#how it’s my fault my siblings will grow up in a broken family and we’ll have to sell the family house of 25 years to pay for the divorce

[herawell]

.

[lordabovehelpme]

Save the Day- Din Djarin x Reader

Request: For your DFWL series (which is the best series? I?) May I request for reeza and the twins somehow accidently break a vase or something, and Myles has to be a big brother and attempt to like fix it and try to make sure the parents dont find out cause they went out for a bit? Or just hcs of Myles being a good big bro because i think it would be the cutest! - anon

A/n: Hello lovely! I am so happy to hear that you have been enjoying DFWL so far! I know I have been having a blast writing it! This is such a good idea, so I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! Love ya! 

This is the next chapter of my Days filled with Love series. You can find the first chapter here! :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay Ready?” Reeza asks as she grabs the back of Isabets little legs.

“REE VAH!” A pat is given to Reeza’s head and she laughs.

“Alright, hold on!” She leans forward a little and starts to kick her foot, just as Paz had told them bulls do. “MMmmmmmmmm.” She takes off and sprints around the meadow.

Both girls giggle and scream as they feel like they are flying. Tobbi laughs from where he sits with Grogu, crayons and markers all over the porch. Myles happily draws pictures with his fellow brothers.

The five of them were supposed to be being watched by Paz. However, the giant warrior had ultimately fallen asleep on the couch. Who could blame him? Five energetic kids is a lot to watch.

You and Din are out on a date, one eagerly prompted by their uncle. “You guys never get out anymore. Go have fun! I’ll watch the kids. And maybe you can come back with the news of another!”

You had blushed and complained that your family was already big enough. But the two mandalorians, in their mandalorian way, giggled back and forth. They assured you that in their culture, a family never stops growing. However they both laughed when you sighed, “My back already hurts.”

So here the kids are, having already worn their uncle out and still lots of energy to keep them up.

“MYLES!” Reeza rushes back to her brothers with Isabet still on her back.

“What?” He looks up from his very detailed landscape he was currently drawing.

“BEES!”

“What do you- BEES!” Flying behind the two girls is a swarm of insects, instantly recognized from the bright yellow and buzz of their wings. Myles, ever the quick thinker, yells out, “GO TO THE LAKE! THEY CAN’T GET YOU IN WATER!”

Reeza runs as fast as her legs will carry her. “Okay Issy, time to learn how to swim!” She gets about hip deep before taking her sister into her arms. Making sure both their heads stay above the water she gets as deep as she can into the lake.

A loud battle cry comes from Myles as he runs to the shore where the bees have stopped. In his hand he pulls the hose and aims it towards the swarm. Holding it like a blaster, just the way his father taught him, he places his finger over the nozzle. The spray of water becomes harsh and unforgiving.

“HAH TAKE THAT! THAT'S WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU MESS WITH THE DJARINS!”

“WAIT WHAT ABOUT TOBBI AND GROGU?” Reeza calls out from the safety of the lake.

“CRAP!” Myles instantly drops the hose and runs back to the house, on a mission to keep his brothers safe. Rushing up to the porch he scoops his brothers into his arms and does a 180, sprinting towards the lake. Tobbi squeals in delight and his little legs kick as Myles enters the water.

The five of them wait for about seven minutes before starting to bicker about who will walk out first.

“Myles, you're the oldest, you go first.”

“But I’m holding Grogu and Tobbi, and I can hold Isabet, you can’t hold all three of them. We are the older siblings so we have to keep them safe.”

Reeza huffs before realizing her brother is correct. “Fine, but if I die it’s your fault.” She hands Isabet to Myles before slowly wadding towards the shore. It’s a humorous sight. Myles, waist deep in the water with his three squirming siblings in his arms.

All four children watch as their sister walks onto the shore and cautiously looks around. She does a full 360, checking for the insects.

“Okay, it’s alright.”

***

Now in clean dry clothes the children decided that maybe it is safer to stay inside.

Paz is still passed out on the couch, and the kids, trying to be as respectful as they can, decided that the living room is off limits.

They are currently in the kitchen, on a mission for snacks. Raiding cabinet after cabinet they eventually find the items that appeal to them most.

“Let’s eat the grapes in the fridge too, Mom always says we have to eat as many fruits as we do crackers.”

Happy with this, Reeza sits down at the table after strapping her siblings into their chairs.

Myles opens the fridge and grabs the bowl of fruit you had cut up this morning as well as some peanut butter. Reeza opens the packet of crackers and places them in a design on a plate.

“We shall dine like Kings and Queens!” She announces while tucking her napkin into her shirt. Myles laughs while sitting down at his own seat.

Grogu, noticing the lack of parents, smiles before holding his hand out. A single grape rises from the bowl. Tobbi giggles while he holds a cracker in his fist.

Reeza drops down from her seat and rushes over to the side of the room. “Grogu, let’s play a game. You throw the fruit around and I’ll try to catch it with my mouth!”

Grogu claps his hands in agreement. Instantly the grap flies through the air towards Reeza. She leans towards the right and effectively catches it in her mouth. All five kids erupt in laughter. Well, except Isabet, she just sits with a scowl on her face, but you all have come to realize it is just her natural face.

This game goes on until the bowl is almost empty. Grogu has Reeza doing rolls and jumps to try and get the food. However, on the last piece of fruit Grogu throws it towards her left. She rolls and goes to stand up, but…

BAM!

It almost happens in slow motion. She had run into the tall table you have near the window. Some of your trusted house plants rest there as it is one of the places that the house gets the most sun. The vase with a bouquet of wildflowers the kids had picked you wobbles. It shakes and then tilts off of the table.

They all watch in horror as the vase crashes to the floor. Thankfully it landed on the mat by the door so it only broke into about six pieces, but water goes everywhere.

Reeza turns to her brother, head tucked into her shoulders and tears welling at her eyes. Myles runs about four different scenarios through his head in the span of a couple seconds, weighing each option against one another.

After only five seconds he has a plan. Rushing over to his sister he hugs her. “It’s okay.”  

“Mom is going to be so mad!” Tears start to fall on her cheeks.

“No no it’ll be fine. We’ll fix it. But I’m going to need your help, alright?” He looks at her. She wipes away her tears and nods. “Okay I need you to go grab some towels.” She nods again and rushes off towards the laundry room.

Myles turns to where his three siblings sit at the table, all their eyes wide. “You guys stay put, we don’t want glass to get into your feet.”

When none of them go to move he turns towards the oven. Grabbing a stove mit he starts to pick up pieces of the vase. Separating the glass and the flowers, he’s happy when he has two piles.

Reeza bounds down the stairs, quieter than usual as she doesn’t want to wake their uncle. In her hands are two towels.

“Okay, I think I got all the glass up but be careful. Go ahead and put the first towel on the ground and try to soak up as much as you can.” Following his command she does exactly as told. “I am going to go get some glue, don’t let them leave the table.”

Running as fast as he can, he rushes to where his father has supplies to fix about anything. Opening drawer after drawer he finally finds some super glue. “Perfect!”

Making a mental note of where he found the glue he goes back to the kitchen. Analysing the broken pieces he can see where the pieces fit together. Being extra careful, he applies glue to one piece and then another, and presses them together.

“Reeza how is the water going?”

“Towel one is soaked but all the water is up.”

“Great, can you please go quickly throw those in the hamper and put the clean towel back where you found it.”

She nods, her face as serious as he’s ever seen it.

“Okay Grogu, I need your help.” At the sound of his name, he looks up at his brother. “Can you hold these pieces together?” As if it were magic, the pieces are pressed against one another and held in place. Grogu coos, overjoyed that his older brother needs him.

“Perfect! Now I am going to start to glue and add more pieces, so can you do more than one at a time?”

Grogu coos once again and his little eyebrows furrow in concentration. When Myles adds another piece, he effectively holds it right in place. “Alright! There we go!”

Reeza sits down next to her brother, however her usual bright cheery smile is replaced by a frown. “Do you think Mommy is going to be mad?”

Picking his words carefully, Myles turns to look at her. “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll tell them. They won’t be mad at you.”

***

The vase is officially glued back together and it seems to be holding water. The glue is back where Myles found it and the flowers are back in the vase.

“Parents alert!” Reeza informs from where she was sitting at the window. In the distance she can see the Crest flying towards the house.

“Okay time for the clean protocol!”

They move faster than they ever have before. They pick up the crayons and markers from outside, put away the dishes from the kitchen, and settle in on the couch with their uncle. The house looks just as you had left it, no evidence of their eventful day.

Just as they practiced, as soon as the door is unlocked, they all close their eyes and pretend to be asleep. Even the twins know the routine by now.

“Oh babe, look how cute!” They can hear your hushed voice as you talk to their dad.

“Uh hum. You could hear Paz’s snore from the next planet over.”

A soft slap echos through the living room. “Don’t be mean, he gave up his day so we could go out. Be nice.”

They listen as your footsteps get closer and you pick the twins up. Still playing the part, they keep their eyes closed.

“Paz?” Your hushed voice tries to wake him.

The giant warrior stirs before finally waking. “Hmm what?”

“Glad to see you’re awake. We’re back.”

“I can see that.”

You giggle. “How were the kids?”

His arms lift as he looks around and counts heads. “They were great!”

“That’s good. Are you going to stay the night? I know it’s late and I’d hate to kick you out.”

“It’s late?” He mumbles to himself. “Oh umm no, I need to get back but if you need me to stay I can.”

“Oh no it’s alright. Thank you again for watching them.”

“Yeah no problem. You know how much I love them.”

Din has already taken the twins and Grogu up to their room and put them down. He walks back down just as Paz rises from the couch. They give one another a hug and a firm pat on the back. “Thanks man.”

“For sure.” Paz looks back at you before turning towards his brother. “When are you two having the next one?”

Din chuckles. “You try and ask her. Last time I did I had to carry a twenty pound weight around for a week. That shit’s not fun.”

Paz lets out a loud laugh but immediately stops after you scowl at him and point to the kids. “Sorry.”

After the three of you talk for a few more minutes, Paz makes his way out of the door. You sit down on the couch between Reeza and Myles. Reeza shuffles a little and settles down onto your lap. You smile and start to softly brush her hair.

Myles opens his eyes, as if he just woke up. “Hi Mom.”

“Hi baby.” Your arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him close to you, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How was your day?”

“It was good… uneventful.” It takes everything in Reeza to stop herself from snickering.

“Oh, that’s good.” Din sits down on the other side of Myles and places his arm on the back of the couch, keeping all three of you within his hold.

“How was your date?”

“It was good, although I missed you guys.” You press another kiss to Myles cheek and he giggles.

“Your mother has separation anxiety.”

Myles laughs while you glare at your husband. “Of course I do! You guys are my babies.” Looking down at Reeza, you scratch her back and you feel a shiver run down her spine.

“Time to go to bed.” Your husband huffs as he stands up, taking Reeza into his arms he beckons Myles to follow him. ��Say goodnight to your mother.”

“Goodnight mom.” Myles wraps his arms around your neck and presses a kiss to your cheek. You smile and hold him close.

“Goodnight my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

You turn the faucet and warm water starts to run. Hands grip at your hips and kisses are placed against the back of your neck. He pulls the zipper down on the back of your dress. Every inch of skin that is revealed to him he sucks and nips at it.

“You looked so good in this dress.”

Turning around in his arms, you press a kiss to his lips. “Mm thank you.”

He growls as you bite his bottom lip.

“Reeza was awake, wasn’t she?”

“Definitely.”

You giggle and slip from his hold. “They’re so funny. I hope they were alright today.”

He sighs as he realizes he’s not getting as lucky as he originally thought. “Cyare, you worry too much. They said they had a great day.”

You slip into the bubbly water and lean forward, silently asking him to slide in behind you. “I can’t help it.”

He kicks off his pants and sits behind you, pulling you into his chest. You rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes.

The two of you just stay against each other in the comfort of warm water for a second.

“Cyare?”

“Mmm?”

His hand moves over your stomach. “Are you sure you don’t want another one?”

You sigh. “Din, babe, the twins aren’t even one yet.”

“Soooo?”

You laugh, “You’re insatiable. You can ask again in a year. I need a break for right now.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I just love you so much.” You turn your head so he can press a kiss to your lips. “And our family.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Part: Rainy Day

I hope you all liked it! 

Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging, I love hearing what you all have to say! It makes my day! 

Love, Lordy :) 

Masterlist 

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi @coldlilheart @remmysbounty @t3a-bag​

If you want to be added/removed from my taglist- just give me a holler! :)

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 3

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki battles with new thoughts and feelings as time goes on. While trying to convince himself to leave, he does his best to stop his growing connection to you and Matt. Chapter Warnings: some angst, but also fluff A/N: Third chapter done! For anyone wondering about James, there’s some more information on him in this chapter. And for anyone who saw that other post, this isn’t the super long chapter yet, sorry! Updates every Friday. As always, hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

One week later, Loki was ready to leave. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He’d done his best to keep his distance, and yet he kept getting roped into conversations with you. Surely, though, that was wholly due to your persistence and in no part because he was drawn to you. And this family breakfast he was at yet again? Simply because he was addicted to pancakes. It had nothing to do with you, or your family, or your kind eyes. Okay, maybe it had the tiniest bit to do with your kind eyes. The way you looked at him was like nothing he’d ever known before. Frigga had always done it with a gentle love, but it was always reserved and hidden behind a queenly mask. With you, he could see every thought that passed through your mind reflected in your eyes. He shouldn’t have enjoyed being seen as a bird with a broken wing, but the care you gave him was something he quite liked.

“Hey,” you whispered, nudging him in the side as the rest of the table laughed at something. “You ok?”

“Yes. Just lost in thought I suppose.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Mama curtly interjected, “but whispering at the table ain’t polite.”

Ah, now if Loki was looking for a reason to leave, he could certainly find one in Mama. Though you’d been the one to start the hushed conversation, she was looking pointedly at Loki as if he was the instigator. Then again, she acted like every bad thing that happened since his arrival was his fault, even things he had no control over. Maybe spiting her by staying was reason enough for his delayed departure.

“Sorry,” you said before he could deliver a withering insult. “It’s my fault.”

Mama just made a little humming noise in reply that obviously showed she neither blamed you nor appreciated you taking the fall. In the time that Loki had been at your farm, she either avoided him like the plague or dealt thinly veiled insults his way. It was grating on his nerves, but there wasn’t much he could do bar revealing himself as an all-powerful god. Or leaving. That was always an option, he reminded himself.

“Son, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Papa started, ignoring the tension like always, “I’ve misplaced that dang camera again. I’ll find it again soon though, don’t you worry.”

Little did he know, that camera’s disappearing act was entirely due to Loki’s magic. He’d hidden it around the house a number of times, never anywhere too outrageous as to avoid suspicion. Perhaps this time he’d just keep it in a dimensional pocket. Or let Taffy knock it over. Maybe if it was broken, you’d give up on the missing person ad idea. He’d worried that you would just use your phone cameras instead, but Papa was convinced that the quality would not be good enough.

“It is quite alright, sir. Your hospitality is more than enough. In fact, I really ought to be on my way soon,” he finished, throwing a glance at you to gauge your reaction, feeling an odd spark of happiness when you sank down in your seat.

“No!” Matt cried. “I don’t want you to.”

He crossed his arms as if that solved everything. It did, however, soften Loki a little. As it turns out, he was very fond of the little guy. On Asgard he’d never had much time to spend with children, but it seemed like he had inherited his mother’s natural ability to be good with them. Inherited is the wrong word, actually, he bitterly thought to himself. She’s not your real mother, after all.

“Matt, if he wants to leave, we really should let him,” Mama scolded, with an almost hopeful expression.

“Actually, I do not see why I shouldn’t stay a bit longer,” Loki said, flashing a false grin at the woman. “There really is no rush, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “No rush.”

“Well, Loki, since Matt has taken to you so well, maybe you’d like to watch him this afternoon?” Ana asked, pretending she didn’t hear Mama’s latest remark.

“It would be my pleasure,” he responded, surprised by the sincerity of that statement.

The family had still been avoiding giving Loki strenuous tasks, believing that he was just incredibly good at hiding his ailments. To keep up appearances, he pretended to have a particularly bad ache or pain every once in a while. Whenever he did, you’d instantly appear at his side and usher him to a seat. He’d try to get up, but you would tell him to stay put in your best stern tone, which he found rather adorable, though he’d never admit it. Then you’d fetch him a glass of water and watch over him for the next hour, or until you decided he was well enough to get up again.

Fifteen minutes later, it was time to start the day and everyone helped clear the table. Your family had made the process as efficient as possible. Mama and John would bring the dishes to Papa in the kitchen, who would hand them to you to put in the dishwasher after rinsing them off. Ana and Matt would put away all the leftovers and toppings from whatever had just been on the menu. Loki helped out where he could, but most days everyone besides Mama insisted he should take it easy, that he could help when he was fully healed. It was odd, he realized, that you were all planning on him being around that long. He felt that familiar, nagging, guilty feeling he’d been getting ever since he arrived. He was not a fan.

By the time Ana and John were ready to leave, Loki had already collected the eggs, the only daily chore he was given, and was ready to watch Matt. It was only as the boy was hugging his parents goodbye that Loki realized he wasn’t really sure what to do with the child for the next few hours. He was thankful that you seemed like you were planning on sticking around, too. It did make sense, he supposed, that they hadn’t completely trusted the boy with a near stranger.

“Aren’t you healthy, mommy?” Matt asked, clinging to Ana’s leg as she tried to get away. “Why do you have to go to the doctor?”

“Because you’re going to have a little brother or sister soon,” Ana explained in a sweet tone as she gently pried her son away. “Mommy and Daddy have to go to the doctor to make sure the baby is healthy.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had not yet realized that Ana was pregnant. She must not have been very far along because she wasn’t showing much yet. Though, now that he knew to look, the god could see a small baby bump. Based on Matt’s reaction, he was already aware that he’d have a sibling soon, but he still couldn’t quite grasp the concept of everything that went along with that.

“Will you be back soon?” Matt questioned, finally giving up his efforts to keep his parents where they were.

“In the blink of an eye, small fry,” John said, placing a kiss on his head.

That seemed to satisfy Matt, who wandered over to Loki and put his arms up, clearly looking to be picked up. He hesitated for a second before scooping up the boy. It wasn’t that he was afraid of dropping him, in fact he was sure he wouldn’t, but he’d never held a child before. Up until a few days ago, he wasn’t sure he even had the slightest inkling how to be nurturing. And then there was the whole problem of Matt becoming too attached. Not to mention the way you looked at him when he did held him. That soft gaze was a problem for sure.

“Alright,” you said once Ana and John were gone. “What do you want to do, buddy?”

“Hide and seek!” he shouted. Then he put his small, chubby hands on Loki’s cheeks and used his most serious tone. “You’ll never find me. I have the best hidey spots.”

Loki let out a nervous chuckle. Truth be told, he didn’t know how to play this game. When he and Thor were kids, they played run and attack, but he felt like this was probably not very comparable. Midgard was a very different place, after all.

“Just count to sixty and then come look for us. We’ll stay in the house,” you informed Loki as he passed Matt off to you. “Oh, and just shout out when you’re starting to look.”

“Thank you,” he replied, turning around to face the wall.

It was odd, he thought, that he seemed to have said thank you more in the past week than he had in the last century of his existence. He’d never meant to let himself get so bitter, but here he was stewing in that awful feeling. When the flash of anger receded, the God of Mischief realized he was face to face with a framed family tree. Highest up were pictures of couples he could only assume were your grandparents. Next line down was Mama, Papa, and their siblings. You and Ana were in the next row, and it struck him just how much you and your sister looked alike. Matt and John were there too, but the person that most captured his attention was your brother. The middle child, he guessed, since the picture was in between those of you and Ana. He gently ran his fingers over the looping gold cursive of James’s name. Loki loved a good mystery, but he needed clues and evidence to solve one. He knew next to nothing about the guy, other than that he’d been wearing his clothes for the past seven days.  

“I am starting to look now,” Loki awkwardly shouted, feeling self-conscious about seeming like he was talking to no one.

He thought he heard a small snort coming from one of the upper levels at his gawky declaration, so he headed up first. It felt odd to go rifling through things, so he mainly tried just to peer under furniture, though he did open a closet once or twice. He huffed and considered if he should venture into any of your rooms. If you weren’t there, though, he’d feel like he was intruding on something private and sacred. Hesitating with a hand hovering over the doorknob to your room, he noticed the attic hatch out of the corner of his eye. Standing still, he could hear a very subtle shuffling noise coming from above him, so either you were there, or you’d better call pest control.

As soon as he climbed the ladder, Matt started giggling, but Loki pretended he couldn’t hear. He loudly walked in between the boxes littering the floor, every once in a while dramatically peering around an old piece of furniture. It only made the laughs louder.

“Now where could they be?” he sighed in mock exasperation. “Maybe, they’re here!”

Then he jumped around the couch you were hiding behind and started tickling Matt. The boy squealed in delight and squirmed away. When Loki looked at you, he saw something shocking on your face. Admiration. It was something he’d longed for from so many people in his life, and here you were giving it so freely to him. He moved his gaze elsewhere before his mind could wander any further.

“What’s all the ruckus up here?” Mama asked, her head appearing from the door. After spotting Loki, her eyes narrowed. “Oh. It’s you.”

“We were just playing hide and seek, Mama. Don’t worry,” you said.

“Indeed. I must say, it is much fun,” Loki added, though more to annoy her than ease her mind.

