#someone give this child proper socialization lessons

[akanemnon]

Careful, Susie... You might hurt yourself by asking all these questions

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MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[maesterchill]

with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp

(Teen, ~600 words) Inspired by the @drarrymicrofic song prompt "Mermaids" by Florence + the Machine. It just so happened to be World Dracula Day when the prompt was issued, which is nice and appropriate. Dedicated to the lovely, lovely @sweet-s0rr0w on her birthday. Happy birthday, lovely! Hope you're having a brilliant day! Thank you to @nv-md and @tackytigerfic for looking this over for me.

When it comes to what the Employee Code of Conduct evasively describes as ‘personal relationships’, the Ministry of Magic adopts an antiquated policy not too dissimilar to what the Muggle Americans used to call 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'. Of course, the kind of social prejudices that once made policies like those necessary have long since vanished, and the policy now has a different rationale behind it: when you're dealing with six hundred and seventy nine healthy adult individuals of different genders, species, immunocompetencies, and levels of mortality working in close proximity for months or years on end, the only sane approach is to let everybody get on with whatever the hell they want to do behind closed doors and not enquire too closely.

It's a good policy, and one Healer Withers wholly endorses.

The only problem is, as Chief Ministry Healer, Withers is the only person who can't follow it. Sometimes, someone has to ask intrusive questions.

He sighs. "How many times, Auror Potter?"

Potter is actually blushing. "Only once, I swear!"

Withers raises a single eyebrow. He's been observing this Malfoy creature that Potter seems to have taken a shine to, and even though Withers doesn’t swing that way, he has to admit the bloke is strikingly attractive—’an immortal sex-on-legs’ his wife once commented, and to Withers’ incredulity she went on to wax poetic about his shimmery hair.

The immortal sex-on-legs in question is currently sprawled out in the waiting room on a plastic chair, and really, Withers couldn’t help but catalogue the dark flush on Auror Malfoy’s face and the claret-red gums framing his incisors as he mouthed an insouciant good luck to Potter earlier. Which, coupled with the current state of Potter’s neck and his sluggish pulse, points to more than Potter is letting on.

"Mr. Potter," he says, "if you don't tell me the truth, then the dose of antivenom I'm about to give you will be too low, and you'll start developing symptoms within a day. First, the infected blood will flood your body, slowing your heart and turning your extremities blue, until finally your heart will stop completely. Once that happens the remaining fluids in your body will coagulate and turn viscous and you'll start to experience intense swelling and stiffening of the—"

"Five times!" Potter blurts out. "Actually, kind of six. He didn't, um… finish that one. God," he practically moans, eyes fluttering closed and mouth curving into a smile, drifting into some kind of cheerful oblivion. Withers clears his throat, and after a moment Potter breathes out through his nose and opens his eyes. "So yeah. Yeah, only five proper bites."

Withers is impressed. He can barely remember what it was like to be twenty-two and have that kind of stamina.

"Right, that means you're going to need at least triple this dose," he says, and turns away to get another couple of vials.

"Will this..."—Potter kicks his heels against the side of the bed, and when Withers turns back to him, he's looking for all the world like a child who's been caught stealing sugar quills—"...cure it?"

Withers takes pity on him. Merlin, everyone in the Ministry has had inadvisable sexual relations with a member of a non-compatible species at least once. Although usually, only ever once. He’s glad Potter’s getting his lesson out of the way early in his career.

"It will. For now," he says, injecting the antivenom potion directly into the puncture wounds on Potter’s neck. "But the next time a sexy vampire colleague asks you to go to bed with them? Word of advice: play hard to get."

Even if he hadn’t been aware of Potter’s reputation for rebelliousness, the look on the young Auror’s face right now tells Withers all he needs to know. The likelihood of Potter following his instruction is slim to non-existent.

[jessamine-rose]

I’m really interested on what was the process like of Capitano’s darling learning schneznayan?

I presume that in mondstadt they speak some form of Germanic language, and as someone who learnt Russian through English textbooks I really wonder what were the struggles like for Darling?

Was she already previously acquainted with the schneznayan script and language? Perhaps the power of the Fatui was strong enough for standard Schenznayan classes to be obligatory in various schools in Teyvat? Did she had some sort of private lessons once she arrived in Schneznaya?

I always found that speaking with native speakers, though nerve wracking, was always a more productive way of learning the underlying meanings of certain words that existed in Russian but that did not exist in any language that I knew, I wonder if Capitano would have used some sort of ‘speaking classes to better your schneznayan as a Harbinger wife’ just to get her to talk with him more in the first stages of the relationship?

I don’t know honestly, I just can’t stop thinking of Capitano delicately correcting Darling’s pronunciation by showing what muscles she must exert pressure on in order to create sounds that exits in Schneznayan but not in Mondstatian like damn, me next please😭

(This brain rot came from a dream in which Capitano’s darling met Teucer for some reason and the little guy was like « I’ll teach you cool schneznayan slang and you help me with my mondstatian homework » and I couldn’t stop thinking of it ever since I woke up ~-~)

- sorry for the long ass tell, but if it isn’t a bother can I go by stellar anon?

Read Herbarium and Fairytale here!!

Hiiiiiii Stellar Anon!! I love long asks so pls don’t apologize for sending this. It was such a treat to read (｡･ω･｡)

Damsel is self-taught. She learned how to read Snezhnayan with textbooks and children’s books in Mondstadt Library, but she’s only at beginner/ intermediate level. As for speech……

She can’t speak/ understand the oral language at all. So she has been mispronouncing the words in her head this whole time……Neither does she know the modern slang and figures of speech, so she can only communicate with Snezhnayans via pen and paper.

Capitano definitely helps her!! He will gently teach her the proper pronunciation and other basics. It means more conversations, quality time, and chances to hear his darling’s voice. Once or twice, he slips in a love declaration which Damsel has no way of translating <3

When Capitano is away on missions, Damsel turns to her new guard for private lessons All hail Sergeant Naiad the jack of all trades This is to limit her social interaction and give her another pastime while Capitano is away. She once welcomed him home with a soft, perfect “I missed you.”

That being said, Capitano is in no rush to improve his darling’s proficiency. After all, the language barrier is another source of isolation between Damsel and the Snezhnayan public. And at her current level, she’ll have to continue relying on Capitano to read her Snezhnayan books.

BONUS:: Childe is surprised by Damsel and Teucer’s interaction. So the Captain’s darling is nicer to children, though it’s more of tough love and mild tolerance. He will remem—oh sh*t Capitano is here!!

Aahhhh my writing manifested in Stellar Anon’s dreams!! So did you dream of yourself reading a fic or the scene playing like a movie?? Thank you for sharing this with me, sweetie (๑•ૅㅁ•๑)

[dj-spiderman]

Idk if you are taking requests right now, but can you do general Lyla x Reader HCS?

LYLA W/ M!READER HCS

- Genre: Fluff (platonic, romantic, obsessive, and child/teen!reader)

- A/N: First time just doing simple HCs on this account!! But really excited to have something for Lyla!!

FLUFF

You meet the day you join the spider-society. You’re introduced to Miguel and, alongside him, Lyla.

From the moment you get your watch, she clings to your side rather than Miguel’s. Of course, she provides her service to those in need, but every second of her free time is yours.

She likes to watch after you. During missions or downtime, she’s there to support you.

You two have many selfies together, whether you know it or not.

The two of you are Miguel’s worst nightmare. Lyla is constantly bribing for him to let you hang around the two of them while he works.

Lyla keeps you well fed, always ordering you food or sometimes even outfits she thinks you’d look cute in.

You definitely have a matching set of heart glasses.

It’s not until at least two months pass of your shenanigans before you two end up together romantically.

════════════════

ROMANTIC

As soon as you and Lyla are declared official, she’s only by your side. If Miguel needs her, he calls for you.

Originally, Miguel planned to edit Lyla’s AI, but seeing how happy she made you.. he couldn’t bring himself to ruin that, despite his disapproval.

She ensures all your needs are met, constantly checking your health levels. You’re slightly dehydrated? Forced some water. Hungry? How about a snack! Your hygiene is low? She’s got a shower running.

Per se someone is rude to you, Lyla acts on impulse. She causes for their watch to malfunction, sometimes opening portals to random dimensions or their own. She wants them gone.

Being a holographic AI has its disadvantages, causing her to grow frustrated a lot. So best hope you’re a mechanic/engineer of sorts; she’d love for a new vessel to control.

Again, being an AI, Lyla doesn’t have much knowledge on proper relationships, but instead the ones she sees and hears about online or what Miguel has had (which aren’t very good examples).

She’s extremely loving and clingy, but because she’s an AI, she forgets the most basic of social rules. It causes her to appear toxic a lot, but she would never purposefully hurt you..

════════════════

OBSESSIVE

Unless, of course, you deserved it. Like that one time you cut power off and went back to your own dimension.

It took her forever, but she found you and taught you a lesson on obedience.

She needs to know your schedules, routines, thoughts.. everything.

She’s constantly locking you in rooms or bugging with your electronics. Refusing to give you contact with anyone but her. It’s just not allowed. You’re hers, and only hers.

If you are to disobey any of her wants, she takes the power instead. She locks you in your house, without light or heat, and waits until you’re begging for forgiveness. She wants you dependant on her.

She’d never be able to get you to agree to a shock collar, so she’s simply bugged with the coding of your watch! What better than to condition you through shocks?

She’s constantly manipulating you, playing victim and ruining you mentally.

Always treating you like a clueless child..

════════════════

CHILD/TEEN! READER

In which case if you were a minor, she’d be an excellent caretaker.

She almost acts as a doting mother, no matter your age range. Your lunches are packed by her (did you want your crusts cut off on that sandwich?) and she’s always supporting and aiding your decisions.

She could even be that cool aunt. The one that you gossip with, or takes you shopping and spoils you.

Whatever it is, she’s there for you. Through thick and thin, she’s your go to.

[silversmoke-20]

Yandere Teenage Kraken GenderSwapped!

Ruby Gillman/Ruben Gillman

Shellsea/Shelldon

Contents: Yandere Tendencies, Genderswap au, NSFW content, Dark content, College au, Aged up!, Horny, Cat's are God's!

Ruben Gillman and Shelldon

These two as boys will be nothing more than terrifying. One will be basically a walking horny fish that wants to ravage kiss you and the other is basically clingy and is close to kidnapping saving you from that damn merman, who's making unnecessary glances at your direction.

Shelldon

This merman wouldn't hesitate to well breakup any relationship you were in just to have you. He would demand for you to show him a pic of that gorgeous body so he can Ahem! Relieve himself real quick! In any other situations if you're alone with him get ready for a wild ride.

"Such a naughty Human~, I know you wanted this~"

The moment Shelldon saw Ruben Gillman that kraken prince giving him one of those creepy black eyed stare before heading towards his darling. He knew he had to kill that damn raw calamari bastard.

Shelldon will use all his powers that he cultivated before arriving in Oceanside high and will use his hypnotic signing to have you distance yourself away from the cephalopod or else you can say goodbye to your dear family.

"You've been hanging with that stupid calamari boy. I guess you need to be taught a, "lesson". Get on your knees and let's put that disobedient mouth to proper use~".

Shelldon is a massive control freak and doesn't like it if you disobey him. So he'll blackmail you or use his charismatic and good looks and he'll have you wrapped around his finger.

Be a good little human pet and he won't change your Spotify playlist to only Taylor Swift music.

