sentimental things you could think of into trash bags to take with you. Photos of your grandparents, your favorite stuffed animal, and some of your artworks made it in before you heard Melissa honking in the driveway.

“You’ve never been my mom,” you seethed with tears streaming down your face as you dragged your bags down the stairs.

She blocked you from leaving at the bottom of the stairs and backhanded you, her ring catching the tender skin beneath your eye. You yelped in pain and stumbled forward, she grabbed you by the throat and squeezed. “You walk out that door and NEVER come back, you hear me? You are worthless, a waste of space and air.” She dug her nails into your skin before she released you and practically pushed you through the front door.

“You’ll never have to deal with me again. You want me out? I’m out.”

Your father followed behind with his fists balled up, “If you ever come back, it’ll be the last time you see daylight!”

Melissa waited for you by the car with her baseball bat, ready to swing if need be. Once your bags were in the backseat, Melissa tossed her baseball bat into the trunk and drove off. Your mother chased the car all the way down the driveway calling you every derogatory thing she could come up with.

The drive to Melissa’s house was silent save for the occasional quiet aob from both parties. Once you arrived, Melissa took your bags inside and walked you up the stairs to her bathroom to nurse your wounds. You winced as she swabbed your cheek with isopropyl alcohol and she frowned. “I’m so sorry, hon. I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner to stop her.”

“Don’t be, you still showed up when I needed you. It coulda been a lot worse. Thank you,” you cried as you leaned your head against her stomach just like when you were a second grader.

She held you until your tears dried then left the room to grab a change of clothes for you. Moments later, she handed you a pair of her sweatpants and an oversized Eagles t-shirt. “You can take the bed tonight, I’ll sleep on the couch. My spare room doesn’t have a bed right now, but we can fix that tomorrow after I call out of work. You need anything before I head down, kid?”

You looked at the ground, embarrassed to even ask, “Would you maybe… would it be okay if…. never mind, it’s stupid.” You shook your head and climbed under the comforter, it smelled like Melissa.

She somehow knew exactly what you were asking without hearing the words. She climbed into the bed and lifted an arm for you to scoot in. “Of course, sweet girl, it’s not stupid at all. I’ll keep you safe, promise. Try to get some sleep, I’ll be right here.” You settled into her embrace and took a deep breath.

You whispered, “I love you, thank you.”

“I love you too, baby girl. Sleep tight,” she whispered back before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Sleep was the last thing on her mind as she held you, watching as the rise of your chest slowed. She stayed awake the whole night, guarding your peace.

Late the following morning, you woke up to an empty bed and the sound of people in the house. You popped your head out into the hallway to see Melissa directing three men where to go with the new bed set. She heard the door creak and looked over at you with an apologetic smile, “Hey, hon, sorry to wake you! They’ll be outta here shortly. I called your school and work to let them know you wouldn’t be in for a few days so you don’t have to worry about it. I washed the clothes that were in your backpack, they’re sitting by my bathroom. There’s also a clean towel for you and a new toothbrush on the counter. You’re welcome to use my hairbrush and whatever else you need.” You smiled back at her and closed the door.

You picked an outfit from the pile of folded clothes and shut the bathroom door to shower. Your body was sore from the adrenaline and you groaned in pain as you shed your pajamas. Standing naked in the mirror, you looked over the marks your mother left on you. The nail marks on your neck were already scabbed over, but the gash under your eye was bruised and definitely going to leave a scar. You traced your fingers along each mark, tears forming in your eyes. The shower was hot enough to leave your skin red, you wanted to burn away any remnants of what happened to you. You sobbed loudly as you tried to detangle the mess of hair your mother created, it hurt and you were so worried that you’s just have to cut it all off.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Ya decent?” You opened the door for her and she gently took the brush from your hands. She directed you to sit backwards on the toilet while she worked at the knots on your head. You nearly fell asleep sitting there as she hummed and massaged conditioner into your hair, working diligently to make sure you kept your beautiful hair.

“You sleep okay,” She asked as she rinsed your hair in the sink.

“That was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time. I haven’t slept in a bed in months, it was so soft.” You said it like it was nothing.

She paused. “Whatduya mean you haven’t slept in a bed in months?”

You sighed deeply. “They took my bed away because they said I was a whore and didn’t deserve one. I told them that I’m a virgin and they took the door off of my room, callin’ me a liar.” You hadn’t told her that detail when you saw her at one of your track meets a few months before. You figured you’d shared enough heartbreaking details with the woman, she didn’t need to be even more worried about you.

