a week late contribution to #mamamccallsunday! (honestly thought it was this sunday tbh whoops)
prompt: girlâs night
Dealing with supernatural kids can be exhausting after awhile. Melissa, Marin, and Noshiko can think of no better way to recharge than to get together and watch Michael J. Fox play basketball as a fully transformed werewolf.
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Word count: 681
Rating: General
Notes: Melissa refers to Rafael as Raph.Â
Going through the pictures was overdue, honestly, but it always took so much effort. In the end, Melissa always ended up getting halfway through a box before the emotions became too much for her.
There were five boxes. Over the years, sheâd narrowed it down from eleven boxes, so something was to be said there.
Raph had been meticulous about it. Each of the boxes were labeled with months and years. With all his careful labeling, youâd think he would have cared more about leaving them when she had kicked him out.
Well, whatever. This time, sheâs set herself up with a bowl and a lighter. Any pictures that upset her are being burned, and thatâs that.
Any pictures she wants to save will be scanned onto her laptop. Alan had let her borrow the scanner over the weekend. It was his work scanner, but he said no one would mind. It was his clinic, after all.
So here she was. She pulled down the earliest box she hadâMarch through October, 1997. Scott was two, about this time, just starting to run around. Heâd been such a cautious baby before that. When he learned to walk, heâd demanded that whichever parent was nearby would hold his hands over his head as he carefully toddled to wherever he wanted to get.
Raph had snapped one such picture of her helping Scott walk to the dinner table. It was only the fifth picture sheâd looked at so far, but she found herself smiling at it, eyes already watering.
Scott was wearing that cute onesie he loved. It had a hood he could pull up that gave him elephant ears. Heâd loved that onesie. Sheâd loved that onesie.
Melissa sets the photo up to be scanned before she loses any more time looking at her once small son. She misses the times when his biggest worry was whether or not she would cut the crusts off his pb&j. It all sounds so simple, now, and...well, she wishes she could go back to that. It would be easier on Scott--easier on her, too, but that doesnât matter as much to her.
The next photo is of her kissing Raph. She immediately tosses it into the burn pile. Dickhead.
Some of the pictures are easy, like that. She knows she has no need for pictures of Raph before he drank so much and she knows that she will always want to keep pictures of Scott. She even allows a family picture to stay, even though it makes her wince when she sees it. She knows--believes, anyway--that Scott should have some pieces of his past that include his biological father.
But pictures of Raph without Scott in them? Burn âem.
She tries not to get caught up in pictures of Scott too often. Sometimes she can smile for a moment and put the photo in the scan pile, and other times, sheâs caught up in a memory she canât put away.
Like hereScott had wanted so desperately to go to the park. Heâd dressed himself all on his own, in green corduroys and a sweater vest--just a sweater vest. He hadnât understood why Melissa had laughed so hard and taken a picture of his pouting face before helping him into a t-shirt that would keep him a bit more comfortable.
She chuckles, remembering the way Scott would repeat âArms up!â over and over whenever she helped him change his shirt. Heâd been so cute and small, and nowâshe looked over at the most recent picture she had of him, hanging on the wall. Heâd send it to her via text messageâit was a selfie with Kira. Theyâd taken it with the flash off and Scottâs eyes were screwed shut, to prevent any otherworldly glows. They were so relaxed and happy.
She held up a picture of him beaming at her as a toddler and smiled at the happiness in both images. Her son had always had the most beautiful smile, and she had always loved seeing it. No matter how much time passed, that would never change.
*Gendfleur- an aesthetic gender centered around softness, mostly pastel colors, flowers, and the like.
(Iâve been mainly doing the main cast so far, but then i learned about this gender and Meredith was the only one who fit for me! I also think she idâs as a demigirl, but i was more excited about making this flag, especially because of the flower.)
Word count: 954
Pairing: Erica/Kira; Kira & Scott (friendship)
Rating: Teen & Up
Warnings: Depictions of transphobic bullying. No transphobic slurs included, but deliberate misgendering and high school level bullying occur.
Notes: Transfeminine!Kira (she/her) and Non-binary!Scott (they/them)
For @transkiraâ and the @transwolfnetworkâ prompt exchange! I hope you like it :)
-
âHey Mr. Yukimura, Iâm looking for Kira. Ms. Blake needs to see her in her room.â Scottie is standing at the door with that adorable smile, full of dimples and sunshine.