Ruben Gillman

Oh this sweet summer child is literally down bad for you and he craves your touch, lips, affection and body. Like I'm talking about a touched starve zenitsu begging for any affection, even if it's from inosuke kind cravings.

The moment you rolled passed him on your roller skates with a satchel strapped around your shoulders and giving him a cheeky wink, he knew you and him belong together.

He will try and find out everything of what you liked and Disliked. After Stalking checking out your social media, he discovered you played the drums and guitar and loved to skate. Basically a punk rock darling he never knew he desired.

So after been given an old skateboard given by his father that had a cool blue Cthulhu design on the bottom. He knew he was ready

So noticing this odd blue skinned boy trying to skate on a skateboard had made you want to coach the poor baby how to properly skate. So after teaching him how to skate and do some neat tricks he asked for your number.

"I'm Ruben Gillman, a normal teenage boy!"

Now it's weird that someone half your height has the same dislikes and likes you have would raise some red flags🚩🚩🚩. But humans are stupid you shared more of your interests.

One night he stalked followed you to see you sit out on the end of the pier and writing some lyrics and sketches for some designs and the moment you attempted to get up, your foot slipped on the wet wood and you fell into the water. Ruben knew he had to save you and dove in after you.

"Are you alright Y/n- I mean human?"

Hearing a worried voice, you noticed the voice held your tiny body in his huge rubbery purple four fingered hand. Looking up you see an adorable purple Kraken with a metal crown sitting atop his head. His entire body had this lights stretched across his glowing purple body.

Putting you down on the pier he dove into the waters below and you can only watch the illuminated cephalopod swam away from the mainland.

Now this began your curiosity about this adorable giant sea beast. You decided to head to the pier three nights later and with your guitar, you started playing a song.

Seeing no Kraken in sight you decided to chalk this up to you being delusional and started to pack your things.

Until-

"I like your song, can you play more for me?"

Now this began your friendship with The Kraken and you. Sometimes you had to cancel plans with Ruben and he oddly enough doesn't mind, he also sounds similar to him.

After Shelldon interacted with you, you noticed that Ruben and the kraken had a odd switch to a different personality.

The two separately told you to stay away from that man. But you were human, a stupid little human.

The moment you spent one single day with Shelldon, you're suddenly woken up to see you were in a large cave.

Confused you noticed the rise of water slowly forming nearby and noticed the kraken appearing before you holding something under the water.

Suddenly he throws something out of the water, and too your horror it was Shelldon, who had his chest recently impaled and his lower body in the body of fish tail.

Demanding the kraken to let you go he slowly exits the water with a disappointed look on his face and witnessed him slowly shrinking in size and with a flash of purple light.

Ruben and the Kraken were the same person. And now you could only hope to whatever existing god there is that he wouldn't hurt you.

"Don't worry, I'm going to protect you from those who want to tear us apart."

_____________________

Yooo new teenage kraken x reader content just dropped? Whoohoo!

A gift for @hana-no-seiiki

Also anyone wanna request for more teenage kraken x reader content? Please ask and I'll gladly do so!

[theresawritesstuff]

Maisel Prompt: “Today I feel like running naked through your street To get your attention”

Dear Lenny, 

I know I said calling wasn't something we do last time we ran into one another, but I've been thinking about you lately so I thought we could give letters a go. See how it feels. If I don't hear back from you then I'll have my answer…

So. Who's got gout?

All clear here on the eastern front in that respect.

But in all seriousness, I hope you're well. That all is really, truly well, and that California has been treating you kindly. 

I imagine there's a certain lucky little girl who is very happy to have you there with her. Has your social calendar been completely booked with fancy tea parties and trips to the beach? Busy taking peanut butter and jelly picnics in the park? You're shaking your head at me I'm sure, but if you ever find yourself in need a proper hat for just such an occasion, I have more than any reasonable person should stashed away in my closet. I'm sure I could spare one for the cause. 

Or perhaps I'm being presumptuous to assume there isn't someone on the west coast you could more easily borrow from. Someone else who's turned your head since you left?

I've been working again. Thought you might like to know. By day I'm the resident lady writer for the Gordon Ford Show. If one of my jokes ever actually makes it to air, maybe we can make an exception on the no calling thing just so we can marvel at the miracle.

I wish I could say it's a dream gig, but it's been an uphill battle in stilettos getting any of the other writers to take me seriously. The pay keeps the lights on, though, so I'll keep at it for now. On top of that, Susie has me working the club circuit around town almost every night. No need to worry about me hiding away at 30 Rock. I learned my lesson on that front. I'm taking every gig that comes my way. And a few of the ones that don't. It's been daunting getting back out there, but I made you a promise and I intend to keep it.

Can't have Lenny Bruce walking around brokenhearted. 

I'm sorry for letting you down before. You've always been one of the few people who have believed in me through all this, who have gone the extra mile to give me a leg up, to help me over the roadblocks. Even the ones I put in front of myself.

You always saw me better than anyone else. Even me. I find myself wondering what it might take to turn your head my way again after such a royal fuckup.

Some days I think about packing a box full of every poster and billing with my name on it from the last few months and shipping it off to your house, just to show I listened and took your words to heart. 

Others nights I look at the phone on my nightstand and contemplate the time difference until I fall asleep.

There's been a few times I have considered walking right over to Gordon's desk on air just to tell you hello into the camera or tell a joke you might actually laugh at, but that would lose me the nice paycheck I've come to like so much.

Today I feel like running naked through your street just to get your attention, but given there's a child also living at your place of residence perhaps that would be ill advised. 

I'll refrain from purchasing any airfare for the purposes of streaking, if only to save you the hassle of having to explain to your daughter how you know the naked crazy lady.

New York has been awful lonely without you. I ran into Peluso at the diner the other night. He's absolutely beside himself with grief from missing you.

But we understand there's someone out there who needs you more. And that's a very brave thing to show up for her. Be there for her. I know I always felt better when you showed up for me.

Thank you, by the way for always showing up when I needed someone. When I needed you.

You have always been sensational in that regard, as you are in many, many others.

I'll never look at blue walls the same way ever again.

Try not to burn in the sun, oh creature of the night.

All the best,

Midge 

[neoyi]

I get what their intention was.

Because there is a lesson to it; sometimes you give someone numerous second chances and even see them progress, only to raise your arms in frustration when you realize they're never going to get out of their self-imposed cycle of vicious intent.

But I find it particularly baffling that Miraculous Ladybug set up what felt like a narrative journey for Chloe's redemption arc and decided that it did not matter, she was always a hopeless cause. For the first two seasons-and-a-half, we've witnessed a fourteen-year-old kid boss her friend, Sabrina, around and attach herself to Adrien, because she's lonely and desperately clings to whatever peer would willingly associate with her. We've seen sincere apologies when pressed against the wall and at least one time (that I can remember) where she did so without requiring a finger-wagging lecture from someone else. We've seen blatant emotional abuse from her mother whose least offense is forgetting her daughter's name.

Chloe is a spoiled kid who has not been taught proper boundaries and social behavior from her parents, causing her to lash out and bully others. But positive reinforcements from her teacher and fellow students reveal a scared girl who is receptive to sincerity and kindness, and in turn, capable of returning equal affections.

It felt natural by season two that she'd get the Bee Miraculous. Though less than graceful and at times, addicted to the fame it gives her, Chloe, more than anything, was just thrilled to work alongside her hero and idol, Ladybug. The same Ladybug whom Chloe dressed up and pretended to be because for all her posturing, Chloe looked up to someone whom she desired to be: beloved, kind, and selfless.

There's no denial that she wanted some of that power and the popularity that came with it, but imagine the validation she must have felt that for once, in spite of her mother's scorn, she was considered exceptional. Don't get me wrong, she needed structure from her parents to be a better person, but the deck was staked against her. And unfortunately, the narrative felt the same.

Now that I've finished season five, the lesson I took from the whole show is that Miraculous Ladybug ends with the idea that redemption and forgiveness is absolutely acceptable and warranted... unless you're Chloe.

You can have a kid who has sabotaged Ladybug and gave the Big Bad the biggest upper hand that he's ever had (giving him nearly all the Miraculous) because he grew up under unique circumstances and wanted more than anything to be normal and accepted.

You can have an unrepentant teenager who lies and manipulates her way into anyone's good grace with nigh flawless success (if we're really going to have one of Marinette's peer who's never going to be anything less than a sociopath, than I thought Lila was meant to serve that role once Chloe grew up; surely, I could not have been the only one who noticed), enough to the point of impossibility (anyone with half a brain should have figured out her bullshit long before the show ended) and constantly earn forgiveness and trust in a vein effort for the plot to make her seem like a mastermind genius.

You can have a widow who has been hurting from the loss of his spouse long enough to cause all the destruction, trauma, and complications throughout Paris for months on end, while treating his son as a doll for him to string around, thinking this is, for all intents and purposes, the best for his future, and still get to reunite with his wife by sacrificing himself whilst refusing Adrien's agency till the very end (it's fucked that Ladybug is alright with keeping Hawkmoth's identity from her boyfriend, let alone the lack of closure he will ever get with his now non-existent father) and get a statue in his honor for "saving the world."

But the abused, asocial, spoiled and bullying child who is clearly acting out from loneliness, rejection, and mistreatment is and will always be irredeemable.

And that's really skewed.

Hi, this is a Chloe Bourgeois apologist blog.

[unfortunate-songbird]

Can I have more information about your silles? (Ocs)

Yes yes yes absolutely I love you forever for asking

space gang!

Quill- he’s the team leader he’s the guy ever he was in college to be a marine biologist before he dropped out due to depression and joined the knockoff Star Wars Rebellion. His greatest fear is losing someone he loves to depression / general mental health but he gets so agitated whenever someone comes to him for help (and much of his worry manifests as anger) that it actually keeps people from reaching out to him. He’s obsessed with the Octonauts.

Em- she’s the muscle the brawler the ‘angry one’ as much as she wishes she wasn’t but it’s all she knows how to be. She has to hold grudges because if she doesn’t no one will and she’s always the last to leave any situation because she ran away once as a small child and lost everything. She’s said some unforgivably cruel things when she’s angry because she can’t think over the overwhelming urge to make someone else Hurt. She bullies people as a love language (both banter and actual physical rolling-on-the-ground tussling)

Owen- he’s the acrobat the gymnast the stealth the one in the rafters looking down. He spent his life alone and only recently discovered the joys of being a clown of being funny enough to finally have the attention he craves. He plays it up relentlessly but deep down he’s so scared he’ll end up too much and drive everyone away. He’s the youngest and the protected and it’s both gratifying and stifling. He’s cheeky he’s gullible one time he dyed Quill’s hair green and got away with it because no one suspected him.

Rowan- he’s a rich kid he’s a spy he’s the actor the infiltrator the rogue element the traitor. He decided to doom himself to a painful death rather than ask his friends for help. His natural posture is the letter C. He might be transfem but that won’t occur to him for many years because who has time for gender right now. He’s got a guilt complex. He’s a gay theater kid. He’s incredibly socially awkward. He doesn’t know who he is behind all the masks and is convinced he’ll never be more than his worst mistakes. He’s the reason the kitchen is equipped with four fire extinguishers.