Hot tears silently flowed down her cheeks. She was angry. Not at you for not telling her, but at the low-lifes you called parents. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” she spat. She was ready to call in one of her favors from The Tire Iron. “Well I’ll tell ya one thing, kiddo, you ain’t goin’ back there ever again. You’ll never be without ‘long as I’m around, ya got it? And you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want, no strings attached.”

You choked back your own tears. “Thanks, Ms. Schemmenti. I truly appreciate you.” She wrapped your hair in a towel and you turned to hug her. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve, apparently,” she teased when your stomach growled loudly. She grabbed your chin to look at you, “And no more ‘Ms. Schemmenti’. You can call me Melissa, Mel, Aunt Mel, whatever you want, just not that. You’re family, kid. Now c’mon, I’ll make you something to eat before we head out for a shopping trip.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Her brow furrowed, “You tryin’ to make me feel old? None of that ma’am stuff either.” You giggled and followed her down to the kitchen.

She made French toast and sausage and you devoured the meal in just a few bites. Satisfied with you having eaten, she grabbed her purse, dragged you to the car and pulled out of the driveway. Along the way, she asked you to make a list of anything you might need or want. You took your phone out and looked at it for the first time that day. The screen was full of awful messages from both of your parents and extended family members. You chose to clear the screen and turn off notifications without reading them all and opened your notes app to jot down a few things you knew you missed when packing bags.

Melissa pulled into the mall parking lot and looked over at you, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, what happened?”

You rubbed your eyes and tried to fake a smile, “Nothin’, I’m just tired.” She knew you well enough to know when you were lying, but she wasn’t going to push you on the subject.

“Mkay, kid. If you decide you wanna talk about it, you know I’ll always listen. And you know I’d kill for ya.” She gently nudged you with her elbow and the two of you made your way into the mall. You showed her your list and she took charge, guiding you around to every clearance rack and bargain bin in the vicinity. You paid for the majority of your new finds, but she insisted on helping with funds here and there. Many stores later Melissa stopped for a bathroom break and you found yourself in front of Auntie Anne’s. Remembering how much she loved soft pretzels- she’d get one every field trip- you decided to buy two, one for each of you. It was a very small token of gratitude, but you knew she’d be excited.

When she exited the bathroom, she scanned the food court for you and found you sitting at a table with all the bags. She sat down across from you and you pushed the soft pretzel her way with a little cup of honey mustard, “Thank you for today. Normally I hate shopping, but you made it fun.”

She gave you an upside down smile and took a bite. “I’m glad I could be a good distraction for ya, hon. And thank you for this!” She clinked her pretzel with yours to ‘cheers’ the day. As you finished your pretzels in silence while people watching, a dress shop on the upper level caught your eye. Despite trying on prom dresses, you never actually bought one.

Melissa‘s eyes followed your gaze and when she spotted the shop she knew what she was going to do. “Hey, I know you said you normally hate shopping, but since we’ve been having so much fun today… why don’t we keep the fun going and go pick out your prom dress? It’s what, two weeks out?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I can’t afford it now that I’ve spent half my savings on shit I needed today. Besides, I got to do prom last year, I’m alright missing out on this one.” You played with the straw in your drink absentmindedly and took the last bite of your pretzel.

Melissa thought back to the conversations she had with you about how excited you were for your senior prom. You buzzed about it every time the two of you spoke for months, it broke her heart to see you resign to not going. “My treat, hon. And I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, I know how bad you wanna go. C’mon,” she said as she prodded you up and dragged you to the dress shop.

You spent about an hour browsing and trying on different dresses, even somehow convinced Melissa to try one on with you for shits and giggles. You pretended not to see her sneak a picture in the mirror of the two of you in the matching dresses, a sweet moment she wanted to remember forever. Finally, you found the right one. The a-line strapless dress stopped mid calf, it was wine red and fit like a dream. When you emerged from the dressing room to show her, she gasped.

“Oh, beautiful girl! My favorite little eagle isn’t so little anymore.” She stuck her bottom lip out in an upside down smile as she reached to tuck your hair away from your eyes. She took a small step back and asked you to spin so she could see it all. The smile on your face told her you made your choice. With misty eyes she pulled you into a tight hug, limiting your ability to breathe.

“I can’t… breathe… help,” you choked out. The redhead lessened her squeeze and apologized but didn’t let go, she needed that moment to collect herself. You stood there embracing each other for a couple of minutes before Melissa finally released you. Once you changed back into your clothes, she took the dress to the register and paid.

You walked out together and stuffed all the bags in the trunk, laying the dress flat in the backseat. “Thank you. For everything, Aunt Mel. For a few hours, it didn’t feel like my world was crashing down around me. I’m lucky to have you.”

