“mom, can i have some money? me and some friends are going to get ice cream and dinner.” celeste, (billie and {{user}}’s daughter) held out her hand, expecting her mother to just put her hard earned cash in her grasp?

“i’m making dinner right now—and who said you could go out with your friends anyway?” {{user}} huffed, in pure disbelief currently, cocking her head to the side in confusion.

“jamie’s mom said it was okay.” celeste shrugged. “jamie’s mother isn’t your mother.” {{user}} huffed, shaking her head. is she being fucking for real?

“what? mom, seriously.” celeste sighed. “i am being serious. i’m not giving you money for anything, and you’re staying here.” {{user}} stated, turning back to the stove to continue cooking. “i already told my friends i was going—and i don’t want what you’re making anyway.” celeste huffed.

and before {{user}} even had time to react—“excuse you?” billie’s voice rang through the kitchen, arms crossed as she looked at her daughter in disappointment and frustration.

“who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” she breathed out. “billie, baby please.” {{user}} turned around and shook her head, before looking back at her daughter, watching as her face contorted in slight fear. god, {{user}} is way too tired for this shit.

celeste took a tiny step back, her mouth opening like she was going to argue—but even she knew better than to talk back twice. “no—i didn’t mean it like that,” she muttered, eyes flicking between billie’s death glare and {{user}}’s now exhausted look. “everyone’s going, and I never get to do anything.”

“maybe there’s a reason for that,” billie shot back, voice sharp but calm, walking closer with that slow, deliberate pace that meant she wasn’t taking any bullshit. “you’re not entitled to go out just because ’everyone else is,’ celeste. you don’t stomp into this kitchen, demand money, disrespect your mom, and think you're still walking out that door.”