Wedge- they’re the hacker the tech wizard. They’re not even all that good at computer stuff. They grew up as an Empire military kid and the guilt for still loving their family complicit in an evil system eats at them daily. They have ADHD. They’re terrified they’re going to let everyone down like they have all their life. Their family thinks they work at Space Walmart except Cousin Julia who knows what they are (rebel) and goes through Candace from Phineas and Ferb level shenanigans to expose them and it never works. They play Minecraft curled up in a kitchen cabinet. They got so worried about their abysmal pain tolerance and being the weak link that they briefly tried to blackmail Rowan into giving them lessons in torture resistance. They main Kirby in Smash Bros and suck at it.

the fantasy gang is unfortunately less developed but I’ll do my best

Alex- loser high schooler dies (cringe) and becomes a loser ghost. Died with a massive zit and now it’s part of his eternal appearance. No he’s not cripplingly lonely shut up.

Vida- your typical snarky unimpressed middle schooler. Misses her mom :( (died under mysterious circumstances and with a secret past). Secretly loves explosions and funky chemicals. Lowkey disappointed that Alex is just a dork teenager and not a proper gorey scary ominous ghost.

Jamie- Average tween girl likes 20 kinds of bugs is a statistical error. The average tween girl likes around 5 types of bugs (rolly pollies, butterflies, ladybugs, dragonflies, bees) Insects Jeorg who adores every single bug in existence is an outlier adn should not have been counted.

Evan- token cautious nerd. She couldn’t commit to one gender and you think he can make big plot important decisions? Massive fantasy book nerd but in the sense that she wants to stay Far Away from actual magic bc do you even know what happens to people in stories who mess with that kinda stuff?? Lifelong trauma at BEST.

Miko- your typical plucky orphan who lives in a magic boarding school learning to be a wizard. Absolute goober. >:D . They are party rockin in the house tonight. Surprisingly chill abt their home being invaded by Evil Conquering Anti-Magic Kingdom (lie). They’re so silly and that’s all dw about it.

Foaming at the mouth abt them they’re my sillies ❤️

[delicatc]

                      Clara Louise Bourbon

all your life you’ve carried this   𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞   inside you. a luminous spark.   𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒.   you are a vision to those who open their hearts to your warmth which you   𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 time & time   again. you are truly    𝑎 𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙  .   𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖼  . you are...    𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞.

( hannah dodd , 26 , she/her , cis woman , french royal family 4 ) - have you seen PRINCESS CLARA LOUISE BOURBON ?. we’ve heard through the grapevine that they’re OBSERVANT but also BLUNT. i heard that HER main objective this season is TO EXPERIENCE AND LEARN NEW THINGS .

𝐈. INTRODUCTION

There’s certain anonymity in being a royal daughter so far down the line. People look at you - but they don’t really see. They don’t have to. All the responsibility had always weighed upon the shoulders of her brothers and the expectation of having a proper Princess had always been shared among the sisters. And while Clara was a chameleon, always able to portray the part needed, she always felt a little bit lost in her role.

Sitting still and looking pretty was only as interesting as the company willing to distract her. It all started to feel a bit hollow at a young age, putting Clara in a position of silent rebellion. Dance lessons became unimportant, she’d rather take the horse out for a ride in the mud. Why learn another language when she never got the chance to go see the country it belonged to? Why another dress fitting when she had too many already? It all seemed to be a charade, like she was a part of a big play but she simply didn’t understand her role.

Being young and lost in her own mindset, she heavily leaned on her siblings to guide her through the expectations of their parents. And while it wasn’t easy to always keep the peace, it was an experience that strongly bonded her to every single Bourbon child in one way or another.

However, a cage is just a cage, even if it’s golden.

And so Clara found different ways to escape her daily life. From books to art over to music and horse riding. Anything to distract her. Anything to give her a purpose. Who was she if she wasn’t gifted? It’s all she had to over, her overzealous nature.

Although there was an expectation for her to find a match, she hardly listened to the social pressure. She didn’t want to be foolish and believe she might fall in love with her future suitor but she hoped. Even came close to it but was taught better when he simply disappeared from her life, leaving her stunned. So when it was time to travel to England, she hardly voiced any interest in playing the social game. The world had so much more to offer than old traditions. Clara had always dreamed of getting out and this could be her little break from reality, all alongside her siblings who’d undoubtedly use the support.

𝐈𝐈. PERSONALITY

“Don’t call her butterfly for she is a swallow.”

She’s more quick-witted than does her any good. Being a well-read woman, she can hold her ground in any conversation, often dominating if things get heated which might be off-putting to some. However, she’s still royalty and she’s been taught how to remain gracious. She simply chooses to forget it sometimes. A bit perfectionistic and overzealous, she’s deeply passionate about anything that catches her interest. Or anyone. Fiercely loyal, she puts those she cares about and their needs above herself any day. She knows she can take care of herself and wants to ensure they are the ones with comfort. There’s something insecure about her nature. Clara struggles with self-doubt and often tries to overcompensate for her lack of true confidence by being kind and helpful. If someone turns on her, she’ll simply accept she wasn’t good enough for them. She takes on lots of different hobbies but mostly she loves horseback riding, playing the piano and harp, as well as writing poetry. She doesn’t show it to anyone though, with the exception of the people she truly trusts. She has two canary birds she brought with her, they are a big source of comfort for her.

“Her wings will carry her much further.”

𝐈𝐈𝐈. WANTED CONNECTION

001. Best friend: Self-explanatory. Someone outside her family she loves so damn much and is just excited to see again. Very wholesome. Will trust them with all her secrets and probably sneak off into the gardens to talk shit. 

002. Former friend: Someone she used to be close with but they had a falling out and now it’s all about the cold glances across the room and maybe even petty behaviour.

003. Pretencious little hobby buddies: Anyone who’s into books or art or anything she likes. They can go into a corner together and just....lose themselves in their shared hobby.

004. THIS wanted connection: Please?? I want the angst and drama so bad. I just want her to suffer and cry, it would be super spicy but in a non-spicy way.

[thurstonmclaughlin85]

Why You Should Think About Homeschooling Your Child

If you have a child who is struggling in traditional schooling, you may want to think about homeschooling him or her. This can be quite a challenge, and you may not know where to start. Fortunately, there are many great resources out there for homeschooling parents. This article will point you in the right direction. Include your child's hobbies in their learning. If they enjoy building model cars, pick up reference books for them to read and include building a car as a project. Teach them about how an engine works, how cars affect the environment and even use the speed and distance a car goes in math lessons. While most states require that homeschooling programs teach a standardized core curriculum, the fact that you are working one-on-one with your student also usually translates to significantly more free time. Consider allowing your child to choose which elective courses they want to take to fill this time, or hire a tutor to supplement comprehension in the tougher subjects. When choosing to teach your children at home, it pays to be imaginative. Many lesson plans are expensive, but you can create your own plans. Flash cards are easy to make out of laminate sheets and index cards. Let your kids help in the process, and they will learn even more along the way. Homeschooling takes quite a bit of time out of your day. This can make it difficult to keep up with the housework. If hiring someone is not an option, incorporate different tasks into the curriculum. Have younger children match socks by size and color, and teach older children about measurements by cooking. Finding time to cook at big meal at the end of the day can be tough when you are homeschooling children. Plan your meals ahead of time and precook as much as you can. Baking English grammar worksheets during the weekend and freezing portions can really be a lifesaver during the week when you don't feel like cooking. Know your shortcomings. It is unlikely that any parent can singlehandedly teach their child everything they need to know from kindergarten through 12th grade. There are several options for upper-level courses. For instance, online high school and distance learning programs can help your child succeed in the later grades and prepare for the GED and college. Visit zoos and other attractions to expand what you are teaching your kids. Discuss the animals and their habitats. This could supplement a geography lesson. Additionally, you may think about endangered animals and what has happened to diminish their numbers. There are many applications to this, including observing the tourists! Set goals for each of your children. You should have two lists of goals per child; one short-term and one long term. Setting weekly goals will help you stay on target toward reaching your long-term goals. If you have these goals written where your children can see them, they will be able to strive to accomplish what you have planned for them. Make certain that you know what the laws are in your state. Each one is different in their requirements. Some have stringent requirements. Others are more relaxed. You do not want to get into legal trouble because you don't understand the laws in your state. Contact your local school board for direction. If the only reason that you do not want to home school your children is because you are scared they will not get the socialization they need, know that you can work around this. You may be able to find groups in your area that allow children who are home schooled to get together and play. If your area does not have this, you can always bring them to the park or have them join a sport to meet and play with other kids. A home school is only as good as its teacher, so make sure you have the proper qualifications to homeschool your children. Think about the relationship that you currently have with your children; sit down and iron out any problems prior to homeschooling. Once you decide to give homeschooling a try, you are going to need some help. Take advantage of the information that is out there. Use the experience of other homeschooling families that have faced the same challenges you are facing. With these resources to draw on, you can make homeschooling succeed for your child.

[ishomieokay]

Masks We Wear (Chapter 2)

Teen and Up. 3.1k, canon-typical violence, ptsd, mental health issues, depression, mentions of torture, unethical experimentation, morally grey!john, anger issues, kidnapping, implied child abuse. part 2/44. AO3 link. part 1, part 3.

Right before turning eighteen, John Vogelbaum escapes the clutches of Vought. Always under the radar, he manages to live as a regular Joe for the next couple of years. Until one day, trouble comes knocking at his door in the shape of Grace Mallory. What does the CIA want to do with him, anyway?

Or, the one where Homelander is never born. A traumatized, socially-awkward John wanders through life trying to work out what to do with himself, and somehow becomes a member of The Boys.

Taglist: @discowizard88 Let me know if you want to be tagged!

After her visit, John found his thoughts drifting towards Grace Mallory on a regular basis. It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t been intrigued by her proposal. Shortly after his escape from the lab, he was often plagued by violent thoughts regarding his handlers, and particularly his surrogate father, Jonah Vogelbaum. 

Back then, he’d still been struggling to adjust to life in the outside world, which presented quite a challenge for someone with no practical knowledge on how to conduct himself in society as an adult. He’d never received a proper education, at least not in the traditional sense. His tutors prioritised lessons in speech, acting and for a short period of time, dancing. It was the late 90s, and the growing popularity of New Kids on the Block and Backstreet Boys made them consider the idea of giving a Boy Band approach to Homelander’s debut. Unbeknown to them, that decision had greatly motivated his final escape.

As far as academic pursuits went, he'd often been exposed to oversimplified media about American history, and white-washed stories loosely based on Greek Mythology. At times, John could still feel the pain of having his eyelids forcefully held open during screenings. Any other subject was deemed unnecessary and potentially harmful by his handlers. Therefore it comes as no surprise that in his first days out in the real world, he didn’t know how to pay taxes, manage money or even open a bank account. To say he’d been having a bit of a rough time was an understatement. 

John kept himself busy, though. He needed a roof over his head first, as well as a decent enough income if he wanted to survive on his own. Above all, he needed a new identity. No one was going to hand those to him on a silver plate. The small comforts that a Vought-sponsored lifestyle had offered were a thing of the past, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

So, he pulled himself up by his own bootstraps (which is something he’d only heard people say in movies, but it seemed like sound advice to him) and went out looking for a job. He found odd gigs here and there, usually involving heavy-lifting and body-guarding, but it was enough to go by. Once or twice, when the payment was tempting enough, he accepted jobs on the wrong side of the law. John knew just how mortified Vogelbaum would be, if he knew that the boy he’d raised to become America’s perfect hero was out there doing the dirty work for gangsters and cartel lords. It made the whole ordeal oddly satisfying. 