“I’m sure,” she replied before taking Matt by the hand. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

You shot Loki an apologetic glance as you headed out after her. Once Matt’s snack was finished, Loki partook in some coloring. He was oddly pleased to know the little boy’s favorite color was green, and you seemed fairly partial to it, too. Ana and John returned roughly an hour later, and Loki finished the day by doing chores around the farm. Another thing he’d learned about himself was that he really didn’t mind doing manual labor. Growing up in the Royal Palace Valaskjalf, he never had to lift a finger to help cook or clean or do anything much besides training and lessons, really. Now he found himself almost eager to get into the kitchen for a cooking lesson with Papa or help out in the fields, the latter of which definitely had nothing to do with showing off for you.

He’d been on his way to the kitchen that evening sometime after dinner, his infamous sweet tooth bugging him again, when he heard Mama’s hushed voice.

“I’m telling you Earl, something about that boy just don’t sit right with me.”

“Come on, honey. He can’t even remember nothing. It’s our duty to help him out,” Loki heard Papa reply as he hid just outside the door.

“He may say he can’t remember, but I ain’t buying it. We should get him out soon as possible.”

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, but there was nothing to stop him from feeling the sting of those words. He really should just leave; it had been his plan after all. As if they had a will of their own, Loki’s feet carried him away from the conversation, out the door, and off the porch. He never should have taken advantage of your family’s generosity. He regretted thinking about you, though, because it made his steps falter a bit. And then there was sweet little Matt. It hadn’t really hit him until now, but Loki actually enjoyed himself today. He couldn’t recall the last day he could say that about.

“I hope you weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

The trickster god whirled around at the sound of your voice. He’d been too caught up in his tumultuous thoughts to notice you leaning on one of the porch’s posts.

“Certainly not,” he lied. “I just needed some fresh air is all.”

“In that case, I know the perfect place. Come on.”

You took his hand and led him away from your land. He tried not to pay attention to the feeling of your hand in his. In fact, he tried to block it out altogether, but to no avail. Eventually, you reached a peaceful creek and picked up a rock to skip.

“If I was going to leave,” he began after a few minutes of contemplative silence, “I really would be fine. I appreciate all that you and your family have done, truly, but perhaps it’s best if I go.”

“Look, I know you’re pretty much all healed up, but you still don’t remember anything. I cannot in good conscience let you out into the world like that.”

“I suppose that is fair. Your mother certainly does not agree with your assessment, though.”

You sighed. “If Mama’s the reason you feel you should go, please just ignore her. She means well and all, but... Well, let’s just say she has her reasons for acting this way,”

Loki said nothing but raised his eyebrows at you. One part of him felt bad to press you for more information, even if it was done without words. The much larger part of himself, however, was entirely too curious to not know.

“Okay, so remember when I told you about my brother?”

Loki nodded eagerly, ready to get some answers about what exactly had happened there.

“Well, he was... He was killed in an accident with a drunk driver a couple years ago,” you recounted, tearing up a little bit. “Mama had trust issues even before, but they’re much worse now.”

“I am so sorry, darling,” Loki said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, but not daring to go any further than that.

He felt bad for your loss, but right now there were major alarm bells going off in his head. He’d just called you darling. It wan’t even something he’d thought about doing, it just happened. That, coupled with the fact he cared how you were feeling, had him panicking. His plan to leave after a week was already out the window, but leaving at all was becoming harder to fathom by the day.

“It’s ok,” you replied, wiping a few errant tears off your cheeks. “It was a little while ago. I’m alright now. Really.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment as he awkwardly pat your shoulder, not really certain of the correct way to comfort someone. He wanted to say something else, but he wasn’t sure what.

“I think I had a brother!” he shouted, giving in to his desire to confide in you, but his web of lies making it impossible to tell the whole truth.

“We have to put that ad in the paper then. So he can find you.”

Little did you know how awful that situation would be for everyone involved. Still, it meant a lot that you cared, especially when you’d just been saddened at the memory of your own brother.

“Maybe, but I do not seem to think we had a very good relationship.”

“All the more reason then. You never know how long you have, so you should try to make amends.”

“Perhaps.”

You lapsed into silence again, not really sure where to go from there. By now, the sun had been down for a while and a chill was settling in the air. Loki noticed you shiver and shrugged off his hoodie.

“Here,” he embarrassedly mumbled, holding it out to you.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you refused. “You’ll be cold then.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted, “I will be perfectly fine.”

You reluctantly agreed and pulled it on. Though it had only been in his possession for a short time, his scent had already claimed the soft fabric. He acted like his attention was averted elsewhere, but was actually watching you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t notice his gaze on you as you took a gentle sniff, trying to take as much of it in as possible. Sandalwood, leather and something otherworldly that you just couldn’t name, other than to call it heaven. He turned his head ever so slightly and you started sheepishly picking at your nails, hoping he hadn’t caught you. He expected to be appalled by the notion, but just found himself confused. Why would you enjoy something that was so distinctly him? Then he remembered you didn’t know the truth. That’s why he had to get out as soon as possible before he, or anyone else, got hurt.

“We should probably head back before it gets too late,” you said after a bit.

“I agree,” was all he replied.

As you walked away from the creek, he tried to leave the new feelings bubbling in him by the water, but they followed him all the way back to the house, and into his dreams that night.

[eigwayne]

Fic Time! It’s the first part of the ChengQing fic I keep mentioning.

A Little Spoiled

Rating: Explicit Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Relationship: Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín/Wēn Qíng Characters: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Wen Qing (Módào Zǔshī) Language: English; Words: 4045; Chapters:1/4

Additional Tags: Inadvisable Hook-ups, paying for groceries as a form of affection, kinda sugar daddy jiang cheng, Emotional Constipation, First Time, Awkward First Times, vacillating wildly between annoyed and horny, as many of us are when jiang cheng is involved, Secrets, drama canon

Read chapter 1 on AO3 here.

Wen Qing knows this is a bad idea. He's short tempered, fought a war against her clan, and has responsibilities that dont- can't- include her. She returned his comb and is keeping a secret that could destroy him.

But he's paying for much-needed supplies and when he almost smiles she can pretend things are simpler, that he's just the shy young master who could have loved her. And sometimes even the most commanding people want to be a little spoiled.

(A vaguely drama-canon-compliant affair between Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng during the Burial Mound era, where secrets are kept, gifts are bought, and Wen Qing struggles between respect for herself and desire for Jiang Cheng before deciding she wants to attempt to have both. Fic concept notes at the end, if you’re into that.)

Wen Qing inspected the produce, turning over a potato as she checked for faults. Most were unsprouted but one never really knew. And she certainly didn’t want Wei Wuxian to think she was encouraging him. This was a treat, not a crop! Wen Ning stood behind her, patient as always and uncommenting on her vegetable selections, with his now-empty radish basket waiting to be filled.

“We’ll take some,” she said to the seller, “but you’re asking simply too much for…” A flash of purple caught her eye. Her heart jumped at the thought of him, although it wasn’t easy to tell if it was fear or not.

(Fear would be safer. Her family had made enemies of the Great Sects, Jiang Wanyin more than most, and she should be wary of him. But late at night, when she let herself dream… Well, that was a different story and she certainly wasn’t going to mull that over right there in the marketplace.)

Either way, he had as much right to cross Yiling as she did; Wei Wuxian hadn’t started a sect no matter what the rumors said and Yiling was no one’s territory. She pretended to be unaffected, hoped Wen Ning hadn’t noticed him, and turned back to the potato seller. “No, this price is too much. I am willing to spend…”

Later, potatoes successfully haggled to a reasonable price and more Wen Qing-approved vegetables joining them in Wen Ning’s basket, the Wen siblings walked together toward the exit of the market square. Wen Qing could almost pretend things were normal- that Wen Ning was alive and well, and she was simply restocking her dispensary. They would go home and everyone would have enough to eat and-

She cut that thought off before it could go further. It was too tempting, the fantasies and could-have-beens. Her mind supplied enough of those as she lay in the dark, in the moments after she laid her head on her pillow and before sleep claimed her. And her mind supplied more as she paused near a display of haircombs.

‘I should have at least asked him for some seeds and fertilizer when I gave it back,’ she thought as she remembered Jiang Wanyin’s gift. She thought of a million things she could have asked him for, after the comb had already been returned. But a rebuilding sect could spare none of it, really, and the unspoken offers were heavier than the spoken one. And all of it was foolish could-have-beens.

But she had a practical reason for looking at combs. The last good comb had broken tines and A-Yuan needed something gentle on his scalp. He cried every time he had his hair combed and that simply wouldn’t do.

“I have a few small things to get,” she said to Wen Ning. “I’ll be along shortly. Head back and help the others, okay?” He nodded and murmured his assent, and turned back to the main road. Her heart swelled with fondness. Such a good, obedient, caring boy, even now.

Wen Qing stood in front of the display, looking for something inexpensive but well-made, the tips blunt enough for A-Yuan.

At her level of cultivation, she easily felt him approach. He wasn’t even attempting to hide his presence, but she would know the feel of him even if she was drowning in the resentment of the Burial Mounds. There was his natural energy, a tumultuous pulse that she had spent so long rebuilding. There was the electric feel of his inherited spiritual weapon. And although it wasn’t something she could detect consciously, she imagined she could feel it, as the one who put it there- the blazing heat of Wei Wuxian’s golden core.

He was a storm made flesh, and he stood beside her in the marketplace of Yiling. And he said, his voice low and tight in her ear, “If you needed a comb, you should have kept the one I gave you.”

Anger flashed through her- how dare he get so close, use that voice! How dare he say something like that without even looking her in the eye! How dare he speak of it in public at all! But she swallowed it, never let it reach her face. It was a skill she learned serving a harsher master than he.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” she said with a slight curtsy. It was cute and feminine and she should have bowed, to remind him they were both cultivators and she was not without power, but she was standing straight again before it even occurred to her.

He bowed to her then, just the correct angle for politeness’s sake.

“I need a comb for a child,” she said calmly, in response to his words. “That comb should be given to a bride.”

He flinched, visibly, and she turned back to the display. The shopkeeper was surely drawing conclusions but if she wanted Wen Qing’s business, she’d keep her mouth shut.

She selected two combs, simple in design but tines sanded smooth and blunt with care. Jiang Wanyin stood beside her the whole time and she drew it out, letting him stew. He could say something if he wanted her attention that badly. He certainly had no qualms about getting close enough to be heard.

But drawing it out too long would be a waste of her time, too, so she eventually made her decision. As she reached for her too-thin money pouch, Jiang Wanyin stopped her. His hand was warm on her forearm but then, she was always cold. They were all a little cold, on the Burial Mounds.

“You don’t have to,” she hissed.

“I don’t,” he agreed, and handed the shopkeeper the silver.

The combs were wrapped in fabric- not patterned silk, just a soft linen Wen Qing would use for patching or handkerchiefs later- and she led Jiang Wanyin a few steps away.

“I do not intend to owe you anything,” she said, voice low as she dug the silver out of her pouch to repay him. She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance.

“It’s a gift. Keep your money.”

She looked at him, lips tight. There was still tension in his face (perhaps there always would be), but she saw the shadow of the boy he had been. The boy who looked at her with wonder and longing. It was just a tiny, dying ember but the fact that it was there at all, after everything, made her breath catch in her throat.

‘He is so soft when he hopes, like he could be gentle again someday. Is this what drove Wei Wuxian when he begged me to do the surgery?’

She turned away, too aware that she was staring. “I don’t want to discuss this in the middle of the market.”

“Shall we have tea, then? My treat,” he said, and pushed past her to head for the teahouse. She followed him, and cursed herself for a fool.

They got a private room, but tea was served and they savored the first sips before either of them spoke to the other. Wen Qing broke the silence first.

“Why are you in Yiling?”

“I was passing through,” he said.

“Passing through,” she scoffed. “With no disciples? Do you take me for a fool? Sect Leaders don’t travel by themselves.”

The look on his face was hard, angry, but embarrassed. “I sent them on ahead when I saw you,” he admitted.

She still wasn’t sure she believed the ‘passing through’ bit, but let it go. “You could have just left. I wouldn’t have blamed you for not wanting to speak with me.”

“A-jie would want to know how Wei Wuxian is doing. Who better to ask?”

Wen Qing would have been disappointed that he had not stopped for her, but Wei Wuxian had always been what brought them into each other’s orbits. “He’s managing,” she said. “Still bothering me about potatoes. Trying to branch out into even more fickle plants.” Nevermind that she was the one who enabled Wei Wuxian in the first place, buying those lotus seeds.

Jiang Wanyin huffed. “He never could do the practical thing.”

“It seems to be working. The lotuses are growing well, at least.” Wen Qing bit back a smile at how his eyes bulged. Good. Let him be surprised.

Jiang Wanyin looked down at his tea for a moment, digesting the fact that the man he cast out, the man he let exile himself, was growing the family emblem. Wen Qing waited a bit, then asked, “So what made you take out your wallet for my combs? We’re not beholden to you. Or was that also an excuse to ask after Wei Wuxian?” She wasn’t going to lie to herself about the combs any more than she would about his reason for stopping at all. Jiang Wanyin may still hold a tiny spark of his adolescent crush but he was no altruist.

“I felt like it, and Yunmeng Jiang is in a position where I can do things because I feel like doing it,” he said.

So he was showing off. She bit back the urge to slam her teacup back on the table. As it was, she still put it down with more force than strictly necessary.

“You don’t need to look down on us, Sect Leader Jiang,” she said with as much calm as she could muster. “It may be a simple life but we are managing.”

“Are you? Because I remember what you looked like before. Are you getting enough to eat? Is that boy getting enough?”

“You would dare-“

“I would dare! Wei Wuxian meddled in things he shouldn’t have, and now he can’t even take care of you! This is what playing hero does! You’re still suffering!”

“There are different types of suffering. I prefer this to the Jins.”

Her voice was level, the heat simmering below the surface of her cold tone. Jiang Wanyin had the grace to look embarrassed. They sat in silence again, and Wen Qing contemplated on whether she should leave now or later, after their food was brought in. Her pride said now. Her stomach said later.

“I’m not a hero like he is,” Jiang Wanyin said before she decided. He looked down at his teacup rather than meet her eyes. “I can only protect what’s mine. But I still wish to include you in that, sometimes.”

“So you bought my combs?”

He gave a curt nod. “I know I’m nothing compared to him, but-“ There was a soft knock at the door of their private dining room. They fell silent again as a waiter bustled in and their food was set down. The smell set Wen Qing’s stomach growling and she had to hold herself back, too conscious that eating quickly would make her sick, and prove Jiang Wanyin’s point about the insufficient dietary needs in the Burial Mounds (she also wondered how much she could stow away to bring home for A-Yuan without sacrificing too much of her dignity). And frankly, she had better manners than to bolt her food in front of a Sect Leader, no matter how much she wanted to. It kept her occupied, keeping up the pretense of being genteel, and she didn’t have to think about how this was possibly her longest conversation with Jiang Wanyin and how Wei Wuxian would be surprised at open he was with her. She wouldn’t think about how he looked healthy enough, no signs of weakness in his spiritual energy (although she’d have to check him properly to be sure, and oh, how her fingers twitched to grasp his wrist at that!), or how he looked charmingly uncertain when the silence went on. And she definitely wouldn’t think about how pink his lips were around his chopsticks.

She had just taken a bite of course, when he finally spoke again. “It’s been six months since A-jie got married. My third-in-command- well, second-in-command, now- he knows what to do to keep things running. Now that most of the boardwalks are rebuilt, it seems all I do is paperwork and oversee lessons. Buying those combs… I felt….”

He poked at his food with his chopsticks, clearly not comfortable with the thoughts he was forming. No one Wen Qing knew was comfortable with that much truth about themselves.

‘For all we aspire to the inner peace an immortal would have, we are ill-suited for it,’ she thought, about herself and Jiang Wanyin and every cultivator they knew (except perhaps her own little brother).

“You felt needed?” she suggested. “There would be nothing wrong with that, if we were any other people.”

“If we were any other people, I would buy you much more than a couple combs.” As soon as the words were past his lips, he looked up at her with wide, startled eyes. He clearly hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

She should ignore it, might have if they were adolescents still, but the fresh food with proper spices (and no radishes at all, because even she was sick of them by now) made her feel alive and bold.

“If we were other people, I would let you,” she said. As angry as he made her mere moments before, she liked this honesty in him. She was treated to the sight of hope in his expression again- a softening of tension, the creases between his brows smoothing just a bit- before he remembered his responsibilities.

“I can’t spend too much more- time or money. My disciples will worry if I don’t catch up with them soon. But-”

“It’s fine. I also have to get back before anyone starts to worry.”

“Let me walk you back,” Jiang Wanyin said in a rush.

Wen Qing wanted to say ‘yes’. Jiang Wanyin was pleasant to look at, after all, and had warm hands. If he was a bit awkward and kept putting his foot in his mouth, well, Wen Qing wasn’t the smoothest individual either and rather liked having someone she could get snippy with. Plus, Wei Wuxian still cared about him and would want to see him. But he was also the master of a Great Sect and her family, small as it was now, had been his sworn enemy.

“I’m not sure that would be wise,” she said. “We’ve already been seen together. Someone might recognize us.”

“Only because we’re known here. If we were somewhere else, I would do it. I would buy more than a couple combs for you."

Wen Qing stopped picking at her food and looked at him. There was that expression again, the hopeful puppy one she enjoyed but so often turned away from. She hated saying ‘no’ when he made that face.

So she said ‘yes’ for a change.

‘This is terribly selfish,’ she thought as they walked. Despite saying he shouldn’t spend more money earlier, he bought a rather large amount of baozi, and a couple hair ribbons in neutral tones (he must have noticed her frayed edges, damn him for being observant), ginger and dried peppercorns for her family and chili paste that was clearly for Wei Wuxian, and a very nice kitchen knife. He tested it on his thumb for her, like an idiot, and she used just a bit of her spiritual energy to heal the cut for him, ignoring the small gasp he let out when she took his hand.

(The contact wasn’t long enough, for all it seemed to burn them both. But he took her healing easily and she has no cause to worry about the golden core’s function, and no cause to keep holding on to him.)

He pressed all these items into her hands and she didn’t protest at all. She should, a token refusal for politeness’s sake or a real refusal because this was foolish of him and she couldn’t repay this kindness. But she thought of how well her family would eat tonight, between the fresh vegetables she sent with Wen Ning and these baozi. She didn’t dare take a chance that he would accept a refusal and take it all back.

She carried the baozi in a wooden box while Jiang Wanyin walked beside her, eyes straight ahead and hand on his sword like he was ignoring the people on the street and daring them to say something, all at once. Wen Qing had seen Wen Ruohan and his sons manage it but Jiang Wanyin was too self-conscious to pull it off quite yet. But then, their circumstances were different. Jiang Wanyin’s position was still precarious in many ways, and the Wens of her youth were unquestioned masters of Qishan.

Well. Things changed. Perhaps someday, Jiang Wanyin could walk down the street with a young lady and be confident about it. Wen Qing felt a pang that that young lady would not be her.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed when they reached the edge of town and kept going. Jiang Wanyin was still beside her and it seemed, perhaps not natural but certainly pleasant to feel his stormy presence and see the violet of his robes out of the corner of her eye.

“I shouldn’t go much further,” he finally said. They were at the foot of the Burial Mounds, within sight of the dark forest and the walls.

“You let me walk all this way without thanking you?” Wen Qing set the container of baozi down and bowed. “I want to repay you for this kindness, Jiang-zongzhu. I will find a way.”

“I told you I don’t want repayment,” he said, putting his hands under her elbows to stop her bow from sinking deeper. “We are even and this changes nothing.”

“This is money you weren’t planning to spend. Money that should go back to your sect.”

“My sect is fine and that money was my own!” He stepped closer, forcing her to straighten or hold her bow with her arms pressed against his chest. She chose to straighten her back. “You don’t owe me for this. I wanted to- to check on Wei Wuxian. For A-jie’s sake.”

“And yet you won’t come to see him?”

They stood for a moment, Jiang Wanyin’s hands still on her arms, almost as close as that day in the teahouse when they’d both been chasing Wei Wuxian. She glared up at him in challenge and started to pull her arms away, but he held her fast.

“I can’t. But… I’m not ready for you to go,” he said, and he pulled. She stumbled, two jerky steps, into the circle of his arms.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” she started, but her voice trailed off. He was warm and- well, not soft, but his muscles were invitingly firm under his robes. While she contemplated the feel of his chest and the silk of his robes (both very nice and she wanted to spend an hour or two running her hands over them), he wrapped his arms around her.

She was caught. She should have been angry, alarmed. He was the leader of a Great Sect, a danger to her family, and even a normal man could be dangerous to a woman alone. But she was hardly helpless and he had spent his money on them and he didn’t feel dangerous, not now.

‘It’s just a hug,’ she told herself. It was extremely inappropriate, with them being unrelated and unmarried, and even though she was still annoyed (he was infuriating! And infuriatingly inviting), she leaned into it anyway. There was something nice about being held close, secure in the cradle of his arms, hidden from the world by his expensive silks.

“A kiss,” he said, shattering the quiet of forest. She looked up at him. It wasn’t a good angle on him, mostly cheek and sideburn and nostril, but that didn’t calm her wild thoughts at all.

He didn’t look down at her or loosen his hold, and indeed he tightened his grip until she could feel Zidian digging into her shoulder. “What if I said a kiss would make us even?”

