#No one batting an eye as bodies pile up on their doorstep but only complaining about having to clean up the blood

[missdreamgirl32]

Show/Movie: Depicts the world as always being cruel, dangerous and unfeeling. Treating human life as cheaply as dirt under their heel. Every rando the protagonists meet turning out to be selfish, apathetic, or secretly sadistic.

Me:

[stupid-stew]

Boiling Rain

my finger slipped again oopsies idk if this is 100% in character but like what if eda kicked lilith out right away and ended up regretting it later

There was nothing worse than a knock on the door for Eda. Especially not in the middle of the night, during a boiling rain storm, when she was fresh out of magic, and she had a kid in the house, and there was no hooty noise to warn her beforehand. What was he up to?

Eda was still new at defending herself without her magic, but she knew her way around a bat, just ask that guy at the bar from her 20’s and his massive medical bill. Whatever she thought, laughing to herself, that jerk deserved it, no medical bill was larger than his ego. Bat in her left hand, doorknob in her right, she simultaneously swung the door open and raised the bat into a defensive position, ready to strike, that is until…

“Lily?”

What she saw before her definitely wasn’t her sister, but that was Lilith on her doorstep. Well kind of, Lilith collapsed in front of her, drenched in steaming water, clearly out of breath, nothing like the perfect prissy Lilith she knew, and what was she wearing? Where was her dress and cloak? Oh, Eda realized, that is her dress and cloak. The clothes were nearly melting off of her sister, riddled with holes. That couldn’t have made her injuries any less severe. Eda had been stuck in her fair share of boiling rain storms, even with the thick skin of the owl beast it had still taken her weeks to heal, she couldn’t even begin to fathom the state her sister was in.

“I’m sorry” came a hoarse whisper from the pile at her feet

“Lily oh my titan-” Eda dropped the bat and turned her head to yell up the stairs, hoping she was loud enough to wake her sleeping apprentice “LUZ, WAKE UP” Her head snapped back to the door frame at the movement of Lilith flinching at her loud voice. What happened to her.

Eda bent down to at least try to get an idea of the injuries her sister had suffered, but before she could get her hands on Lilith, Luz appeared at the base of the stairs. “What’s going on?” she asked, clearly still half asleep. “I need you to go up to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit, not the one in the first aid kit box, the one in the lunchbox.” Eda instructed.

Luz went to move up the stairs but suddenly snapped awake, “Is that Lilith?”

“Luz, later, first aid kit now, please” Eda responded, back turned to the now fully attentive teenager

“Got it…” Luz ran up the stairs, “...the blue or the purple one?” she shouted

Eda sighed, now that Luz was going to be here a while she should make a point to show the kid the ropes around the house “The purple one please.”

Not even a half minute later Eda had the box in her hand and was sorting through the bandages, what was she doing, she didn’t even know how badly wounded Lilith was. Eda set the supplies down and moved to touch Lilith when a pale, terribly blistered hand shot out of the mound in front of her and grabbed her wrist.

“No.”

Eda was confused and jerked her hand away “What do you mean no?”

Lilith took a couple ragged breaths before weakly responding “I don’t want your help, I don’t deserve it”

They sat there in silence for a moment before Eda remembered Luz was still behind her, “Luz, sweetie, could you go grab some blankets and maybe draw up some of those healing glyphs you’ve been working on?”

“Sure” the girl replied softly before quietly stepping back up the stairs

“Edalyn I sai-” Lilith started

“I heard you. I don’t want to hear it. You need help.”

“Not your help-” Lilith inhaled painfully “not after everything I did to you.”

“Oh for titan’s sake Lily, you think just because you made a mistake I’m going to let you lay here in pain? I haven’t even seen your face yet and I can tell you need help, mine or not.”

“No, I shouldn’t have come here, it’s all my fault, I’ll go.” Lilith moved to get up, but the burns weren’t having it and she barely got a push-up’s distance off the ground before her arms gave out.

“Are you kidding me right now? You come to my door in the middle of the night, after having gone through titan-knows-what, covered in burns, your clothes are barely intact, and you expect me to just let you leave?”

Eda wasn’t having any more of it, and reached out and grabbed Lilith’s arm, who hissed in a combination of pain and protest.

“Not on my watch sister” Eda spoke through her teeth. For someone so frail, Lilith was definitely a bit heavier than she looked, though the fact she was drenched probably didn’t help.

She managed to drag the complaining witch all the way to the couch before Luz made her way down the stairs, blankets and a stack of healing glyphs in hand.

“Kid, drop those and come help me please.”

Together they were able to get Lilith into a lying position on the couch, and for the first time see how bad of a state Lilith was in. Not an inch of the witch’s skin was spared from the rains, red blotches and boils acted like massive freckles over her whole body. While taking in the sight of her sister, Eda managed to meet the injured witch’s eyes for a split second, and what she saw scared her more than anything. Of course Lilith’s face was contorted in pain, but there was also shame and embarrassment in her eyes. If I showed up in her state I’d be embarrassed too, but did she really think I wasn’t going to help her?

“Kid can you go upstairs and grab Lilith some clothes from my dresser? Anything you think will fit her is fine, and…” Eda leaned in next to Luz’s ear and in a low whisper “could you take your time? I’d like to talk to my sister in private”

Luz looked at her with understanding “Of course, if you need anything just yell up the stairs.” She eyed Lilith one more time before retreating back up the stairs.

Eda then turned back to Lilith, who seemed unwilling to meet her eye again. “Alright. Let’s get started, you look a mess, so this might hurt a lot more than a little.”

“Edalyn why are you doing this”

Eda chuckled “Have you seen yourself, I’ve never been the best at responsibility, but I think it would make me a bad person to not help someone in your condition.”

“No Eda, I mean why after everything that I did to you, to Luz, why are you still helping me when I am the last person you should want to help, I don’t understand.”

There was a heavy silence followed by a long exhale from Eda. She didn’t respond, instead moving for the pile of glyphs that Luz had left them. “This is going to hurt a lot, and I’m not going to be able to get it all without my magic, the glyphs only do so much, but I think I can make the worst of it at least better.”

For the second time that night Eda was stopped from touching Lilith by a pale shaking hand.

“Edalyn, why?”

“Ok here’s a deal, you let me help you and I’ll tell you why in the end? Sounds fair enough?”

“You really aren’t going to budge on this are you.”

“Nope.” Eda replied, popping her lips on the last syllable.

Lilith flopped back onto her back, shutting her eyes and exclaiming at the, without a doubt, excruciating pain the impact with the couch had caused.

“Real smooth Lils”

“Oh shut it.”

Somehow the older witch’s face turned even more red through the burns and boils.

Eda managed to get through placing glyphs along Lilith’s arms and legs with minimal issue, Lilith didn’t seem to be enjoying herself very much, but even she had to admit it was starting to look better. At some point Luz had come back down with a cream colored shirt and black patchwork skirt for Lilith to change into along with some more glyphs. Eda had sent her back to bed, the kid did have school in a few hours.

“Ok, we are going to have to take off your dress so I can reach your back, looks like that’s where most of the damage is, and…” as Lilith sat up Eda caught a glimpse of her full back “there also doesn’t seem to be all that much dress left to remove. You really got caught in the rain huh?”

