#sol's outcasts

AUNTIE LIA TRUTHERS RISE!!!!!!!

Caretaker and Kid Prompts

kid hiding behind caretaker

Before Bethan came along, Grace thought she had a solid grasp on where Eliana’s priorities lay.

The woman might be thoroughly unpredictable in every other regard, but that stuff hardly ever changes. As a rule, Eliana is terrific company to Grace herself, very protective of Pinocchio, and watchful like a vulture around Lampwick, which is hilarious - the guy definitely needed someone else to unnerve him, remind him that there’s only so much bullshit he’s allotted on any given day.

But now, the kid is here. And as the two of them watch over her, waiting for Pinocchio and Lampwick just outside the market, Grace is beginning to feel like something has shifted.

“Oh, you’re growing so big and strong, sunflower seed,” Eliana coos, smoothing down Beth’s wild hair. “But you need better clothes before the season changes, yes? I’m going to make you the warmest cloak you’ll ever see. Or a scarf, maybe. We don’t want you getting sick.”

The girl seems still bewildered, if heartened, by the display, but Grace arches a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t you have enough projects as it is?”

“First of all, that is none of your business. Secondly, you’d be surprised at how much dust my loom has been gathering lately. Those two fools are not getting anything from me this Yuletide- that will teach them to keep me out of the loop. They’re not too tall to be treated like unruly children yet.”

“Please, let me be in the room when you tell them that. I’d love to see their faces.” She glances up, eyes scanning the busy street searching for the aforementioned two fools - instead, she spots a smaller, much less endearing sight, a displeased groan escaping her lips. “Oh no.”

“What?” Eliana stands up with a frown, trying to follow her gaze. “I don't like that tone of voice. What is it?”

Grace gestures towards the figure approaching them, now discreetly changed into a proper human size. “Who is it, more like. Seems like we have an unexpected guest.”

“I see.” The other woman’s eyes narrow, her stance grown steely and guarded as the newcomer draws closer. “Hello, Mother.”

“Eliana.” The Blue Fairy draws to a halt before them, her expression carefully collected despite a faint tinge of surprise in her voice. “Grace. I didn't expect to find you here.”

“Neither did I. But see, we are supposed to have dinner at Pinocchio’s house tonight. I wouldn’t imagine he has extended the invitation to you?”

It’s worded like a question, but it’s easy to hear the derision underneath. Eliana’s smile is broad and dangerous, and it makes the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes deepen into her skin - by contrast, her mother looks virtually unchanged and unaged from the last time Grace saw her. Would that one of these last times were the last one ever, she thinks, rather uncharitably, but chooses to keep her mouth shut and instead directs her focus onto Bethan.

And good thing she did, honestly. The girl has that look on her face that Grace likes little and less, the wide-eyed, watchful one that makes her resemble a rabbit on the forest floor, listening for the fox’s arrival. She clings to Eliana’s skirt for dear life, half hidden behind the fabric as she stares up at the Blue Fairy - and is stared back at, it seems, given the brief, reproving change in expression that crosses the woman’s eyes.

Eliana must have noticed, too, because while her smile doesn’t move an inch, her gaze becomes cold as ice. “So? What brings you here, except interrupting our conversation?”

The fairy shoots her a pointed look that would probably work as a reprimand to just about anyone else. “Council business, unfortunately. I need your brother to weigh in on a certain matter, and he hasn’t answered my summons.”

“One would expect that saving the kingdom came with a few days of reprieve, wouldn’t they, Mother?”

“The work is never done. So? Do you know where I could find him?”

“Yes. At court, at the next council meeting. I’ll accompany him and make sure he’s on time, don’t worry.”

“I would rather speak to him myself, if you don’t mind.”

The tone of her words prompts Grace to scoff, a few choice words of her own on the tip of her tongue, but Eliana beats her to the punch, even if regrettably that’s not the literal course of events. “I do mind, actually. Unless it’s a matter of life and death, there is no reason for this hurry now of all times.” 

Grace fancies she can see a vein pulsing on the Blue Fairy’s forehead. “I wish you would stop treating everything like a game, child.”

“Why would I, when it continues to entertain me? Besides, it’s such a lovely day, and I would like it to remain so without you upsetting my darling niece. Again.” She puts a protective hand over Beth’s head, then, and raises the other in a cheeky little wave. “Good day, Mother. See you at the castle.”