Her first response was a resounding ‘Yes!’ Their bodies were pressed together, his arms holding her tight, and she could see his lips, tempting and moist where he licked them in nervousness. A kiss seemed like a natural extension of their embrace.

But she had never traded affection for anything. Not goods, not money, not position, not even safety for her family. ‘I’m not that kind of woman,’ she wanted to say, needed him to know.

She could be, though, if it meant having Jiang Wanyin’s lips on her.

But she took too long thinking about it, and he loosened his hold and started to pull away. “Nevermind,” he snapped. “It was just a whim. I’m not so desperate that I can’t get a woman without bribing her with gifts!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wen Qing said as she grabbed his sleeve. “And I’m not the sort of woman who can be bribed with gifts. Make no mistake about that! When I kiss you, it will be-.”

She was cut off by the crash of his lips against hers. One of his hands grabbed her arm. As if she would try to escape! She let him deepen the kiss, all her hesitation fleeing in her eagerness to have him. She put one arm about his shoulders, and he slipped his other arm around her waist, still holding tight with his other hand as he kissed her.

He tasted of the tea they’d had with their meal, and he held her too tightly and kissed like he was trying to devour her, all tooth and searching tongue. She should have shook him off, demanded he be more gentlemanly.

Instead, she said, “Don’t bite,” nearly breathless. She let him back her against a tree and press himself to her body, and the one harsh kiss softened and became many.

These kisses were not as frantic, but were still demanding, deep and wet. His breath was burning hot against her skin, his body firm under her hands. He had one thigh between her legs and she could feel everything. These kisses? These, she wanted more of.

Why shouldn’t she have this? What good was maintaining her virtue? Making a good marriage would never happen now, and she no longer needed to keep herself chaste as a bargaining chip for her family.

Ah, but he looked down on her family, didn’t he? Would she have any self-respect left if she let Jiang Wanyin touch her? She hoped so, hoped that his small kindness today meant that he wasn’t so bitter.

But did she have any right to touch him, knowing what she did about his golden core?

She flinched, and he loosened his hold on her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away from her. “I shouldn’t have done that. I know you’re a respectable lady.”

“I… Even respectable ladies have wants,” she confessed. “I just… I have to get back soon. And this isn’t the sort of thing I want to do under a dead tree.”

Hope blossomed in his face, a smile on his kiss-dark lips, and he touched her cheek with more gentleness than he’d shown since before the war. “Agreed. And… I liked spending the afternoon with you, Wen-guniang. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.” His tone suggested that had been a possibility, and she found she didn’t want that, either.

She returned to the settlement shortly after, with the box of baozi and an agreement to meet again in ten days. Wen Ning leapt to his feet with a happy “Jie!” when he saw her. Her family gathered around her all talking at once.

“Qing-guniang, what’s all this?”

“I got good deals on some things,” she started to explain, and because the truth was easier than another lie she admitted, “Wei Wuxian’s martial brother sent some, but be quiet about it if you’re in town. He still can’t be known to help us.”

Wei Wuxian’s head peeked over the others’ shoulders as he joined them, drawn out of his cave by the commotion. “Jiang Cheng? Really? What did you say to him to get him to send something over?!”

Wen Qing just smiled at him, and started distributing her acquisitions.

~Notes~

So yeah, at the beginning I mentioned this had a note on the fic concepts, so here it is. Be grateful it's at the end; it was at the beginning at one point.  

This has been kicking around my harddrive for a while in various drafts and levels of completion, and I decided to just wrap it up and start posting it. Right now, I estimate it at 4 chapters. Please do not expect the chapters to be a consistent length; they're looking to be very different.

The concept is to let Wen Qing be the one being taken care of for a change, and to let Jiang Cheng spoil someone he cares about (I believe my initial thought was something like "Jiang Cheng wants to be Wen Qing's sugar daddy but he is not daddy enough at this point").

And I love and firmly believe that Jiang Cheng would go down on a partner and enjoy it, I don't think he could have started out that way. He's in essence a spoiled rich kid with no experience with women, he's going to start off as a stumbling, selfish lover. He has to learn about possibilities, and that's going to involve some fumbling first. And I also love confident and commanding-in-the-bedroom Wen Qing but I don't think she would have much opportunity for that experience in canon. I also very much want Jiang Cheng to support Wei Wuxian in secret ('cause during my first Untamed watching, I thought he was sneaking Wei Wuxian supplies or money during the Burial Mounds exile), for Wen Qing to follow-up on her miraculous and devastating secret surgery (like seriously, she never tried to sense his qi or anything after, not once?! And then some posts floated by my Tumblr dash- iirc, winepresswrath is a ringleader but you can find them kicking around i’m sure- that I was not the only one who thought things like this and I knew I had to do it, at least a little), and for Jiang Cheng to dress Wen Qing up. So I mulled those thoughts for a bit and eventually a couple snippets came to me, and I attempted to make them into a story.

And then I was an idiot and challenged myself to 1) not use any scientific or 'vulgar' terminology in the sex scenes but also not use too much purple prose, no Jiang sect color puns intended at this time, and 2) end it so that the story is, in some way, canon compliant. This is a side moment, something Wei Wuxian knows nothing about and therefore canon theoretically continues uninterrupted. Of course, if you prefer a future where Wen Qing develops the sexual confidence we all know she has in her and rides Jiang Cheng to a different and possibly better fate, please think of that instead (and wish me luck on the idea I had for a canon-divergence sequel).

Next Chapter

[smalltowndetective]

Lean on Me

So, I was not planning to do more fanfic this quickly, but in the new update, it is mentioned that the last time that Nick made so many jokes was when their parents had left for Milwaukee, and it got me thinking.

I did this with my Glitch Button, but obviously that’s years in the future

Ao3 Link

Title: Lean on Me

No Pairing, simply Nick and Alvina being siblings

Words: 1.1k

Summary: Alvina is struggling after what happened with her and her mother. Luckily, Nick is an amazing older brother. :)

Alvina still did not understand what had gotten her so upset at her mother in the first place.

               But all she knew now was that she had broken her family forever.

               And there was no going back, not this time.

               The realization had taken a while to fully sink in, as if she had just a few days would past and everything would go back to normal, back to how they were before. They would find a way to move on from what had happened, and be able to move on forward. That this was not the end of everything that she had ever known.

               But it was.

               Her mother had not returned any her calls, and it made her more and more anxious the longer it went on. She knew that she needed space after what had happened, but it just made her realize the ugly truth, a truth that she did not want to accept, but was forced to anyway.

               This is all my fault.

               For some reason, as much as it scared her to remember those twenty-seven minutes that had felt like twenty-seven hours, that was what hurt most of all. Being the sole reason why here family would never be the same again.

               And once it had finally hit, she had spent most of the day in her room, trying hard not to cry, but ultimately failing, giving into the sob that had built in her chest, the traitorous tears falling down her face anyway, and even though she tried to hide it, she knew that Nick could probably sense it all anyway, and part of her begged for him to leave her alone.

               And part of her wanted him to come in and tell one of his stupid jokes and for a second, make everything feel alright in the world again, needing someone to tell her that it would all turn out okay. That the world would someday make sense again. That everything would turn back to normal.

               Even if it won’t.

               Alvina twisted her auburn curls with her fingers tightly, almost pulling at her hair, something that she had always done when she was stressed, her hair frizzy from nothing being done with it the past few days.

               It did little to calm herself, but it was all that she could do as the toxic thoughts never left her mind. And try as she might, nothing she did would make them leave.

               What would even happen now? Would her mother actually ever want to talk to her again? Would she even want anything to do with her?

               Focus Alvina. Sulking never fixes anything, you know this.

               You don’t have all the answers now, and that’s okay.

               But the rational side of her mind never won over the turmoil, always drawing her back to the anxiousness that was threatening to ruin her.

               What’s the future going to look like for me now?

               She had never wanted someone to look into her future before, and even if she did not like what was shown to her, it had to be better then the unknowns. It would at least let her grasp at something, an idea on what to expect now.

               A sudden knock on the door distracted her, and she heard a familiar voice in her head.

               Button?

               “You can come in”, she said aloud, and he did so, the image of him blurry from her taking her glasses off and her own tears, but there was not doubt that it was indeed her brother, his auburn hair identical to her own, if not as tightly curled as hers was.

               “Hey”, Nick said as he came to sit next to her on the edge of her bed, giving her a bright smile as he did so, and she tried to wipe the remaining tears out her eyes, hoping that they were not overly red.   And she knew that he could hear all that she was thinking, so as he slightly raised his eyebrow as permission to speak, she was unsure on what to say.

               What I could possibly say that he couldn’t possibly already know?

               “It’s going to be okay”, he whispered, trying to meet her eyes while she was doing everything to avoid making eye contact with him.

               No, it’s not.

               “What’s even going to happen now? she asked aloud, knowing that he did not know either, but wanting some semblance of a plan. That would make things easier to understand. If she knew what was coming next.

               “For now?”, he responded, the smile on his face growing even brighter, “Looks like you’re stuck with my wonderful company, Button”

               Even though it hurt, she could feel a smile form on her own face, “That isn’t the worst thing in the world”

               But a thought made her smile disappear.

               It’s not fair to him though.

               “Don’t start with that”, he said lightly, but with a twinge of seriousness as well, “It’ll all be fine, you’ll see”

               He then gave a snort, “I wonder what we’ll get up to together now that seems you’ll be sticking around”

               “You’re such a dork”, Alvina said, rolling her eyes, but a laugh on her lips anyway, and she could not deny that she felt slightly better, the lightness of it all helping her breathe a little better.

               It’s nice to have someone to count on.

               “You’re not so bad yourself, you know”, he said, giving her a slight nudge with his shoulder, obviously having had heard what she was thinking.

               “Thanks”, she spoke dryly, but still touched by it anyway, giving him a smile

               “It’ll all work out, Button”, Nick reassured her, “I don’t need to be a precog to know that. It might not be the way that we planned, but when has life ever worked out the way we planned?”

               “I suppose you do have a point with that”, she conceded, “But I’d like it to cooperate sometimes”

               He laughed at that, making his hazel eyes almost seem to gleam, “Don’t we all?” His face then softened, “No matter what, I’m going to be here for you. No matter what happens”

               “I know”, she beamed, the words helping calm the storm of anxiety inside her mind, “Thanks, Saint Nick”

               It’s the same for you, you know.

               Nick gave her a smile, and then went to leave the room, “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me”

               He left, and Alvina settled back down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

               Things would be a lot worse without Nick.

               This would be harder if he was not here right now.

[yuugami-tan]

need to get this off my chest. cw: loss of family member, accident. (make a wild guess what this is about.)

i lost my cousin. she was killed in a car crash yesterday because whoever was driving that car she was in was too fucking stupid to slow down and watch where they were going. but my cousin wasn't wearing her seatbelt, so. maybe she was being stupid too, but it's not her fault that she died. it's the driver's fault. i'm probably being harsh, but i don't care. my cousin was one of my closest friends, and now she's fucking dead.

her parents are ruined and her brother doesn't even know what happened yet cuz he's at his dorm. her parents are out of state right now. they weren't even home when they found out she died. one of their neighbors had to let them know that a police officer visited their house, so now they're coming home so they can go to little brother's dorm to tell him his sister is dead.

they always fought. you know how siblings are. but they never got the chance to grow close. how are they supposed to do that now?

my cousin's the same age as me (older by 6 months) and she was doing amazing things. she was a student athlete and set lots of records at her school. she switched her major because she was bored with science and wanted to do something else. she was so excited to graduate, excited enough that she messaged me a month ago promising that she'd try to graduate before me. how weird it is that that promise is already broken before i started to take it seriously.

i'll never get teased by her ever again. we'll never get into stupid fights or arguments about ice cream flavors or whatever whatever whatever. we were always mean to each other but we'd always laugh about it. it was fun.

i regret not saving the last picture she sent to me on snapchat. i regret not responding to the last message she sent me. i regret not sending her the picture i took of my dogs yesterday. surely any of those would have changed something, right? surely just one small action like these could have kept her alive. i can't dwell over this. it's not my fault either. i need to tell myself that.

i need to find the letters we wrote to each other when we were kids. i never ever threw them away. i kept everything i've ever made with her. i'm so thankful i did. on one of the walls in my home, there's a painting i made with her years ago hanging with one of those glow in the dark star decorations sitting on top of it. i will never get rid of that painting. i will never get rid of anything she's made for or with me.

i've always looked up to you. you were better than me in every way and i've always wanted to surpass you somehow. but why does it have to happen like this? why? this isn't fair. it's not fair at all. it's so fucking unfair

i know i never told you this, but i love you. i love you so much. i would never say this out loud to you because i know you'd make fun of me for being sappy. but i do love you. sorry for telling you this in a shitty tumblr post lmao. if i texted you, i'd have to see your name in my messages every single day and i wouldn't be able to handle that. so i love you. i love you.

please come visit me soon, okay? i miss you. goodnight.

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #21: Sleep

Based on the prompt from @writing-prompt-s, “The worst thing a wizard can do is sleep-talk.”

---------------------------------

Words spoken by a person without the power thrumming through their veins were just words. Even the Words of Change, the secret language the universe was built in, meant nothing to the people without the power. But for the people who had it, words needed to be guarded carefully. “Umhaha”, for instance, unraveled thread. An easy mistake to make; almost every young wizard had a story about accidentally rendering themselves and everyone in the room with them naked, just by laughing a certain way after saying the word “Um.”

“Kefzhizoss” should have been a word that no one would ever say unless they meant to say it.

The young man was crumpled up as small as a human could make himself, on the bench in the police wagon. No one had confiscated the amulet of protection from his neck; like most such amulets, it wouldn’t come off while he was under emotional stress, pain or fear. But he was under a silencing charm, and the amulet didn’t protect him from being silenced.

The cleric was arguing with the detective on the scene. “It’s obvious he didn’t mean to do this,” he said, waving his hand at the devastation of what had been the young man’s home, with his parents and siblings. The broken remains of the wards that had contained the word, made sure the destruction spread no farther than their property, would have stopped the word if it hadn’t been spoken within their house, and there were other fragmentary charms present. One to prevent fire. One that would probably have protected books from water damage. There was one, still intact, that purified air as it went into the lungs of birds.

There were no birds in the wreckage, or bird cages. Neither were there human corpses, or any human beds, except for the one the young man had laid in. The destruction had been too thorough.

“Look, Elimiss, maybe I agree with you. Could be accidental sleeptalking. But four people are dead, and the damage was clearly done by the Devastating Word, and the only survivor’s a wizard. You see why I can’t just let him go, right?”

Tears ran down the young man’s cheeks, but there was nothing physically wrong with him. Either he was tremendously talented for one so young, or one or both of his parents had been very skilled wizards, to have created an amulet that had perfectly protected him and the bed he had been found on from the Devastating Word. It didn’t matter anymore.

“He’s traumatized! He needs a temple, not to be held indefinitely under a silencing charm—”

“Oh, for the love of all your gods, the kid can still read and write. But I can’t let a man who killed his entire family just traipse off to a temple to have his trauma healed. Did it occur to you that maybe a guy who killed his parents and brother and sister maybe deserves to have some trauma?”

“It was obviously an accident! He was wearing pajama pants, for the love of Merenethe Who Heals All Wounds!  What kind of devious, evil killer wears pajama pants and lays down in bed before blasting his entire home to ruin?”

“The kind who knows that people like you will assume it was an accident from that,” the detective said sharply. She was irritated that the cleric had felt the need to provide his god’s entire name, like he was offended that she’d invoked all his gods instead of his specific patron. “He needs to be interrogated, and we can’t let him speak until he’s told us his story.”

The man raised a tear-streaked face, brought up his cuffed hands, and with just one of them, signed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. Both hands, he might have been trying a sigil, though the detective was an experienced enough wizard herself to catch that before it accomplished anything, if he’d tried it. One hand, it was obviously sign, and she relaxed. Only about half of all wizards knew some kind of sign language, which was stupid given the control wizards needed to keep on their speech. Sigils were much more complicated and couldn’t be done accidentally.

“Babababawa” brought a light, misting rain… into a building, if that’s where the wizard said it. It was a hazard of raising wizard babies, that some of them came into their power so early they couldn’t really talk yet, and their baby babble could very easily accidentally land on that one. “Sh’shoot,” an expression thaumnulls might say any time if they started to say “shit”, thought better of it, and instead said “shoot” as a full word without just following from the original sh – more than one wizard teenager had been found that way, growing up among thaumnulls, not knowing what they shouldn’t say. It made existing electrical current surge in power, and could very well blow every circuit in a house, or start a fire. “Kolonel” was a big problem with people learning the language as adults, who didn’t know how to not pronounce the word “colonel”. The only thing it did was create an impenetrable darkness that flowed out to the nearest boundary, if indoors, and a mile or two outdoors, until a wizard said “Kohanoel” to turn it off and restore the light… but people who’d said it by accident and hadn’t known they were wizards didn’t know how to turn it off.

The Devastating Word, however – the detective, being a wizard, did not even think the syllables to herself – was commonly thought to be impossible to say by accident. The “zh” sound wasn’t even common in this language; most native speakers around here wouldn’t even make that sound in their sleep. And here was Elimiss, the mandated social worker who worked with the cops to de-escalate situations and help folks with mental illnesses, insisting that obviously the man – boy, really, he probably wasn’t even out of college – had said it in his sleep, because that was what the plainly traumatized boy had told the cops when they’d arrived. Because a perp couldn’t possibly carefully plan out the excuse he’d use to get treated like a trauma victim and charged only with negligent manslaughter, maybe even go free, after he’d murdered his family. Right.

“Sanavah. I know we have to get his full story from him. But do we really need to treat him as if he’s a dangerous killer?”

Detective Sanavah ofWinterfall looked over at the destroyed house, and then back at the cleric, an expression of disbelief on her face.

Cleric Elimiss Elidanson, adept of Merenethe, sighed deeply. “Yes. I know he killed his family. But if it was an accident—”

“How does anyone say that word accidentally?” Sanavah exploded. “It’s just… not a thing you’d say!”

The boy signed. “We were studying it today. The Dire Words. I’m in magic school.”

Okay, so he was out of college. Magic school, like law school and medical school, was a graduate school; you needed at least a two-year degree to get in. “Why the hell would you be studying the Dire Words?” Sanavah snapped. “How fucking irresponsible would your teachers have to be—”

“Be professional, Sanavah,” Elimiss advised, and she wanted to punch him.

“It’s advanced work. Magical theory. We have to take the Words apart to determine why they work and have so much power,” he signed. “K-E-F-Z-H-I-Z-O-S-S was fascinating, I was working on an analysis all day… but I would never say it intentionally! I was calling it the Kef word.” He signed the individual letters, but ended it with the sign that indicated he was replicating a pronunciation, not a spelling.

Oh. Well. Maybe that changed things. Maybe not; it might still be a really good story. “You know we’ll follow up with your school, right?”

He nodded. “I don’t care what you do to me,” he signed. “Any kind of punishment. I deserve it. I killed Mom and Dad and Lifah and Raoun. But I want the world to know, it was an accident! I loved them! I’d never have said the Kef word in my own house, not without containing it first!”

“This the first time you’ve sleep-talked?”

“No… Mom said I’ve been doing it since I was a baby. Raoun insisted I had to move out and get my own room when I was eight because I was keeping him up at night. My parents turned my dad’s study into my bedroom.” He picked up the amulet. “Mom gave this to me so I wouldn’t accidentally hurt myself by sleep-talking, but I guess she never thought… I mean, I never thought…”

“I’m going to charge his teacher with negligence contributing,” Sanavah said tiredly. “Gonna charge you, too, kid. At least. I’d charge your mother, too, but she’s dead.”

The boy began to cry again, sobbing soundlessly into his hands.

“You believe me now?” Elimiss said. “I’ve had a feeling from Merenethe all this time that this boy isn’t a killer. Not intentionally.”

“That’s great. Very nice of Merenethe. I’m sure ‘a cleric of Merenethe had a feeling’ will be great evidence in court. He’s still coming down to the station.” She spoke to her forensics team. “You about ready to wrap up?”

“Yeah, pretty cut and dried. I think we’ve found all the evidence of standing charms we’re going to, and the Devastating Word would ruin any evidence of any other active spells,” Sofrani, the head forensic wizard, said. “We can head on back now if you want.”

“BTW, got a name,” the analyst, Charron, said. “Bylan Evertide.”

“That is not a real last name.”

“It absolutely is. Got it out of the city database. There’s a whole Evertide clan in and around the city here.”

“It’s going to be all right, Bylan,” Elimiss said. “The police and court, I mean. If you’re telling the truth, we’ll be able to get confirmation from an oneiromancer or a cleric of Morosma. We’ll clear you of wrongdoing.”

“Aside from the negligence and sheer stupidity of a guy who talks in his sleep learning Dire Words and then not putting a silencing charm on himself when he goes to sleep,” Sanavah said. “Elimiss, don’t make promises to the kid that you can’t make good on.”

“I know it’s my fault,” the boy signed. “Charge me with whatever you want. I won’t fight it.”

“Not how it works,” Sanavah said. “You’ll get a public defender, and if you want to plead guilty, you’ll have to convince her that you actually are before she’ll let you plead it.” She looked over at Elimiss. “You took your own pheasant over here, or did you get a taxi?”

“Taxi,” Elimiss said. “I don’t have a place to take care of a pheasant, I live in an apartment.”