Lilith didn’t respond, but instead met Eda’s eyes again, which made Eda suspicious.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes Lilith we have to treat your injuries.” Eda rolled her eyes at her sister, what did she expect when she was out in the rain without protection?

Lilith didn’t look amused, instead she seemed to pale out. She pulled down the top half of her dress and rolled over onto her stomach.

Eda gasped.

Lilith’s back was covered in burns and boils sure, but what shocked Eda was the array of scratches and claw marks all over Lilith’s back, not only her back but they seemed to go up and down her whole body in varying degrees. Some of them looked healed, or on the way there, some of them fresh, some of them even seemed to be infected.

“What the hell Li-”

Was all she got out before she was interrupted

“Forest demons aren’t as nice as they seem. Ever.”

Oh. Eda snapped her mouth shut and silently applied as many glyphs as she could to Lilith’s back and upper arms as she could. Of course, Eda thought, I didn’t let her stay here, she’s got no friends outside the coven, she doesn’t look different enough to find somewhere safe from the coven guard in town, especially not with her posters lining the alleyways, she’s been sleeping in the woods. Where else would she have gone. With their mother? Any number of nights in the forest without a roof was better than one night under their mom’s.

“Thank you.” a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Huh? Oh.” Eda had been so busy thinking that she didn’t realize she had finished. “I’ll go to the kitchen to make us some tea, you can change in here, don’t worry about hooty he seems to be asleep.”

Lilith nodded and Eda made her way to the kitchen. Once the water was on the stove, she dove back into her thoughts. All these nights? I kicked her to the curb the night of the incident, it’s been at least a week, it’s rained almost every night. Oh titan, not all of those burns were fresh, that’s probably why Lilith was able to move at all, she was used to it. How has she been eating, bathing, sleeping? She’d been weakened by the splitting of the curse, could she have even defended herself? She could have come around any time- wait. Eda realized that she had told Lilith not to come anywhere near the house… ever again. That’s why she was so convinced she wouldn’t get help at the owl house. Maybe if I had been less harsh, it I hadn-

The whistle of the water being ready pulled Eda back to reality. She quickly placed the tea bags into the mugs and filled them with water and left the kitchen. When she got back to the living room, Lilith was already sitting in her dry clothes, a dim blue light escaping through the thin fabrics from the glow of the healing glyphs. Eda handed her a mug and brought her own to her lips, taking a long sip before sitting down next to her sister.

They sat like that for a while, sipping and waiting. Eventually, much to Eda’s surprise, Lilith broke the silence.

“So why?”

“Huh?” Eda replied, still deep in thought.

“Why did you decide to help me?” Lilith asked, looking into her mug as if it held all the answers “We both know I didn’t deserve it.”

“You’re right.” Eda replied simply. “You don’t deserve my help.”

Looking up from her tea and at her sister with genuine confusion, Lilith asked “So why did you help me then?”

“Let me finish. You don’t deserve my help. You cursed me, you kept your mouth shut about it for decades, until it was far too late, and in a desperate attempt to save your own ass you captured not only me, but my apprentice. My apprentice who I might as well call my own daughter at this point. You hurt her you know?”

Lilith’s eyes reverted back to her mug in shame.

“Oh yeah, she’s got bruises that aren’t even healed yet, that’s why she got looking into the healing glyphs. Plus, she faced Belos. She had to burn her only way home, she’s stuck here now. And me? I lost my magic. The most powerful witch on the boiling isles, now without the witch part.”

To emphasize her point, Eda drew a golden spell circle in the air, only for it to crumble into a pile of dust at her feet.

“Edalyn, I-”

“But,” the younger Clawthorne interjected, “that doesn’t make you a bad person, and I refuse to let it make me a bad person. I don’t know what your reasons were for cursing me, not telling me, I don’t know what Belos promised you, but it had to be pretty big to do what you did. And it’s my fault for not knowing. I kicked you out without even hearing you out, and you got hurt for it, I never even gave you a chance to explain yourself.”

It was Eda’s turn to avoid eye contact now, staring contemplatively into her now empty cup.

“It’s my fault you got hurt. That’s why I helped you. I was so caught up in my own anger that I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions. I’m still mad at you, and you’re far from forgiven, but I think you need help. Let me help you.”

For the first time in a long time, the two sisters met eyes in a moment of understanding.

“Ok.” Lilith said after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Good because I wasn’t really giving you a choice.”

They both laughed at that.

They sat for a moment, before it was finally Eda’s turn to speak first.

“So why’d you come here if you didn’t want my help?”

Lilith picked at her fingers for a moment before responding.

“I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t have anywhere else to go. It was so dark and so hot, I could barely even think, none of the other storms had gotten me this bad.”

Ah, so I was right. Eda regretted.

“It was like my feet took me here, all I knew was I needed to get out of the rain, and before I knew it I was in front of your house on my knees. I expected you to turn me away, I wanted you to turn me away.”

Eda didn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than “Why.”

Lilith thought for a moment.

“I guess I needed you to turn me away, I thought it might feel better to know that for once you would be the one leaving me in pain after 30 years of the roles being reversed, I think after all of that I deser-”

“No.” Eda interrupted. “I might not be the best sister, neither are you, but I will not ever let you suffer in any way remotely close to the way I did. Nobody deserves that, I sure as hell didn’t but neither do you. You will always have a place to stay with me, no matter how mad I am at you.”

They sat for a while longer, both deep in thought. Eventually Eda took both mugs back to the kitchen and rinsed them before going back to the living room, sitting next to Lilith one last time to help her out with the blankets.

“I think the shed is livable, the tower might be a bit too overgrown at the moment but we can work something out. You can stay on the couch tonight, no way you’re going back out into that. We can set ground rules in the morning, just try and get some sleep before the kid wakes up. She’s very excited about the new day, every day.” Eda spoke fondly.

“You really care for her, don’t you.” Lilith asked, a sad smile tugging on her lips.

“That I do. Goodnight Lilith.” Eda responded before stretching and cracking more joints than any one witch should physically be able to. “Woof, even sitting on that couch is enough to make me sore”

“I’m sure it’s just fine, thank you Edalyn, for everything. And goodnight.” Lilith said while trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy couch. Her injuries, while significantly better, weren’t doing anything to help the situation. It wasn’t long before the soothing warmth of the healing glyphs lulled Lilith into a deep, dreamless sleep, much better than any she’d gotten on the forest floor.

Not even a few hours later, the sun shone on the owl house, waking Luz first, and if she was any quieter than normal that morning, or if she saw a certain gray haired owl lady sleeping on the floor next to Lilith’s position on the couch on her way out the door, she never mentioned it to a soul.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Faith, Trust and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

Title:  Faith, Trust and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

Summary: It’s cold in the cellar, but then if it isn’t cold it’d defeat the whole purpose of a cellar. This coldness had been fine at first, but the longer Logan and his little brother Virgil stay, the more it worsens. Logan just hopes his mother’s temper wears off soon or else the cold could get fatal. 

The last thing Logan expects is for his father, who he hasn’t seen in years, to show up through golden portal (a magic portal, which should be impossible!) to save the day as if he hadn’t abandoned them to this fate by leaving all those years ago.