The fairy bristles, and makes as if to snap back at her daughter. But then she huffs, clearly irritated, and within moments she is gone, with a trail of magic in her wake and not so much as a by-your-leave.

Grace watches the spot where she was standing on for a beat before turning back to Eliana, impressed despite herself. “I love when you do that. I wish I could make her turn on her heel on a whim, too.”

“It helps to have plenty of blackmail material. She knows I could ruin her if she so much as breathed wrong in Pinocchio’s direction.” The other woman lifts Bethan in her arms, cuddling the child close as her expression softens. “Are you alright, my sweet?”

“Uh-hu.” Beth nods, but still burrows into her shoulder, voice muffled. “Don’ like her.”

“That makes two of us, kid,” Grace can’t help but grumble, patting her gently on the back, and Eliana nods in approval.

“Three, actually. But forget about her- she’s gone, and she won’t bother us for a while.” She presses a kiss to the girl’s cheek, gesturing for Grace to come along.

August Booth VS yet another Annalisa song

anche meno

Idk how THIS could work, so if it's too much feel free or impossible to delete and ignore it!! But perhaps a little cross between all three of our AUs (any of yours, any of Libby's and any of Mine) involving ANY prompt of your choosing

if THAT doesn't work then perhaps, still with any prompt of your choosing, a little continuation of the Stray SaplingsXEnchanté crossover

AGAIN!!! THIS IS SELF-INDULGENCE AT THIS POINT SO FEEL FREE TO IGNORE IF IT'S OVERWHELMING!!!

WHO HAS EVER SPOKEN A WORD AGAINST SELF-INDULGENCE??? BECAUSE IT DEFINITELY WASN'T ME!!!!!!!! Besides, the randomizer wheels picked such an insane combo, you'd think it was rigged LMAO

Found Family Prompts

"You choose how your future goes, no one else can choose it for you."

August smells trouble the moment he realizes his younger counterpart has brought a friend along.

The first Pinocchio would have been bad enough, but that, at least, was on par with what he might have expected from an overlapping of lands. Emma already told him there was a man in that other world born from a wish, a man that was August but not quite - granted, he hadn't thought that man would come with a small child, a much more advanced relationship with his Lampwick and a menagerie of other bizarre individuals, but it's still manageable.

But the boy has a face August hasn't seen in his reflection since he was still living mostly on the streets - his appearance rocked both men to the core, that much was clear even without being able to read the other Pinocchio's mind. And still, not content with that, he took one look at the two of them and then vanished for a good couple minutes.

And now, he's returned in the company of a second boy, who mercifully seems unrelated to them all. "And you are?" August asks, though he's already dreading the possible answer he'll get.

The little stranger bows ceremoniously, making a grand scene of every movement. "My name is Pierrot, at your service, my good sirs."

"Of course it is," the other man mutters gloomily, massaging his forehead, but before August can ask him if he knows something the rest of them don't, their younger carbon copy is speaking again.

"He's my brother. I knew I'd have a hard time talking to you guys without freaking out, so I went to grab some backup."

"Dear old Archibald would be proud of you, mon frere," Pierrot chimes in, nodding sagely. "We stan a guy who knows his limits."

"Stop calling Jiminy that."

"I'm sorry, do you or do you not want my unwavering support in questioning your future selves?".

"Sorry," August echoes him, trying to regain a modicum of control over the situation, "why are you making it sound like we're being interrogated? Also, brother?"

All he gets in return, though, is a distracted shrug. "I knew it'd be a foreign concept to you. You've both been displaying what the experts would call motherless behavior all day."

"Dare I ask who these experts are?" Older Pinocchio ventures, sounding somewhat sceptical.

Still plainly unbothered, Pierrot waves a dismissive hand his way. "Mostly Mignon. Anyway, you were correct on one point, leather jacket man - this is an interrogation."

"He's exaggerating," Pinocchio says, elbowing him briefly in the side before cutting in. "I just want to ask you some questions about the stuff you've seen - I know it would be stupid to try to make any prediction about what might happen to me based on what happened to you, because every land we live in seems to be its own microsystem, but maybe if the same situation presents itself, I'll know what to do."