âDonât you mean âhim,ââ someone pipes up.
âNo, I didnât,â Scottie says. They look fairly peeved, and a bit like they want to knock Brittany out of her seat.
Kira would like to sink back into her seat, and then past it until she melts in the ground. She knows who said it without looking--Brittany, who has been freaking out ever since the first time they used the bathroom at the same time.
âSmart move, bullying someone in her fatherâs classroom,â her father says drily. He pulls out a notepad and scrawls something quickly before walking across the room and slapping it on Brittanyâs desk. âGo to the office.â
Itâs somewhat mortifying to be saved by her dad like this, but incredibly satisfying to watch Brittany bluster about how it isnât fair and to watch her dad shake his head and say, âWe donât tolerate transphobia in this classroom. Leave.â
Sheâd still like to melt into the ground, though. She hates drawing attention to herself, and this only seems to spell out that itâs going to be a bad day.
In the hallway, Scottie holds her hand. âSorry about Brittany. If she says anything again, I can deck her for you,â they say, so sweetly that Kira has to kiss their cheek.
âThanks, Scottie.â She leans her head on their shoulder as they walk. âItâs not like I havenât heard it before. Itâs just...embarrassing.â
They stop and turn to look at her, holding her shoulders. âItâs more than that, Kira. Youâre not a boy, just like Iâm not a boy. Brittany saying that stuff is fucked up.â They pause, thinking carefully. âIâm going to tell Erica.â
âDonât!â she gasps immediately, grabbing onto their arms. âSheâll make a big deal of it, and I really donât want that--â
âIt is a big deal, Kira!â Scottie interrupts. âI wonât do anything you donât want me to, but donât act like this is a small thing. Deliberately misgendering you like that, in front of everyone--thatâs harassment and intimidation. And itâs not okay!â
âBut it is okay. Itâs normal. Itâs fine. Iâm fine. Please donât make a big deal out of it.â
They stare at her, a frown wrinkling their brow and dimples nowhere in sight. They brush her hair very carefully behind her ear and lean down to kiss her forehead. âYou deserve better than this.â They smile ruefully. âWe both do.â
âI love you, Scottie,â she sighs, and wraps her arms around them for a quick hug. âAnd I know itâs not okay, itâs just...normal.â
âBelieve me, I know,â Scottie sighs. âIâm really tired of being referred to as a boy. But I want to protect you, like youâve protected me.â
She smiles and kisses his cheek. âThatâs what best friends are for,â she agrees. âWhat does Ms. Blake want, anyway?â
At lunch time, Erica sits in the seat next to Kira and kisses her soundly. âHey, cutie,â she says, smiling. âI missed you.â
âI missed you, too,â she replies, pressing her forehead to Ericaâs. âHow are you so great?â
She grinned. âCanât be genetics. My family is weird as fuck.â
Kira laughed and hugged Erica tightly. âToday has really sucked so far, but being with you always makes it better.â
âAw,â Erica says, hugging her back. âYouâre so sweet.â
Kira feels something slap the back of her head. When she reaches up to feel what it is, she comes back with a spit ball. âUgh,â she mutters. âNot again.â
âAgain?â Erica says, eyes narrowing. Sheâs straightening up and looking over Kiraâs shoulder, death and fury in her eyes. âThis happens a lot?â
âItâs not a big deal,â she says quickly, trying to soothe her girlfriend. âPeople are assholes. Iâm just grateful no one has actually hurt me--â
âBullshit,â she responds, standing up. She seems to have zeroed in on a target. âI mean, itâs not bullshit that no one has assaulted you, but Iâm not going to let someone shoot spitballs at you.â
Kira spins around in her seat as Erica storms across the aisle to someone who is very obviously trying to look innocent. She should probably stop her, but she feels frozen in her seat. She is terrified.
As though they can sense the confrontation, Scottie arrives and sits next to Kira. âDid you tell Erica?â they ask with interest as they watch Erica slam the guyâs face into mashed potatoes.
âNope, and this is why,â she hisses. âI donât want Erica to get in trouble because of me.â
âErica likes getting in trouble,â Scottie says thoughtfully. They giggle as a teacher starts to approach Erica and she glares him away as she comes back to sit next to Kira.