Pairings: Brotherly Analogical, Parental Loceit

Word-Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Magic, Child Abuse, Physical & Emotional Abuse, Unhealthy Romantic Relationship, Hypothermia, Alcohol, Death Mention, Morally Grey Janus, Crying, Angst With a Happy Ending

This fic was at times both frustrating and fun to write. I have no plans to continue this fic, but you can ask me questions regarding the ‘verse and I’ll answer them. Janus has good intentions in this fic he’s just bad at expressing them and we’re also seeing this from Logan’s pov.

--

It was cold in the cellar. Then again, it would be rather alarming were it the opposite case. Cellars were historically used to store perishable items such as vegetables and meats in a time before refrigerators existed. Still prolonged exposure to such an absence of heat wasn’t good for any human being. Not without proper clothing or heating methods. Something both Logan and his young brother unfortunately lacked. 

At first with just a t-shirt and jeans it’d been fine. A bit chilly but fine. What Logan hadn’t accounted for was a cold front to settle in unexpectedly. Within an hour, it dropped by forty degrees. His little brother Virgil wasn’t fond of physical touch. Yet the young child clung to Logan for warmth. It wasn’t enough. His skinny frame still trembled, his lips turning blue. Logan himself felt the effects of his body trying uselessly to warm the cold environment around them. Still his bit his lips from shivering, desperate to attempt staying strong for Virgil.

“I-I-I’m s-s-scared.” Virgil cried, digging his head into Logan’s shirt.

I...I know.” Logan said, stroking his brother’s hair gently, “Things are...things will be alright.”

Logan had repeated this statement many times already to Virgil. Each time he grew less sure of it. However, he knew he had to remain strong for his brother’s sake. Ever since his brother was a baby, Logan had to grow up faster. Much faster than even before. Sometimes he resented this fact, but never for long. It was simply the way things were.

“C-c-c-can you tell me a story?” Virgil asked, and of course Logan obliged. For he knew the unspoken words in that request: I’m still scared. Can you make it less scary? 

A story, for both the listener and teller, would be a beneficial distraction. Even though Logan was not a good storyteller. Once he did a short story assignment in middle school and received a C. His heart metaphorically sank at the sight of it and he dreaded going home that day. Virgil always seemed to appreciate his stories. Although praise from a kindergartener wasn’t worth much in the literary world.

Through frozen lips, he told a meandering story to his little brother. Sometimes his brother would ask questions or offer suggestions, abruptly changing the direction of the story. Logan himself barely remembered what it was about. It was as if someone else spoke through him as his mind drifted to other ideas.

It’d been dark for a long, long while. Usually his mother would’ve unlocked the door by now. She’d insist he’d make dinner while complaining of a terrible headache.

 It was an unending cycle. His mother would do her best to stay sober and function as an adult for a few weeks. Then her mood would increasingly sour, little things piling up into an avalanche. It was hard to tell at times what would be the trigger. The one thing that made her slam open the alcohol cabinet and drown a whole bottle of vodka. 

She wasn’t a nice person when drunk; hence the whole being-locked-in-the-cellar. Eventually after a few days of heavy drinking, his mother would come to her senses. She’d lock the alcohol cabinet and claim she’d never drink again. A lie nobody believed but herself.

Perhaps the lie was done in good intentions. His mother always insisted she cared for her children, in ways their father never could. 

“He’s a snake, Logan,” She hissed once, banging her beer heavily onto a coaster, “A dirty, no-good deceiving snake.”

Logan said nothing. He had only a few memories of the man. Once, when Logan was nine years old, he showed up on their doorstep. He held a bouquet of roses for Mother and a much belated birthday present for Logan. It’d been one of the happiest he’d seen Mother. He stayed with them for a few days. He listened to Logan, complimenting him on his extensive knowledge about dinosaurs. The three of them went to a carnival together. For a fleeting moment, Logan had what the others kids at his school had; a family. 

Then it ended with tears, arguing, door slams. Mother yanking him by the arm and leaving everything behind. Nine months later, Virgil was born. His father wasn’t there. Nor did he ever show his face again. A bitter, festering part of Logan despised him for that.

Mother acted like she cared at times. She’d purchase Virgil and Logan expensive gifts. Things she couldn’t afford without a credit card. She treated them to ice cream and insisted on giving them hugs. She never understood that Virgil found tactical touch without permission distressing. She’d brush it off, making remarks he simply needed to get used to it. 

At times Logan allowed himself to pretend these niceties would last. He pretended his mother was a flawed human being who mostly did good by her children. He pretended the slapping and hair-pulling didn’t exist, that the cellar was just a cellar and not a place to fear. It was hard to pretend these things were true, when the reality became increasingly harder to ignore.

Virgil fell asleep in the midst of this. Logan hadn’t realized this at first. His tired mind plunged on, continuing the nonsensical story.

“Then Batsy the Bat escaped the Witch’s dungeon. He flew as fast he could, to warn his friends...ah. Virgil what do you think their names should be?” Logan squinted, the dim light making it hard to see if his brother’s eyes were closed or not, “Virgil?”

His brother slumped against him, his breaths long and labored. Logan frowned, shaking his shoulder, “Virgil?!”

Virgil made a grumbling noise, “What?”

“You need to stay awake. You--you can’t fall asleep right now.”

“I’m tireeeed,” Virgil complained.

“I--I know, but please. It--it isn’t good to sleep right now.”

“Why?”

Logan’s throat constricted, “Be--because well. I haven’t finished the story yet.”

It was a lie. The truth was that sleeping could be a dangerous thing for a hypothermia victim. Sleeping could lead to death. He couldn’t tell his brother that. He refused to let Virgil experience more fright than he already had in his short life.

“Okaaay.” Virgil said.

Logan continued with the story, pulling all his concentration into it. Yet it wasn’t enough to keep Virgil awake. He kept drifting off, unable to keep his eyes open. At one point his brother down crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He sobbed, repeating the words over and over.

“It’s alright, you’re okay, everything is gonna be--gonna be,” Logan stammered, struggling to force the word out, “okay.”

It was then that Logan knew they couldn’t remain in the cellar any longer. He’d have to overcome his one true fear for the sake of their safety and survival. What he feared even more than his mother, was losing Virgil. Logan was smart. He knew the odds of a kindergartener and a high school sophomore staying together in the foster system was slim.

He had been selfish to allow his mother to continue tormenting Virgil. It was wrong. Now both him and his brother were paying for it.

Logan could fix this. He just had to pull out his phone and call emergency services. He had to call and resist his foolish fears of his mother and separation from his brother. With one arm still tucked around his brother, he pulled the phone out of his pocket. A battered, beaten thing he’d purchased with his first paycheck. His mother was completely unaware of its existence. 

He pressed the power button on as he gathered up the courage to call. Except the screen remained completely blank. He pressed it again, this time harder, hoping it’d been a fluke. It wasn’t. Again and again, he kept pressing the button, irrationally hoping for a different result. 

“No,” Logan swallowed heavily, “no, no, no this cannot be happening--” “Logey?” Virgil hiccuped, his big glassy eyes staring up as his older brother with concern.