That is, as of yet, the most familiar thing the kid has said ever since he showed up the first time. Even behind that brave, easy smile, it's clear that the boy is as nervous as can be - it's blatant in the shiftiness of his eyes, in the way he clings to his brother's hand like a lost child, even though the both of them must be at least sixteen. The earnestness isn't forced, but there's still a thin layer of worry underneath it all.

August understands. He wishes he didn't, but it's not like he can help it, is there?

"I'm not sure we can help you that much," he says, slowly, weighing every word. "For what it's worth, you can ask any question you want. But I really hope you won't go through a good chunk of the things we've seen."

He's not lying about that, either. This is supposed to be the child who had the best outcome of them all - if there's any justice in this Storybrooke, nobody will shoot at him, or shame him into hiding in a boat for weeks. Luck has never been on any of their sides, but one has to hope.

"He's right," the other man nods along. "And don't take anything we say as a guideline, either. You, and no one else, can choose how your future goes, least of all us."

"Damn right you can't," Pierrot says, grinning a mischievously big grin. "My mom taught me all about keeping big nosy folks like you in line. Try me, and see what happens."

You know I'm physically UNABLE to say no to squishing our guys (or in this case, girls) together 🥺

Family Dialogue Prompts

11. "It's alright, sweetie. Just take a deep breath."

"Auntie Lia," Bethan says, a little alarmed, "why's your house so high up?"

Her eyes are still squeezed shut, but she can hear the woman chuckling, hoisting her up the final steps of the ladder. "I need to be the first to see the sun in the morning, Beth," comes the reply. "Besides, Lily sometimes wants a little running start to the sky. And it's fun to force my mother to fly around to get to me. Deters her from pestering me too often."

Eliana sounds amused, but Beth isn't sure if she can laugh, too. The Blue Fairy doesn't like her, so even if she tried to be as polite as she can, it wouldn't do anything, but...it still feels unsafe to do otherwise, sometimes.

Maybe not here, though. When Pinocchio's sister told her they could visit her treehouse and have some fun times together, away from thick-headed fools (Auntie Lia's words), there was an idea underneath those words - the idea that not a lot of people had been able to go there, before. That it was a special place. A secret that no one can find unless they already know where it is.

They're pretty far from most people, for sure. It felt like they were climbing for ages, even though Beth didn't dare open her eyes and relied on her aunt to guide her upwards. She doesn't think she's ever traveled so high before - the tree looked like a giant when she was standing at its roots, taller than most trees she saw before, taller than Apa's farthest branches.

And yet, she's there now. The wind is mussing her hair and she should feel dizzy, she really should, but Aunt Lia has turned her to face a different direction and wrapped a shawl-covered arm around her, holding her close and secure, a warm cocoon of safety.

"It's alright, my little sunflower seed," the woman whispers, gentle, encouraging. "Just take a deep breath and open your eyes. Feel like you're flying too."

Hesitantly, Beth complies. And then-

(some of) the ladies of enchanté // good girls, josie edwards

no.6 But literally ANYONE in the AUS with E!Beth (particularly thinking anyone from yours or Libby's aus, give me your beans 💗💗)

Girl if you thought I would miss the chance to make smol beans interact, you were SO wrong 💕

Kid fic/parent fic prompts

6. "Just because they aren't biologically related to you, doesn't mean your [parent] loved you any less"

(But I played a little with it, because a) she's 4 she needs adequate words b) I had a VISION)

“Are you comfortable, Bethan?”

Beth nods, leaning her head onto the boy’s shoulder. “Mh-mh.”

She is. This Pinocchio isn't as big as the one she knows, nor as tall, but he's still pretty nice to cling to, and he seems good at holding her. He said it's because his Eugene (who is also a lot smaller than the one she knows, and doesn't even have an Arlekin with him) has a little brother who's only a bit older than her, and Pinocchio has picked him up a lot, which means he has practiced. 

Besides, she doesn't need to think too much about anything else. She can see the right Pinocchio just fine from where she is, talking to some other grownups - they're in the wrong land again, and they're supposed to find a way home soon, so that Auntie Ace doesn't get mad at anyone - and this one feels safe enough to be with. 

Fun, too. He bounces her in his arms easily, then says: “This feels a bit weird, you know? 

“What's weird?” Beth parrots back, distracted. 

“That I've got a daughter in another realm. It feels strange. You mean somewhere else I'm old enough to have a baby? That's super weird.”

