Short fic writing trip

Adoption fic 1

fuckin who knows what band at this point (probably my chem honestly) ((likely gonna be frank bc the whole reason this exists is bc nothing compares to the 94 chap one))
Classic format (abused orphan saved by heros)
Personal twist (humor as coping mechanism, slower development, more realistic reactions)
Plot? Who's she? Never heard of her, beta or nothing
Main OC; just project mega hard
Kinda use what you remember of Ghost of You (god I wish I saved my fics)
Details to come whenever my braincell hits the corner of my brain just right
Real parents dead fake ones kidnapped her
Ex turned bully adds some spicy trauma
Early chaps at age 13/14, bc age of bad shit reasonably happening and still being the right age for this kinda fic
Band member/parent first encounters them in the woods, both don't recognize each other, later on OC goes out and causes a big panic, only to be like "i literally do this all the time and only got interrupted once", queue that whole "wtf that was YOU?"
The girlfriend of one of the members wears the same perfume as Emily and it triggers a panic attack and band member helps calm her down, and is the first time she actually talks about her trauma, then BM tells girlfriend and she stops wearing it and becomes a confidant to MC bc she'd be better equipped to help

She never did have a name. Not a proper one at least. Her parents always called her nicknames, like sweetie, hun, or punkie. That was when they were in a good mood though, otherwise it was brat, screw up, or waste. If they got too drunk it became more explicit. It hurt, and she had her ways of dealing with it, but she managed.

She never knew what to tell friends when they asked. She'd usually use whatever name she heard last and just hoped she would remember to respond to it. At least she didn't have to worry about schools giving her a bunch of issues for her name, her parents homeschooled her. It got lonely at times, but she managed.

She had enough to busy herself with. Keeping the house clean, cooking and baking, and all the supplies she needed for her favorite hobbies. She loved to draw, write, sew, read, and play the piano. She loved music, and had a lot of favorite bands. One of them was My Chemical Romance, they really helped her out. When nights got rough, or her parents were too drunk, or she just wanted the comfort of a familiar voice, they were there to help her manage.

In the end she always managed.

At least, that's what was supposed to happen. It's what always happens. But this time it didn't.

It was cold, dead of winter and of night. She wasn't old enough to drive, maybe if she had known she would've tried anyway. The road was slick with black ice, the wind was howling, and her parents had one too many bottles of liquor. She'd long gotten over her fear of her parents driving, she couldn't do anything about it anyway, so when they came back stumbling she paid no real mind. Perhaps she should've, should've noticed the extra wobble in her mothers footsteps, the dull look in her fathers eyes, lacking the usual alcohol fueled fire. Maybe she should've risked the yelling and swinging and made them sit for a minute to sober up a little. Maybe she should've done any number of things to change the course of events, but she didn't, and so it still happened.

She remembers it all, mostly. She remembers the pull and sway of the car as her dad struggled to stay straight on the icy roads. The yell of her mother as a deer ran out in front of the car. The dizzying swerve her father threw them all into, and the feeling of weightlessness she felt as they flew over the guardrail down the hill side.

And then, there was black.

When she came to, she was surrounded by people, still strapped into the car by her seat belt. Paramedics were prying open what was left of the car, and she could see just behind them were her parents getting arrested. She started to panic, quickly undoing her belt and banging on the door, trying anything to get it open. She pushed while paramedics pulled and in a moment the screeching of metal granted her freedom. She rushed as fast as she could, pushing through her dizziness and other first responders, trying desperately to get to her parents. But they were escorted away, driven off by a cop that wouldn't have let her see them even if he had noticed her. She didn't follow only because she was restrained, but her voice carried. The cries for her mom and dad echoed throughout the valley, until she couldn't cry out any longer. The dizziness caught up to her, and spots danced in her vision.

All at once she returned to the darkness.

She remembers the crash, it was the aftermath that was blurry. She knows she spent some time in a hospital, and people kept coming in to talk to her, but she's not sure what exactly. She knows she got taken and bounced around some foster homes, but she doesn't remember what happened there. For all she knows, one day she was with her parents, and the next she was in a bunkhouse surrounded by other orphans and awaiting foster kids.

Most of them were younger than her, and she always liked kids, so they took to her fairly easily. She promised herself after the first week she stayed at the orphanage, after they showed such a kindness that only children know, that she would do anything for these kids and protect them at all costs. In turn they took to calling her 'Sissy' or 'Sis'.

She took that title in stride.

There were some older kids too, closer to her age. They helped her with the younger ones, and made a sort of family out of all them. It was helpful to have someone to come pick you up when you were called into the director's office, or the staff decided that day was perfect for harassing, or some of the other kids got in a spat. For a while, everything was manageable.

Then another she showed up.