“It’s okay, Virgil,” Logan murmured, “It’s okay, It’ll be okay--”

He couldn’t say the words any longer. Not when a sob wracked his throat, his vision turning hazy with tears. He couldn’t be strong any longer. He was weak. His heart beat faster, the chasm in his stomach deepening. His little brother said something, but he couldn’t hear it. All he heard was his mind mocking his failure. Shrill and scorching like his mother.

StUpID DiD yOU ThINK ThAT wAS GOING TO WORK?

You and your little brother are going to die and it’s all yOUR FAuLt

UsEleSS

Not EVEn YoUR OwN FATHER WAntED YOU--

“Hello? Whoever is contacting me at this hour better not have a good reason.”

Logan’s thoughts jolted to a halt. What? He glanced down at his phone, but it was still battered and dead. Virgil looked just as confused and lost as he felt. He hid his face in Logan’s shirt, whimpering softly.

“Who...are you?” Logan croaked, doing a poor disguise of covering up his breakdown moments before.

“I think that is perhaps a question I should be asking you.” The strange voice replied. It was definitely emanating from the phone, but how Logan had no clue. It made no logical sense.

“I--I don’t know.”

“You don’t know your name?”

“No! I mean of course I know my name! I mean, you can’t be real--I must be hallucinating.”

“Oh?” The voice responded with a touch of some unidentifiable emotion, “this must be your first time then.”

“First time what?” Logan snapped, a headache starting to take form. He regretted raising his voice when Virgil let out a cry. He murmured a soft apology to him, attempting to ignore how cold his brother felt.

“Is there someone else with you?” 

“No,” Logan said, before hesitating, “I mean perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“You still haven’t responded to my question from before.”

“Let me broker a deal then. I’ll answer your question, if you tell me who you and your companion are.”

“Okay,” Logan shakes his head, wanting to laugh hysterically. What in Newton’s three laws of gravity was going on? Surely, he died. He died and this was some last minutes of brain activity occurring. Scientists after all, know very little what happens in one’s last moments of life. Nothing could quite prepare him for the answer the voice gave him, however.

“Well then, to quote a popular misguided piece of media, ‘you’re a wizard, Harry!’” The voice said, the verbal jazz hands evident in the voice’s dripping, dry wit. Something about it was painfully familiar.

“What.”

“You asked, I answered,” The voice chuckled, “now it’s your turn.”

“My--my name is Logan,” He said, blinking rapidly, “and my little brother..ahhh...oh! Vi-Virgil is here with me.”

“Logan, that’s your name? You’re sure?”

Logan frowned at that. Of course he was sure. Or was he? It was getting rather harder to focus. Or to breathe even. The crisp cold air hurt his lungs. Virgil slumped heavily against him, complete dead weight in his unconsciousness. Oh. That was bad. He knew that was bad. 

“Logan?!” The voice yelled. Hmm, it sounded like they’ve been yelling at him for awhile now. He should acknowledge them. He nodded before pausing. Wait. He needed to respond verbally.

“Y-yes?” 

“Finally. You seem like you’re doing absolutely fantastic,” The voice told him. 

“Do I?” Logan asked, “I do not think I’m doing ‘fantastic’.”

“Where are you?”

Logan rattled off the address. Then he very casually added, “We’re locked in the cellar.”

“WHAT?!”

“It’s-s-s-s a punishment,” Logan shivered, his eyelids drooping against his will, “it’sssokay.”

“Yes, because all parenting books recommend disciplining your children by locking them in a cellar.” Maybe it was just Logan, but he got the impression the voice was being sarcastic. 

“I need to cut the invocation call. I’ll be there soon.”

“Wh--how-hy?” Logan said, trying to speak three words at once. The voice didn’t respond. He tried shaking his battered phone as if that would do anything. It did not do anything.

The air frizzled in front of Logan. A golden spark appeared, expanding until it was one big golden shimmery oval. Logan stared at it, blinking rapidly. This was absurd. He most definitely had to be hallucinating. The golden oval ripples as a black fedora emerged from it, followed by a face and then a whole body.

“F--father?” Logan managed.

The man before him was older and dressed in strange clothing. Slivers of silver hair poked out from his hat, nestled among the chestnut hair. An unfamiliar gruesome scar ran alongside the left side of his face. But he recognized those hazel eyes anywhere. He stared at them at the mirror every morning.

He didn’t respond to Logan. He took a few steps before collapsing beside the huddled forms of Logan and Virgil. His gloved hands reached out, but he did not touch them. His mouth opened, but no sound came out of him. Then his gloves covered his face as he inhaled deeply. He removed them from his face, his expression carefully blank.

“I’m here.” He told Logan, extending a hand towards him, “and I won’t leave you or your brother this time.”

Logan stared at the yellow gloved hand before sluggishly panning his gaze up at his father. He didn’t know if he could trust him, let alone if he could trust that this was reality. But god, he wanted it to be real. 

So cradling Virgil close to his chest with one arm, he took hold of his father’s hand. And then, with a bright flash of light, the cellar was empty.

-

Logan felt warm. A drizzling, dribbling, dripping like maple syrup down a fresh stack of buttermilk pancakes type of warmth. He should be alarmed by this for some reason, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be. Instead he made a contented noise, shifting closer to it. Someone chuckled, running a calloused hand through his hair. Logan stilled at the touch, the warmth evaporating from his veins. He waited for the fingers to grow taunt around a tuft of hair. For the harsh cacophony of his mother’s voice to rain down on him like hail. Nothing.

“Are you asleep, Little Tesla?” 

The air in his lungs evaporated. Only one person had called him that and it certainly wasn’t his mother. As much as she expected him to receive good grades, she hadn’t been one to nurture his interests in 20th century scientists.

“Father?” Logan whispered.

“I’m here, I didn’t leave, just like I said I would.”

He opened his eyes to find his father was indeed there. Sitting on a wooden chair with sunken eyes as if he’d been awake for hours. Logan laid on a bed with silky sheets and an impossibly warm comforter. He had just barely enough to cover him--most of the blankets had been stolen by another small figure. Virgil. His little baby brother was with him, asleep and curled up in a small ball.

“Wha--” Logan started to say, until everything hit him. The cellar. The strange bodiless voice. The gleaming gold portal. Father. Darkness.

“Yes, yes, I know it’s not at all a lot to take in, but you have magic. And you found me again, just like I’d hope you would.”

“Found you?” Logan asked, a hardness to his tone, “Assuming this isn’t a hallucination, you left me with h-her, you never came back and suddenly because I possess magic, I’m what? Worth something?”

“Yes, no!” His father cried out with a frustrated growl, “Listen, Logan. My relationship with your mother was extremely healthy, as I’m sure you can agree. Not unhealthy in the slightest. When it ended, your mother left a lovely parting gift.”

Here, he rubs a hand against the facial scar almost absent-mindedly, “I wanted to find you, I searched everywhere, but your mother is smart and covers her tracks well. I’m...sorry I couldn’t find you or your brother sooner. You’re important to me, magic or no magic.”

“How can I trust you?” Logan asked, “How can I trust that you’re not anything like her?”

He expected his father to be upset by the accusation, but instead he just smirked.