“‘S okay. He and Lam'wick aren't my family for real. Just ‘cause Apa and Ama aren't here. Apa's a tree.”

If he thinks that's weird, like many people do, he doesn't tell her - he just shrugs, looking determined. “I mean, I don't think that matters. You see that boy over there? With the dark skin?”

Beth follows his pointed finger, to the figure dressed in bright colors that keeps pestering the smaller Eugene. “Uh-uh.”

“Well, that's my brother. See that we don't look alike at all? That's because we don't really have the same parents. He's adopted and his mother and my father are together, and he says that's good enough for him, so I figured it was enough for me, too.”

He nudges her to make her turn around, and when she does he's smiling just like her Pinocchio does, though there aren't as many wrinkles around his eyes. “That means it doesn't matter that we aren't blood related, we're still family. And since me from another world adopted you, it means the two of us are kind of family, too.”

Beth really, really thinks about it. It sounds good; before those men found her, she didn't really have much of a family around, but now there's more people looking after her than she can count, and she likes it. She wouldn't mind adding a boy that's not so much older than her to the group - actually, she's sure it would make her very happy. 

There's still one problem left, though. “But you are too little to be my dad.”

At that, Pinocchio laughs out loud, and jostles her until she's giggling as well - nicely, though. He seems to be nice all around, this Pinocchio. 

“Okay, fine, but you can't stop me from doing something else. We can act like we’re cousins or something. 

"caretaker who's maybe less like a parent and more like an older sibling. they take their kid to abandoned buildings and eat cheap takeaway/takeout with them." Or something along the lines of that BUT with E!Grace and TP!Grace

It doesn't count as indulgence if I'm eager to write it I LOVE GRACE

Parental caretaker and kid prompts

“I’ll admit, the food you have in this realm isn’t half bad,” Grace declares, rolling some more of it around the things that are supposedly called chopsticks. 

“It's just takeout. You get sick of Granny's after a while.” The littler Grace narrows her eyes at her over the rim of her own noodle box. “Is that you insisted we buy it before you took us, uhm, trespassing?”

The woman dismisses her with a distracted gesture. Honestly, it hardly counts as trespassing if the place they've entered doesn't look inhabited by anyone. The way she sees it, the right word should be exploring - even if what they're exploring is a big old mansion in the outskirts of this Storybrooke, quite out of place in such a quaint little town. “Nah, it’s just so I’ve got a full belly if they catch me. Emphasis on the me part- you kids are running the moment you hear trouble, you understand?”

“Hey, I like how this one thinks,” the other kid, the dark-haired one, chimes in with a grin of delighted mischief. “Try growin’ up like her, Häschen, maybe you’ll enjoy life for a change.”

Young Grace snorts skeptically, giving her a light shove. “Are you sure about that? She doesn’t have a Mignon. Maybe enjoying my life means ditching you, how does that factor in your plan?”

Mignon shrugs, waving her chopsticks around in a surprisingly endearing manner. At first, Grace had been annoyed when they'd weaseled their way into this outing - she'd hoped for a bit of a bonding experience with her own mini me, with maybe fewer tears than Pinocchio's - but she has thoroughly changed her view now. This brat is mad funny. “It doesn’t, ‘cause you’ll never get rid of me that easily. Like poppin’ a pimple with dirty hands- I always come back.”

“Ew, Mignon, we’re eating.”

Grace grimaces, though she barely feels surprised at this point. She should have expected to hear something downright bizarre; in the short time they've been in this land, Pierrot’s alter ego already managed to challenge him to what he called a bard battle, after all. “I changed my mind. If someone comes, you are the one being left behind. You’re worse than Lampwick, I swear.”

“I mean, that sounds like a you problem,” Mignon says, in-between bites of food. 

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That she’s being a pain in the ass.” The blonde teenager shoots her a glance, one that is near unreadable, which ought to be impossible when one's looking at themselves. “They’ve got a point, though. That serves you right for trusting any Lampwick with your company.”

If Grace were even slightly more invested in the outcome of this conversation, she'd try to disprove that point in complete seriousness. Those kids have something going on that she can't quite put her finger on, and they're so thrice-damned cagey about it, no one in her group has been able to make sense of it - she'd hoped to have escaped a young Pinocchio's big mournful blue eyes, but it seems they've come to haunt her again in an entirely different world sometimes.