“Take Elimiss back with you,” she instructed the driver of the enclosed auto-wagon. “I don’t think the chief’ll be thrilled if he expenses another taxi.”

“Will do,” the wagon driver said, and spoke a word under his breath, that made the magical engine that drove the cart fire to life. Elimiss got in the wagon, and the forensics team either got on their own pheasants, or into pheasant-drawn carriages, because no one got rich enough on a cop salary to ride around in an auto-carriage.

As she saddled up her own pheasant, who squawked in mild irritation because the beast had been enjoying plucking seed pods off the nearby mimosa tree and snacking on them, she gazed over at what had been the Evertide home. “Hell of a thing,” she murmured. “Come on, Basil, let’s get back to the station.”

Basilica, a middle-aged hen pheasant who was known for her reliability and love of sunflower seeds, snorted, flapped her wings, and took off. Running pheasants – named that because they were actually faster on the ground than in the air – had native magic that allowed their wings to work despite their enormous size, and they could easily bear a human or two through the air. A running pheasant could cross the distance back to the station fast enough, if it was through open or forested territory, but being on the ground, in traffic, mildly upset most of them and absolutely freaked Basilica out, so Sanavah had to fly back to the station every time.

[b0sscrew]

(Prompt based off a post from a @bamboozledeagle post. I hope you like it)

BLOOD WARNING ⚠️

Rap Battle Hero

Everything was going great in the lab. They'd only had one experiment explode today. Scrooge and his family also came down to praise Gyro and hang out with Fenton, or they were just dragged along. Fenton had walked out of the lab to get cleaning supplies because their supply closet was destroyed in the daily explosion.

Huey was looking over Gyro's notes while he was distracted by Scrooge and Donald was rangling in his brothers, and Webby. He was about to figure out how the formula worked when the elevator dramatically burst open. Everyone looked over to see something that looked like a shadow in a long sleeve shirt and a cape. Donald quickly stepped in front of the children next to him while Scrooge hid Huey behind himself.

The shadow looked over all of them before landing on Scrooge and Gyro. He pointed at them with a sinister look. Huey could tell the shadow would be smiling if it had the capability.

"Where are you hiding that shrink ray?" It asked the two adults.

Scrooge and Gyro knew the answer already, but glanced at each other nonetheless. Scrooge was the one to speak up.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you have the authority to ask that." Scrooge said with a smug smile. It was just another shadow monster, he could take it.

"Uncle Scrooge!" Scrooge heard Webby call. "That's a Rhythamow, a shadow like creature from the beginning of spoken language itself. Legend has it you should never willingly enter an encounter with it. Only words can defeat it. Unless you know what to say, it is impervious to harm." Webby explained.

Scrooge scoffed at this. It couldn't be that hard to yell it into submission. He would have been completely confident of the creature didn't give a menacing chuckle.

"I'm sorry, but you'll not be getting any farther. I hope that's okay." The shadow almost purred. And right in front of them it began to morph into a giant jaguar. Scrooge took an instinctive step back as it went on all fours.

Huey was quickly pushed to the side by Gyro, hiding him behind the desk more, also bringing him closer to Donald. Huey took the opportunity of Scrooge's distraction to run over to his siblings and uncle. Donald quickly grabbed Huey and put him right behind his self, never looking away from the Rhythamow.

There was a moment of silence and tension as Scrooge and the monster stood in a Mexican stand off. Gyro had a ray gun in his hand, aimed straight at the beast, ready to shoot once it moved. Donald had the kids backed up against the destroyed supply closet, holding a defensive stance, ready to protect his kids by any means necessary. Huey could see just by the look in his uncles eye that he wasn't going down without a fight. Huey glanced around at the kids around him. Louie looked terrified of what was about to happen while Dewey and Webby looked ready for battle. And in a split second, he made a decision he hoped he wouldn't regret.

The shadow roared as it jumped at Scrooge, who quickly jumped back. All at once the chaos began. Gyro began to shoot the beast as Donald ran towards his uncle. Dewey and Webby were about to chase after him so they could join the fun, when Huey pushed all his siblings into the supply closet. There was no door and not much protection, but where else was he supposed to put them to keep them even remotely safe? This was his best option, and the quickest.

Donald jumped onto the jaguar, locking his hands together around its neck as he pulled back. It reared back before quickly shaking him off and batting him to the side. Scrooge went to get a hit in, but a dark claw came down on him, leaving a deep cut in his arm. He was lucky he dodged in time to only get one cut. He bared his teeth to try and bite down the pain, switching his cane to his other hand as he fought the beast's claws away.

Gyro was still shooting, but realized that his gun did nothing. He stopped himself and threw the gun to the side before running to the other side of the room and sliding behind a work bench. He grabbed the prototype of what looked to be a nromal gun. He jumped up and began to shoot at the shadow again with tiny bombs. He watched the beast with every small explosion, and saw no reaction except annoyance. Gyro growled as he dropped the prototype back on the desk and looked around for what could work.

Huey watched as his uncles fought the beast the best they could, but could tell they weren't winning. He tried to think as his siblings tried to get past his arms and fight along side their family. Huey refused to let them fight after he saw the blood seeping out of his uncles arm. All he saw was chaos. But he quickly realised that nothing could hurt the beast and all of the adults were yelling at it, but none of it was working. Huey was terrified, and Louie was crying behind him as he tried his best to keep Dewey and Webby in the closet. He had no idea how he was keeping both of them in the closet, but refused to let them go.

Scrooge slammed into the metal wall of the lab, leaving a giant dent behind him as he fell to the ground with a disgusting 'thud'. He tried to stand but Gyro was thrown on top of him. He had been caught while trying to figure out what he could use against the beast. Gyro was groaning as he sat up, but Donald was then brutally added to the pile after being slammed to the ground and batted over to them. Donald was out cold as he laid in Gyro's lap, and Scrooge was sure he was close to joining him. Gyro tried standing, but yelped as he moved his arm. It was definitely out of its socket.

The Rhythamoe turned to the kids with bared teeth as he stocked towards them. Huey's siblings weren't fighting to leave anymore. Huey stood protectively in front of them as the beast came face to face with him. Their faces were inches apart and it was terrifying how he couldn't feel it breath.

"Where is it?" The shadow beast asked.

"I don't know." Huey answered without hesitation. He was scared, not stupid. Of course he wasn't gonna lie to the thing.

"What is this? What do you mean you don't know?" The beast asked.

Louie stood up, still terrified and crying, but he came forward and grabbing his brothers arm. "He said he doesn't know! Will you just let it go!" He yelled. Both him and Huey saw the beast flinch slightly, and Huey swore it's ears got just a centimeter smaller. Something clicked in Louie's head, Huey could tell with just a glance.

The beast raised it's claw, and was about to swipe at them, when they heard a door open. "Sorry it took so long. The elevator was broken so I had to take the- Que pasó aquí!" Fenton exclaimed from the opposite side of the lab, towards where the adults were piled together. He had dropped his mop and bucket, causing the water to spill all over the floor.

The beast looked back at him and Huey could feel it's smile. "Another one? It is so." The beast purred as he stalked away from the children and ready to circle Fenton.

"What are you?" He asked, a little scared.

"Fenton!" Everyone except the beast looked to Louie. "It's a rhyming monster! It only speaks in rhymes and can't be hurt! Use his words against him!" Louie shouted.

Fenton heard the slight growl of the dark jaguar, making him smile. "Huey!" He shouted. "What are the rules?" He asked, no trace of fear in his voice as he eyed the beast.

Huey was speaking before he even realized what was going on. "No swearing, no using other songs, but other languages are allowed." Huey named off. His brain finally caught up to everything and he mouthed an 'oh' as Fenton loosened his tie and took it off, throwing it on the ground.

"Just swearing? Okay." Fenton's smile seemed to grow more. Gyro groaned loudly on the sidelines and Scrooge was quickly catching onto what was going on. Webby and Dewey were still confused, but they usually were. Louie whipped out his phone and quickly went on a music app so he could play out a beat. Fenton rolled his shoulders as he stepped a little closer to the beast.

"Epic rap battles of Duckburg." Louie said in as deep of a voice as he could muster. "Fenton Cracksell-Cabrera vs the Rhythamow. Begin." He finished.

"Yo." Fenton started. "Who the heck are you? You come onto my grounds and think you can just do what you do? Unbelievable really, just coming over, thinking we're a bunch of kiwis. I mean, madre de Dios, who do you think I am? You walk in all 'excuse me ma'am' and think I wouldn't set you on fire? Look at you, you're on the ground, I'm getting higher. Magica called, she wants her shadow back. This is like a video game. What do I get? Counter attack." Fenton rapped, the most confident any of them had ever seen him. Everyone could tell the shadow had gotten smaller, but not too small.

"That was very generous of yo-"

"I'm not finished." Fenton cut in. The shadow shrunk again at his words. "You think I'm gonna stand here and get diminished? Nah man, I'm just messing around. But now we see who's really got the crown." There was a second or two of silence before Louie dramatically brought the beat back in. "I'm singing a little song. You best just move along. Just watch me and tell me I'm lying. You'll be swept up like dust while I'm reclining. Nothing in life is fair, that's what they all say. But hey, it's not my fault that you're just going crazy. You're just a little theif while I'm the God that's growing. I'm fighting a war, but you'd never know it. I'm that good! Do you think that I'm blind? You thought I was easy, well guess, what I'm blowing minds. I guess this is a video game. I'm the boss and you can't beat me. You're all trying to find a way, but you can't cheat me. I'm the God of lightning, just call me Zeus. I'm the conductor of this train while you're stuck at the caboose. Nothing's changed since we began. Well, maybe your heehaw. But that? We'll just forget it. Let's pretend that we never saw."

The kids went wild and the beast was about the size of a big puppy at this point. Louie decided to go faster and that just made Fentons smile grow.

"That's no-"

"Oh I'm not even close to done." Fenton interrupted again. "This is a speed round, so guess you better run. Did you think you could just attack a child and get away with it because you're from the wild. Get that thought out of your head. If you rather I mop, I could use that instead to beat you into submission. I never murdered anyone, but I'll make you my addition to the line of killers around the world. If I'm Freddy Krueger, than you're a little girl. You're an easy target I can defeat. I don't have me suit, but can I still grind you to meat. So here's a suggestion. How about you don't fight my familia. I'm just saying, if you didn't, this would be a lot easier. Don't you think it's funny how I wrecked you and you can't even say a word? You thought you could best me, but I'm still undeterred. I guess this is a lesson to never mess with me." Fenton walked over to the shadow that was now the size of a spider. He picked it up by the back of the neck and grabbed an open jar. "So how about you stay in there and sit reverently." He finished as he dropped the shadow into the jar. He grabbed the lid and screwed it on as the shadow shouted at him, back in its original form.

"Fenton!" Fenton looked over only to be tackled to the ground by Dewey and Webby, still holding the jar. "What was that?" Dewey asked.

"That was amazing!" Webby squealed.

"Teach me how to do that!"

"How did you do that? It didn't even look like you took a breath the whole time! "

"Fenton, you are my new favorite uncle!"

"You're almost as cool as granny!"

The two kept yelling on top of him as Huey rushed over to the adults. Scrooge was smiling proudly, but getting drowsier by the second. Gyro was trying not to show he was impressed, but was failing enough to let Huey see that he was. Donald was still out cold but he could hear his uncles quiet snores. Huey looked back to Gyro to see that his arm would be the easiest thing to take care of. He walked over to Gyro and hesitated as he reached for his arm.

"Ready?" He asked the scientist.

"Just do it." Gyro grumbled. Huey quickly grabbed his arm and pushed it upwards. Gyro let out a pained hiss but began to push Donald off once Huey let go. His arm still hurt, but at least he could use it now. He stood up and both him and Huey helped Scrooge stand. Louie walked over and knelt next to Donald, worried to death about his uncle.

Fenton finally got the two excitable kids off of him before standing. He put the jar on the desk before looking behind him to see Huey and Gyro helping Scrooge to a seat that wasn't damaged or destroyed, which was across the room. "Wait! Stop!" Fenton exclaimed as he rushed over. He stepped in front of the three to stop them before quickly putting one arm behind Scrooge. He put Scrooge's hurt arm on his stomach before just sweeping the old man off the ground and bringing him to Gyro's desk, which was mostly not harmed.

He laid Scrooge down as the other two curiously followed him. "He needs to stay still. Huey, get me a clean cloth. Gyro, call the police and tell them we need medical attention." Fenton ordered. The two nodded before immediately getting to work. Fenton glanced over to see Louie and Webby sitting next to Donald in panic. "Louie, bend Donalds leg a little so we know he has blood flow. Webby, tilt his head back and make sure he keeps breathing." Fenton ordered. Webby saluted and the two got to work.

Huey raced back over to Fenton with a small towel. "Here you go. I hope it's okay." He said.

Fenton took the towl and smiled. "That's perfect, thank you. Now go over and see if you can see any signs of spinal damage on Donald." He told the young boy.

"On it." Huey said as he ran off. Fenton looked back down to Scrooge to put the towel over the cut and put pressure on it. He then finally noticed Dewey on the other side of the desk, just watching Fenton in astonishment.

"How do you know all of this?" Dewey asked. "And how can you carry Uncle Scrooge?" Dewey added.

Fenton gave a calm smile as he tried to stay focused on Scrooge. "My m'ma is a police officer and detective. She made sure I was able to take care of others when she couldn't. And your Uncle Donald was the one that taught me all my medical knowledge. He's a very smart man." Fenton explained.

Dewey glanced back at his uncle in confusion. He knew his uncle knew this stuff and was always careful about everything, but he never questioned why. He just thought it was annoying. But now he wondered what incident caused his uncle to be so cautious.

"Their on their way." Gyro said, walking over. "I'll take over. Go check on Donald." Gyro said.

"Of course." Fenton quickly let Gyro take over before rushing over to Donald.

Louie was the first one to see Fenton rush over. He got Huey and Webby out of the way as Fenton slid over to them so he could kneel at Donalds side. He double checked Donald to see that they had done what he said. But he also saw a peice of green cloth under Donalds head. He looked to Louie to see a part of his sleeve was ripped off.

"What happened?" Fenton asked.

Louie rubbed his arm, tears coming to his eyes again. "His head was bleeding, so I did what he told me and covered in. I didn't want to risk hurting him by holding it to his head so I just laid it under him. I also didn't want to ruin your tie, so I used my jacket instead." Louie explained.

"Thank you Louie. That was a good move." Fenton praised. He double checked Donalds breathing to see it was almost perfectly normal. "Okay, he's not too back, but him and Mr. McDuck will both need stitches. Webby, go upstairs and wait for the paramedics. They won't be able to use the elevator and they might not know how to get to us." Fenont said.

"Yes sir." Webby nodded as she raced up the stairs he had come from earlier.

"Question." Huey asked. "Where are Manny and Lil Bulb?" He asked.

"They're off for the day. We had everything handled, so we let them have the rest of the day off." Fenton said without hesitation. He was too focused on Donald and trying to see if there were more injuries. He lifted Donald's shirt to check and didn't find anything but a lot of bruises. He hummed in thought at this, but put Donalds shirt back. He checked Donalds arms next.

"What was that for?" Louie asked.

"What was what for?" Fenton asked.

"That hum." Louie replied.

"Oh, your uncle has a lot of bruises in his abdominal area. It's not likely, but there's a chance he has internal bleeding." Fenton calmy explained as he checked Donalds arms over. There was nothing to indicate major injuries. "Those bruises were too quick to be anything good. But it could just be a cracked or broken rib." Fenton continued.

"So, Uncle Donald got the worst of it?" Huey asked as Louie looked like he was beginning to have a panick attack.

Fenton took notice of Louie and quickle slid over to him. "Hey, breath, Donalds okay. It's nothing he and the hospital can't handle. Everything will be alright, I promise." Fenton tried to sooth, trying to get Louie to take deeper breaths.

Huey watched in wonder and slight worry as Louie started crying again as he asked Fenton questions and Fenton just answered while holding him and trying to get him to relax. Huey never knew what to do in these situations. Only Uncle Donald could calm Louie down when he had a panic attack, but Fenton seemed to have things under control.

Soon everyone looked over as they heard the patter of feet running down the stairs. Webby was the first to emerge from the stairwell as she announced the arrival of the paramedics. Soon, the room was swamped with people trying to get the two really hurt people up the stairs and usher everyone else out at the same time. Fenton quickly grabbed the jar with the shadow, who was very slowly beginning to grow again.

It had been thirty minutes since they left and now Fenton, Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby were sitting in the waiting room. Soon, Gyro came out to join them, his arm now in a sling. They waited for around another hour until a doctor came out with clipboard. The dog looked them over before smiling. "Donald and Scrooge, I assume?" He asked.

Without warning, the kids were at his feet, begging for information about their uncles. Fenton quickly tried to round them up as Gyro just looked annoyed.

"Yes, we are." Gyro said, grabbing Webby by the back of her shirt as Fenton picked up the boys with a little bit of struggle. They sat the kids back down as the doctor chuckled to himself.

"Okay, good. The good news is that they'll both make a smooth recovery." The doctor told them. The kids sighed in relief, along with Fenton.

"And the bad news?" Gyro asked.

"It's not bad news, just not great news." The doctor began. "They'll both be staying for two nights, and then they can go home. Mr. McDuck's arm will be in a sling and he won't be able to use that arm until his wound completely heals. That can be from around a month to six months depending on how much he bends the rules. Don't let him break the rules."

"What about Uncle Donald?" Dewey asked, both him and Huey holding Louie. They had seen the panic building up in him a while ago and decided to keep him as calm as possible.

The doctor softened his smile and knelt down in front of the kids. "Your uncle is fine. He has a few stitches on the back of his head, so don't let him touch that area. That should heal quicker than Mr. McDucks. But because of his cracked ribs he won't be able to move quickly. So we're having him use a cane until he's all better. It'll take about six weeks for them to heal, so don't let your uncle do anything too dangerous or active. He won't always need the cane, just on days when he's having really bad pain. Can you take care of him for me?" The doctor explained.

Louie giggled to himself at this and his brothers nodded. "Of course we can. We're the Duck brothers." Dewey confirmed.

The doctor nodded before looking to the two adults. "The two won't be able to go on any adventures for a few months. Don't let them do anything too hard, or anything that requires a right arm, for Scrooge's case." The Doctor finished explaining. "If there's anymore family that wants to come visit them, they can come tomorrow during visiting hours. They're still trying to set the two up and they need all the rest they can get today." The Doctor added.

"Thank you, doctor." Fenton nodded with a relieved smile.

"It's no trouble. Have a good day." The doctor replied.

"You too, sir." Fenton said before he and Gyro ushered the kids out of the hospital.

The next day, Launchpad brought Fenton, Della, and the boys to see Scrooge and Donald. When they walked in the doctor from the day before explained that Scrooge was asleep, but Donald was waiting for them. He showed them to Donalds room, and once the door was open the boys ran over and tackled Donalds arms and legs.

"Hey boys. Is everything going okay without me?" Donald asked. He saw Fenton and Della waiting at the doorway so the boys could talk with with him.

"We're doing fine." Huey said.

"You should have seen it yesterday! That shit was crazy!" Louie exclaimed, making Donald's eyes go wide.

"Language!" He scolded.

"Fenton murdered a shadow yesterday, and you're asking me to watch my language?" Louie asked in exasperation.

"You need to get your priorities straight." Dewey said, shaking his head.

"Wait, murdered?" Donald asked, looking to Fenton. He couldn't tell if the scientist was embarrassed of uncomfortable. They seemed completely different in this moment, and yet Donald couldn't decide which one he saw.

Della was watching Fenton too. She was surprisingly kept in the dark until now because the boys wanted to tell her and Donald at the same time.

"Uncle Donald, you should have seen him rap. It was like watching Uncle Scrooge fight monsters." Huey said.

"It was so seamless, so smooth." Dewey said with a weird voice.

"It was Awesome!" Louie exclaimed, shaking his uncle's arm. Donald looked back to Fenton with surprise.

"You rap?" Donald asked.

"Eh, well sorta... It's not that good." Fenton said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he averted his eyes.

Della began to laugh at the boys loud protest. "I think it's their word against yours, Fen." Della told him. Fenton gave her a slight glare.

"Fenton was amazing! After he destroyed the shadow dude, he was telling us how to take care of you and Uncle Scrooge. You should have seen him. He was so calm the whole time. He even helped Louie calm down." Dewey rambled.

"Wha- I- no- it's jus- psh- Whatever." Louie denied, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looked away in embarrassment, causing Donald to smile warmly.

Fenton was trying desperately to cover his blushing face as he tried to hide how flustered he was. Della thought it was adorable. She looked to Donald before her smile softened.

"Okay, ya squirts." Della said, walking over and ruffling Louie's feathers. "My turn to talk to Uncle Donald. I need to talk with him alone." Della said.

"But mom!" The boys groaned, Fenton swallowing back a chuckle.

"No buts. Go outside with Fenton and wait until Donald says." Della said.

"Yes, mom." They groaned before all three of them walked out of the room. Fenton shut the door after giving Della a nod.

Della turned to her brother, sitting on a chair next to him. "I think I found your soulmate." Della said, making Donald quack in suprise.

"What?" He exclaimed. "Della, don't be ridiculous." Donald grumbled.

"Come on, he's perfect! You're both dorks, you both are too caring for your own good, and he's a superhero. Besides, he helped the kids." Della named off.

Donald crossed his arms and grumbled. "Stupid Dumbella, he doesn't like me." Donald pouted.