“You’re good to be suspicious. It’s a good trait, don’t ever lose it,” He said, adjusting his gloves, “I can tell you, that I will not harm you or your brother. I can say I will teach you magic, if you desire. I can let you know that I will let you walk out the door with your brother, and you won’t ever have to see me or your mother again. But you have no true way of trusting a man that has, from what you know, abandoned you completely until just now. 

“You have two options. Either accept you cannot completely trust what I say is true and proceed with caution, or you can leave with your brother, find a way to support the two of you. You’re smart, Logan. I trust you could figure it out.”

Logan swallowed. He was indeed smart--or knowledgeable enough to know there was little choice in the matter. He was just fifteen. He can’t support Virgil and him--not legally anyway. It’d be difficult to cover it up. Child Protection Services would be on them in a matter of weeks, if not days. 

Good case scenario, they stayed together in the foster system. Bad case scenario, they ended up separated. Worst case scenario? They ended up back at their mother’s, because they don’t believe either of Logan’s or Virgil’s claims and the cycle continues without end.

So, his father. He was the only option, and he knew it. As much bitterness as Logan held for the man, there’s also yearning in equal spades. He used to spend nights crying for him with his mother yelling at him to shut up. Sometimes she’d beat him for it, telling him his father was never coming back. Then he’d snap back that she was wrong and he’d prove Logan right by coming back. Until little by little, he stopped. 

He couldn’t trust his father, the man even admitted it. He just had to hope it’d be better, even though apparently the man believed in magic. Logan was doing his best at the moment to deny it existed. It couldn’t exist, last night had to be a fluke of some sort and even if it wasn’t, it was too much for him to focus on at the moment. 

“As long as I have your word that you won’t intentionally hurt Virgil and I, we will stay with you.” Logan says, before offering his hand towards his father.

Father took a look at the extended hand, eyes softening, before clasping it, “You have my word, Logan, that I will not harm you or Virgil as long as you remain in my care.”

They shook on it. Logan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and then--and then, his vision blurred. A sob and then another erupted until he clenched his teeth, holding the rest back. For the second time within twenty-four hours he had shown weakness. First to his brother and now, now to his father who above all he should show no signs to. But like that creative writing assignment in the 8th grade, he completely failed.

Somehow halfway the handshake got turned into an embrace. His father hugged him, a calloused hand softly carding through his hair once more. 

“Shh, Logan, you’ve been so strong, stronger than most. You won’t have to be strong alone any longer. Let it all out.”

Logan didn’t know what to think of his father’s words. It wasn’t like a set of logical propositions or a step-by-step formula for science. He couldn’t know for certain if they were genuine. But in this moment, he was but a little boy with his father back. So he dug his head into his father’s chest and finally cried. His father, in turn, did not berate or beat him for it. Instead, he held onto his son as he whispered reassurances all the while.

[hillariat]

When I’m with you

Tags: Original work, Fluff, Romance, F/F, wlw, Comedy 

Word count: 3,066

Summary: She followed me to my doorstep, and we embraced in a hug that lasted way longer than it should. As she departed, bidding an I'll text you when I'm home -a mere formality in Singapore- I began to wonder.

Did she feel the same?

In which Rachel has feelings for her best friend Jiamin.

Author’s note: This is just something to take note of before reading if you aren’t familiar with Singapore. This story uses some Singlish, mostly in dialogue. Singlish is the colloquial variation of English in Singapore. It has its own unique grammatical structure and slang terms borrowed from multiple different Asian languages. Different people integrate Singlish into their speech to varying degrees. For Singlish terms, I’ve given in text translations in [ ]. 

Also I’ve cross-posted this on Royal Road under the same title and author name.

____________________________________________________________

The first time I felt it, I was at the park with her in the middle of the night. She kept nudging me to try the flying fox. I rebuked that it wasn’t my thing, that it wasn’t appropriate with the skirt I was wearing, that she wasn’t strong enough to push me all the way to the other end.

In essence, I was scared. Yeah, a 15-year-old was scared of a piece of playground equipment that little 5-year-olds rode on a daily basis. Jiamin mocked me in much the same way, as if my reaction were a teleprompt script of my thoughts. I relented and awkwardly attempted to sit on the damn thing. She saw me struggle and halted her sharp remarks, most likely to not dissuade me from my reluctant decision. Instead, she opted for a constipated face, struggling to contain her laughter.

With an effortful push from Ms constipatedface, I was sent gliding across the playground with the whirring noise of cables being my only company. It was....not as bad as I thought. The slight breeze that brushed against my face, the passing scenery of a peaceful night was relaxing, the - yeah I was lying to myself. This was fucking scary. My feet were suspended a meter off the ground, ripping any sense of control I had over this damned thing away from me. I was at the mercy of the imparted force of Jiamin's push and whatever resistance the ill maintained wires provided. Without my calculator and notebook, I had no clue when or where exactly I would stop and not knowing brought upon deep seated feelings of insecurity that I thought I had tucked away under piles of 100th percentiles in report cards.

Fortunately for me, the flying fox slowed down to a stop whilst I was buried in my thoughts. The wires sagged under my weight, leaving my feet within reach of the ground. Jiamin jogged to me with a gleeful expression painted on her features, clearly very entertained by my suffering. I on the other hand probably looked like I came out of the Vietnam war. She asks me how it was, and I groaned. Well, “weh” was more accurate, but I’d like to think it was a groan. She chuckled, her deep voice filling the otherwise empty park. It wasn’t any different from her previous chuckles, but my heart clearly felt otherwise.

It fluttered.

 I mulled over that feeling for several weeks. It wasn’t a foreign concept to me. I’ve heard friends talk about it at the canteen, heard hushed gossip amongst classmates during lessons and dramatized portrayals in media. But why now? Nothing has really changed between us; she hasn’t changed at all. So why now? 2 months ago, I would’ve said her laugh sounded like a dying pig but now I’m not so sure.

I took a glance at her, seated at a table diagonally to the right of me. To the undiscerning eye she was diligently taking notes in class, her face laser focused on what she was producing on paper. But I knew better. She was probably drawing bats and skeletons and anything else that could pass as a villainous henchman in a kid’s cartoon. She never cared much for math, or any other subject outside of recess. She once told me that she didn’t see the point of trying since she wasn’t planning to go anywhere after secondary school. When I pried further, she said “I’m damn stupid. Confirm cannot go anywhere”.

I think the only time I've ever seen her willingly try to study was in primary 5, a year before our Primary School Leaving Examinations. She suddenly became very interested in studying after I told her I wanted to go to Bukit Panjang Government High, a top public secondary school. Maybe she finally realized how important studying was. For that entire year she was buried in textbooks. I swore her head could've become a bookmark. When results came around, everyone thought it was a miracle, some divine intervention from god, that she did as well as she did. But I knew better. She was never one for prayers. We both entered Bukit Panjang Government High and Jiamin went back to slacker mode.

 She turned to me, sensing my stare. We made eye contact, chocolate brown meeting chocolate brown, - yes Chinese kids all look the same – but for some reason I was ensnared.

I felt my face flush red.

I want to die. Please take me now death.

Bewilderment was plastered on her face. A moment passes. Then, as though she was struck with a thunderbolt of genius, her expression turned to a knowing smirk. Death, anytime now please.

She stuck her tongue out at me like the child she is and I, obviously, returned the favor. Because what else do you do when someone flicks their tongue at you? Ok, no death for now.