âWhat a fucking asshole,â she mutters. âListen, Kira--I know youâre used to all this, but Iâm not. I mean, Iâm used to being bullied, but since the biteâŠâ She shrugs. âI donât put up with it any more. And Iâm not saying youâre doing anything wrong! Not at all. I know what itâs like to hope that itâs just name-calling or just spitballs. But I always wished someone would care enough to say something when someone did that to me, so I want to do this for you, okay? I canât let it go. I want to help you.â
Kira hugged Erica again. âWhy are you so nice to me?â
âBecause you deserve it,â she says, kissing her cheek before standing up to follow Ms. Blake (the only teacher brave enough to actually call Erica out) to the principalâs office.
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Up and coming actress Erica Reyes needs help, and fast. Her next movie role requires her to be able to scale the vertical face of a mountain, and even though her stunt double will do most of the work, theyâll need shots of her up the wall, and whenever she goes higher than five feet, she freezes and panics.
Desperate to conquer her fear, Erica enlists the help of her friend, Stiles, and goes to a local climbing gym. Except it turns out that Stiles is basically useless at helping her get out of a panic attack, and suddenly sheâs halfway up the wall sobbing while everyone looks on.Â
Braeden Tandy is an avid climber who has seen plenty of people freeze midway up the wall. Normally she would let them sort out their own struggle and keep going, but the blonde girl had caught her expression and sent her the most intense pleading look sheâs ever seen.
Little did she know that stopping would land her a job as the personal trainer of a Hollywood celebrity who never seems to know when to quit. But sheâd be lying if she said she wasnât enjoying herself, especially since Erica seems to be in the market for something more than a trainer. And Braeden is more than happy to step up to the plate.
I can't quite find the words but you listen and get it anyway
teen wolf femslash bingo//Square I1:Â Met Online Au
Pairing: Marin/Melissa, pre-femslash
Melissa had another email from that guidance counselor--Morell, or something like that. She'd never actually met her in person, but from what she understood, she was really involved in the supernatural community and had approached Scott about therapy.
So she tried not to let the emails bother her. After all, she was happy someone was looking out for Scott, but to be honest, Scott was old enough to set his own appointments. There was no need for Morell to confirm appointments with her. She'd said as much last time she'd gotten an email, but Morell had responded that it was school policy to double check with the parents.
She settled down on the couch, still in scrubs, and sent a quick email that the scheduled appointment was fine, without really checking through. She and Scott rarely had plans any more--she was busy with her job and he was busy with being a vet-in-training and being the protector of their shitty town. If he had penciled Morell in, than he had it taken care of.
She needed to call Scott. She needed to make sure he had eaten that day. She needed to ask how he was doing, and if it was actually helping to talk to Morell, and had he talked to Stiles yet? Not that Stiles deserved Scott's forgiveness, as far as she was concerned, but she knew Scott, and knew how much it hurt him to lose someone so close to him. To lose so many so close to him. She should ask him about Kira, too, just to see. Just to make sure he was okay.
She didn't call him just yet, even though she knew she should. Instead she wrapped herself up in a blanket and lied down on the couch. She tried not to think about how she should be a better mother. She tried not to think about how her one good friend had betrayed her trust and left her alone.
Her phone chirped. Another email.
She thought about ignoring it, but then it might be Scott, and she needed to be there for him. So she pulled it into her nest of blankets and opened it up to find...a reply from Morell. It was blank, except for the attached picture. Which was odd, to say the least.
Curiously, Melissa tapped on the picture. It took a second to load, but when it did, she gagged and dropped her phone onto the ground.
For a minute, she just burrowed tighter into her nest of blankets, wondering what the fuck Morell had been thinking by sending her that picture. She'd seen a lot of things, working in the hospital. But never something like this.
Finally, she reached for her phone, and shaking, dialed Scott.
He picked up on the second ring. "Mom? You okay?" he asked, and she had to take a moment to compose herself because her son was so good and caring and would always be ready to protect her, from anything.
"I'm okay," she lied. Or maybe it was the truth. She was physically okay, and her life was in no more danger than usual. "Did you know Peter Hale is dead?"
Scott was silent on the other end of the line for a moment. "Is there another dead body in the house?"
"No! God. No, I just got a picture from your guidance counselor."
"Marin?" he said, apparently a little flummoxed. And then, "Are you sure he's dead?"