And yet, she has a feeling they've all been lectured too much for her input to be welcomed anymore. Besides, she knows her - their - father so well, she can easily guess where the hardened look in this girl's gaze might be coming from. If the little cliques she sees in town ever need to figure it out, they'll do so in their own time - there is something cosmic linking them all, whatever land they're in. Grace might have denied it in the past, but it's there alright, and though at times it might weigh on her like a curse, it has meant safety and family more often that she'd care to admit.

So instead, she simply shrugs and says: “Eh, you’ll get over it. He’s not that bad once you get used to his stink, or how sickeningly in love he is.”

“I wish that was the problem,” the girl mutters, and that could set off yet another debate; however, before it can escalate, her friend cuts into the conversation with practiced ease and a cheeky grin, their eyes gleaming warningly. 

“Hey, our Lampwick doesn’t smell that bad. Like, he’s not even the worst I’ve had- you should have sniffed my bed after some of those guys from the air balloons came over.”

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

This, Pinocchio thinks as he represses a sigh, is not how he'd envisioned his week to go. 

The difference between worlds, he could countenance, though just barely; at least he still has Lampwick and Bethan with him, and knows that whatever befell them all didn't hurt anyone. No, it's the fact that there is someone who has much in common with him as a child standing before him, and that that someone is looking for a man who looks exactly like him now, that is somewhat hard to digest. 

“I want August,” the boy says, his little wooden face scrunched up in childish outrage. He's nothing like Pinocchio himself was some decades past, with his long brown hair and darker skin, but then again, how many other puppet kids has he seen in the wild? They can't all be his exact copy. At least, one has to hope. “I don't care that you look like August. You're not him.”

“I know,” Pinocchio concedes, choosing his words with the utmost care. The last thing he wants is for the kid to run away in frustration, making it all the harder to reunite him with the right person. “But maybe we can look for him together. Where did you last see him?”

“I dunno. And- and maybe I shouldn't tell you, anyway! That's none of your business!”

Well. At least the boy has gotten past the follow the first stranger that asks you phase, even if it's a bit inconvenient at the moment. “That's very smart of you. I told my daughter to give pretty much the same answer, when people try to get in her way.”

That seems to give the young puppet pause. “You… You have a daughter?”

“Yes. Her name is Bethan. She's a little younger than you, I think- maybe you've seen her around this town, earlier. She came here with me and my partner.”

“Oh.” He falters, glancing away and then at the ground, his voice suddenly uncertain as he kicks at the gravel on the pavement. “I… I don't know if August came here with me. I can't find him.”

“I'm sorry, kid,” Pinocchio replies, and means it. He crouches down, thinking that maybe it'll be less intimidating if he's at eye level with his interlocutor. “Perhaps other people have seen him, uh? Should we ask around?”

A small shrug, hesitant and noncommittal. Then, almost inaudible, comes the halting whisper: “D'you think- he left me? Like left me behind?”

Gods above, this is even worse than Pinocchio thought. He's used, by now, to the peculiar needs of a child who fears abandonment, but that doesn't make his heart ache any less. “I'm sure he didn't,” he says, hoping to sound as reassuring as he means to. “You've seen how confusing this situation is- it's easy to get lost among all these people who look alike. It's a wonder my Bethan hasn't followed the wrong Pinocchio around already, really.”

He'd meant it as a joke, but the puppet's eyes are as big as saucers, like those of someone who's just realized something troubling. “What’d you do? If she got lost?”

Keep an eye out for dragon fire, most likely. “Well, I would look for her, of course. And then, when I find her, I'd keep her a bit closer so it doesn't happen again.”

“Would you… be mad at her?”

“Not at all. I'm not in the habit of blaming people for something beyond their control, you know?”

“Uh-uh.” The boy still doesn't look sure enough for Pinocchio's liking, but at least he seems to have lost that worried inkling in his eyes. “You're not August, but you sure talk like August.”

That startles a chuckle out of Pinocchio, and he deems it safe to stand up, holding a hand out to the child. “Well, we are the same person, in a way. Do you think that between the two of us, we'll be able to find him?”

“Maybe.” Hesitantly, the small Pinocchio puts his hand in the other, bigger one - it's stiffer than Beth's, and a bit less trusting, as well, but the feeling is almost the same; and that feeling is one that never gets old, either. “I'm hungry, though.”