We shared a quiet giggle before turning back to our work. Well, I tried to. My whole body was consumed by….nice feelings. Warmth that felt like a hug. Butterflies threatening to break from my ribcage. That sort of stuff. It was topped off with starry eyes and a dreamy smile that probably made me look crazy.

I was so glad I didn’t have a tablemate, else I’d be probed on my strange expression. I don’t think claiming that I was merely enjoying the lesson at hand would’ve been believable. If it was it would imply that I was going gooey eyed over first order derivatives. I know I’m a nerd but I have standards. It’s got to at least be partial derivatives in a matrix to get me flustered.

So uh yeah, “mulling” didn’t actually involve thinking about my feelings. More like awkwardly fumbling through the full spectrum of emotions. I should do something about it. Just as I was about to plunge into another train of thought, I received a text from none other than her.

Jiah Lian: Wanna go monti next week?

That’s weird. Monti was a candlelit atas* [Fancy & expensive] restaurant that sat on Marina bay, aka the kind that people bring their lovers to for a proposal and have anniversaries and junk.  I’d been wanting to eat there for months because apparently the pasta is to die for and they cook it tableside (I know, I have spoilt rich girl tastes) but I never really got around to it. I didn’t think it was her kind of thing. If I nagged her enough, she’d probably go with me, but show up in shorts and sandals and complain about spending $58 on pasta.

Trash bag: Sure, but don’t wear shorts

Jiah Lian: Wah, u wan see me naked alr? Pervert

Trash bag: Gross

Jiah Lian: ILY too :)

Trash bag: Wed?

Jiah Lian*: Caaaannnn

[*a pun on the Singlish word “ah lian” which means female gangster]

 Wow. Oh wow. Out of all the things I thought would happen today, seeing Jiamin in a dress was not one of them. To be frank I was expecting her to show up in either shorts or a shirt-pants combo. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pleasantly surprised though. She was wearing a spaghetti strapped cocktail dress that hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her slim form. The dress slit went all the way up her smooth, never-ending legs, leaving just enough room for the imagination. It was bare back too. The dress probably showed a bit too much skin considering she came from a conservative household, but I’m not complaining.

In a manner that was so unlike the way she was dressed, Jiamin yelled “Rachel!” and hurriedly made her way across the train station to me. She was like a puppy bolting towards its owner when they came home. Adorable.

She circled me once over, eyeing up my outfit in enthusiasm. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, she gave a smile that ended at the corner of her eyes.

"Wah you damn chio*"[Pretty] She said, gesturing to my dress. It was a simple, off shoulder, A-line affair.

I nudged her shoulder playfully with my fingers.

“You also”

In response, she gave a goofy, ear to ear grin, her normal go-to reaction to compliments. Though this time I could’ve sworn there was a tinge of red coloring her cheeks. Maybe it was a trick of the light.

We made our way to the restaurant, talking about anything and everything from some idiot in history class that declared that they didn’t need to know about Hitler because, and I quote; “all the Jews are dead” (I don’t know how he got into an elite school) to whether or not caviar and white chocolate would taste nice together. Our hands brushed together once.

“In theory it should work because, according to food science, they have similar flavor compounds, like trimethylamine which has a fishy odour. So they – “

“What the shit! Who the fuck thinks white chocolate tastes fishy?!”

“Science does!” I happily sang. “and it thinks white chocolate would be very good with caviar.”

She cringed.

“Eeeeee, fuck that’s damn gross.”

“Hmm I dunno, now I’m very tempted to try it. Maybe I’ll order caviar later.”

She grasped her chest in relief.

“Thank god, Monti don’t have caviar.”

I gave her the most innocent and earnest smile I could muster.

“Then next time, we’re going to a seafood place and I’m bringing white chocolate.”

She looked at me with absolute horror. “I don’t know you! Who is Rachel?!” She proceeded to wander off in faux abandonment. I on the other hand am cackling with laughter. I loved grossing her out with science.

Once I caught my breath I jogged after her.

 Our dinner was filled with idle chatter and a savored appreciation for the food. There was a moment where I thought she was going to place her hand over mine as she lightly grazed it, but in reality she was just trying to steal my phone. I would’ve thought that after the 10th time she’s failed that stunt, she’d know better. When the bill was settled, Jiamin of course complained about the exuberant price of pasta and my 'atas' tastes.

"I can treat you, y'know as 'compensation' for your company."

She snorted.

"You make me sound like a prostitute." We both chuckled. I continued.

"Legit though, I can treat you if you want."

She dismissed me with a wave.

"No need, hanging out with you is treat enough" She had a smirk and a...blush? Or was that the lighting? Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I've gone into cardiac arrest and I haven’t told my family that I wanted a secular funeral. God bless the dim lighting.

 On our way out, Jiamin's hand brushed against mine again.

Normally I wouldn’t think much of this, but the fact that it’s the 3rd time it happened today and on the same hands mind you,I was a bit perturbed. Jiamin was never shy about physical affection. In primary school she would constantly hold my hand, stating that it felt “nice” or something. I didn’t know why it’d be nice though; I was a sweaty kid; my palms were nasty. A couple months ago she tackle-hugged me because I helped salvage her “hopeless” physics project. In that same timeframe she pinched the crap out of my cheeks after we looked at my old childhood photos when we were at my grandparent’s place. That’s on top of her still holding my hand all the time. Then again recently there’s been a lot less physical affection. Maybe I pissed her off. Eh, she’ll talk about it when she’s good and ready. After all, she’s that kind of person. If you try to crack her open like an egg, she'll call you bitch and stop talking to you for 2 weeks. Trust me, I've tried.

Her hands brushed mine again, though this time she seemed more daring. Her index curled up around my pinky, as if testing the waters. I responded in kind, and she took that as a sign to be bolder. Her fingers cautiously crawled up further and soon our hands were intertwined. My stomach did something that the rest of me could not; a fucking backflip.

 I really didn’t want this night to end so soon and it seemed as though Jiamin thought the same. She suggested that we take a walk along the bay because ‘food coma’. I happily agreed and that’s how we wound up walking along the bay hand in hand.

Her gaze was drawn to the city skyline on the opposite side of the bay, just as mine was to her. Her deep brown eyes hidden among too long messy bangs, petite pink lips and razor-sharp jawline were all illuminated -no- highlighted by the moonlight. She really was something else. I could almost just-

"The view damn nice."

My head snapped to said view. Little boxes glowed with artificial hues of blues, greens, whites and yellows. They peppered the orderly array of skyscrapers, starkly contrasting the night sky. Each building was interwoven with one another, smaller ones disappeared in the shadow of larger ones and the ones that were front and center demanded attention like a whiny 5 year old. Some towered above others in a supposed race to be the tallest, but never in a disorderly fashion. Every tower had its own distinct curves, angles and edges. Shapes that would normally belong in a dull geometry paper were fused together into deceitfully simple artistic hybrids, giving each building its own sense of character. Yet they all managed to fit together nicely into a coordinated group of semi homogenized modernity.

Pristine, structured, and beautiful. Truly fitting for a metropolis.  

 "It’s weird how every tiny box that’s lit has a worker inside" Jiamin gestured to a well-lit office building. She turned to me.