"Depends," she replied flatly. "Can werewolves survive being cut in half?" It wouldn't surprise her if they could, actually.
Scott just sighed. "Definitely not. Listen, I better talk to Deaton about this. Peter is supposed to be locked up in Eichen, not getting cut in half. Love you."
"Love you, too," she said and hung up.
Her phone chirped again, before she could even set it down. Another email.
Fuck.
She opened it, almost afraid, but this time it was just a slightly panicked message from Marin.
"Fuck! That was meant for someone else. Sorry."
Melissa had emailed Morell a few times--or Marin, as Scott had just called her--and admittedly, she was startled by the candor. Normally, her writing was impeccably professional and calm, like nothing bothered her and she never made mistakes.
Then again, she had just emailed a picture of a bisected werewolf to the mother of Beacon HIlls' resident alpha. A bit of frenzy wasn't that strange, given the circumstance.
She decided to send a reply because it seemed like the best plan of action. She considered a variety of responses, ranging from a calm, "Don't worry about it," (good, forgiving, polite, candid) to "What the fuck?" (transparently horrified, disgusted, upset, candid).
But, truth be told, as gross and upsetting as it was to open a picture of a human cut in half, that human was Peter Hale. She hated Peter. So she finally decided on, "Should I be worried that my son's therapist is a murderer? ;)" The wink made it seem a little flirty, but it also gave the message a little bit of a softened blow. It didn't let her off the hook, but made the hook seem a little...nice.
She snuggled back into her nest of blankets while waiting for a response. She briefly considered watching something on TV before remembering that nothing good was on. She turned on Netflix instead. The tenth season of Criminal minds was just added and she might as well be entertained while she waited for Scott to call her back. Anyway, the TV gore had never bothered her, and the more time she spent around the supernatural, the more it seemed...boring. She wondered if the desensitization would bite her in the ass one day--she was less bothered by the young blonde woman being stabbed than she was by Reid's voiceover reading out some pretentious as hell quote.
Her phone rang just as Hotch said, "Wheels up in thirty."
"Hey, so everything is okay," Scott said, as soon as she picked up. "Deaton said he tried to escape from Eichen and was shot down by a guard. He was dead, but Marin cut him in half so he wouldn't be able to come back again. She didn't want another Lydia situation, I guess."
"So bisecting rules out resurrection, huh?" Melissa sighed. It should bother her, that cutting corpses in half seemed reasonable. And yet there she was, about to press play on Netflix, mostly over the trauma of opening her email. "Thanks for calling me back and letting me know. Did you eat dinner today?"
He blurted out that he definitely had, and hung up.
So he hadn't, then.
She texted Deaton that she was going to order pizza to be delivered to the clinic, and that he should make sure Scott ate some. She didn't have enough energy to cook something and drive it to him, but she could have a pepperoni pizza delivered to her babe.
After ordering and paying for the pizza online, she went back to watching Criminal Minds.
She didn't bother to pause when her phone chirped, signaling a response from Marin.
"Scott is the last person who should be worried about me. Marin."
No winky face. She was almost--no, definitely--disappointed. She wasn't exactly sure why, because the only interactions she'd had with Marin had been professional email exchanges. She didn't even have a clue about how old Marin was, or what she looked like. She had no real opinion of Marin except gratitude that she was helping her son and vague annoyance that she always required an email from Melissa to do it.
Maybe it was the loneliness. She and Scott barely saw each other any more. She had banned John from her house after the whole...fiasco. She almost missed Stiles being around, for fuck's sake.
Yeah, she wanted a little playful banter. She waned a friend. She'd take a conversation that didn't involve death, at this point.
She typed out a response. "Thank you for looking out for him. He needs it." She tried to think of a way to make the conversation go somewhere more friendly, but couldn't, and hit send.
On screen, Morgan and Garcia were doing their normal flirty routine. Melissa felt a little envious.
Marin responded. "You do a great job. He always mentions how supportive you are."
"You think so?" Melissa typed back immediately. It took a minute to send, but after it did, she got a response back very quickly.
"Yes. But more importantly, Scott thinks so. You make my job a lot easier.
"Text me sometime. It would be nice to have a friend my age who knows about the supernatural."
Her phone number was attached to the bottom of the email. Melissa grinned. A friend her age, huh? She could live with that.