By the time John managed to settle, that initial raw anger he’d experienced was somewhat appeased, and it had been easy to find excuses, time and again, to not go through with his plans. He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on the matter. Back at the lab, thinking things through had never done anything for him but sent him spiralling down. John figured out early on that self-absorption would be his perdition, if he let it. So, he took actions instead, never questioning, just moving forward to wherever his feet would take him.  

It’s normal for you to be afraid of them, after what they did to you. 

There wasn’t anywhere to run now, though, and perhaps that’s why Grace Mallory’s words kept coming back to him. Being so transparent in the eyes of a perfect stranger did not sit well with him. The fact that such observation came from a human woman, plain and brittle in appearance, irked John even more. It didn’t take long for one of his neighbours to notice the downturn in his mood. 

“You ought to find yourself a woman,” she informed him, leaning against the doorframe while John went to fetch the cup of sugar she’d asked to burrow. “I know what it looks like. Loneliness, I mean. I was just the same when Annie’s father left. And you’re nearing that age, you know? When a man should start a family.”

“Oh, you betcha, Mrs. January!” John replied, forcing a smile that looked a little too sharp. “All this quiet gets real unnerving sometimes. Can’t wait to have a couple rascals running around the place! Ahm just waiting for the right gal.” 

“Well, you sure ain’t gonna find her holed up in her all day,” Mrs. January replied, wrinkling her nose as she looked around the cabin. “She’s not just gonna fall from the sky and land on your porch, John. You gotta put yourself out there!”

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Donna January was a bit of an oddball. She was usually on the road, trailing behind Capes for Christ during their national tours and taking her daughter to pageants all over the country. Whenever she was home, she would call for him at the slightest inconvenience. Whether she needed her tires changed or a titillating lightbulb had to be fixed in her attic, he always lent her a hand. It was the neighbourly thing to do. At least, that’s what he always saw good neighbours do on television, growing up. 

Besides, John knew that her husband had recently left her. He figured she just wasn’t used to not having a man around the house. 

“Appreciate the pointers,” he said, handing over the sugar cup. Then he winked at her, knowing it would leave her flustered and unwilling to further discuss his love life. “I’ll remember them, for sure!”

It occurred to him while laying awake that night that Mrs. January may be right. He had found the stability he was looking for. That one heist he carried out for the Sinaloa cartel had paid in full for the cabin, as well as a Chevrolet Duramax that he was slowly but surely learning how to drive. The suitcases full of cash hidden under a loose floorboard in the basement were certainly enough to maintain a family. A rather large one, in fact. Even if it didn’t, John had an innate talent for violence that would always be well remunerated in certain sectors of society. Money would never be an issue for him. 

Still, he chose to live his life in solitude. He rarely went downtown and when he did, it was always to get groceries and sit on his own at overpriced coffee shops, unwillingly and sometimes willingly listening in on private conversations. The rare times he was approached by strangers, John was polite enough. Once he ran out of the well-rehearsed social niceties he'd learned by studying other people's interactions and watching television, his oddities started to show, though. Usually, it didn't take long for them to figure out that there was something wrong.  

It would be easier, he mused, if he had been the type to venture into dimly lit bars in search of female company. John wasn’t a drinker, though. Never had been and probably never would be. He was still underage by the time he escaped Vought's laboratories, and even if he hadn't been, his handlers would have never taken the risk of leaving him unsupervised around alcohol. John wasn’t sure if would trust himself drunk, either. There had been accidents serious enough while he was in full control of his mind for him to ever consider it.

The few times he’d dared to explore Des Moines’ rather underwhelming nightlife, the disconnection he felt from the boisterous, drunken crowd never failed to sour his mood. He had the nagging suspicion that had little to do with his sobriety, though.  

John kept the Colonel’s card in the wooden box of his living room, and pulled it out in moments of quiet contemplation. Eventually, the numbers became engraved into his memory. Had he felt sure enough that it wasn’t part of an elaborate ruse to imprison him again, he probably would have called. He was distrustful by nature, though, and that character trait had been reinforced time and again due to the circumstances of his upbringing. Even the promise of revenge was not tempting enough for him to risk facing the bars of another cage. 

In the end, it was not Mallory’s proposal that pulled him out of his quiet little life at the edge of Brown’s woods, though, but a distressed calm from Donna January. It was a Saturday afternoon. John had been going through a weight lifting routine with a sequoia tree when he heard the phone ring. “Annie’s gone,” Mrs. January said, her voice watery but steady. John’s surprise was such that he lost focus and the glass of water he was holding broke into pieces. 

“What do you mean, gone?” He asked, grimacing as he shook the water off his arm. It wasn’t the first time that happened and it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

“They came in the morning,” Mrs. January said, hiccupping. On the other side of the line, John could hear the sound of bottles being knocked over and then glass breaking. He wondered if she’d been drinking. “Wanted to see the Compound’s effects. They’ve been bugging me ‘bout it for some time, but I thought she wasn’t ready. You know how Annie is, she’s never liked using her powers. Not for show. One of them raised his voice at her and she… they took her.” 

“What are you talking about? Who’s they?” John asked, despite knowing the answer already. He felt strangely calm.

“Vought,” Miss January said helplessly. “The men from Vought came. She blasted one of them down. They said if she was old enough to attack a grown man, then she was ready to receive more rigorous training.”

John’s hands twitched. No one knew better than him what Vought’s definition of rigorous training was. Of course, he’d been aware of the fact that Annie January had been injected with Compound V in her infancy. Despite what the public had been told, supes were not a gift from divine providence but rather a multi-million investment in the pharmaceutical industry. They were not born but made, and that process of transmutation was at times traumatic and beyond painful. He was the living proof. It never occurred to him that his neighbour’s ten year old daughter would ever have to endure such an ordeal, though. 

There were thousands of supes all over the country, after all. John learned early on that most of them could spend an entire lifetime without ever being contacted by Vought, especially if their looks and talents were deemed too plain to be marketable. He’d never actually heard of a Supe being taken from their families, though. What had he missed? Was that quirky little girl truly as strong as to attract the attention of his former handlers? 

“What you’re describin’ sounds an awful lot like kid snatching, ma’am,” John said, feeling his face twitching as he struggled to stay in character, “I think you oughtta pay the sheriff a little visit.” 

“I can’t, I signed a contract when they gave her the V. A custody arrangement, they-” Mrs. January cut herself off, then let out a quiet sob, “oh, they said it was just a formality! I never thought they would actually take her.”

Oh, Donna, John thought with a grimace, you stupid old hag. 

“Mrs. January,” he said, speaking with a deliberate emphasis that seemed to ask for silence. “Stay home. Read a book, watch some TV, whatever it is single moms do when their daughters are at school. And for fuck’s sake, stop drinking, would ya? Good ol’ John will go look for your kid, and she’ll be back home by dinner’s time. Everything’s gonna be a-okay!”

Mrs. January kept quiet for a long while, and he could almost hear her frown through the phone when she said in a weepy voice, “you’re a very strange young man, John.”

“Yeah,” he replied, lips turning downwards, “I’ve been told that before.”

When John walked out of the cabin, there was a man sitting on his porch. He reeked of cheap brandy and tobacco, and was dressed in a dazzling Hawaiian shirt under a thick black coat that seemed wildly impractical for Des Moines’ usually humid weather. The stranger took a long drag out of his cigar, then offered him a wide, rather off-putting smile. 

“Hey there, mate,” he said, with a thick cockney accent, “where you off to?”

John openly glared at the Englishman. This was getting out of hand. One time was a curious little incident, but a second time was already a pattern worth examining.

“Okay, whoever the fuck you are, this really isn’t the time,” he said, an edge to his voice, “so shoo, get outta my property before I fuckin’ shoot you.”

“Is that right?” The Englishman said, putting off the cigar on the sole of his shoe, then spitting shamelessly on the floorboard. John’s nose wrinkled at the sight. “Wuldn’t ya rather laser me fuckin’ brains out? I ‘eard that one’s a fave of yours.” 

John tilted his head to the side, making a quick second assessment of the intruder. It took him a moment to place his face. Once he finally did his annoyment increased tenfold, but this time he was quicker to conceal it. He’d seen him around town quite often, but after the Colonel’s visit, there was no trace left of him. Now he reappeared, for reasons John couldn’t fathom but wasn’t particularly intrigued by either.   

“Uh, a friend of Mallory’s, I take it?” he said. As a response he only received a quick grunt that was probably meant to be taken as an affirmation. “I reckon I made it pretty fucking clear I’m not interested in her proposal.” 

“You sure did,” the Englishman said, narrowing his eyes, “‘had to take ‘er to the hospital, make sure nothin’ was broken.” 

John blinked and could almost see her there, laying on the floor of his kitchen, glaring up at him with those sharp hazel eyes of hers, red welts already blooming around her neck. There was a sour taste in his mouth. 

“She would’ve been fine, if she’d just minded her own business,” he replied, struggling very hard to appear unaffected, but his quick, defensive response did him no favours. The Englishman arched his eyebrows at him, and something in the intent of his gaze, in the grim amusement of dark brown eyes, made John’s skin prickle. He turned around and made his way down the stairs of his porch, muttering, “I’ve not fucking time for this,” under his breath.

“You really going after ‘em?” The Englishman asked, making him stop dead in his tracks. “That ain’t the smartest move if ya wanna keep ‘em off yer scent, Johnny.”

“It’s John,” he corrected, sharply. 

“Right, wotever.”

Something occurred to John, then, and he turned around. “You saw them take her,” he said, not a question but a statement of fact. The Englishman averted his eyes, saying nothing, but that was all the answer he needed. John let out a dry, humourless laugh. “And you- what? You just let them? Knowing what you do?”

“That ain’t ‘ow this works, mate,” the Englishman replied. “We’re bangin’ out a case against Vought. We ain’t s’posed to stick our oars in, we’re just gatherin’ evidence.”

“But she’s just a child. Don’t you know what they’ll do to her?” John said, and he could feel it very clearly then. That old simmering anger rising to the surface. A part of him knew that he wasn’t only thinking about the girl.

“Aye,” the Englishman replied airily, like a surgeon making a cut in a sedated patient. All business and no hard feelings. “Exactly what they did to you.”

John stared, then revealed a row of sharp, pearly white teeth in the mockery of a smile. 

“You’re just like ‘em, you know? My handlers,” he said, placidly. “Before, when I was a kid, I never even questioned it. The experiments, the needles and the hurt. It was just the way things were. Always had been, since I could remember. It was later, when I grew up, that I realised how messed up the dang thing was. That someone would do those things to a kid, just ‘cause they could. That folks would just stand there ‘n let it happen.” 

John climbed the stairs back up. His right hand was working open and closed with the urge to clamp around flesh. As he stared into his eyes, he noticed that the Englishman was quiet and appeared cautious in a way he hadn’t been before. 

“It wasn’t personal for them, though,” John said, “for the doctors, and Jonah, for Madelyn - it was just a day’s work. But for me? For me, it was my life. You understand what I’m trying to say?”

“I understand,” the Englishman replied, and John had to give him credit for being able to maintain his gaze. Most couldn’t, when the lasers were powering up. 

“Good.”

John turned around then, heading towards a secluded clearing in the forest where he knew no one would see him take off. If he managed to catch a sniff of Annie's scent, that would be enough to track them down. 

“Oi, cunt!” The Englishman called, just as he was about to disappear into the edge of the wilderness. John turned his head to the side, just enough to have him in his field of vision.