"Do you think our lives are gonna be like that? Working until 8+ in a box then go home and sleep and then do it again?"

I shrugged.

"Maybe? That depends on the job type and-"

"Do you want that?"

My expression furrowed. I’m not really certain of my reply but let it slip anyways. Bad Rachel.

" I-I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far. I mean we're so young and all.”

She quirked her brows.

"Then why you study so hard?" Despite her choice of words, her tone holds no animosity, just genuine curiosity.

"Well, because I like it." Jiamin continued to look at me, expecting more. I took a deep breath and continued. "And also because it gives me security"

"Like it opens up more doors? "

"No. It gives me something..." My eyes searched the ground as though the right words would appear at my feet. I swallowed. "to be proud of"

Jiamin fell silent at that. Her eyebrows furrowed, whether in thought or in sympathy I don’t know, but I hope it wasn't the latter. I don’t need that.

She chewed on her lips, contemplating on whether or not she should say whatever it was that was on her mind. I had half the mind to ask but again, I knew better.

"Sometimes I fail things on purpose."

My jaw dropped.

"What? Why?"

She shrugged.

"People think I damn useless. Like cannot do this, cannot do that. -she brought up her fingers to count - I lazy, stupid, hopeless, cannot make it."

I frowned and knitted my brows, trying to stitch together what she was trying to say.

"So you want to spite them?"

She sighed.

"Maybe. At least I know I'm good at failing"

I fell into silence, letting that sentence stew in my thoughts for a moment. I knew what I wanted to convey but I didn’t know how to convey it right. Neither of us cared much for words of pity after all.

"You know, I heard the best way to say 'fuck you' to someone is to be happy."

"You think I not happy is it?" She growled.

I held my hands up defensively. "No no. That’s not what I’m saying. I'm trying to say that maybe you should consider what does make you happy."

Jiamin paused for a moment, lips pursed in thought. She turned away to look at the skyline again and that was the end of that conversation. There were more words to be said about this topic, but they weren't going to be said today. That's fine with me.

 The journey home was filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that I've always enjoyed with her. Though this time there was an added feeling of warmth and a silly soft smile plastered on my face. I never thought I'd like hand holding this much since primary school.

She followed me to my doorstep, and we embraced in a hug that lasted way longer than it should. As she departed, bidding an I'll text you when I'm home -a mere formality in Singapore- I began to wonder.

Did she feel the same?

 My answer came the next day, when I found a bouquet of flowers carefully tucked under my desk. Attached to it was a handwritten note with an anonymous sign off. I had only read half the note when I realized who my secret admirer was.

The messy scrawl was practically indecipherable to all but the best doctors, but I had seen it far too many times to not know what the squiggles conveyed. I sighed. I told her more than a dozen times that she should've done her handwriting homework, stating that unlike every other mundane piece of work she never did in primary school, this would come back to bite her. Only once had she listened.

It was apparent from the first line of the note. The ‘a’ in dear, in my name and scattered about in every other word that demanded the vowel stood out like a sore thumb. Unlike every other letter which was hideously malformed beyond recognition, the ‘a’s were written perfectly. From the not quite circular tri-pointed body to the tail flick at the end, the ‘a’ was a perfect imitation of the template we were forced to trace over as kids.

I pulled out my phone, shooting my not-so-secret admirer a text thanking her for the bouquet, watching in amusement as her face turned the same color as those flowers.

[jads1000]

Steroline Appreciation Week (#scaw17) The Snow Globe Part 2

Continued from here X

Writing this has made me feel super emo. I tried to combine all the elements of Steroline I love (friendship, teasing, angst, romance and passion). It’s basically a trip from S2 to S8 and I hope you all enjoy it.

***

Approaching her doorstep, Caroline let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. After being locked up and tortured by a pack of werewolves, all she wanted was a hot bath and a lot of junk food. Stefan followed behind, concern dripping off him, his shoulders tense with anxiety. As bad as her ordeal had been, it could have been much worse if it hadn't been for the Salvatores and creepy Dr Martin. She shivered as she pulled her key chain from her pocket. Behind her, she sensed his footsteps pause obviously waiting for her to open the door. Then she heard it.

A stifled chuckle.

Was he laughing at her? Because if he was, she was about to kick his ass, hero hair or not.

She spun around to see Stefan's grin smooth out into his more standard earnest face. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He replied, the picture of innocence.

"See, I thought I heard someone laugh and we both know that's not really your style." Her eyes narrowed. "Is being burned with vervain and shot with wooden bullets amusing?"

"No, no, no." His own eyes widened in horror. He gestured at the key in the door as yet unturned. She gave him a 'wtf?' look. "You said it was a shit gift!"

Dangling down was that damn snow globe. After having misplaced her keys several times recently, she had resorted to attaching them to something big and ugly. Funny how she never had that issue since. "It IS a shit gift, but because I am gracious, I will admit it has it's uses. Still, I don't know if I'll ever forgive you." She turned to Stefan who was grinning from ear to ear like she was the most amusing thing in the whole world. Just for a moment, she forgot the existence of vampire hating werewolves and psychotic doppelgangers.

"I'll take useful."

"Oh, shut up!"

***

Stefan had passed a fitful night on the Forbes' family couch. He was grateful to Caroline for putting him up after Elena moved into the boarding house to avoid by murdered in her own bed by Jeremy. Still he wasn’t looking forward to having to discuss their sire bond revelation with his brother. Stepping out of Caroline's en suite shower, he picked up the towel she had left him and wrapped it snugly around his hips. It didn't leave much to the imagination, all Liz's bigger towels must have been dirty. He moved into her room to start dressing.

Caroline's room was pretty and feminine. To say she was a neat freak was an understatement. Stefan hadn't really been in here before and interested to see what secrets her boudoir might give up. In one corner, there were several shelves containing cheerleader trophies, commendation medals for various good deeds and a suspiciously home-made certificate declaring her third grade hopscotch champion. Caroline Forbes really was multi-talented. In pride of place, her Miss Mystic Falls trophy twinkled and next to it, hung on a small hook, was the snow globe key chain from his one and only attempt at Secret Santa.

His heart fluttered in his undead chest.

Why would she still have this given how much she hated it?

He ran his fingertips over the rounded surface and for the first time in weeks, he smiled.

***

Stefan and Caroline stood watching the burning log shed. Even as a ghost, Enzo was a royal pain in ass.

"I have a secret for you."

Caroline mesmerised by the fire was stumped. "What?"

"I have a secret I never told Elena." Stefan grinned. "Aside from the ‘dirt on your cheek’ thing."

"Okay." She looked dubious.

"You remember that Secret Santa gift?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "How could I forget!"

Stefan looked chastised. "I had a completely different gift for you, but Damon being Damon ruined the whole thing."

"So not a snow globe then?"

Doubt etched Stefan's face. He had always figured that someone as whimsical as Caroline would love such things, maybe he didn’t know her so well. "It was a snow globe, it was just a better one." He went on to describe the pretty, glass globe and where and when he had got it. At the mention of Lexi, he glanced away as if wishing to hide his sadness from her.

"It's okay to miss her. Damon may be your brother, but he's also a complete dick."

"I'm no better than him."

"Duh, you're a 1000% better."