Della raised a brow. "So you do like him?"

Donalds eyes widened in panic. "That's not what I meant!" He shouted, wincing after he did so. He clutched his ribs with a slight groan.

Della looked at him in concern, gently laying him back. "Donald, what's wrong?" Della asked.

Donald sighed as he pinched between his eyes. "Ever since you disapeared I hadn't even thought about a relationship. All that mattered for years was the boys. Me and Scrooge were out of touch for ten years, I almost lost touch with Jose and Panchito, Duckworth died and came back, Launchpad was just a chauffeur until we came back to the mansion, and not to mention you were gone and I could do nothing. To say a romantic life was low on my list of worries would be an understatement. I forgot how it worked. When I met Fenton I didn't know what to think of him. But then, whenever I visited the Bin, he always made an effort to be friendly. It was a cute attempt. But then the shadow war happened and I found myself fighting a room full of shadow people. I was almost done with them when Fenton saved me from one I hadn't seen. I think that's when I realized I might actually like him. It's stupid." Donald rambled.

"No, it's not." Donald stopped to look at Della. "What's stupid is that I didn't realize it sooner. I guess I should find a way to repay you for watching my boys for so long. Maybe a date?" Della said with a teasing look.

"Della-" Donald began to warn when there was a knock at the door.

Fenton popped his head in with a sheepish smile. "Uh, am I interrupting?" He asked.

Della gave Donald a mischievous look. "No, not at all. What's going on?" She asked Fenton.

"Oh, uh, Mr. McDuck is awake. The boys went over to say hi. I thought you might want to know." Fenton explained, not noticing the smirk Della gave Donald and the glare he returned.

"Well, I might as well join them." Della said, standing. "Donald has a few things he wants to talk to you about." Della said, walking toward Fenton. Fenton opened the door all the way in his confusion. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an arm wrestling match to win." Della said before racing down the hall, calling for Scrooge.

Fenton stood awkwardly, slowly shutting the door behind himself as he and Donald just stared at each other with awkward smiles. "So..." Fenton started, taking a few hesitant steps towards Donalds bed. "How has your day been?" He asked, mentally slapping himself.

Donald almost awed at this, going for a calmer smile instead. "It's been good. My family came to visit, my ribs don't hurt nearly as much, and my head isn't bleeding. I'd call that a win." Donald said in a joking manner.

Fenton let a chuckle slip out. "That's good. That's good." He mumbled, nodding. There was an awkward pause between them as they tried to figure out what to do.

"Fenton," Fenton snapped his attention back to Donald. "Thank you."

"I-uh-what did I do?" Fenton asked.

"You're the reason I'm still here, instead of in a morgue." Donald replied with a genuine smile. "If you didn't take out that Rhythamow than I probably wouldn't be able to hold my boys anymore. My sister couldn't tease me anymore... And I wouldn't be able to see your face again." Donald explained.

Fenton could feel the heat come to his face. "Oh, uh, yeah. It was no trouble, really. If I hadn't remembered your lessons, than none of us would be here, probably." Fenton said, stepping a little closer to Donalds bed, reaching the foot of it.

"Yeah well, it's a good thing you listen." Donald chuckled. There was another pause. "...So, you rap? Do you sing too?" Donald asked.

Fenton stiffened a little. "I, uh..." He didn't know how to answer that. "I, um- I don't really sing much. And, I don't think I'm that good of a rapper." Fenton chuckled awkwardly.

"From the way my boys talk about it, you must have been at least a little good. How did you do it so fast? Dewey did say it was, and I quote, 'so seamless, so smooth'." Donald said with a slight chuckle at the end.

Fenton felt his face flush as he tried to stutter out an answer. Donald was trying so hard no to start laughing at this.

"Fenton, sit down. You're gonna hurt yourself." Donald said.

Fenton hesitated before sitting at Donalds feet. "Well, to answer your question, Mr. Duck..." Fenton hesitated. "It's just natural. My brain never shuts up, so I just, kinda, always know what to say. I just second guess myself." Fenton mumbled, playing with his tie.

Fenton snapped his head up when Donald started laughing. He was a little hurt at this, but the laugh was so cute, he couldn't be mad. "I... I'm sorry... It's just that... It reminds me of when I was younger..." Donald said as he began to calm down. "When I was younger, my brain was full of so many thoughts, that I always second guessed myself. But I kept speaking, no matter what others said. I wish I was still like that. And please, call me Donald." Donald said.

Fenton chuckled. "I guess we're not too different, aren't we donald?" He said, giving Donald a smile.

Donald returned the smile before thinking. "Hey Fenton. I have a question."

"Shoot." Fenton replied.

"Would you like to go out after I'm out of here?" Donald asked.

Fenton froze for a few seconds, giving Donald a slight panic attack, before letting a small smile slip onto his face. His smile then turned mischievous. He scoot forward before kissing Donald on the forehead. "Just don't forget your cane." Fenton teased.

Donald paused in confusion before he became furious. "I have to have a cane?!?"

[iwhumpyou]

The Price (Part 9)

Masterlist.  Wergild.

Taglist: @whumps-the-word.

Part 8.

~#~

Clarissa was as still as a statue, just staring at her.  Nerali tried to smile, but it quailed under Clarissa’s heavy gaze.  What if she was still angry?  What if she hadn’t made it right?

“Clarissa,” she said, her voice soft, fighting to keep her voice from cracking.  All she’d wanted in the pain was her sister.  All she wanted was warm arms around her and a hum and someone telling her it was going to be okay.  If Clarissa turned away now, Nerali didn’t think she could bear it.

One step forward, and another.  Jerkily, like she was fighting every step.  Nerali flinched despite herself as Clarissa raised a hand.

The hand settled, soft and warm on her cheek.  “Nerali,” Clarissa whispered softly.  And then, louder, her expression twisting, “Nerali, what did you do?!”

Before Nerali could answer, there were arms around her, nearly crushing her ribs but so very careful to avoid her arms.  Her face was mashed into Clarissa’s shoulder and she could feel her older sister shuddering.

No.  Crying.  Nerali felt the dampness on her hair, the soft, choked sobs, and felt sick to her stomach.  She hadn’t wanted this at all.

“Clarissa,” she said, but she was having trouble keeping her voice straight and Clarissa’s hug had moved into the territory of strangling.  

“Why, Nerali, why?” Clarissa made a sound like a wounded animal and Nerali lost the tenuous grip she had on her emotions and sobbed into her sister’s shoulder.

Clarissa was here and she’d make it better and even though Nerali had spent more than a week trying to solve her own problems, she couldn’t resist the thought of family and safety.

“What did you do?” Clarissa said, moving back enough that she could see her face, but keeping her arms wrapped around Nerali.  Nerali winced at her sister’s red-rimmed eyes – this close, she could see lines of worry bracketing her face and dark circles under her eyes.

She had never wanted Clarissa to worry.  She had never wanted her to lose sleep.  (Had she made the whole thing worse?)

Nerali was spared an answer as her sister delicately examined one of her arms – her touch was soft, but Nerali still had restrain herself from flinching.  The spring water had helped, but it would take months before her arms were back to their original state, if they would, in fact, fully heal.  The breaks had mostly connected, but the burns had barely healed and they had tried to limit the amount of bandages to give the burns air.  (The pain was something she could ignore, if she had a distraction.  There had been no point in bringing it up to Jace or Mirai.)

Clarissa examined it for a few seconds more, before turning back to Nerali, “What happened?  Your skin looks like it’s been burned and flayed.” And then, a second later, she became deathly still, her arms caging Nerali as she turned a fearsome glare somewhere over Nerali’s shoulder.  “What did you do to her.”  Clarissa’s tone of voice made it clear that this was not a request and Nerali shivered, even in her protective embrace. 

“Nothing,” Jace answered coolly and calmly and Nerali had to marvel at his poise.  There was steam coming off Clarissa now – the steam was carefully curling around her and Clarissa’s arms had merely warmed – and Nerali wondered if the slight shaking of the ground was her imagination.

“Nothing,” Clarissa said, and her words felt like thunder, “Your sister’s killer is in your compound and you claim you did nothing.”

There was a second of stillness, the tension so high it felt like static, before a cheerful voice interjected, “I’m not actually dead.”

Clarissa must have been extremely shocked, because her arms loosened their grip, only one remaining curled around Nerali’s waist.  She saw Mirai standing on the fringe of the group, smiling, and Clarissa was clearly stunned but no less suspicious.  (Mirai’s normal, revealing clothes did not hide the jagged scar crossing her abdomen and Mirai’s smile was a shade too vicious.)

“How?” Clarissa asked, confused, as she took a step forward, “Mirai, but – bluebell nectar is poisonous – how?”

“We managed to find the healing spring,” Jace said, motioning to the burbling fountain, “I’m sure you can put the rest of the pieces together, Clarissa.”

(Oh, Clarissa could.)

She saw her sister’s eyes narrow as she stared at the fountain, confusion beginning to appear – before it abruptly vanished and Clarissa turned a horrified gaze back to Nerali.  She stared at Nerali’s arms, tracing the damage till where it ended, halfway up her biceps, and looked at the patch of unmarked skin like it had personally betrayed her.

“You used her to break your curse,” Clarissa said, her hands on Nerali’s shoulders like she thought she’d disappear.  “You used my baby sister to break your blood curse!”  Nerali winced as Clarissa’s words ended on a shriek and her hold became smothering once again.  Clarissa was glaring fiercely at Jace and clutching Nerali even more tightly and Nerali was beginning to worry about the longevity of peace in the forest, especially as the others began to shift.

“Clarissa,” Nerali wheezed, and Clarissa modified her hold enough to let her breathe, “Clarissa, stop it. I broke the curse.  I did it of my own free will.”

Clarissa finally looked at Nerali, eyebrows creased, “You what?”

“I broke the curse of my own free will,” Nerali said, trying to keep her expression calm.  She had thought Clarissa had wanted her best friend’s clan to prosper but Clarissa’s expression now was definitely murderous and it was entirely possible that Nerali had completely misconstrued their relationship.

(Had she accidentally gone too far?)

“You know the curse,” Nerali pressed, because Clarissa attacking Jace would ruin everything.  “You know that only a willing elementalist can break it.”

(And how that qualifier had nearly broken her.)

Clarissa’s attention was fully back on her, though her sister’s expression was not inviting. “Why?” her sister finally asked, her voice flat.

“As wergild,” Nerali said quietly, and whatever she had been expecting to see on her older sister’s face, it wasn’t the visceral revulsion that appeared.

(It had been pride. She had been expecting pride and happiness and delight and her older sister to finally look at her in acknowledgement.)

“And who told you that wergild had to be paid?” Clarissa asked, her tone and expression blank, though Nerali thought she saw her gaze flicker.

Nerali was confused, because this was the same question Jace had asked and she didn’t know why they all thought that growing up outside the forest meant that she couldn’t learn the rules.

“You said that –” Nerali began, because Clarissa had been the first one who explained how the honor system worked, but her voice died at the look on her sister’s face.

Clarissa looked devastated.  She looked like Nerali had taken her favorite pet and set it on fire and Nerali was frozen in place, because she didn’t know what she did wrong, she didn’t know anything except that it was her fault, it had to be her fault, everything was her fault, and every time she tried to fix it, she just ended up making everything worse.

She didn’t know when Clarissa started hugging her again, but she was babbling apologies into Clarissa’s shoulder and her sister was trying to shush her in between sobs.

“No, no, Nerali, no, you have no reason to be sorry, no –”

And then she was out of Clarissa’s warm grasp and Nerali stiffened for half a second before relaxing at the familiar scent of salt and smoke.  “I thought you were dead,” Aidan said hoarsely into her hair.  “I thought he killed you and it would all be my fault.”

Nerali protested but her voice died when Aidan released her and took a half step back.  His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was pale and he looked like he’d spent the last week tearing at his hair and his skin. Clarissa, over his shoulder, looked like a ghost, still and pale and cold with a face frozen in horror.

“It’s not your fault,” Nerali said finally, her voice trembling, “It’s not – it’s mine – I just wanted to make everything right – I just wanted to fix it –”

“You should never have had to fix it alone,” Davina said quietly and Nerali wanted to turn to see her but Aidan wasn’t letting go.  Was, in fact, standing between her and Clarissa like he wanted to protect her. Like Clarissa was the enemy.

He seemed to have no difficulty in turning his back on Jace.

“But it was my mistake,” Nerali said, confused, and Aidan’s arms tightened around her.

“You’re our sister.”  And that was Robin, but Nerali had never heard Robin’s voice sound so broken.  “You never should’ve had to do anything alone.”

Nerali couldn’t find the right words to protest and Jace cut through before she did.  “As touching as this family reunion is,” he drawled, “Some of us have better things to do.  Like implement this treaty.  I’m sure you can find your way back home.”

“You’re right,” Aidan said, but his voice wasn’t as vehement as it usually was when talking to Jace, “We’ll leave.  Clarissa,” and there was a hint of a bite now, “You can stay if you want.”  Nerali didn’t understand what was going on but Aidan’s tone was not pretty.  “After all, you just found out that the girl you love like a sister is still alive. I’m sure you’re overjoyed.”

Nerali stiffened, because those were the words that Clarissa had said to her and she wasn’t sure why they sounded like poison coming out of Aidan’s mouth.

Aidan was shuffling her forward, Davina on her other side, and Nerali craned her head to look at Clarissa – if her sister had looked devastated before, now, she looked shattered.  Like she would crumple before her eyes.

Nerali pushed against Aidan’s grip (she didn’t want to see that expression on Clarissa’s face, she never wanted to see that expression on her sister’s face, she’d broken a blood curse so she’d never see that expression again) but her brother wasn’t letting her go and her other siblings were matching the pace.

Davina’s face was pinched, Robin looked at her like she’d fracture if she looked away, and Francis’ normally reserved expression had slipped into narrowed eyes and a pinched mouth. He didn’t look happy with her.

Nerali fought against her tears.  She didn’t understand fully what was going on, but the gist was easy enough to pick up. They were mad at Clarissa and it was Nerali’s fault.  

(Why, why was it that every time she tried to make things better, they ended up worse?)

~#~

“I have to say, if you wanted to patch things up with your family, staying here was not a wise option,” Jace said.

Clarissa didn’t look like she heard him.  She was staring at the gates, at where her brothers and sisters walked out, leaving her behind.  She looked like a stray breeze would send her crashing to her knees.

“I was serious,” Jace said, louder, “I have work to do and having you here is not helping.”

Perhaps once it would’ve. (Before he’d seen Mirai’s pale face and heard Nerali’s screams.)

Clarissa turned slowly and Jace felt his heart skip a beat.  The devastation had been taken over by the rage he’d seen when Clarissa had put the pieces together.  The rage that had sent terror skittering through his veins even as he forced himself to stand his ground.

It was even more petrifying without Nerali in her arms.  Without anyone she wanted to protect in the line of fire.

Mirai slipped to his side and Jace fought the urge to tell her to run.

“This is your fault,” Clarissa said, chillingly, frighteningly cold.  She stalked closer until she was in his personal space, until he forced himself to not step back because then he’d start running.

(He tried to remember the girl with the pigtails who made sparks fly and water dance and he couldn’t find any trace of her in the woman that remained.)

“I will make sure you pay for this,” Clarissa said, levelly, furiously, a promise, not a threat, “If it is the last thing I do.”

Jace had to remember how to breathe.  He was aware of Mirai trembling behind him.

He arched an eyebrow, his heart beating so fast he could hear it, and forced his voice to remain calm and unconcerned, “After we just signed a treaty?”

“Fuck the treaty,” Clarissa snarled.

“That’s a shame,” Jace said quietly, “After the lengths Nerali went to make sure it succeeded.”

Clarissa’s face paled so fast Jace almost smirked.  “It would be such a pity to ruin all her hard work,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, “To render her sacrifice absolutely…worthless.”  He could see the impact every word made on Clarissa’s face.

“But you were the one you sent her here in the first place,” Jace shrugged, “I suppose you don’t care.”  He turned his back on his once-friend, ignoring the shrieking warnings inside his head.  “Get out of my compound, Clarissa.  You’re not welcome here.”

~#~

Fin.

[lilli-chae]

6 AM

6 AM. Quiet house, mostly quiet mind from lack of sleep to propel proper thought, gentle bird-calls from the window, soft chilling breeze basking the room. Moments like this are when I finally calm down and take in the world around me. I'd be such a better, more productive person if I found the motivation to stick to the same simplicity of 6 AM. This is probably why Mom always sat on the porch the first few weeks we had moved her into her new home after the divorce dust finally settled. Coffee at 6 AM, letting the overwhelming, yet gentle simplicity of the morning clear one's mind. To fill it anew with fresh air, and room for more positive thoughts of the day ahead, as opposed to waking up at 11:30 AM, or noon, unable to find the motivation to get up and enjoy the beauty of a morning already passed. As a bus driver, Mom's always been on the early wake-up schedule. She could never afford to be off it, and I'm starting to see that she probably wouldn't want to be if it didn't leave her so tired in the evenings. If she had the energy I sometimes do, if she had the better physical ability I sometimes do. It's such a sobering thought.

The breath of a fresh, chilled morning is more of an energizer than any amount of caffeine will likely ever be for me. I think knowing this is another reason for my lack of motivation to leave my bed once I've realized how late in the day it already is upon awaking. A perpetual cycle of self-disappointment that gets remedied in moments like this, where the bliss is found in serene silence and easy breaths. The A.S. calms itself in my joints and bones for just a bit, the lungs seem to be working just a bit better than the usual, and my heart feels less at turmoil, more at ease.

Sometimes I'll tear up or cry, and sometimes I just sit and smile, and watch the ducks across the way, waddling or flying their way across towards the little creek at the end of the little "road." Sometimes I'll get lucky and see a bunny rabbit darting across the lawns of the townhouses, on their way back to yards they've made their homes, brushes that make them feel as safe and secure as I do in these moments. Sometimes someone else will be up as early as me, but having the likely luxury of having just woken up after a good night's sleep. I'll see them start their morning jog, likely on their way to get a light workout before tackling the day. I see the appeal, but never for myself, so I usually silently cheer those people on.

"You can do it! You're starting your day right, and I hope it brings you a happy one today, too."

The air smells fresher at 6 AM. It's chilly, but revitalizing. I'll sit here at my desk or on my bed and shiver, but feel no need to close the window, enjoying the sensation that reminds me I'm alive today, too. Just as I was yesterday, and the day before; only now, in moments like these, it feels more special. More tailored to set me at ease.

When Mom and Dad were still in the same house, during the last moments of The War, I'd sometimes hear her shuffle to make coffee in the kitchen, Dad dead asleep in their once-shared room as he made her take the couch. I'd sneak down quietly, ensuring Kylie was still asleep as well, and would sometimes be allowed to join her on the front step as she smoked her morning cigarette. We'd talk softly about things, or sometimes say nothing at all.

On mornings where we said nothing at all, it always felt like more was spoken then compared to any lengthy conversation we'd had over coffee or under stars. I remember one particular morning I had come down to join her, I had looked back at her as she sat in the fold-able lawn chair on the front mini-porch the town-home gives. As I looked at her, she looked at me, and we met eyes. I had been feeling particularly down and out about “The War”, and it seemed she could tell that I saw her doing no better. She teared up a bit, then a single tear fell. Then another, and then a few more, until she had set her coffee down and put her cigarette out to shakily wipe her eyes as she softly sniffled and cried. We were always like that. We've always been able to read each other from a simple glance, and just with our eyes we could often pull off the rather cracked walls, and bruised barriers. That morning had been no different. We said no words, but spoke volumes.

It's mornings like these that I think back to that particular moment and wonder, is she also up now? Sitting on her new porch? Drinking her morning coffee with her morning cigarette? Is she thinking back to the times that haunted us both in this very house I sit in now? Does she think back to giving back the townhouse key to Dad, after “The War” had finally been over? Does she miss sitting on this town-home's particular front step? Does she miss the quiet of this particular neighborhood? It's mornings like these that humble me, remind me: I get the benefit of seeing both places; hers, and his. 

I wonder if she ever has moments of bitter thought, thinking about how she had been the one to ultimately "lose ground" and move out, the town-home being relinquished to him after the "truce." I also often wonder if Kylie will ever experience the same strange, almost mystical bond that Mom and I share just through looks alone. I wonder if growing up too fast will hinder her when I'm not there to help make the waters more clear for her young, growing mind. 

We're 6 years apart, and yet she's growing up even earlier than I already had. Does she take my place by Mom's side when I cannot? Does she sit and enjoy the serenity of 6 AM with her, enjoying the scent of hazelnut coffee and fresh, morning dew? Do they share looks yet, that by exchanging them, a conversation of a million words is had in an instant? Or does she receive those looks, and find herself unable to properly decipher or reciprocate? Does she know what the mornings mean in the context of Mom's mind? Will she get to know all the intricate secrets and treasures of Mom's thoughts like I did, and sometimes still do? Or will she be unfortunate and miss the fleeting moments as I sometimes do?

I wonder if she and Mom watch the bunnies, too. Their trailer is in a quiet neighborhood, in a town almost an hour away. I can only hope Mom doesn't let herself sink too deep into her thoughts without someone to exchange a glance with. After all, I know far too well how draining it can be to not be able to express such muddled musings. And while I hope Kylie remains youthful in mind and spirit, while I hope she gets to retain the innocence I had to relinquish, I know she's already begun growing up and maturing far faster than my hopes would like.