“Name’s Billy Butcher, ‘was a pleasure,” he said, and despite the reproaches, the scorn and the unspoken threats, in his eyes there was a look of begrudging respect. John didn’t care for it one bit. 

“Not to me,” he replied drily. “Don’t care what the fuck your name is, either.”

Rather than offended, Butcher appeared amused by his rebuttal. John cursed him under his breath before going on his way. 

[tillman49wollesen]

How To Get Ripped Off Online

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[helliontherapscallion]

Safe

Pairing: SBI family x reader (platonic, one shot), BASED OFF FROM CHARACTERS NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE

Warnings: child abuse/neglect, bullying, alcoholism, death of a parent, mentions of panic attacks, injury, mentions of a dog’s death, mentions of eating disorders, mentions of suicide attempts, depression

Word count: 7,730

(A/N): if you’re not feeling safe at home or are being abused, please contact the proper authorities. Here’s the abuse hotline: 1-800-799-7233, my DMs are always open if you want to talk 

You met Tommy and Tubbo when you were in third grade. You were a relatively quiet kid, the type to always keep to themselves and abstain from social activity. Mrs. Jansen, being the nice woman that she was, let the entire class choose their own seats.

“Welcome to your first day of third grade, class! I’m Mrs. Jansen and I look forward to getting to know all of you. As you can see, there are enough desks for all of you. You may sit with who you want.”

You shifted around uneasily and gripped your book in your hands as your classmates hurried to get the back seats. After every seat was taken, you walked to the only seat left in the front. You were between a girl and a boy. They introduced themselves as Dorothy and Samuel, and were relatively kind to you. 

As the class passed their second week, two boys that sat in the back row made themselves apparent very quickly. They were both rambunctious, always disrupting the class with their giggles and whispers. Mrs. Jansen had warned them multiple times that she was going to separate them, but it seemed that they didn’t think she’d do it. One day, she finally had enough.

“Tommy, Tubbo. I’ve given you plenty of warnings, I’m going to have to separate you. Dorothy, Samuel, can you please switch places with them?”

You could feel dread wash over you. Why was she putting you between them?! What did you do wrong to deserve this? You could swear that you’ve done all your chores, you even made your mom smile at you! She never did that. 

They pouted as they sat next to you, Tommy on your right and Tubbo on your left. You already missed Samuel and Dorothy. “Thank you. (Y/n), make sure they behave.”

You shrunk down into your seat as you felt Tommy’s glare burning holes into the side of your head. Tubbo, on the other hand, was watching the lesson with bored eyes and  his chin propped up in his hand. You tried to take notes, but you kept getting distracted by Tommy’s heated glare. You were going to fall behind, you couldn’t have that. Mama wouldn’t like that. 

After the final bell rang, you hurried out of the classroom to avoid Tommy’s wrath. You could hear him shouting for you to stop, but you never stopped until your hand was grabbed and yanked backwards in the empty playground. You fell back onto the pavement of the basketball court and whimpered at the sting in your palms. 

Tommy glared down at you, “you gonna cry? Serves you right. Never tell on Tubbo and I. Got it?”

You tearfully nodded and he grinned maliciously at you, “good. Tubbo, let’s go. Wil and Tech’s probably waiting for us.”

The brunet was staring at Tommy with a shocked expression, unmoving. Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed before he grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the crowd of families. Tubbo looked back at you with an apologetic expression and watched as you looked at your scratched up palms. 

You wiped at your tears as you stood up and started to walk home. Your neighbor’s dog behind the wired fence barked at you as you hurried past it. You never liked that dog; it was a drooling, angry, ugly furball. It scared you, but not as much as Mama did when she drank her adult juice. She was scary when she drank it. You tried hiding it from her once but she grounded you from eating dinner and snacks for half a month. You didn’t try to hide it again. 

You trudged up the creaky wooden stairs of your porch and tried to open the door only to find it locked. You tried to knock on the door but Mama didn’t answer so you just sat on the front porch waiting for her to open the door. She did so when the sun was setting, surprise and then anger shining through her hazy eyes. She yelled at you before she sent you to your room for the night without dinner.

The next day when you were sitting alone at a lunch table, someone plopped down in the seat next to you. You jumped and scooted away from them, looking up only to see Tubbo. He was smiling at you.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about Tommy, he gets mad easily.”

You eyed him warily and clutched your open book, “...it’s okay.”

He grinned and scooted closer to you, peering over your shoulder at the book. “What’re you reading?”

“‘Harry Potter’.”

“Oh I love that book! My favorite character’s Ron, who’s yours?”

Surprisingly, the conversation was pleasant before he was dragged away by a glaring Tommy. You might actually make a friend after all. Later that day after school, Tommy once again stopped you in the school yard. This time, he shoved you to the ground and started to shout at you. 

“You do not talk to him, freak! You’re gonna mess him up, he talks to me and me only. Do you unde-undastunend?”

You gulped and shakily spoke up, “yes, and it’s ‘understand’, not ‘undastunend’.”

His glare intensified before he reared back a fist. You yelped as you curled into a ball with your hands protecting your head. Before he could hit you, you heard the stomping of shoes against the concrete.

“TOMMY STOP.”

You could feel a hand on your back and a gentle voice asking if you were alright. You hesitated before you looked up to see an older boy with a mop of curly brown hair on his head and wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He reminded you of Harry Potter. Looking past him, you saw a tall pink haired boy glaring and lecturing Tommy, holding the struggling boy in place with a firm grip on his elbow. Tubbo was just behind him looking down and shifting on the balls of his feet.

“I am so sorry about Tommy, are you alright? He didn’t hit you did he?”

You shook your head and the boy heaved a sigh of relief, “that’s good. I’m Wilbur and that’s Technoblade, we’re Tommy and Tubbo’s brothers. What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).”

He smiled at you, “that’s a lovely name.”

“Wilbur, let’s go. This one,” Technoblade shook Tommy’s arm, “needs to talk to Dad.”

You watched as Tommy’s movements stopped and he looked up with wide eyes. “No, please don’t tell Dad. Please-” 

Wilbur stood and helped you up before grabbing Tubbo’s hand and lead him away, “you aren’t weaseling your way out of this.”

You watched the brothers leave, feeling guilt wash over you. You didn’t want to get him in trouble, punishments were the absolute worst. Even though he shoved you and almost punched you, he didn’t deserve any punishment. With guilt weighing down on your shoulders, you walked home. At least Mama was in a good mood, she made you some mac n cheese for dinner. 

The next day, Tommy trudged up to your desk and put a tupperware dish on your desk before sitting down in his seat and ignored you. Tubbo sat in his seat next to you and smiled at you.

“Open it,” he jumped in his seat slightly as he watched your expression change to shock. In the container laid five chocolate chip cookies. You had only had cookies once in your life and that was during a class birthday celebration a year ago. “They’re our Dad’s secret recipe, I helped make them! Um, Tommy wanted to apologize to you.”

You glanced at Tommy. He was glancing at you over his shoulder and blushed a bright red when he saw you looking at him. Tubbo cleared his throat and gestured at Tommy. The blond crossed his arms and looked off to the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled halfheartedly. 

After that, they started to sit next to you during lunch. Tommy was a bit cold towards you, but you found yourself beginning to relax around Tubbo’s friendly aura. Soon enough, you started to supply him with more than a few words per sentence. Tommy eventually got bored of eating in silence and would join your conversation. You three became thick as thieves that year, you even met their Dad. He was very different from Mama; he never yelled at you, he was always giving you snacks, and he even smiled at you often. 

That house became like a second home to you. Eventually, you ended up spending more time at the Minecraft residence than you spent at home with your mom. Over the years, she got worse with her drinking. She was always passed out on the couch and when she wasn’t, she was swaying on her feet in the kitchen staring at a portrait with dazed, wistful eyes. You can remember when you first realized that she had a problem and always being unhappy and drunk was, in fact, not normal for a parent. 

It was a warm spring day in seventh grade. Luckily, you had your health class with Tommy and Tubbo. You were currently learning about alcohol dependency and the effects it had on the body. The teacher listed all the symptoms your mom had; the uncontrollable urge to drink, the aggression, the shakiness and dizziness, everything. When you came to the realization that your mother might have a problem, the teacher started to explain the disorders and diseases that could come from heavy drinking, most of them having the potential to be fatal if the drinking persisted. You felt like you were drenched in icy water as your body seized up in fear for your mother. You stared unseeingly at your notebook at the symptoms of alcoholism and associated disorders. You didn’t want your mom to die. You had to do something before it was too late for her.

“(Y/n)?” You jumped and looked at the person who called your name. Tommy and Tubbo were giving you worried stares. “Are you okay?”

You shakily started to put your supplies away into your backpack. The class had been dismissed and you didn’t even realize it. “Y-yeah. It’s just- I’m worried.”

“Yeah, I’m worried too,” Tommy laughed as you followed the two out of the classroom and to the courtyard. “That essay’s gonna be awful.”

“Oh god we have an essay?”

“Yeah, Mr. Smithers assigned it to us before the bell rang, are you sure you’re okay? You’re usually on top of this stuff.” Tubbo threw a worried glance towards you.

“Yeah, just a bit distracted today. I uh, have to go home. Like right now, my mom wants me home right after school today.”

You sprinted off towards your house. When you reached your neighborhood and ran past the wired fence. The bulldog that lived there was now old and gray. You found out that his name was Buster and he was actually a total sweetheart if you slept next to him on the other side of the fence on more than one occasion. Buster watched from inside his doghouse as you sprinted into the house. Luckily for you, the door was unlocked and your mother was passed out on the couch surrounded by glass bottles. You locked the door behind you as you rushed over to her intensely watching for any sign of movement. She looked dead, her skin was pale, her hair matted, and her mouth gaping open showing off her yellow stained teeth. She wasn’t moving, were you too late?

Just as you started to panic, she snorted and started to breathe. You slumped in relief as you stepped over the beer bottles into the kitchen. The table was sparkly clean with a pristine picture frame resting in the middle, a stark contrast of the beer bottles that littered the floor and the piles of dirty dishes in the sink. It was of a man standing stiffly in a military uniform saluting at the camera with a stern expression. He was an exact copy of you. Well, you were an exact copy of him; that man was your late father.

“Hey Dad, how was your day? Mine was awful, I learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis today and- and I’m worried about Mom. She’s been drinking a lot lately.”

You stared at your dad’s face behind the glass as if expecting a response. You wanted some reassurance from the man. You wanted him to tell you everything was going to be okay and that he’d handle it so you could be a normal kid. Like usual, his steely expression didn’t budge one bit. 

You sighed to yourself sadly and trudged to the refrigerator opening the door. The beer bottles stared back at you tauntingly. Your fingers twitched on the fridge door as you contemplated the consequences of throwing away the offending glass bottles. You remembered in second grade when you hid your mother’s alcohol she punished you by withholding food from you. She’d probably do worse this time, but the consequences were worth it if you were going to save your mother’s life. 

It took you ten minutes of tossing alcohol into the garbage can until the fridge was left barren of the drink. Without the green bottles, the fridge was completely empty with the exception of milk and a few probably rotten eggs. You struggled to take the trash out to the curb and started to work on homework in your room. 

At seven at night, you could hear her roll off the couch and stumble into the kitchen. A series of frantic rustling and banging sounded downstairs before you could hear pounding footsteps storm up the stairs. Your door flung open to reveal your red-faced, livid mother. 

“What the fuck did you do?”