"I killed Enzo."

"Your brother left him to die in a fire." Caroline cocked her head to one side. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about Enzo or Damon, who is this Disney character you associate with me?"

"Tinker Bell." He replied simply.

"I've never seen Peter Pan."

"Disappointed it wasn't Cinderella?" He teased. She narrowed her eyes. "Tink is misunderstood. People see her as impatient, jealous and impetuous." She frowned at him and opened her mouth to protest. "But it comes from a place of love, she would do anything for her friends." He smiled at her. "And she has really cute shoes."

She punched him on the arm. "You're so annoying."

He smiled. "I just can't believe you've never seen the film. Youngsters of today, don't know you're born.”  And then, even though, he really didn’t want to, he added “Come on, let's go check on Damon and Elena."

***

Spending an afternoon watching movies with her mom had been one of Caroline's favourite childhood things to do. Now Liz was dying, Caroline was desperate to make as many memories as possible. Stefan had dropped off a couple of DVDs from his collection, along with some chocolates and popcorn so she decided that given how miserable the weather was that was what the two of them would do. Liz was installed on the couch, tucked under a blanket. She looked pale and worn, the fragility of life etched across her features.

One of the movies Stefan had picked was Peter Pan. Curious, she popped in the DVD in the DVD player and snuggled up next to Liz.

"This takes me back." Her mom commented. "I know it's a cartoon, but it's kind of dark. Do you really want to watch it?"

"Wouldn't be Disney otherwise. Besides..." She looked away coyly. "Stefan once told me that Tinker Bell reminds him of me."

Liz made a strangled noise, half way between a snort and a gasp.

"What?" Caroline demanded. “She’s an icon!”

"Nothing. Let's just watch the movie." Liz passed her daughter the popcorn and they settled down to enjoy the film. "He's nice, Stefan. I mean for a vampire."

"Well your comparison is Damon so..."

"Still, he made us dinner the other night, he cleaned up and loaded the dishwasher. I don't think your father ever did that."

"He's trying to get in your good books." Caroline scoffed.

"Ask yourself why he's doing that." Liz glanced over. "He likes you."

"He's my friend, that's all."

"I don't think that's true. He cares about you Caroline and when I'm gone, you're going to need someone there for you."

"I don't want think about that."

The movie continued to play. Tinker Bell appeared on screen, jingling her bells and never once uttering a single word.

"I'm going to kill Stefan." Caroline complained.

"I thought you might." Smiled Liz.

***

Caroline didn't know how long she could keep up this book club ruse. Her Nook kept her from having to explain the physical lack of books to Alaric, but even with vampire healing, her eyes were constantly red and puffy. Stefan had been gone for six long months, the twins were exhausting and Ric was frankly as much use as a chocolate teapot. Which seemed to be the default setting for most new dads, but then he had a knack of making dusty academia seem like the hardest job in the world. For all his 'you can't explain what you love' bs, she suspected Klaus had never changed a diaper in his life.

Stefan, however, would have been different. She was certain of he would have got up in the night, warmed bottles and changed diapers even the really disgusting ones. He would have decorated the nursery and child proofed the house with bitching and moaning about needing easy access to a crossbow.

She opened the glove box and took out the pile of letters tied in a red ribbon and the snow globe. The key chain was a comforting weight in her palm as she handled the envelopes. She desperately wanted to open them, to indulge in his words, but part of her was too scared to admit he was gone. What if he told her that he no longer wanted her, that he was in love with someone else. By not knowing, she could live in her fantasies of a perfect life with the perfect man.

Turning the globe upside down, she focused on the swirling white flakes. This stupid tacky gift brought her closer to Stefan, easing the ache in her heart. It gave her the reminder he had promised her all those years ago.

Home, it reminded her of home.

***

"Put me down."

"No, I said I would carry you over the threshold and that's what I'm doing, damn it."

"It's not like we're getting married, I'm just moving in." She squealed.

"Well, Caroline. It is a slippery slope. Just go with my old fashioned, traditionalist ways." He gently set her down, smiling.

She grinned back at him. "So, you want me to be a prim Victorian lady?" She batted her lashes coyly at him before looking demurely away.

In a flash, she was pressed up against wall, Stefan's hands firmly planted on her hips as he raked his dark eyes down her face, settling on her lips before, meeting her eyes once again. "Definitely not." He growled. Hungrily, he pressed his lips to hers as one hand snaked up her body and into her curls. The jokey atmosphere dissipated, replaced by desire.

"I need to unpack." She murmured initiating another kiss.

"That can wait until later." He groaned back and whisked them upstairs.

A few hours later, Caroline was curled up, content in Stefan's arms, planning where all her stuff was going to go. There was some decent closet space and Stefan had cleared some shelves for things she wanted to display.

"I can hear your mind whirring."

"Shut up."

"It's getting late. May I suggest we take a shower together and I’ll help you unpack tomorrow?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She shot him a thoughtful look. "There's just one of thing I need first."

Stefan hoped that it was some sexy nightwear, preferably short and sheer that he could get his teeth into, literally. He wasn't prepared for her to open up a bag and slide out the snow globe. She proudly placed at eye level, front and centre of the shelf. "You've still got that?"

"Of course." She replied incredulously. "Now let's get that shower."

***

"I understand." She paused in her message.  "I will love you forever." She broke down, sobs wracking her body. She didn't want to get back into the car. She didn't want to be 'safe'; she wanted to be with Stefan. But she did understand. He would always choose to die if it meant protecting others, that was just him. Stefan the Hero, Stefan the Martyr. The things she both loved and hated about him.

She rooted through her handbag to find the one thing that always gave her hope. When she couldn't locate it instantly, she started to panic. Then her fingers met the cool plastic right at the bottom of her bag. Only it felt slimy.

She pulled the key chain from her bag to see it cracked and broken. The contents had leaked out and the snowflakes no longer danced. She knew, then, her home was gone.

***

Two hundred years later

The sunlight shone through the window waking Caroline. There she was, in her old room at her mom's house, laid on her old bed, dressed in a short black dress with low black pumps encasing her feet. Shards of memories flooded her brain - the crackle of magic, the screams of vampires as they were felled, the sharp spike of wood between her ribs and the warmth of Ilya Bennett’s arms as the world finally faded to black.

To die protecting one of Bonnie’s distant relatives that was a pretty good way to go.

So, this was peace.

She was surprised. She expected to wake up in Salvatore Mansion her home for the past two centuries. She got up, smoothed her dress and took a look around. The room was obviously old fashioned, but warm, neat and stuffed with childhood memories.  Her eye was instantly drawn to the snow globe, hanging on its little hook. She welcomed it like an old friend taking it in her hand and fingering the smooth surface.

There was a knock at the front door, the sound of knuckles on wood could only mean one person.

She raced down the stairs and paused at the bottom.

Standing at the door, no curtains to obscure him, was Stefan, a large toothy smile on his face. She turned the door knob, smiling back at him.

"Caroline.” He said warmly, taking her hands in his. "I see you found it."

"Well, obviously." She replied, holding up the gift.

"Who would have thought Heaven would have a Quick Stop?" He grinned, brushing his lips against hers.

"Shut up." She murmured as she pulled him into a deeper kiss.

She was home.

The End