That's what 6 AM makes me think about sometimes. And then I find myself distracted at watching the light slowly, so slowly pool over the edges of the rooftops, lighting what it can find behind. It's a soft light, one that reminds me again of those simplistic mornings shared on the porch just downstairs. As I sit here now, looking out my window, taking in the peaceful air of morning, I realize that this is the kind of thing my dad and I will likely never get to share the way me and Mom did. He won't wake up in the early mornings for coffee, he won't sit on the front porch step for a smoke, he won't share those glances with me and be able to decipher the dysphoria behind them. We'll be as oddly near, yet separated, as we've always been since the beginning of my early maturing.

Thoughts like that are always somewhere in the back of my mind, thoughts about "what else wouldn't Dad get, and are there any he would?" I run a fairly successful server that means something more to me than words can properly surmount to.

"Would Dad understand the significance behind the joy I feel for this? Would he understand the why behind my feelings of success, and worth? Would he see the value I see in being capable enough to manage such a large, tight-knit home?" 

"No.”

“Because Dad has never quite been on the same page, and perhaps that is not even entirely his fault; in spite of the fault you find in his many other transgressions on your well-being, you also see the lack of fault that is to be found."

Moments like that startle me sometimes.

When I let my mind wander back down that path of reflection and questioning. Moments like ones I find during 6 AM remind me of the bittersweet reality that while, yes, Dad has done much wrong and has broken me and my family so, he is not without love. He is not without the strain of a trying spirit. He just doesn't know that his trying is sometimes the very opposite of what he may mean to achieve.

It's moments like these, at 6 AM, that I'm reminded that he was likely not always a narcissistic abuser to those he loves. He was a child with broken parents, too, once. 6 AM reminds me to consider that there might've been moments for him, as a small child in his home with his step-mother and father arguing over the issue of favoritism his step-mother pushed for her own birth-kids -my father's step-siblings- where he, too, considered whether or not his step-mother was truly at complete fault. Perhaps he, too, sat to himself and let his mind wander to the possibilities of what his step-mother's own upbringing had caused.

And then I get the familiar twinge in my chest, thinking to myself, "should that not have resulted in him being more reflective?"

"Should he have not been more aware, then, of what his words were doing? What his actions did to speak for him?"

Dad has spoken of his distaste for the tension that resulted in his step-mother's poor treatment of him and sometimes, in turn, his father.

"Shouldn't that have made him want to do the opposite of what he's done? Should he not have said something else at dinner, done something different that morning, held himself differently in that argument?"

6 AM is a time of peace, this is often true, but these thoughts sometimes plague me. They bring me into a strange moment of cycling questions and answers, and sometimes tears. Sometimes I'll sit on these thoughts, think of what train it took for my brain to get from point A, to point B. By the time 7 AM is but a quarter away, I've found myself in the midst of a ramble I didn't initially intend to go on. Sometimes I like that about 6 AM, too.

The birds chirp louder as the sun rises higher. My ramblings sit open in the air, in my mind, and sometimes on paper or screen, and I'll think back about it all. About how much thought can be processed and mulled over in less than a complete hour. And while I'm not sure it helps completely relieve the dysphoria, it helps clear the confusion that often clouds with it. Another breath of fresh air, coffee gone, morning apple finished, birds now as awake as I am. The light reflecting off of the glass windows it finally gets to hit, the grass whose morning dew is sure to evaporate alongside time itself.

And I find myself at peace again, despite the swirling emotions the thoughts often bring. It is an ironic calmness, brought about from the serenity that comes from the simplicity of 6 AM. Ten minutes until 7 AM shows its pretty, sunny presence. 

Perhaps time for that second cup of coffee.

[avantegarda]

Wonderful 1000: The Merry Misadventures of Chopin the Pig

@cherepashkadrabbles requested a tale featuring an assortment of Kiraly-von Holstadt family pets and somehow this happened. Enjoy!

--

It was all Anna’s fault, really.

Not Anna Király the elder—that esteemed matriarch had gone to her reward over a decade prior, though Andras insisted that her spirit still kept a watchful eye over the family, particularly around Christmas. The perpetrator this time was Anna Király the younger, aged three, the apple of her mother’s eye: a plump, auburn-haired little elf with strong opinions on absolutely everything. 

The opinions, this time, were regarding the family dachshund.

“Wolfgang is sad,” Anna insisted, with a fervent tug at her mother’s skirts. “Sad sad sad.”

Marta reluctantly put down the letter she was reading—a rare missive from her friend Sophie in New York—and regarded her daughter with surprise. “What on earth do you mean, Anna darling? Wolfgang is the happiest dog in Vienna. He has lots of food and a warm bed and you and Sofia and Zoltan to play with him. He has no reason at all to be sad.”

Anna shook her head firmly. “No, he sad. Lonely. He need ‘nother dog. Or kitty.”

“He’s lo…” Marta paused, her stomach twisting in sudden worry. How exactly did Anna, still practically a baby, know that word? Was Anna lonely? It couldn’t be terribly easy to be the youngest in their family, that much was true. Sofia and Zoltan, while affectionate and kind older siblings, had a tendency to disappear into their own artistic pursuits, just as their father did; Sofia with her singing lessons and Zoltan with his drawing. Leaving little Anna...well, out.

Perhaps it wasn’t Wolfgang who needed another animal around the house. 

“I’ll tell you what, darling,” Marta said slowly. “Your uncle Heini spends most of his time out in the country and he knows all sorts of animals. Perhaps he’ll have a kitten or a puppy who needs a new home.”

Andras might have some objections to another pet being brought in without warning...but at the smile on Anna’s round face Marta really couldn’t bring herself to care.

--

Heini’s reply was swift and enthusiastic.

Dear Marta,

I was wondering when you were going to ask me this very question. Three children and only one old dog around the place to keep them company? It’s obscene.

I have just the beast for you, too. You’re expecting a barn cat or some such, I’m sure, but I have a slightly more unusual suggestion. I’ve convinced Father to let me acquire a new kind of miniature pig from the East (I won’t bore you with all the agricultural details), and one of the sows has just produced an excellent litter of piglets. Would Anna like one? As babies they’re the size of a cat, practically, and they don’t grow to be more than two feet tall. Once he gets older he might have to spend most of his time in the back garden, but I can guarantee the children will love him.

Your affectionate brother,

Heini

“A pig?” Andras said incredulously that night, as he and Marta got into bed. “In the house? I always knew your brother was just as mad as you are but this seems like a bit much.”

“But it’ll be wonderful for the children, darling,” Marta replied. “Think what an educational experience it will be for them to have a new kind of animal to learn to take care of!”

“They’ve already got more animals than I ever had as a child. I had to make do with Erszi the pigeon, while our youngsters have Wolfgang and Nyafi and all the animals at Burg Holstadt…”

“Nyafi is a wonderful cat,” said Marta, “but she spends all her time in Pest and so the children only get to see her about half the year. And Andras, I think that…” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I think Anna needs this. Yes, she’s still very young, but she needs something that’s hers. Why not a pig?”

Andras sighed, though it was obvious that his resistance was softening. “I still say pigs belong in the barn, not in the house. Is this one of those things that’s so lower-class it’s gone full circle and somehow become fashionable?”

“Undoubtedly.” Marta snuggled closer and planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “And we’ll be the most fashionable family on the Wipplingerstrasse.”

“Hmm,” said Andras wryly. “If it’s a matter of fashion, I suppose I can’t possibly refuse. Now come over here and give me a proper kiss.”

Marta grinned triumphantly as her husband pulled her into his arms. If anyone ever asked why she’d given up a title and a fortune to marry a musician—as they still occasionally did—it was moments like this that she pointed to. Every single time.

--

The newest member of the family arrived two weeks later, carried in a basket and delivered by a beaming Heini. It was certainly a fetching creature; small and bristly and ivory-colored with dark splotches and shining eyes. And the children, of course, were utterly enchanted by it.

“What should we call him?” six-year-old Zoltan demanded. “Should it be a Hungarian name?”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “No, silly, Nyafi the cat already has a Hungarian name. The pig needs an Austrian one.”

“But Wolfgang already has an Austrian name…”

“Well, Wolfgang is named after a composer,” Marta cut in gently. “So perhaps this little fellow should be too. Andras, what music does he make you think of when you see him?”

“He has rather melancholy eyes, doesn’t he,” said Andras. He scratched his chin thoughtfully and hummed a few bars of something slow and romantic. Both Sofia and Zoltan screwed up their faces, thinking deeply, until finally Sofia clapped her hands in triumph.

“Of course!” she cried. “Chopin! It’s perfect.”

“Well, I certainly like it,” said Marta. “But Anna should have the final say. What do you think, love?”

The entire family looked down at Anna, who was crouched by the basket softly petting the piglet’s bristles. At the sound of her name, the little girl looked up and beamed.

“Chopin,” she said. “My piggie.”

There appeared to be nothing more to say on the subject.

--

“I am going to make that damn creature into kolbasz,” Andras growled. “I mean it, Marta. This is the last straw.”

Marta’s eyebrows went up. “Final straw? What were the first straws?” She had to admit, the last month having Chopin as a pet had been slightly less peaceful than expected, but she hadn’t been aware of anything too terrible. Besides, the children loved him.

“Well, first of all, Anna insists on letting him sleep in her room, and he knocks everything over and chews on all her toys. And then Zoltan put paint on his hooves for some piece of art he wanted to do—is that what art is coming to in this country?—and Chopin tracked it everywhere. And now,” Andras said with bitter triumph, “he has destroyed my work.”

Marta inhaled sharply. “He hasn’t broken Clara, has he?” Though technically an inanimate object, Andras’ beloved violin had been a part of the Király family since 1861, and if something happened to her…

“No, thank God. If Chopin damaged Clara he’d be at the butcher’s shop this very minute. But what he did do isn’t much better. I have a performance in three weeks, at which I am supposed to be debuting my No. 4 in B Minor which I have been working on all week, but that creature,” said Andras grimly, “has gone and defecated on it.”

The snort of laughter that escaped her lips was one Marta immediately regretted, and at Andras’ scowl she quickly apologized. “But how did he get on top of your sheet music, darling? Was it on the floor?”

“I don’t see how it matters where my papers were,” Andras said primly (which translated to “yes, they were on the floor, due to my excessive absentmindedness”). “We need to get that thing properly trained or he’ll be going right back to the country where he belongs.”

“I’ll take care of it. Now get back to work.” Marta wagged a stern finger in her husband’s direction. “If you give a performance that isn’t a success my parents still may find a way to annul our marriage.”

--

It was a generally understood rule in the Király household that when Andras was in his study composing, he was only to be disturbed in the event of an emergency. This was less because it would annoy him and more because when he was focused on music, he was temporarily incapable of thinking about anything else.

All of this was to say that, when Sofia cautiously entered the study shortly before dinner on Saturday, it was clearly a matter of some concern.

“Papa?” she asked. And, when her father neglected to look up, a bit louder: “Pa?”

Andras, whose world for the past two hours had consisted entirely of the concerto he was writing, jolted out of his reverie to find his hands nearly black with ink and a worried-looking eight-year-old staring at him. “What’s the matter, Sofia?”

“Have you seen Zoltan?” Sofia blurted out. 

“Sofia, your brother will be holed up in his bedroom or out in the garden. Is this really…”

“He’s not, though. I’ve looked everywhere, he’s missing.” Sofia sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “And it’s all my fault. The von Braumark twins came for a visit today and Zoltan wanted to play with us but Lottie said he couldn’t because he’s a boy and Liesel and I went along with it and he was so upset, and after the twins left I went to find him to say sorry and he’s gone.”

Having grown up with three temperamental younger sisters, Andras was quite accustomed to children going missing and then reappearing at the oddest of times. Therefore the news of Zoltan’s evident disappearance was no cause to panic.

Not yet, anyway.

--

Two hours later, through concentrated search efforts and several hastily dispatched messages, the Királys had been able to establish a list of places where Zoltan was not.

He wasn’t anywhere in the house or back garden.

He was not at his grandparents’ house (as far as anyone could tell, though the von Holstadt mansion had eighty rooms and it took considerable time to search all of them).

He was not at the homes of any of their family friends, nor was he in the nearby park.

And while all of this information was technically useful, it was not making Marta and Andras any less worried.

“I don’t want to call the police, but I think we might have to,” said Andras, pacing back and forth across the sitting room floor as he had been for the last ten minutes. “How else are we supposed to track the wretched boy down?”

Anna, who was crouched on the floor patting Chopin, looked up eagerly. “Chopin can find him.”

“Anna, darling,” Marta sighed. “Chopin is a very nice pig but I don’t think…”

“No, Mama, she’s right. Pigs have a good sense of smell, even better than dogs,” said Sofia. “And they’re very clever too. If we give him something of Zoltan’s to smell, and then we follow him…” She trailed off, looking up at her parents hopefully. 

Marta and Andras looked at each other for a long moment, until finally Marta sighed and nodded. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”

--

The five (four and a half?) of them made a rather odd sight on the rainy Viennese streets: Andras holding both Anna and a bright red umbrella, Marta clutching Sofia’s hand and Chopin’s lead. A proper traveling circus, that’s what they were. Marta would have found the situation more amusing had she not been scared out of her wits.

Chopin, at least, seemed to have understood his instructions. After getting a good whiff of Zoltan’s nightshirt he appeared to recognize the boy’s scent and was now trotting along briskly, pausing occasionally to snuffle at the ground. If he actually found Zoltan, Marta decided, she would feed him the finest scraps to be found anywhere in the city.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes, Chopin halted in his tracks at the imposing gothic facade of St. Maria’s am Gestade. He snuffled at the ground for a moment as though confirming a suspicion, and then grunted with satisfaction.

“Is it sacrilegious to bring a pig into a church?” Marta inquired.

“If we’re looking for a missing child, then I’d say we’ll be forgiven,” Andras replied. “And this door had better be unlocked.”

It was, thank goodness. And when Marta’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she detected, in one of the front pews, a small dark-haired figure sitting completely still.

“Zoltan!”

The little boy looked up in surprise as his family all but ambushed him. “Mama? Papa? Chopin? What time is it?”

“Past time for you to be home! I am so glad you’re safe.” Marta pulled her son into a tight hug before pulling back with a frown. “But darling, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I like that painting,” Zoltan replied, pointing up at the glorious gold-hued altarpiece. “It always makes me feel better. So I thought I would come and sit here until I stopped being cross with Sofia.” He looked down at his feet and kicked his legs guiltily. “But it was naughty to run away, wasn’t it.”

“Very naughty,” Marta said, with considerably less sternness than she intended. “You’re lucky that we found you.”

“No, Chopin find him,” Anna insisted from Andras’ arms.

“Chopin was brilliant,” gushed Sofia. “Pa, you like him now, don’t you? You won’t have him made into sausages?”

Andras let out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose so, but I expect you lot to keep him in line. Train him up. No feral pigs in my house, if you please.”

As the children launched into a debate about what tricks, if any, Chopin could be trained to do, Marta reached down and scratched the piglet gently between the ears. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I knew you were worth the trouble.”

While none of the other members of the family would believe her, Marta insisted that Chopin replied to this with a very cheeky wink.

[ablogcalledrevenge]

I’m so intrigued as to why you hated Peter Rabbit so much omg. Please tell!!

I’m putting this under a read more because it got really long and complicated. Sorry, but I have a lot of feelings and thoughts about this and Peter Rabbit is the vessel.

That being said, if you like the movie, that’s okay! You’re allowed to like it and you shouldn’t let me make you feel bad. I love tons of bad movies! Spice World always makes me smile!

Also I want to say that I am not blaming or mad at the actors, crew, the CGI people. Like they did the best with what they had and I don’t fault them. I mostly blame the writers, director, and producers. Especially the producers.

BUT we can’t forget that, at the end of the day, this movie was a cashgrab, merchandise factory of a movie. This is, as my old roommate coined, a parking ticket movie. Basically the only reason half of the people worked on this movie was because they got a bad parking ticket and needed some quick cash. I do not believe for a second that Margot Robbie or Domhnall Gleeson looked at this script and went “yes, this seems like exactly the kind of children’s movie I’ve always dreamed of doing.” Everyone involved with this film did it for the money or because they were contractually obligated. And honestly, that’s okay. I could live with that. These are their jobs and they’re allowed to make money. But when you do a project because you’re forced to, or for the payout, it shows in the work. We can tell when your heart’s not in it. But the movie had bigger issues than the motivations behind it.

1. The movie didn’t have a good villain. Perhaps this is because I’m older and have more sympathy but Thomas McGregor is a very ineffectual villain. We start the movie, meeting him, as if he were the main character! We see that he’s a bit of a control freak and that he can be a little rude to people and then we see him lose his job and have a mental breakdown. He gets this house in the country and all he wants to do is sell it and move on. The rabbits are actively (and against their own desires, but we’ll get into that later) working against him to make selling the house harder. This guy’s supposed to be the villain? This guy who basically lost everything in his life and just wants to go home and spends half the movie getting electrocuted because he doesn’t want animals in the house when he’s trying to sell it? Maybe it’s because Domhnall can make anyone charming, or maybe it’s poor writing, but I watched the movie asking why I was supposed to hate McGregor. He hadn’t done anything wrong! To be honest, as you go through the movie it seems like the rabbits are the antagonists! If the movie was hoping to make him a Cruella DeVil figure, they failed. Thomas is a sad, broken man and I just felt bad for him. Also I don’t enjoy seeing my husband getting beat up by CGI rabbits, it’s embarrassing, but that’s beside the point.

2. The romance between Bea and Thomas is forced, unnecessary, and unlikely to last. Considering they’re supposed to get married and have a baby in the sequel, I think it’s even more ridiculous. The third movie will have them getting a much needed divorce. Like this is a kid’s movie, I don’t know why it needed a romance?? But basically Bea and Thomas have absolutely nothing in common. This isn’t a cute ‘opposites attract’ thing, this is that their values and morals and desires don’t match up at all. They’re completely different people! The fact that Thomas spends the whole movie basically lying to get Bea to like him should be proof enough that whoever wrote the characters never intended them to be a legitimate couple. They’re pushed together because, idk it’s a movie and we have to have a happy ending which means a wedding because apparently we’re in Shakespeare’s time?? People are allowed to be friends and they work better as friends! Also do you think Bea knows anything about shibari? That’s what Thomas needs and you expect this little granola painter to be able to tie him up and rough him around? Oh please.

3. The movie is just bad. The humor and plot are very weak and the characters are mostly one dimensional. I think I laughed once during the entire time I watched it. I must admit, in an effort for transparency, that I didn’t finish the movie. I had to stop watching after 45 minutes because I couldn’t take anymore. What does it say about your movie that 45 minutes in and the plot hadn’t really even started yet? It was ALL exposition and that’s bad! This is a kid’s movie, the action needs to start sooner! The humor was oddly topical and unoriginal; the whole movie was. It was clear this was a rip off of Home Alone, Alvin and the Chipmunks, 101 Dalmatians, The Minions. If not through plot than through style. Playing a Top 40 song during an opening scene doesn’t make your movie better, it just makes it lazy. It’s clear you didn’t pick “Feel it Still” by Portugal the Man because it added something to Peter’s character. You added it because people know the song and it will make them sing along and smile. The plot is weak too, it doesn’t make sense. The whole point is that the rabbits want McGregor to leave... he does too! They actively sabotage themselves by pulling all these stunts on him. If they had just left him alone for 2 weeks, he could’ve sold the house and left. He probably would’ve sold it to some rich family that wouldn’t care about a garden full of animals! But instead they realize Thomas doesn’t like them and decide to electrocute him and humiliate him because he doesn’t want them in his garden for a specific amount of time that has an end date. Until the rabbits bothered him, Thomas didn’t care about them! If they had left him alone, he wouldn’t have ‘fallen in love’ with Bea and their other problems wouldn’t have happened too! They caused their own misery! What is this plot?! 

4. Bea is just an idiot and I can’t stand her. No shade to Rose Byrne because she is literally so pretty but the character is very dumb and annoying. She’s supposed to be Beatrix Potter which is also a very strange inclusion considering Beatrix was a real person and had her own life, just saying. But anyway, we can see early on in the film that Bea can communicate with the rabbits. They respect her and listen to her. So why does she let them, and at times, instigate them towards McGregor’s garden! She knows how dangerous it is and that Peter’s dad died there. They literally have the whole forest and her property and they can’t stay out of a 10 square foot garden? If she cares about those rabbits so much why doesn’t she grow some vegetables? Why doesn’t she stop them from bothering the guy who clearly wants nothing to do with them? She’s so caught up in ‘respecting nature’ and ‘being an artist’ that she’s so oblivious to everything else in her life and completely useless in every other way. Thomas deserves a better partner and Beatrix Potter deserved a better interpretation.

5. The characters are mean. Peter Rabbit is supposed to be a bit of a rascal and a scamp. He’s a troublemaker compared to his goody-two shoes siblings. We know this, it’s in the books. But everyone in this movie, especially Peter, is just so mean! Every other comment he makes is something disparaging against Benjamin or one of the other animals. He spends the whole movie being rude and dismissive and cocky. We’re supposed to root for this character? At times, considering his dialogue, Peter seems like more of an antagonist than Thomas. At least Thomas is nice to Bea, at least Thomas, in the beginning, only tries to keep the rabbits out and not hurt them. Peter’s a jerk and I don’t like his character. I don’t like any of the animal characters, they’re all so sarcastic and unsympathetic. So much of the ‘humor’ comes from one of the characters making fun of another and the jokes fall flat because of it. Beatrix Potter’s characters have such a softness to them, they invoke warm and cozy feelings. This movie was such an insult to her work.