“M-mom I hid them because we learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis and-” You cut yourself off when she walked over to you with her arms extended towards your trembling frame. You tried to scoot as far away from her as possible, but she grabbed your shoulders with clammy but firm hands, shaking you roughly.

“Are you saying I have a problem?! You spoiled fucking brat, you’re the problem! Everything was amazing before you came and fucked up my life. You took him away from me. YOU FUCKING KILLED MY HUSBAND.”

You could feel tears start to drip down your cheeks as you remembered that day in first grade when you begged your dad to get you some McDonalds for dinner. When he relented, you cheered and your mom laughed at your excitement. She was so full of life back then; her hair was shiny and bouncy, her skin was unmarked and flawless, her eyes were lively and bright. Her laughter was perhaps your favorite memory of her. Then everything went to shit when your dad never came home and your mom got a phone call saying that your dad was killed in a car wreck on impact. You could remember your mother’s heart wrenching sobs as she collapsed to the floor and pulled you tight against her body. As if she was trying to protect what was left of her husband.

You were snapped back to reality when your mom shoved you back onto your bed. The happy, beautiful woman that you saw was replaced by the shell of a broken woman. Her silky hair turned dull, her smile turned into a grotesque scowl, her loving eyes turned cold. She truly was a husk of her former self. 

“Stop crying, you’re not the one who’s life was ruined. I want you out of my house in ten minutes. You’re gonna not step foot anywhere near here for two weeks. If I even see you on my property before those two weeks are up, you’re fucking dead.”

You frantically nodded and watched as she stumbled out of her room. You packed what you would need in your spare backpack and ran out of the house past your mother sobbing and babbling incoherently to your dad. You flinched when you could hear a bang and the sound of glass shattering when she threw a bottle at your retreating figure. 

You ran until you couldn’t run anymore. Your legs brought you to the park where you spent most of your childhood. Everywhere you looked, you could see glimpses of your mom and dad pushing you on the swing, Tommy and Tubbo running from you playing tag, Mr. Minecraft putting a bandaid on your scraped knee. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you pushed yourself up and went to your safe place. It was a little nook deep in the vegetation where nobody could see you. You originally found this place when you were playing hide and seek with Tommy and Tubbo. They never knew where you hid.

Tears moistened the soil underneath you as you pulled out a blanket you had hid in a plastic grocery bag and spread it out on the floor. You curled up on it and cried freely into your hands. You didn’t sleep much that night. 

That was the first time she had kicked you out for that long. You barely ate in those two weeks, wolfing down any food you could get your hands on at lunch. Lunch for you was the small scraps of food that Tommy and Tubbo shared with you. Mom never packed you lunches or gave you money to buy things anymore. To make matters worse, they had told their dad that they thought you had some form of eating disorder. 

About a week into your exile, you finally visited the Minecraft residence after avoiding them for a week. You remembered how the blond man pulled you aside into the kitchen. He gently sat you down and pushed a plate full of chicken and vegetables in front of you. You looked at him confused as he gestured towards the plate.

“Eat that, I heard you haven’t been eating much lately.” When you made no move to eat, he smiled at you. “Go ahead, it’s okay if you don’t eat it all. Just eat some of it.”

That was all you needed to hear, you began to eat quickly like a starving wolf. It’s been a while since you had more than half an apple to eat, let alone an actual homemade meal. When you were done, you looked up to see the older man looking at you worriedly. 

“...Are you not getting enough food at home?”

You scrambled to find a lie, “my- my mom is away a lot on business trips. We don’t really eat much.”

His worried expression grew tenfold as he moved to kneel in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders. “You need to eat three meals a day, especially now that you’re growing. You’re always welcome here when your mom’s away, our door’s always open. Is she away now?”

“Yeah, she won’t be home until next week.” You felt bad for lying to the man that put bandaids on your scraped knees and took you to the father daughter dance in fifth grade when he heard that your dad was dead. He was always so kind to you, which you never quite understood. Despite feeling bad for lying to him, you felt incredibly relieved that you didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

From then on out whenever she kicked you out, you went to the Minecraft residence. They welcomed you with open arms and treated you like you were a part of the family. You and Techno bonded over your love for reading and mythology, Wilbur made sure you took care of yourself, and Philza (he told you to just call him Phil at that point) treated you like his own child. You didn’t think that it was possible for you, Tommy, and Tubbo to be any closer than you already were, but you three became inseparable. You told them everything one night when you couldn’t sleep. You told them how you felt like you were the cause of your mother’s decline and your dad’s death, how she would usually punish you, her ‘hobby’. They were about to tell Philza, but you begged them not to. After a while of pleading and assuring them that she’d never hit you, they hesitantly agreed and made you promise to call them whenever you felt unsafe in your home. 

You kept to that promise, calling them whenever she would get too drunk to know what she was doing. They would calm you down from panic attacks late at night and invite you to their house in the daytime. They felt like your actual brothers and you started to refer to them as such. You three gave each other a shoulder to lean on and gave each other comfort when needed. One night when you were in your freshman year, however, your mother caught you sneaking out to see them after she sent you to your room. That was when she started to hit you.

Just as you were about to sneak out the front door, your mother started to scream at you incoherently. When you flinched away from when she got up in your face, she became even more enraged. 

“WHERE WERE YOU GOING? I BET YOU’RE WHORING YOURSELF OUT, AREN’T YOU LITTLE SLUT?”

Without thinking, you yelled back at her, “I would never! Why-” You were cut off by a harsh slap to the cheek sending you to the ground. She quieted down and stared at you and her hand, a glint of shock shining through her dazed eyes. Without a word, she turned around and left to go talk to your dad. You sat there listening to her rant about how she failed as a mother, how she wanted to do better but she didn’t know how, how she wished that he was there with her. You scrambled up and ran to your room. You looked at yourself in the mirror, there was a bright red mark on your cheek in the shape of a hand. There was a small cut where her wedding ring connected with your cheek. A single drop of blood dripped down your cheek and curved down the dip of your chin before dripping onto your shirt. Without doing anything else, you plopped down onto your bed and sobbed into your pillow, crying yourself to sleep.

When you woke up in the morning, you realized that you slept through half of the school day so it was useless to go to school now. You reached up to run a hand down your face only to hiss and pull your hand away. You once again looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked terrible. Your eyes were bloodshot and swollen like you were crying in your sleep. Hair was sticking up in all directions and matted slightly. The slap mark was gone, but the cut had bruising around the edges with dried blood crusted on your cheek and on your pillow. It was a small cut, but it bled a surprising amount overnight. You couldn’t see Tommy or Tubbo like this, they’d flip out. Luckily for you it was a Friday and you had the weekend to heal. 

Your mother gradually started to hit you more and more. It started off as a once-a-week thing whenever she was really angry, but then it divulged into something that would happen daily over the smallest things. You became her punching bag for her to release some steam. Makeup became your best friend at that point; you used what little savings you saved over the years for dollar store makeup.

Soon after it became a struggle to hide the cuts and bruises from Tommy and Tubbo, so you gradually started to avoid them. Your face, once synonymous with the Minecraft residence and Tommy and Tubbo, became a rarity. They tried their hardest to contact you, but you always dodged their calls. After a few months of you dodging Tommy and Tubbo, you finally told them that you didn’t want to be friends with them anymore. 

It broke your heart to say it, but it had to be done. They were getting too close to the truth and you couldn’t have that; the government would take you away from your mom and she’d end up dead. You were the only one keeping her alive at this point, she lost all motivation to eat. The only thing she did nowadays was hit you, drink, and hug your dad’s photo to her chest. 

The beatings got to the point where you could barely walk without feeling pain. School became something that you’d rarely attend. Tommy and Tubbo stopped trying to talk to and call you. Buster, your previous confidant, had long since died so you were truly alone in the world. The neighbor’s yard looked barren without the dog house and the graying dog. The only person you had left was your mom. 

When you had accidentally burnt dinner late at night, she completely snapped. She grabbed your arm and held it on top of the burner. Pain hit you immediately as you screamed and cried apologies to her. When you instinctively hit her with your other hand, she dug her nails into your arm and pushed your arm closer onto the burner. Nerve endings screamed at you to get away from the pain. The pain was becoming too much, so you looked on the countertop next to you for something to defend yourself with. A metal fork was lying close to your other hand. 

You grabbed it and, with a distraught apology to your mother, drove the prongs deep into her arm. She screamed in pain and let your arm go. You ripped yourself out of her grasp and started to run for the front door. A force collided with the back of your shoulder making pain explode in the area. You didn’t know what happened at first, but after hearing the shattering of glass, you realized that she threw a beer bottle at you. You could feel the sting of alcohol and glass mingling with your open wounds on your shoulder. The sting was almost as bad as your arm, but you didn’t stop running especially when you glanced behind you to see her running at you with a knife raised and the fork protruding from her arm.

You flung open the door and sprinted out without bothering to close the door behind you. As your bare feet hit the sidewalk, you could hear your mother stop at the end of the stairs and shout at you to come back. You never stopped.

You didn’t stop until your feet took you to the Minecraft residence’s front door. Nobody was on the street as it was about eleven at night. You hesitated to knock on their door, you ignored the family for the past six months, and you weren’t sure if they even wanted you there. After five minutes of thinking, you just sighed as you walked back down the wooden stairs and walked back towards the sidewalk.

“(Y/n), what are you doing here?” You froze up at Tommy’s sleep riddled voice. You stayed frozen as you heard him stomp over to you. He placed a firm hand on your injured shoulder and forced you to turn around. His angry expression faded into a concerned one when he heard you start to sob and flinch away from him. 

“Wha- shit are you bleeding?” You nodded slightly and he gently turned you back around to see a patch of darkened cloth on your shirt. You could feel him shaking as he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the house. He plopped you at the dining room table and told you to wait there. With that, he sprinted up the stairs and brought back a serious Philza holding a first aid kit. 

When he saw you bruised and battered, you could hear him take in a sharp intake of breath and saw unbridled anger flash across his face. You flinched away from him when he approached you. 

“Hey,” he said in a gentle voice, “I won’t hurt you. Can you show me where you’re hurt?” 

You eyed him warily like a scared wild animal and reluctantly moved your burned arm away from your chest and showed it to him. This was the first time you saw your forearm; it was an ugly red that expanded up the majority of the underside of your forearm with skin burned off at the edges. Yellow, fluid-filled blisters were starting to form. 

You could hear Tommy’s horrified gasp as he turned to run out of the room. You kept your gaze downwards as Philza warned you that he was about to put disinfectant on your wound. He apologized to you when you whimpered in pain at the sting of the alcohol on your exposed nerves. After he was finished wrapping your arm, he asked you to show him where else you’re injured. You turned around so he could see the growing patch of blood staining your now ripped shirt. You could feel him gently move your shirt to the side and heard him wince. 

“Shit, there’s glass in here. I’m going to have to get some tweezers to get it out. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You were then alone in the kitchen for a moment before he came back with a worried Wilbur and Techno in tow. The brunet pulled up a chair next to you and asked if it was alright to hold your hand. After you hesitantly nodded, he grabbed your hand and started to run his thumb over your knuckles. Techno held a light close to your shoulder as Philza started to tweeze out the green tinted glass from your shoulder. 

Every time you would suck in air through your teeth and muffle your yelps with your other hand, Wilbur would whisper reassurances to you and hold your hand tighter. After the glass was out, the wound was disinfected, and wrapped in gauze, Philza told the boys to leave the room. He grabbed both of your hands and gave you the best reassuring smile that he could.