She kissed her fingers and then pressed them to your cheek before she started driving. “I’m pretty lucky to have you too, kid. And I’ll always be here to pick up the pieces when you need me.”

The drive back to Melissa’s house was quiet, aside from the classic rock station playing the weekly hits countdown. You checked your silenced notifications to see even more messages and missed calls from your family, Melissa glanced over and saw them too. “If you want, we can change your number this week, that way they can’t bother you anymore,” Melissa offered.

“They still pay for my phone, I can’t. They’d cancel my service the moment they found out.” You shoved your phone back into your pocket.

“Then I’ll just move you over to my cell plan. They don’t deserve the power they have over you, hon.” You opened your mouth to protest but stopped when she pointed at you. “Let me help, please. Because I can and I want to.”

“Thanks, Aunt Mel.”

A few minutes later you arrived back at the townhouse and dragged all of your new belongings up to your new room, hanging up the dress immediately. Melissa said she’d help you make the bed and get settled once she got dinner in the oven. While she was working in the kitchen, you curled up on the couch and flipped the TV on, settling on ‘Rick Steves’ Europe’ reruns. Rick’s comforting voice began to lull you to sleeping and you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

Melissa walked in to tell you she was ready and found you fast asleep. Her heart melted at the sight. She draped the couch blanket over you and lightly tucked it in so as to not disturb your slumber. ‘How could anyone hurt something so precious,’ she thought to herself. After she tucked you in, she made her way upstairs to gather your new sheets and comforter to wash them before starting on the rest of the room.

She grabbed the basket of your clothes from her own room and began to hang them up in your closet. Once she finished the task, she cleaned out the dresser and filled it with your socks, pants, and undergarments. One by one, she removed her family photos from the walls and replaced them with the handful of framed photos you brought with you. She recognized your grandparents’ photo from the one time she had met them at the beginning of your second grade year, right before they passed. They were your best friends, you were safe when they were around. Melissa decided to place the picture on your nightstand so that they’d be watching over you every night. Lastly, she organized your toiletries in the guest bathroom and set out a fresh set of towels and one of her robes.

Satisfied with her progress, she took a short break to check on you, change over the laundry, and take out the lasagna. You were still asleep and she didn’t want to disturb you so she ate alone in the dining room and texted her mother.

-Ma: Hot date?

-Mel: Nah. You remember me telling you about Y/N?

-Ma: You’ve talked about her for the last ten years, yeah I remember. Is the poor kid okay? Her parents treating her like shit again?

-Mel: They kicked her to the curb, said she wasn’t welcome back. She’s staying with me for as long as she needs to.

-Ma: Of course I’ll set an extra place for her, Amore. She need anything? You need anything?

-Mel: She needs all the love she can get, just make her feel like family. I’ve got everything else handled. Thanks, Ma.

-Ma: We can do that. Talk soon.

She finished her meal and gathered the clean bedding from the laundry room, making her way back upstairs to make your bed. Once the sheets were on, she fluffed the comforter and pillows before opening your backpack to retrieve your favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Bunz. Even at eighteen, you slept with him tucked in your arms every night. She hugged the well-loved bunny to her heart and thought back to the day she gave him to you. Right before holiday break your third grade year, she pulled you aside at dismissal and tucked him into your backpack. She told you to give him a hug whenever you needed to feel loved and she wasn’t around to give you a hug herself. Little did she know, that was the only gift you received that year.

Melissa placed him in the middle of the pillows, like the cherry on top, and went back downstairs to wake you for dinner. She sat on the arm of the couch and gently began to run her fingers through your hair. “You need to eat somethin’, sweetheart,” she whispered as your eyes fluttered open. You stretched and sat up, leaning your head against her leg.

“What time is it?”

“About 7:30. You’ve been through a lot the last 24 hours, figured you could use the rest. I got your room all set up for ya. I’ll heat up your plate and we can watch a movie before bed. How’s that sound?”

You rolled off the couch and rubbed your eyes. “Sounds good,” you yawned. You followed the redhead into the kitchen and sat at the counter. She warmed your plate in the microwave and placed it in front of you with a glass of water. You demolished your meal like you hadn’t eaten in days, complimenting her cooking after every other bite. You washed your dishes and then made your way back to the living room, joined by Melissa. She turned on one of your favorite comedy movies and watched the light return to your eyes a little more with each scene.

Sitting there, laughing at the stupid jokes on the screen with the closest thing you’ve ever had to a real mom, with a full stomach and a warm bed waiting for you upstairs, you realized something.

For the first time in your eighteen years of life, you were finally home.