Right before Peter Rabbit came out, I saw the Mr. Rogers documentary. Seeing him be so passionate about children’s media really made me think about the stories we give our kids. They deserve better than this recycled garbage! They deserve better characters and better stories. They deserve to be treated like human beings with brains and feelings and talents, instead of just mindless meat bags we plop in front of a screen to keep them out of our hair. I’m not saying that we can’t have entertainment that’s silly or stupid but when every kid’s movie is exactly the same, I start to feel bad. Children deserve quality! 

So here’s my pitch for a Peter Rabbit movie: Up until Thomas goes to drop the rabbits in the river, everything is the same. I would make Peter and his siblings nicer and more inclined to work together as a team but otherwise everything is the same. Then, right before Thomas drops the bag, he stops. What is he doing? What has his life become? He’s about to kill innocent animals because he lost his job? He sinks down on the bridge and starts to cry. He starts telling the rabbits, because he has no one else, how terrible he feels. His job was the most important thing to him. He has no friends, no hobbies, no direction. He doesn’t know what to do with his life now. Maybe Peter pokes his head out and snuggles up to Thomas, showing empathy. Thomas goes on to say that while he enjoyed his job, he realizes now that he wasn’t truly happy and that getting revenge won’t make him happy. He looks down and sees the binoculars, the first gift he’s gotten in years. He looks and sees the rabbits curling up against him and he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to sell the house. Maybe he doesn’t have to go back to his life. So, with the help of his friend Bea and the rabbits, Thomas learns how to calm down and enjoy life. He learns to appreciate the small things and respect the beauty of nature. Maybe there’s a funny montage of Thomas trying to mow the lawn or garden. Maybe he makes everyone dinner with his vegetables and it’s really bad and everyone makes a funny face. It ends (a little like the original ending) with Thomas realizing that he may have lost his successful glamorous job in the city, but now he has friends. Now he has people who care about him and good food on his table. So the movie ends on a toy shop. Thomas is showing a little boy how to fly a remote control plane. Benjamin and Cottontail are in the middle of a tea party with a little girl. Bea is wrapping a gift for customer and Flopsy gets her paw stuck in the bow. Everything seems perfect and wonderful when we hear a huge crash offscreen. PETER! End Credits

[neonbluewaves]

Innocent eyes

A little something I wrote while I draw and write everything about the Prieto family, just kinda teasing, u kno? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

So have a bit of Neon’s grandma, Rocio

--

Rocio is tired. Well, that’s an understatement. She’s completely exhausted, how can a little child have so much energy? Watching over her nephew was very easy. Jacob liked to read, he liked to follow his grandpa around, and Gonzalo didn’t mind because it meant the little boy wouldn’t set the kitchen on fire, or would touch all the magic artefacts they had around their house. He was easy to manage, but Neon? She was a riot, a ball of energy, running around, up and down the mansion, picking everything in her reach and asking with wonder in her eyes “What’s this? What’s it do? Can I have it?” already turning it in her hands, looking at it from every angle. That had to come from her dad, Luisa was never like this, nor Carmen or Narcisso. And she was getting old to add to it.

She hears a loud THUD from upstairs and sighs “oh no”. She walks upstairs resigned with the fact that one child will probably destroy her house when many powerful wizards couldn’t even find it.

-Yaya, yaya, what’s here? Open, open!- says the small kid on her toes grabbing the door knob. Rocio stands there, looking at the door, she hasn’t gone in it in years, since the incident happened...

She looks down to Neon, maybe to tell her she can’t go in, maybe to look for some confidence and finally face the room, she doesn’t really know, but it seems it’s the last, because she opens it and the smell of old parchment and a faint scent of her father’s cologne hits her. Hard.

Neon rushes in, of course she does, looking around. It’s quite a big studio, Rocio had almost forgotten everything in it. The big banner, the giant shelves full of books in different languages, the glass cabinets with miniature ships, maps, trinkets and other objects she never really knew what where used for. There’s a big window letting light in, the fireplace is dark, cold, unused. The desk sitting on one side with matching leather chairs has dust in it. Rocio has used a different room as her own studio, leaving this one untouched for so long. There’s still blood on the floor. Nobody bothered cleaning it. It was barely noticable on the dark carpet, but she knew exactly where it was, a darker tone than the rest of it. The whole room was made of dark browns and reds. The family color.

-Yaya look! Is this you?

Neon’s holding a framed picture. And she’s pointing at her, guess she hasn’t changed much through all these years.

-Yes, that’s me

-And who are all these people?- she turns the frame back towards her, looking at them all, again that innocent wonder in her eyes that reminds her of him.

-Those are my siblings, all younger than me- Neon looks up surprised, her mouth forming a perfect O, the child always so expressive

-You had a lot of brothers and sisters!

-I did

-Where are they? Why haven’t I met them?

.

.

40 years before

 -Ay, where is she? Leoba, come out for Morgana’s sake! It’s a family picture, just choose any mantilla, they’re all nice! And where is Santi? Geez, he needs a haircut, there’s no way he’s getting in that picture with that hair!

-Relax Isa, you’re gonna have a stroke or something

-Rocio, we won’t get another picture in years, father wants it in his studio, where he meets with other pure blood families! And they’ll see five nice looking young wizards and a... a...

-Okay, breathe, I’ll go find him and chop his hair so he looks “presentable”

And with that, Rocio takes a hat from the wall hanger and heads out, the last thing she hears is her sister yelling at her “A hat? Really? You’ll mess your hair!”

The sun is bright and the almond trees of their land look a lovely pale pink, all on full bloom. Santi couldn’t have gone too far, he wouldn’t want to upset father by being late to the picture. Such a daddy’s boy. When he was little he could do no wrong, the fault was always for any of the older siblings, no matter what. But she couldn’t blame him, she also doted on him too much, she couldn’t help it, that innocence, that thirst to know and understand everything around him, the way his grey eyes shone whenever he saw something new, she was smitten, anything he asked of her he’d get. Her new horse? All his. The sword she just purchased but he had wanted too? It was in his room, on the wall kept like a treasure. She had just picked some figs but he was hungry? He could eat them all. She loved him so much she was sure she’d find a way to bring down the moon for him if he asked.

After fifteen minutes of walking between trees she found him along with their brother Marcelo both snoring under a fig tree

-Oi! Don’t fall asleep under the fig tree, you’ll both catch a cold! Didn’t you learn that when we were little?

They both grumbled as they sat up, their clothes a mess with sand

-It’s fine, we’ll drink pepperup potion- said Marcelo, running his hands trough his hair as if to comb it

-Well, what will you drink when Isabel rips your arms off for being late for the picture? I’m pretty sure the guy must have just arrived, and she wanted Santi to get a haircut

-Why? I’m letting it grow so you can all enjoy my wonderful light brown hair!

-She’ll chop it off- said Marcelo stretching

-C’mon, before a vein in her head explodes- she takes out her wand and with a flick of it all the dirt is gone from their clothes.- we don’t want to deal with that.

 -Finally!- exclaims Isabel as she hurries to them, Leoba and Teodoro behind her.- oh, Rocio, you didn’t cut his hair! He looks like those muggle boys that work picking fruit.

-Excuse you, I look way more handsome than any of them

-You know what?- she says, voice resigned - whatever, there’s no time, this good man has to go take more pictures, so just brush it a little out of your face, yes, like this, okay, Sir! Sir, we’re ready!

- Alright, so, tall ones behind, the shorter ones in front.- instructs the camera man- in front of the family banner, correct?

-Yes, okay let’s... oh Rocio, really? The hat around the neck? Fine... And you Leoba, really? You can’t get your hair out of your face even for a picture

-Sis.- Teodoro puts a hand on her shoulder, comforting- relax, it’ll look good, this all just adds to show our personalities

-Oh please, we’re a noble and ancient pure blood house! We don’t need personality

-Said the one with the worst temperament...

-I heard you!- she turns to Leoba, eye twitching

-Please, take the picture - hurries Rocio, before another fight starts

-Okay, everyone look to the camera, alright, it’ll only take a few seconds... yes.... okay....- a bright flash blinds them all- aaaand done!

-Yeah, done with seeing, it was nice knowing what pretty girls look like before the world went white...- Says Santi, rubbing his eyes as hard as he can

-Thank you sir, we’ll await for the picture!

The man gathers everything he brought and leaves hurriedly to his next apointment, and right as the door closes Isabel turns to Leoba

-SO I HAVE A BAD TEMPERAMENT HUH?

-OH MY GOD, HOW CAN YOU ASK WHEN YOU’RE YELLING? YOU’RE PROVING A POINT

-I’LL PROVE YOU A POINT WHEN I TURN YOUR ARMS TO TREE BRANCHES

-OH YEAH, WELL I’LL LET THE DOGS IN TO PEE ON YOUR BED

And as another fight breaks Teodoro decides to apparate anywhere but near the house, Marcelo tries his best to get them to calm down and not take out their wands, and Rocio, with a weary sigh, tells Santi to leave before Isabel decides to actually chop his hair. With a smile he runs away as she goes help Marcelo deal with them. It’s her job as the oldest sister, she thinks, to take care of them all. She wonders who will take care of her once their father isn’t there.

.

.

.

.

She looks at the body in front of her. Laying on the ground face down, the bright flash of green having shocked and momentarily blinded her. She quickly falls to her knees, turning him face up.

Santi’s eyes are wide open, the innocence and wonder gone from them, now just two dull grey circles. His nose broken and bleeding from the fall he’s taken, and suddenly drops of water fall on his face, gently and slowly mixing with the blood. Rocio’s tears.

-santi, santi! SANTIAGO! PLEASE OH GOD PLEASE NO, DON’T, DON’T LEAVE LIKE THIS!

Watching everything is Isabel, as stunned as Rocio, she hadn’t known she was holding her breath until Rocio’s screeches had broken the silence, and she let’s out a shaky breath. Her wand gripped tightly in her trembling hand.

Rocio looks up and Isabel swears she’s never seen such rage in anyone’s eyes, ever, let alone her sister’s, and directed towards her. The red irises shine with tears of grief and anger, her face slowly turning that same color,she expects yelling, but all she hears is a quiet raspy voice

-What. Have. You. Done?

They both know what she’s done. She’s killed their little brother. She’s killed father’s favourite child, Rocio’s favourite sibling. She’s killed her own favourite sibling. She feels a sting in her eyes, realization sinking in. She didn’t mean to kill him. She wanted to kill Rocio. But he had jumped in the middle. He took the curse for the sister, who was willing to give him everything, because every time Rocio would hand him something of hers, Santi felt such pure love, he couldn’t bear to lose that. So he jumped and took the curse. And now, unknowingly, both him and Isabel had taken away the most precious thing in Rocio’s life. The innocent grey eyes of her little brother.

-I...I didn’t mean to- Isabel starts, but Rocio’s wand is up

-you didn’t mean to.... but you did. Run. Run away so I never have to see you again. RUN OR TWO PRIETOS WILL DIE TODAY!

There’s no time for Isabel to go, because the fireplace lights up in a green light, a different one, and their father is there.

He sees the scene. His oldest daughter cradling a body. His son’s body. She’s holding him tightly against her chest, his face hidden, but he knows it’s him because he’d recognize that shade of brown anywhere. He follows the direction of Rocio’s wand, pointed at Isabel. And he knows. He clenches his jaw.

-F-father...- whimpers Isabel, and she sees something in his eyes that finally makes her move. And she runs, she runs out of the house. Their father takes out his wand from his robes and a book. He leaves it on the ground, next to Rocio.

And just like that he marches after his daughter. Rocio doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, at the moment all she can do is hold Santiago in his arms and cradle him tightly, whispering against his hair that she loves him and apologizing a thousand times, tears still falling. Left alone in their father’s studio, with the smell of parchment paper and a trace of his cologne.

.

.

.

-Yaya? Yaya why are you crying?

Rocio comes out of her trance, she’s sitting in one of the chairs in front of the big desk, tears falling. In front of her Neon, who looks like she’s about to cry too

-I’m sorry- she says, the poor kid doesn’t know why her grandma is crying, so she thinks it must be her fault.

-Oh no, Macarena, it’s nothing you did, this room is very dusty and it’s making my eyes watery.

Of course she doesn’t know what grief is, she’s a little girl walking around a world full of wonders, all she knows is innocence and curiosity, like Santi did once. And as Rocio picks her up to hold her close like she did with her little brother, she prays that she never has to know what it’s like to mourn those we love most.

[theworkofxanderking]

The Originals: Bad Blood (Alternative Season Five)

Episode Two: Family Reunion

Warnings: I do not own the original content to “The Originals”, “The Vampire Diaries” or “Legacies” or any of the characters from the television shows.

15 plus, displays of Violence, Gore, Torture, M/M, F/M, F/F.

Helton, California

Rebekah had spent the last four years desperately searching for some magical solution that would get rid of the Hollow once and for all so she could finally reunite with her siblings and her niece but after dead after dead end she had began to fear she’d never have her family back until she was fed a lead by her sister Freya about a coven which specialized in a very dark and very forbidden magic called Malus.

Malus was a form of magic that even Rebekah’s aunt Dahlia would never meddle with as it was rumored the darkness of the magic itself would take over possession of the spell caster if used often and Dahlia never did like giving up control.

Rebekah had heard many rumors and many horror stories about Malus but due to lack of any evidence of it existing she had thought nothing of it until Freya managed to track down a concentrated amount of extremely dark magic in a small town in California soon realizing the magic was Malus.

After years of hunting only to find dead ends Rebekah was understandably jaded but refused to give up on one day reuniting with her family and decided to go to this small town in California called Helton only to be left very surprised by what she would find awaiting her there.

New Orleans, Louisiana

Meanwhile in New Orleans a faction meeting was taking place within the dining area of the Mikaelson’s compound. Seated at the table was Hayley as the head of the werewolf faction, Marcel as the head of the vampire faction, Bonnie as the head of the witch faction and a tall dark-haired man named Alejandro Burke as the head of the human faction.

The meeting started like any other meeting as the factions discussed various topics that concerned each faction and ended with a surprise for everyone when Klaus vamp sped into the room instantly changing the atmosphere upon arrival as Hayley sat there in shock while Marcel, Bonnie and Alejandro stood as if it to battle if the infamous original hybrid got violent.

“Bonnie Bennet I must admit I was rather surprised to find out about you relocating to New Orleans and here was me believing you hated ever fibre of my being.” Klaus said with his signature smirk while looking around the room noticing Marcel, Hayley and a stranger in his home.

“I was told you wouldn’t be returning.” Bonnie replied through gritted teeth. “For your sake I hope it’s a short homecoming.”

“You always were obnoxiously brave.” Klaus responded with a sly cackle before turning to look at Hayley. “We need to talk.”

“Klaus we’re kind of in the middle of something.” Hayley snapped back at him.

Klaus not to take no for an answer vamp sped over to Alejandro instantly snapping his neck and throwing his body to the ground ruthlessly.

“Like I said we need to talk Hayley.” Klaus repeated.

A furious Bonnie marched towards as she held her hands out while she chanted in Croatian causing Klaus to scream in pain as he fell to his knees.

“We have worked way too hard for far too long for you to just come in and ruin everything.” Bonnie said to Klaus as he screamed in pain due to Bonnie’s magic before she magically snapped his neck forcing his body to completely fall to the ground lifeless.

“I guess this means we need to find a new head of the human faction.” Marcel said with a tired sigh. “It took us long enough to find this one.”

“Deal with him Hayley like you promised you would or else I will.” Bonnie told Hayley making it clear she wasn’t messing around.

“I’ll speak to him,” Hayley replied while looking at Klaus’ unconscious body wondering why after all this time he had decided to come back. “I can’t promise it will be successful, but we’ll worry about that when it comes to it.”

Helton, California

Rebekah walked up to the welcome to Helton sign where someone had graffiti ed a L and W on the Helton sign so it spelled Hell town as she looked inwards to the small town seeing nothing but trees from a distance before vamp speeding inwards until reaching what looked to be the town center.

Rebekah stood on the road with a boarded up clearly run-down hotel to the left of her simply called Helton Hotel and a run-down store that clearly used to be a local shop to the right of her.

“If this is another bloody dead end somebody’s neck is going to be broken.” Rebekah moaned before hearing sounds of screams coming from further in front of her in the direction of the woods.

She vamp sped into the Helton woods  only to stop behind a tree as she saw people in black robes hiding their faces gathered in a circle chanting something in a language she had never heard of in her 1000 years on this earth while a man stood tied to a tree in the middle of the circle.

It was clear to Rebekah that she had found some form on ancient witch ritual in process in that moment as she began to grow hopeful about a solution to her family’s problems.

She began to notice a thick black smoke appearing in the circle causing the man tied to the tree to let out a series of screams making it clear he knows what’s coming and he’s completely terrified by it as Rebekah wondered what the black smoke was.

She watched from behind the tree as the black smoke formed a shape of the outline of a man before Nathaniel appeared in the black smoke’s place as the smoke disappeared.

“Nathaniel.” Rebekah muttered under her breath shocked to see a friend she had believed she had killed many years ago.

Nathaniel stood there in front of the man tied to the tree as the people in robes continued to chant in an unrecognizable language as the man began pleading for his life only for Nathaniel to smirk at his pleads before reaching out his right hand and began to chant with the people around them.

Rebekah continued to watch as the man’s cries became no more watching as his heart was magically pulled out of his chest leaving the man completely lifeless as the heart moved across the sky before landing into Nathaniel’s hand before Nathaniel dropped it to the ground with a look of disgust.

“Rebekah Mikaelson,” He shouted as he turned to look towards her way before disappearing in a puff of black smoke and reappearing in the same puff of smoke in front of Rebekah. “I guess a conversation is to be had.”

New Orleans, Louisiana

Klaus awoke quickly rising to his feet to see Hayley still sat at the table in the dining area of the compound looking far from happy with him which he didn’t care for as he was too furious over Bonnie getting better of him once again.

“Your little witch has quite the anger issues hardly befitting of a regent.” Klaus said to her making it clear he was not happy with Hayley’s decision to bring her to New Orleans.

“In fairness Klaus she had a good reason to be angry you killed someone right in front of her Marcel and I maybe used to your bloody temper tantrums, but Bonnie isn’t.” Hayley replied as she stood up making it clear that she wasn’t happy about her baby father’s unexpected return. “What are you even doing here Klaus?”

“I wasn’t exactly expecting the warmest of welcomes, but I was expecting better than this.” Klaus replied.

“You haven’t been seen or heard by anyone in five years Klaus and the minute you are you killed the head of the human faction possibly screwing up a peace treaty I worked my ass off for.” Hayley snapped at him.

“I did say I wanted to speak to you,” Klaus said with a sly smirk. “If you only weren’t so rude to me, I wouldn’t have had to find a way to get your attention.”

“Why are you back Klaus?” Hayley asked him as they both noticed a vase of flowers on the table turning black and dying.

“I thought my siblings weren’t in New Orleans.” Klaus responded confused over which sibling was also in the city.

“They’re not Elijah’s still in France somewhere not even knowing he’s Elijah, Rebekah’s on some wild goose chase Freya sent her on and Kol’s living with his wife Davina in San Francisco.” Hayley explained to him equally confused by what they both had just witnessed.

“Well clearly someone is in New Orleans.” Klaus replied.

“Probably more reasoning for you getting as far away from here as possible then.” Hayley said to him clearly eager for Klaus to get gone.

“I need Hope’s number.” Klaus revealed to Hayley causing her to scoff.

“You’d have her number if you had bothered to speak to her at least once in the last five years.” Hayley said before sighing. “Look I get it’s hard that you can be near her it would kill me if I was in your shoes but that doesn’t excuse you for ignoring her all this time. She thinks this is all her fault Klaus.”

“None of this is her fault,” Klaus replied clearly hurt to know he had caused his daughter pain. “I was only trying to stay away to give her a better life all I’ve ever wanted was for Hope to have a better life than the ones we had.”

“I know,” Hayley responded her attitude clearly softening towards Klaus. “I’ll give you her number because I know she would love to hear from you, but you can’t be in New Orleans right now.”

“Because of Bonnie Bennet?” Klaus asked clearly not amused to be told to leave what he believed was his city.

“Because of me I’ve built a life here for myself and it’s a good life I can’t have you wrecking it.” Hayley told him. “You left New Orleans behind and it’s my city now you need to learn to respect that.”

Helton, California.

Rebekah and Nathaniel found themselves walking down an old and broken road in the small ghost town of Helton walking past many boarded up and abandoned homes that clearly had stories of their own to tell.

“So how long exactly have you been a witch?” Rebekah asked her former friend.

“I’ve always been a witch I just didn’t know it until after you killed me.” Nathaniel revealed to her.

“How exactly did you come back from the dead?” She wondered.

“I’m not entirely sure how it works I mean I definitely have more of an understanding over it now but that’s not really saying much.” He explained with as little detail as possible.

“I’m guessing this long-forgotten magic called Malus has something to do with it and I’m also guessing what I saw was that magic in practice.” Rebekah guessed eager to get answers from a friend she once believed she had killed.

“Rebekah what are you doing here?” Nathaniel snapped at them as they both stopped walking. “You clearly didn’t come looking for me however now you’ve found me it’s clear you need something of me and I’m guessing it has something to do with the dark magic inside of you.”