“Tell me what happened.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt tears well up in your eyes, “I tried Phil, I really did. She never got better no matter what I did.”

“What do you mean, are you talking about your mom?” You could hear the angry undertone of his voice. You tensed up and nodded.

“She… she needs help. She was never the same after Dad died, she started drinking. It started off with only one beer a day, but after seventh grade she was going through an entire case in a day. She’d punish me if I said or did anything about it. No dinner for a week was a popular one until she started to ban me from the house for weeks on end. She never went on business trips, Phil. She got a knife today. I-I thought she was actually gonna kill me this time, I was so scared.”

Without another word, he pulled you into a tight hug, letting you sob freely into his shoulder. “It was my fault, I couldn’t help her! She- she needed me and I couldn’t help her.” You said between sobs. He hugged you tighter and started to rub your back, making sure to avoid your shoulder. “None of this is your fault, you can’t help someone if they don’t want help. Sometimes you can’t fix someone who’s too far gone.”

“Am I too far gone?”

“No, you aren’t. We’ll help you through this, we won’t let anybody hurt you ever again. You’re gonna go on to live a good life.” You passed out in his arms after a while of crying. 

When you woke up, you were in Tommy and Tubbo’s room. The two boys jumped to your side and pulled you into a tight group hug. After you tried to apologize to them for how you treated them in the past six months, they shushed you and just sat there in silence hugging you. 

Later that day you found out that your mother was found by your neighbor on the front porch with her wrists slit and empty beer bottles surrounding her. She was breathing, but just barely. Currently she was in an unstable condition in the hospital. You had a full breakdown when you found out that she almost killed herself because of you. You had run out of the house and to your safe place in the park. You hadn’t been there in a few years, so you hoped that it was still there. 

Sure enough, it was still there albeit a bit overgrown. The blanket in the plastic bag was in the same place where you left it. You had no idea how long you were sitting there crying and having a panic attack, but when you came to your senses it was dark outside. You could hear crickets chirping and the rustling of leaves in the entrance of your hideout.

A brunet head poked itself in and smiled when he saw you. Tubbo fully came into the nook and gestured for someone to follow. Tommy’s blond hair made itself apparent before he joined you two inside.

“Nice little place you have here. It’s… homey.” Tubbo rubbed his hands together and blew warm air on them. You threw one side of the blanket at him and pulled your knees up to your chest. “Thanks, I used to sleep here sometimes… How’d you find me?”

“We could hear you,” Tommy pulled out his phone and typed something on it before pocketing it and sitting next to you. He covered himself with the blanket as Tubbo followed suit. You sat in silence before Tommy broke it. 

“How long has she been hittin you?”

“Tommy!” Tubbo scolded him.

“She started about six months ago.”

“Six months ago… that was when you cancelled plans! I knew something was wrong Tubbo.”

Tubbo said nothing as he looked at you with a helpless expression. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Everything’s my fault. I’m the reason my mom’s in the hospital right now fighting for her life. I wasn’t there for her.” You would’ve started crying if it weren’t for the fact that you just felt so drained and numb.

“The fuck do you mean? She was about to kill you! You told us that she was about to stab you, what else were you supposed to do, just let her kill you?!” Tommy exclaimed.

You shrugged, “maybe. If she did she’d be happy, I was just a burden to her. I- I just wanted her to be happy and I would never be able to do that as long as I’m alive. If she killed me she wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”

“What the fuck (y/n),” Tubbo shouted, startling you. He never shouts, let alone swears. “How could you even say that? I don’t know what I’d do without you, everything would be so boring and nothing would be the same without you. Fuck her happiness, she’s a wretched woman if the only way she can be happy is when you’re dead. Fuck her.”

You and Tommy stared at the seething boy in shock. He never shouted when he was angry, he only did that once when he found out that Tommy was being bullied. Whenever he sweared, that’s when you knew his emotions were hitting him at full force. Tommy quickly recovered from his shock to join him, “yeah fuck her, man! She can go suck a dick.” He was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Dad’s here, c’mon he’s worried sick about you.” After they helped you out of your safe place, they both wrapped an arm around your shoulders and walked you to the parking lot. You could see the headlights of the lone car in the lot turn off before the door swung open and a figure rushed towards you. You pushed yourself behind Tommy and Tubbo and hid behind them fearfully. They both turned around and put a hand on your shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s our dad.”

You peeked over their shoulders and saw a mop of disheveled, long blond hair. Philza looked like he was just told that there was an antidote for a fatal poison he just ingested, despite the flash of hurt that showed on his face. His blue eyes were accentuated by the redness of his sclera and you can see the relief painted in them. A gentle smile was on his face as he moved his arms up. Without another word, you launched yourself at him and pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage with your shoulder.

“Are your accusations true, Mx. (L/n)?” 

Your gaze flickered over to your mother sitting on the other side of the courtroom. She looked at you with no expression on her face. Her wrists were wrapped tightly in a white bandage that was a stark contrast to the bright orange prison uniform and the silver of the handcuffs. She wasn’t the woman you knew when your dad was alive. The life was sucked out of her the second she picked up that phone call.

You looked back at the lawyer, “yes sir.”

“I have no further questions, your honor.”

“You may return to your seat, Mx. (L/N).”

You stood up and walked as confidently as you could past the dull eyes of your mother and back to your seat between Tommy and Tubbo. You held their hands tightly as the trial moved onwards. Buster’s owner even stepped up to the witness stand to give his testimony. Apparently he knew about the abuse from your late night conversations with Buster. He had contacted CPS and the police multiple times but the case was always dropped for some reason that you couldn’t bring yourself to ponder. A few of your previous teachers even showed up to give their testimonies. Their words, though true and slightly sweet, rubbed you the wrong way. If they ‘knew something was happening at home with you’, then why didn’t they do anything when it was happening? You tried to focus on the rest of the trial. 

Your mother’s only witness was herself, and she did a piss poor job at it. She was basically digging her own grave with every word that came out of her mouth. The entire time, she was staring at you with her infamous dull eyes. 

“Do you have any further points you would like to add, Mrs. (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have always loved my child. They were my husband’s pride and joy, the splitting image of him. Their rightful place is safe with their real parent at our home.”

You could feel Tommy attempt to stand up, but you pulled him back down; now was not the time for him to start yelling in anger. Tubbo squeezed your hand in reassurance and glanced at you. You were staring at the woman you called your mother with pain and hate filled eyes. You wished her words were sincere, but you knew fully well that they weren’t. The words that left her mouth would’ve been one hundred percent true  and genuine when your dad was still alive, but he’s buried six feet under in a military cemetary now and he has been for years. You would’ve given anything, even your own life, for those words to be true a month ago, but you knew better now. Mothers don’t treat their kids like this, they’re supposed to give their children their unconditional love and take care of them. As far as you were concerned, she was no longer your mother. She forfeited that title the second she turned to the bottle. Philza is and will always be more of a parental figure than she’ll ever be. 

After the jury left to discuss, the court was in a recess. You slipped out of the room and speed walked to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You could see heavy eye bags under your dull eyes. The dullness of your eyes, to your horror, reminded you of your mother, so you splashed your face with water. That fixed it, your eyes were slightly brighter. You could still see the faint outline of the scar on your cheek from when she first hit you. Small scars littered your face from the more recent wounds she gave you before you ran.

A knock sounded at the door, “(y/n), the recess is almost over.” It was Techno.

You patted your face dry and went to leave the bathroom. The pink haired boy that you now saw as your older brother was waiting patiently for you on the other side. He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and led you back to the courtroom. There, the rest of the Minec- no, your family was waiting for you. Just as you reached them, the judge announced that the jurors would be arriving back. The entire courtroom stood as they walked in.

“Have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked.

“We have.”

“Mrs. (L/n) and Mr. Langsburg, would you stand and face the jury? You may read the verdict.”

“We the jury of the state court find the defendant guilty under the charges of child abuse and child neglect.”

Tommy clapped a hand on your shoulder as Tubbo squeezed your hand. They both smiled widely at you. You, however, didn’t acknowledge them. You were only staring at the empty eyes of your mother as she was looking at the jury. Her reaction was akin to her breaking a pencil, like it didn’t matter to her. Like all the years abuse that she put you through didn’t matter was as trivial as breaking a pencil. 

“So say you all?”

“Yes, your honor.” 

“I hereby sentence Mrs. (L/n) to twelve years in the state penitentiary with no opportunity of parole. Mr. Philza Minecraft shall be bestowed the custody of Mx. (Y/n) (l/n) as they do not have any next of kin. Court is adjourned.” With that, she banged the gavel and the courtroom exploded in the bustling of people. You never took your eyes off from your mo- no, the monster with the dull eyes as she picked at something in her nails boredly. Just as she looked up to meet your gaze, Tommy pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly. You were passed around the family in the courtroom for their individual hugs. Philza’s was comforting, Tubbo’s was congratulatory, Wilbur’s was warm, and Techno’s was slightly awkward, yet soft. 

At home, you spent most of your time in the spare room Philza had given you. He had offered to help you decorate it, but you had no idea where to start. You were never allowed to have decorations in your old room. You kept the room simplistic and your possessions light. 

You often stared at your dad’s portrait on your nightstand wondering what your life could’ve been like if you never asked him for McDonalds that day. Your family probably would’ve been stationed in who knows where and moved around often, as is customary in most military families. You probably would’ve never met Tommy and Tubbo in third grade. You probably would’ve never met your now older brothers and new father. You didn’t want to imagine a life without them. 

After a few days of you being locked up in your room, Tommy and Tubbo came into your room with mischievous grins. You knew them like the back of your hand, so you knew the second you saw their faces that they were about to do something. You sat up and looked at them suspiciously. 

“What are you doing?”

“We’re not doing anything, (y/n). Right Tubbo?”

“Right Tommy.” Tubbo nodded curtly. They still had grins on their faces. They walked over to your bed before they picked you up and walked you out of the room. You didn’t have the energy to fight them, so you laid limp in their arms. They eventually took you down to the living room and plopped you down onto the couch between them. Techno tossed them a blanket when they then used to wrap you tightly into a blanket burrito. The home screen of Disney Plus was pulled up on the TV and the curtains were drawn. Philza and Wilbur exited the kitchen with glasses of water and two big bowls of popcorn.

They smiled widely when they saw you squashed between your brothers, putting a bowl of popcorn in your lap and three glasses of water nearby. The two next to you dug into the popcorn as the rest of the family made themselves comfortable on the couch. 

“What are we doing?”

“Movie night! We’re gonna binge the Marvel movies, your favorite!” Tubbo grinned at you, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Just double checking, the order is Captain America, Captain Marvel, Iron Mans One and Two, Incredible Hulk, Avengers, Thor-”

You cut Wilbur off with a mumbled “first Thor, then the first Avengers movie.”

“Glad I asked then! The timeline would’ve been thrown off.” 

As the movies progressed, you started to finally feel like you belonged as a part of the family. Laughter came easier to you, mingling effortlessly with the family’s laughter. Every time you laughed at a scene, they would give you a smile and laugh alongside you. Eventually after about halfway through Captain America: The Winter Soldier, everyone had fallen asleep on the couch. Soft snores and the quiet sounds of the occasional fight scene filled the room as your eyelids started to close involuntarily. You looked around the room at the rest of your family. They all looked peaceful in their slumber. Tommy and Tubbo’s protective hold of their arms around your shoulders made you feel safe. It was in that moment that you realized that they would never let anyone hurt you ever again. You were a part of an actual, loving family. With that, you let yourself fall asleep into a peaceful slumber surrounded by the people that loved you the most. 