“You can sense the Hollow inside of me?” Rebekah asked still in shock by this whole interaction. “Forgive me if I’m struggling to make sense of my friend suddenly going from being dead to being alive and practicing some folklore style magic.”

“I guess it must be rather confusing when one of your kills come back to life.” Nathaniel mocked while giving a smile to Rebekah.

“You’d be surprised how many of my kills have come back to life.” Rebekah responded with a laugh. “But you’re the only one I’m truly pleased to see again.”

“You don’t have to butter me up Rebekah I understand your kind a lot better than I did back then and I understand now that you never truly meant to hurt me.” Nathaniel replied to her. “Besides I’m thankful for your healthy appetite without being murdered I may have never found out who I am.”

“What exactly are you? I never seen a witch do what you did back there nor have I heard the language in which you were all chanting.” Rebekah asked continuing to question him.

“I’m a witch one with Malus magic inherited to me by my father and as for what Malus is it’s best you don’t know too much about it there’s a reason this type of magic is shrouded in secrecy.” Nathaniel said. “Shall we just get to the reason you’re here now or are you going to continue to waste my time?”

“You were a lot bloody nicer to me in the past.” Rebekah snapped.

“We’re all different people now.” Nathaniel replied before placing his right hand on Rebekah’s chest as he began chanting in the same unrecognizable language as before.

Rebekah watched Nathaniel as his eyes turned completely black while he continued to chant his spell before she suddenly felt a screaming pain all over her body forcing her to let out a series of agonizing screams before she fell to her knees as Nathaniel’s eyes turned blue before turning back to normal.

“Wow,” Nathaniel said with a wicked smile clearly loving the feel of the power he had just taken from Rebekah. “I heard rumors about the Hollow, but I never expected it to pack such a punch.”

“What did you just do?” Rebekah asked him as she struggled to stand back up. “I don’t feel the Hollow anymore.”

“I took it from you it’s a rather simple ritual to be honest I’m guessing your long-lost sister Freya wasn’t up to such a task.” Nathaniel explained to her. “In her defense she doesn’t have access to the kind of magic I do.”

“Looks like somebody’s been keeping up on us all this time.” Rebekah replied with a smile.

“I always make sure to know all I can about any potential enemies of mine.” He responded. “Now if you’re wanting the same done for your brothers, I have a request of my own.”

“Of course, you bloody do. Freya suddenly being able to track your magic was no accident was it?” Rebekah asked as she realized, she hadn’t found her former friend out of chance.

“You were always the smartest Mikaelson.” Nathaniel said with a sinister smile.

New Orleans, Louisiana

Klaus found himself walking down the streets of New Orleans within the French Quarter holding his phone with his daughter Hope’s number already dialed as he pushed himself to find the courage to press call which took him longer than he had liked only for her phone to ring out to answer phone.

“Hope,” Klaus said before pausing. “It’s your father I’d really like for you to call me back. I’ve missed you!”

Before Klaus could finish his sentence, he noticed Elijah coming out of the magic shop nearby much to his surprise as Klaus vamp sped into an alleyway to continue watching Elijah without being noticed.

He watched on as Elijah walked over to and kissed a brunette beauty he didn’t recognize as Raven Devereaux  not that he would having never met the witch before and continued to spy on his brother and his mystery woman until he was no longer in sight.

As far as Klaus knew Elijah had no knowledge of him or the rest of his family but he knew within his paranoid mind this couldn’t be a coincidence.

He began to wonder if Elijah’s memories had been restored but realized that’s something Hayley would’ve told him then he began to wonder who the mystery woman was and why Elijah was in New Orleans with her.

Klaus hadn’t seen Elijah or any of his siblings in five years and although he should’ve felt overjoyed he knew one thing for sure and that was that his brother returning to New Orleans wasn’t a good sign for anyone and he was determined to find out what he was up to.

Helton, California

Rebekah stood in the ruins of what was once the town center to this now abandoned town as she continued to look both ways growing impatient while waiting for her sibling to show up in Helton knowing she would finally be reunited with her brother.

“This better be good Rebekah you interrupted my date night.” Kol moaned as he sped his way to in front of his sister vamp style. “Besides you know we can’t be around each other anymore.”

“It’s good to see you too brother.” Rebekah replied before giving him a hug.

“Hold on,” Kol said as he let go of Rebekah and took a look around the ghost town “I swear I’ve been here before.”

“Well it’s certainly proving to be quite the popular abandoned resort.” Rebekah replied.

“How is nothing bad happening right now?” Kol asked her.

“I no longer have the Hollow inside of me and now it’s your turn to get rid of the remains of that bloody witch once and for all.” Rebekah explained to him. “And don’t be unappreciative I basically had to sell my soul to get to where we are right now.”

“Dear sister, like you still have a soul to sell.” Kol joked before his neck instantly snapped and his body fell to the ground much to Rebekah’s shock.

“Was that really necessarily?” Rebekah asked noticing black smoke forming next to her before Nathaniel appeared by her side.

“I’d prefer to do this favour for you anonymously I tend not to like revisiting my past especially the more complicated parts.” Nathaniel responded. “You’re getting what you wanted Rebekah don’t dictate to me how I go about delivering it to you.”

“It’s not like you’re not getting anything out of this tell me why a clearly powerful witch like yourself would want the Hollow’s magic anyway?” Rebekah quizzed her former friend knowing he had an ulterior motive.

“A man only comes to a place like this if they are either hiding themselves or hiding something else, I’m the latter.” Nathaniel revealed to her.

“Who was the man you killed and the clearly disturbed witches in black robes?” Rebekah asked as she continued to interrogate him.

“He wasn’t so much killed as he was paused so to speak my coven are making sure it keeps that way, but extra power could come in hand.” Nathaniel admitted.

“You said you inherited your magic from your father and if I remember correctly you came to Ayana because your father murdered your mother.” Rebekah replied as she began to put the pieces together. “That man is your father.”

“That man is nothing more than the reason nobody has heard from me in a thousand years that and nothing more he is the vein of my existence and one way or another I’m going to finally but an end to his miserable life and finally be free.” Nathaniel said through gritted teeth making it clear he would stop at nothing to end his father who was his father by blood and nothing more.

“Okay let’s just get Kol de-hollow-fied and then Klaus and Elijah and I’ll help you with whatever you want me to do besides giving you access to the Hollow’s magic.” Rebekah responded clearly feeling for Nathaniel’s story which felt similar her and her sibling’s life back before they were finally rid of Mikael.

“But you don’t even know what it is I want from you.” Nathaniel responded clearly shocked by Rebekah’s willingness to help.

“I’ve missed my family and I would always do anything for them besides I’m pretty sure whatever unsavory request you ask of me is well and truly deserved considering I did kill you and everything.” Rebekah replied.

“Well then I guess it’s time for a family reunion.” Nathaniel responded with a sincere smile clearly touched by Rebekah’s words.

[squirrelly831]

Miscarriage [Hakyeon and Taekwoon]

If it wasn’t obvious, this is angst.

Enjoy~

Hakyeon

Sojin was already 4 months pregnant. She wore the pregnancy look well and even with the slightly showing stomach, she looked like a supermodel on a catwalk. It was her first pregnancy with her husband, Hakyeon, and they were over the moon with the idea of expanding their family of two to a family of three. Imani had convinced Sojin to go maternity clothes shopping as she was starting to outgrow her clothes due to her growing stomach.

So the day she was preparing to go shopping, she felt small pains. It continued through the shopping experience and Imani had repeatedly mentioned to Sojin to go to the hospital. After three kids of her own, Imani had never had pains like that in any of her pregnancies. However, Sojin blew it off. Her mom had told her once before she had sharp pains early on in the pregnancy, so she figured she was just going through the same.

Once home, Sojin invited her friends over at her place to have a girl’s night as Hakyeon had already told her he wouldn’t be home that night. She invited her best friend, Naeun, along with Jasmine, Imani, Alessia, and Stephanie. As the girls were in the living room gossiping and talking about their day, Sojin and Naeun were in the kitchen making dinner.

Sojin felt a sharp jab in her abdomen and she hissed as she jerked back from the cutting board. The knife in her hand dropped on the counter as she pressed a hand on the edge of the counter and one on her stomach.

Naeun jumped at the sound and turned from the food on the stove, “What’s wrong?”

“Just a cram–AH!” She let out a scream as she fell on her knees in agony.

“SOJIN!” The women in the living room heard Naeun shout as she knelt beside her best friend.

The girls ran into the kitchen, Imani on the phone with emergency services. Alessia moved down to Sojin and touched her stomach, “Where’s the pain?” Sojin cried as she moved her hand over her belly. Alessia had a grim expression on her face, “Do you mind if I check something?” Sojin shook her head and Alessia pulled at Sojin’s jeans to see blood. Naeun’s eyes widened as she took her best friend’s hand. Alessia took the phone from Imani, “Keep watch outside for the ambulance.” She left the room not wanting Sojin to hear her medical opinion, “Hello? I’m a nurse from XX Hospital. Tell the EMTs heading here that this may be a miscarriage…”

  Naeun called Hakyeon from the hospital finally able to compose herself enough to make a phone call. She had her head in her hands when she heard her name. Her head shot up as she saw Hakyeon jogging to her side, “Hakyeon…” She stood up numbly as she waited for him to approach her.

“Sojin… Where is she? How’s she? The baby? How are they?”

Naeun bit her lip not wanting to be the one to convey the news, but being the only one at the hospital, she had to. “She was taken back when she got in. They said she had a miscarriage.” Hakyeon let out a strangled sound. “They did a d&c surgery. It–It was her decision. She wanted to make sure the remains of the–” Naeun broke into sobs, “I’m so sorry, Hakyeon. She’s so broken. She wouldn’t respond to me or the doctor. She just stared and nodded or shook her head.” She felt a pair of arms, but was too distraught to care who it was.

“I’m going to take her home” Her husband, Seokjin, cut in. There was a silent communication between the two men. Naeun wasn’t in the right state of mind to handle this situation. “Call us if you need us, okay?” 

Hakyeon knew Seokjin’s words were from a place of empathy. Hakyeon knew the Naeun and Seokjin knew just how it felt to lose a baby better than anyone else. They were still overcoming the incident even five months after the incident. Hakyeon felt his eyes burn as he swallowed a lump to keep his cool, “Thanks, man… I’ll text you when we get home.” He watched the couple leave, Seokjin’s arm around his weeping wife as the memories of her own miscarriage resurfaced.

Hakyeon spent the next thirty minutes in the waiting room to cry out all the pain he could. He knew Sojin needed an anchor and he couldn’t be that for her if he was fighting his own broken heart. Hakyeon was able to talk to the doctor who had no idea why the miscarriage happened. Once he had gathered his strength, Hakyeon walked down the daunting hallway to Sojin’s hospital room. Hakyeon came face to face with Sojin’s name on the plaque outside the door number. He knocked and waited for a reply, but got none. As it was late in the night, Hakyeon figured she was asleep, so he opened the door and entered the darkness. He shut the door quietly as he made his way into the moonlit room. Hakyeon was surprised to see Sojin wide awake. She sat up in bed, her head turned to the window, and she stared mindlessly out at the sky. “Yeobo.”

Sojin winced at his voice. She screwed her eyes shut as her hand instinctively fell to her stomach. She wasn’t ready to face her husband. What could she say to him to make this better? Her hand was pulled away from her stomach as Hakyeon took it in his own and pressed a tender kiss on her fingers. She felt her tears gather and pry her eyes open for their escape. She slouched forward as she squeezed his hand in both of hers. Her arms shook as did her shoulders. She tried to find the words to say, but only two escaped her, “I’m sorry…” She broke down into tears, “I’m so sorry.”

Hakyeon wrapped his arm around her and pulled her head to his chest. He kissed her head a couple of times as his own tears swelled. “This isn’t your fault.” He rubbed her upper arm as he placed another couple of kisses on her head. “You have no reason to apologize. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” Sojin pulled back and stared at him in the eyes. “You focus on getting better love” he ran his thumb under her eyes. “Then if you want, we can try again… later.”

“I feel like my heart has been thrown in a shredder. It hurts so much.”

Hakyeon’s heart shattered at how defeated and heartbroken his wife looked. He held her close once more, “I’m sorry you have to go through this pain right now. If I could I’d take it from you. But we’ll get through this. I promise.” He pressed a long kiss on the side of her face and the two stayed wrapped in each other’s arms the rest of the night.

Taekwoon

It was close to Christmas and Imani was excited for her husband, Taekwoon, to return home from his solo tour in Japan. She had planned to surprise Taekwoon with her pregnancy news for Christmas. She was only two and a half months in, but she was ready to have a sibling for her eight year old, David. He was excited too. To have a little sibling he could play with was something David had asked his mom constantly.

However, one day, Imani contracted a fever and called her mother-in-law because she didn’t want David catching whatever she had. Her in-laws came and her father-in-law picked up David, but her mother-in-law stayed with her to make sure she’d be okay. She didn’t want Imani to be alone pregnant and sick even though Imani protested that she was fine. It wasn’t just a fever her mother-in-law was worried about. Imani had complained of cramps and backaches, but had refused a doctor visit.

It wasn’t until that night, Imani woke in sever pain that she shouted for her mother-in-law. She rushed inside to see Imani curled up in bed crying and complaining about the pain. She helped Imani out of bed where visible blood soaked in the sheets and her mother-in-law realized what had happened. She rushed her off to the hospital where Imani was told she had a miscarriage. Her mother-in-law called her son to break the news.

Taekwoon cancelled the remainder of his tour apologizing to fans and told them he had personal matters to tend to. He didn’t know what to think as he tried to absorb the news. His wife was pregnant and he didn’t know only to find out that she miscarried. His mind raced as he thought about the unborn baby before he strayed to Imani. How much pain was she enduring? How was she managing? He took the first plane home the next day where his dad and David greeted him at the airport. He took his son in his arms as he headed off to the car to see his wife. In the car, he found out Imani had refused to stay in the hospital another day and checked herself out.

He got to the house and he took David inside to the living room. “Stay here, I’ll be right back, buddy.” He saw his mom and kissed her cheek, “I’ll handle things here, ma.”

“What about David?”

Taekwoon looked back at David who was on the couch with one of his picture books he grabbed from the shelf. “I think Imani will need him here.” She nodded as she kissed him then went to David to kiss him goodbye. Taekwoon headed up to their bedroom and could hear Imani crying outside the door. He headed inside the room and straight to the bed. Imani noticed him and immediately clung to him. “It’s okay” he whispered as he rubbed her upper arm. He kissed the top of her head as he pulled her closed to him.

Suddenly, David ran inside the room, “MOMMY!” He climbed in their bed before Taekwoon could stop him. He stepped on the mattress as he made his way to his mom. Imani held out her hands and David threw himself in them.

“Hey baby” her voice cracked. “Did you have fun at granny’s and gramp’s place?”

David nodded excitedly, “Gramps made me lots of meat!” His head fell to the side as he stared at his mom, “Are you hurt, mommy?”

Imani gave her son a sad smile, “Yea, baby. Mommy’s not feeling really good.”

He got out of her arms, “Where are you hurt? I’ll kiss it for you.”

Imani broke into a sob as she pulled her son back into her arms. Taekwoon leaned over to her and pulled her head to his chest. She pressed kisses on her son’s head who just hugged her back. He reached up and kissed his mom’s cheek who in turn gave him a peck on the lips.

David snuggled in her arms, “Hugs and kisses take the pain away.”

“Yea. They do” she whispered as she looked up at her husband who pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

Part II | Part III

Credit to gif owners

Written & revamped by Squirrelly831

♕ REQUEST

☮ VIXX MASTERLIST

∞ ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

[pjtraveller]

avpsy sentence starters, act one

feel free to change stuff around!

✧ “I consider myself to be a very reasonable uptight bitch.”

✧ “It’s about a... hungry! withholding person who won’t kiss their partner!”

✧ “Oh yeah, hot stuff! Have you read them? Have you even read a book?”

✧ “Have you ever not read a book?”

✧ “The light! I can see the light! It’s my time to move on... looks like I won’t be able to do the dishes... you’ll have to cover for me!”

✧ “Woah, wipe out!”

✧ “In the name of stuffy old ninnies everywhere, what’s all the hubbub in here?”

✧ “I just want to point out that I now hold your fate in the palm of my tiny hand.”

✧ “Brimstone and boil, this’ll have to do.”

✧ “You’re a little to kind for your own good, and a little too foxy for mine.”

✧ “Why don’t you have a signed copy of my country album?”

✧ “My adventures aren’t repetitive, they’re familiar and comforting!”

✧ “Why would you look at that wonder boy when you could be looking at a wonder man?”

✧ “It’s like a ‘drag,’ man, but much worse.”

✧ “I’m sorry. We gotta break up.”

✧ “Sorry man, but I just broke up with your sibling.”

✧ “I hated having to pretend to be nice to your partner, ‘cause I can’t stand my little sibling!”

✧ “Hey, people are trying to use this bathroom and they’re not! And I think it’s your fault!”

✧ “Does baby want some whine with that cheese? Fuck you!”

✧ “The last thing this place needs is a whiny bitch stuck in the hallways and the bathrooms!”

✧ “Sometimes, when I’m really happy, I can shoot sparkles out of my fingers.”

✧ “You look as gay as the fourth of July!”

✧ “I’m magic! I’m gay!”

✧ “When I grow up, I wanna be a Rockette!”

✧ “If that small man were to fall from a chair, he could die.”

✧ “This is absolutely depraved, I love it!”

✧ “They better remember to do my essay, ‘cause it’s due tomorrow.”

✧ “You stink! And not just ‘cause of your toots.”

✧ “Then we’ll see who checks your Tumblr!”

✧ “Oh, hey! You washing blood off your hands, too?”

✧ “You won’t get away with this, you villain!”

✧ “You guys are going to make a nice weirdo sandwich... with a side of moron!”

✧ “Oh, god dammit, (name), I think my nose got broken!”

✧ “I’m not a kid anymore! I’m seventeen years old!”

✧ “None of you jive-ass bobbies are going to follow, you dig?”

✧ “Y’all should’ve let me know the minute you heard some funky shit was going down here!”

✧ “None of your beeswax, thunder-butt!”

✧ “Sorry my partner couldn’t be here, everyone, but the Wi-Fi, just couldn’t get it to work.”

✧ “As in, get your poopy butt outta here!”

✧ “’Tis with a heavy heart that I accept this civic duty.”

✧ “It takes a real man to tickle the ivories.”

✧ “Everybody likes you even if nobody likes you anymore.”

✧ “But I need you! My BODY needs you!”

✧ “I will never throw out all the shit you bought me.”

✧ “I’m sure you will never forget how hard I rocked your world.”

✧ “So this is it? Just like this? Just a good-bye?”

✧ “This isn’t like ‘good-bye,’ this is ‘you’re cramping my style.’“

✧ “Just stop shouting, Mr. Man!”

✧ “Sometimes you accidentally kill your family.”

✧ “Gasp! What a man!”

✧ “Care for a friendly dance off?”

✧ “You feel anxious and confused. You have funny thoughts about your guy friends that upset you, and you take it out on the world.”

✧ “How were you supposed to learn to love when you had nobody there to teach you?”

✧ “Oh no. I cheated on my partner.”

✧ “You know what, (name)? We got beef now!”

✧ “You never did my essay! Because of that, I had to do it! So it never got done! And I failed!”

✧ “You’re acting way too angsty for your age!”

✧ “Oh shit! I think that kid hears me!”

✧ “Why don’t you go snog (name) or something!”

✧ “Baby, I cannot breathe without you inside of me.”

✧ I’ll teach you what it’s like to party with me!”

✧ “It’s going to eat me and I’m going to be so tasty!”

✧ “Oh, (name), you’re such a mouthkill!”

✧ “I haven’t cleaned up or showered since you were last here.”

✧ “Oh, it’s nothing, (name), life just sucks!

✧ “You might be wee, but you’ve got a greatness in you.”

✧ “For some of us, you’re the light at the end of a very dark, lonely, shameful tunnel.”

✧ “Battleborgs are shite!”

✧ “But when you love something so much, and you see it slipping through your fingers, you’ve just got to hold on tighter!”

✧ “My advice to you is: never change.”

✧ “Once we’re burned, we’re toast.”

✧ “Nobody told me to dab!”

✧ “She was gross! She didn’t even have a nose!”

✧ “Bebop was fit!”

✧ “But she was beautiful on the inside, and that’s why you loved her so much!”

✧ “I never liked that Ms. Piggy character one bit.”

✧ “What kind of drugs are you on?”

✧ “I don’t like SNICKERS!”

✧ “I’m gonna kick your butt so hard you’re gonna burp out farts!”

✧ “I never was, and I never will be, your friend.”

✧ “I hate you.”

✧ “At last I know exactly where I stand.”

✧ “You are just a shadow of a tale from years ago.”

✧ “Oh babe, you really shine!”

✧ “You just need to be the main character of everyone’s life, don’t you?”

✧ “We’ve all moved on. Why can’t you?”

✧ “Welcome to my nightmare.”

✧ “You may not be popular anymore, but people still need your help!”

✧ “There was a time when I was happy.”

✧ “There was a time when things were fine.”

✧ “I’ve fallen from up high. The world has said good-bye.” 

✧ “I’m not the answer.”

✧ “I’m just going nowhere faster.”

✧ “That hero’s gone.”

✧ “Who would care about a loser like me?”

✧ “How did life become one disaster?”

✧ “SPARKLES!”

✧ “Wizard god, help us all!”