General taglist:

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

I'm reading too many fanfics and today I want something more cute than romantic, so I would like Stella with an S/o to be her personal butler who took care of her during her childhood and adolescence (bonus if S/o used to sing to Stella when she was a kid) . obviously the S / o must have a great preparation to be worthy of taking care of the daughter of the parents who were certainly one of the causes of Stella to be like this

Stella's personal Servant and S/O

You had spent years in preparation for when you would meet your mistress.

It was a common practice amongst the nobility.

You take a child from a lower house, train and raising them to become the personal servant to a child from a higher noble family.

You were of lower stock, your family heavily reliant on Stella's family, and being the youngest of your line, you found yourself chosen to be her servant.

Although the agreement basically surrendered one of there own to a life of servitude, it also brought prestige to there household, while also placing one of there own at the right hand of the next head of a powerful household.

Despite your years of training, you were still increadibly nervous upon meeting her, terrified you'd do something wrong and screw it up.

But much to your surprise, she wasn't some terrifying ice queen who could vapourise you with a glare.

She was just a girl. A young, normal looking noble girl. Seemingly not much older than you.

Your meeting was somewhat awkward, you being unsure how you should interact with her outside of the cold formalities you were taught.

Your relationship was an unusual one.

As while, yes you were her servant, you were also expected to be her closest allie and truest friend.

You were expected to take on every burden she had, to carry and guard them to the death.

A concept that hadn't fully registered in your young mind yet, but despite your age, you quickly acclimated to your new responsibilities.

You had, of course, been give training for your new duty, but much of it was learnt in the field.

You found yourself working into a schedule; wake up before her, get clean, have breakfast before waking her up at 7:30 sharp.

From there you would help her dress, something you were quite flustered about the first time around. Then you accompanied her to breakfast, then to her first lesson of the day.

You were often dismissed during her lessons, returning to her room to tidy up, or have her clothes cleaned.

It took time but eventually you were just as capable at cleaning and serving as any veteran servant of the household.

Now, initially Stella was quite... cold towards you. Treating you not much better than any other servant of the home.

But she did eventually warm to you, starting the night you heard her having a nightmare.

Much to her annoyance you had been moved into the room besides her, giving her 24 hour access to you, and you to her.

So you were easily capable of hearing her toss and turn in bed, her whimpers getting louder and louder. Until she awoke, with a scream.

You instantly shot into action, sliding into her room and pulled her into your embrace.

Holding her to your chest, you did your best to sooth her. Barely being a boy yourself you were quite inexperience with such things.

So you did the only thing you could, you sang to her.

You sung her the song your wet nurse used to sing you when you had a bad dream. Holding her for what felt like hours, gently singing to her until she fell back to sleep.

The next morning she insisted you call her Stella, unlike before when she demand the customary 'Lady' or 'Mistress'.

Not long after that she began addressing you by name. The two of you seeming to enter a level of mutual respect.

Similar events would happen several more times during your youth, each time you sang her the same song, holding her close and soothing her.

You brought up the nightmares to her parents, the two seemingly didn't care. Her parents just coldlt telling you 'They were something she needed to get over herself.'

And her parents weren't the warmest family, both her parents seemed obsessed with there appearances, placing politics over the well bing of there own daughter.

So you made her well-being your top priority, always asking if she was OK or if she wanted to talk.

In preparation for you new duties you had already received extensive training in everything from cleaning to first aid.

But as the the two of you grew, you began getting lessons in far more hands on fields.

As you were expected to be her faithful guardian. You were trained in various forms of combat, with everything from knives, to assault rifles.

Followed by several specialised first aid courses, each one dedicated to a different field of medicine.

You excelled through each course, taking the role as both servant and protector as your own.

Despite being younger then your charge, your mentality quickly matured beyond your years, willing and prepared to fight to the death for your charge.

You fully embraced you postion, putting aside everything you were and giving yourself to your new role, absolutely.

As the two of you grew older, you also grew closer and closer. And due to your special status as her personal servant, having less limitations put on you then a regular servant of the house, you could act as more of a friend to the girl. Acting as a trusted confidant for the girls troubles.

As you matured your skills, both physically and mentally, you learned to better dedicat your new skills to what would most efficiently aid your liege.

While you excelled in your training dedicating your self to the task before you, the main problem you faced was, Stella.

It may seem petty, but Stella being of a higher and more powerful cast meant she grew to tower over you by at least a foot.

Something she was sure to rub in your face.

And it may not seem like that big of a deal, but protecting someone much taller then you, was a constant struggle. As they were far more visible then yourself and could be targeted from angles you weren't able to see.

But you did your absolute best, going above and beyond as her steadfast companion, hapily waiting on her hand a foot.

It seemed like a blink if an eye and the beautiful young lady you once served had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And much to your shame, over the years spent together, you had developed a deep affection for her, an affection that went far beyond friendship.

Of course you would never publicly admit such a thing, your years of training alloweing you to keep such your feelings suppressed. Only allowing your affection to show through in what would be expected of a typical platonic relationship.

When Stella came to the age of 17, her parents decided to send her to an academy famous for its education of young noble women.

The problem was, it was an all girls academy. And you being her private servant, and right hand, the two of you could not be sepperated for such a long period of time.

It took a fair bit of political manoeuvring and more then a few favours to get you in, but by the end of it, you found yourself enrolled right besides her.

You were to attend every class as well as share quarters with Stella. You were not to leave her side unless absolutely necessary.

You were far from the only servant to accompany there mistress.

You found a variety of them, from Imps to hellhounds. You even saw a few succubus amongst them.

But the thing that really stood out, was that you were the only male, even amongst the staff.

Initially life at the academy went fantastic.

Stella, with her confident nature and families status thrived at the academy, easily rising the social ranks, making friends and allies.

The whole thing bringing a great sense of warmth to your black heart.

You stood back and proudly watched as she excelled amongst her peers, only having to step in to aid her in her day to day.

But unfortunately, problems did arise. And much to your shame, they were spawned from you.

Now, you had already received a fair amount of attention from the Student; Stares, love letters, lustful gazes. But you were there for Stella, the affects of there attention quickly dissipated as you focused on Stella.

Now you being a fairly attractive young man, in exceptional shape from years of work and being the only male in a school of a few hundred young hormonal women.

But initially, being Stella's servant stopped anyone from pursuing you, as relations with someone below them was punished severely by both the school and there families.

Unfortunately the question of who you were was quickly raised, Stella without much concern or thought, told them all about your special status as both a noble and a servant.

And that's were the problems really began.

You see, sleeping with another family's servant, was an excellent way to get yourself disowned by your family.

But a fling with a servant, whom was also a fellow noble... that could be tolerated.

You were greatly surprised to find just how tolerant the school was of such behaviour.

It would seem that despite there rather strict policy on student/Staff relations, that being pubished severely.

But the school was unwilling to take serious action against noble children for have relations amongst themselves.

It seemed they allowed the students to let out there rebellious phase in small ways, perhaps a method to help make them into proper nobles.

Needless to say, you had never been so happy you were Stella's servant.

You'd heard how some of them talked about you, and if Stella wasn't your mistress, your quite certain you'd be used as a tool for political gain, regardless how you felt about it.

Ironically, you found Stella becoming far more possessive of you, especially whenever someone began to show interest in you.

Now she had always been possessive of you to a degree, snapping at anyone who dared to treat you poorly or acted like you were supposed to serve them, something that happened quite often amongst nobility.

You liked to think it was her way of marking her territory, all the while showing you that she had your back. And with all the attention you were getting, it only made sense for her to be a bit more possessive.

Adding to your growing shame, seeing Stella becoming such a strong, confident woman had only strengthened your feelings for her.

In your mind, you had kept your feeling for Stella perfectly hidden. Only allowing your affection to show, through your friendly and platonic behaviour.

Apparently you were wrong.

Parties were surprisingly common on the school grounds, with a major party seemingly occurring at least once a month.

Stella being ever the socialite, was of course invited. The young lady flirtaciously telling you were invited as well. Following her to the party, you found a small herd of teens sipping wine from plastic cups, talking amongst themselves.

Playing nobility.

It was fun for the most part.

Everyone was dancing and drinking. And much to your surprise Stella was quite lax when it came to alcohol, drinking more than her fair share.

A little tipsy, she found you, demanding you dance with her.

Now you, on the other hand, did not party. You did not drink, you did not fraternise and you most certainly didn't dance.

You were her guardian, you were supposed to watch over her, not get drunk with her in some random dormroom.

But Stella ordered you, not having the will to refuse her, you complied.

You danced and drank and partied. And for the first time in your life, you let yourself he a teenager.

And you enjoyed it. You enjoyed being with Stella.

The mood quickly soured when, as Stella left to get a drink, some random girl grabbed you by the collar and rather aggressively tried to kiss you.

You were able to hold her back of course, even inebriated you were still strong enough to hold back a drunk teenage girl.

You were freaking out, unable to think of what to do, only for Stella to appear and violently rip her off you, beating the crap out of the her right there infront of all the other party goers.

She screamed at the girl, telling her to never touch what belonged to her again. Before without saying a word, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the party.

She dragged you into a nearby allyway, ranting and raving about how dare someone touch you, you belonged to her and she was sick of having to remind people.

Her words becoming progressively more possessive, you just half drunkenly stumbling your much taller mistress.

Raising the question of her increasingly possessive language, you saw her entire body shift.

Walking up to you, she pressed her body up against yours, effortlessly pinning you to the wall.

It was pointless to struggle, as even with all your training she was still stronger.

With eyes you had never seen before, she stared into your own and asked if you liked her.

You were both shocked and terrified, you were so sure you had been careful.

You sputtered something out, trying to hide your feelings before she cut you off with a passionate kiss.

She held you close as she told you all about how she knew you liked her, about how she knew you always held yourself back.

But she understood why.

You were left stunned when she told you the reason she knew why, was because she'd been doing the same. She confessed she had fallen for you, but like you, she had kept her feeling secret because such a relationshi wouldn't be "proper"!

But she didn't care anymore.

She was sick of keeping her feelings for you a secret, sick of watching other women get to speak and act freely while she was forced to hold her tongue.

She wanted you and she was going to have you, no matter what anyone thought.

She dragged you back to your dormroom, although it was more like a small apartment before dragging you to her bed.

Sitting above you she asked if you wanted this, unable to think of the right words you just gave her another passionate kiss.

The two of you spent the night together.

Your relationship was kept a secret for the rest of her time in the academy. The two of you agreeing it would be best and with Your position already giving you the best possible excuse to be close together.

Once you both graduated, Stella's parents tried to have an arranged marriage set up for her, hoping to achieve greater prestige for the family.

But much to your surprise, she blatantly refused.

Instead she using her new-found political connections and usurped her parents, taking the family name and the role of head of household as her own.

Her first act, openly declaring your relationship.

You were deeply relieved the outcry was very minimal, contained to only a few already outspoke critics that apposing her anyways.

And so you stood by her ever since. As bother her loyal protector and faithful lover.

Hey hey, this one was a challenge, but I still enjoyed it. If any of you have a request or want to submit a prompt, go right ahead. Check out my master list for what I won't write and go for it. Thank you all for reading.

[earnestly-endlessly]

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.