#i guess that’s why everyone and their mother writes him to be chock full of Catholic Guilt

[javierduffy]

has anyone ever talked about how javier named his horse a name from the bible (“boaz” is a hebrew name meaning “strength”/“in him (is) strength”. also like. a literal guy in the bible.) or am i just late to this party

[baoshan-sanren]

Hello! Could you tell us more about 2ha? What's it about and the like?

Oh man, I didn’t realize how hard that would be to do until I sat down to try and summarize it? And full disclaimer, I haven’t finished reading it yet, because 2ha is definitely the type of novel where you gotta know your own limits (I had some weird ass dreams like holy hell). Anyway, I stopped a few days ago at the end of chapter 119 and am now literally writing 300+ fluffy ficlets to fix everything I didn’t like so far 😊

Anyway, 2ha/erha/ The Husky and His White Cat Shizun is def not like mdzs. It centers around a relationship between a disciple, Mo Ran, and his master, Chu Wanning. Mo Ran had a pretty shitty childhood, like the typical poor, never had had enough to eat, mother worked in a brothel kind of thing - his back story kind of reminded me of Meng Yao, except that in 2ha a convenient uncle shows up and takes Mo Ran to his Sect as a disciple. Mo Ran is relatively gifted, but he’s not terribly bright or eloquent, and he’s got the emotional maturity of a resentful puppy + he’s had a shit upbringing, so a lot of people look down on him, call him names, etc, etc. His Master, Chu Wanning, seems like a cold-hearted dude, has him savagely whipped for something Mo Ran thinks is a minor offense, and always treats/speaks to him like he’s looking down on him too.

Fast forward to years of these slights and offenses, Mo Ran decides he’s gonna rule the world and pay everyone back for treating him like shit. He literally becomes the emperor and like viciously slaughters everyone who ever wronged him (I mean there’s more to it, but I don’t wanna give away the whole plot), but his Master, Chu Wanning, he keeps alive for a long time (idk if they ever say how long but it seems fucking long) just so he can torture, humiliate, and torment him as much as possible (as far as I can tell, 90% of the content warnings are in these sections, and they probably include every content warning you can think of, and then a few you’ve never even thought of). Chu Wanning finally gets to die and get away from him, and then Mo Ran realizes that he really has nothing left to live for, and commits suicide.

And this is where the story actually starts, because he doesn’t die, but he goes back into the body of his fifteen (fifteen? or sixteen?) year old self, and has a chance to do everything all over again. Obviously, his last end wasn’t too satisfying, so he wants to do things differently, but although he’s got a 32-year old mind in a fifteen year old body, he hasn’t grown much (at least in emotional maturity holy hell), and he’s brought all of his hatred, perceived slights, and resentments with him into this new life. 

And that’s basically as much as I can say without giving shit away. It’s def important to mention again that this novel is chock full of content warnings, and if you decide to read it, I recommend suika & rynn translation because there is a clear list of warnings at the beginning of each translated section (usually ten chapters at a whack) and then individual chapters in the section also have their own warnings where necessary + and they’re bold and bright red and pretty hard to miss.

Personally, I like it, I think Mo Ran is a pretty unique character for being an absolute fucking idiot like 90% of the time but somehow still kind of likeable when he’s not being a fucking unhinged tyrant. And Chu Wanning I fell in love with within the first 50 chapters, and I can’t tell you why because that would kind of spoil a lot. 

It’s not a novel for the faint hearted tho, so if all the warnings just aren’t your cup of tea, I’d wait for live action because it’s being made by tencent, and after The Untamed I’ve got full confidence that the show is gonna fucking slap. 

also RIP to the “read more” I guess tumblr just shoves it arbitrarily anywhere these days, including nowhere you actually need it so yeah

[eloarei]

Reaper, ch... I dunno, 7?

I was tired of not-writing, so I started what is probably roughly chapter 7 of the Reaper novel I haven’t actually properly started or plotted out yet.  words: 2,169 (T-rated, f/m, gen) chapters: ??? I dunno fandom: original characters: Vanessa Mattock, Theocritus, Mr. Mattock  ship: Vessa&Theo, Vessa/Theo (implied) tags: some supernatural nonsense, the difficulty of just living, adjusting to humanity, alcohol,   notes: hey I wrote this in like 2 hours maybe? That’s the charm of not having to follow any rules I guess. Even though it takes place in the middle of the story (so I guess technically it’s chock full of spoilers?), it probably reads just fine if you have no idea what’s going on.  x So there was a reaper living on her couch. Well, he wasn’t a reaper anymore, she guessed, but what was she supposed to think of him as? Theo. Theo was living on her couch, after he’d outstayed his welcome at Sid’s place. They’d had a nice, self-pitying afternoon together when she’d found him there, borrowing some of Sid’s bottom-shelf whiskey in the hopes of dulling their respective traumas. But in the end, Sid had grouched at them that his place wasn’t a goddam hostel and Vanessa needed to find a new place for her boss to slump in half-drunken misery-- he’d already put up with enough weird shit the past day, what with Camille straight disappearing on them after summoning a horde of demons and zombies to his door. (Theo later explained that that was an exaggeration; it was only one demon and the zombies hadn’t even made it anywhere close to the antique shop. Still, as Sid was mortal and mostly normal, it wasn’t a surprise that that was a bit much for him.) 

Vanessa’s dad wasn’t going to be super pleased that she brought a ‘strange man’ into their house (boy, he didn’t know the half it-- like the fact that that strange man had saved his life), but he definitely wouldn’t stand the two of them getting drunk in the living room with all the shades drawn and the TV set to some trashy reality show, which was what she really sort of wanted to do. So instead of taking Theo back to her place right away, she’d walked them through the outskirts of town, off toward the seaside. 

There was… a lot to say. Primarily she wanted to berate him for not being there for her when she really needed him, but now that she knew he’d been having a rough time of his own her sense of betrayal had mostly faded off. It wasn’t like he’d been ignoring her on purpose (though what was she supposed to think at the time? He always came when she called him, and sometimes when she hadn’t called him and he’d just fucking sensed she was thinking about him or whatever). And yeah, she was still pretty shook about realizing that her mother was probably still alive (and maybe even in the city), but becoming human again after at least a couple hundred years of weird immortality was… possibly even harder, she admitted to herself. So she tried to be supportive of what her boss (or maybe former boss?) was going through. “You, um… doin’ ok?” she’d asked, as they’d strolled down the street, staggering slightly on the occasion. He looked the long way down at her, probably hurting his neck in the process. He was a little bit draped over her, arm slung over her shoulders like an old pal, but even with his current slouch they didn’t even nearly match up in height. Back when he’d been his usual reaper-y self (the last time Vanessa had seen him before Tawney helped her track him down at the antique shop), he’d seemed to absolutely tower over her and everyone else, almost lost in shadow. Now he was just plain tall-- although it was still pretty freaking tall. “I… will probably survive,” he’d replied, sounding all the more pitiful in his proper English accent. “Well I fucking hope so,” Vanessa had said, at a loss for anything more substantial or kind. Be kind of dumb if he just died after all of this, she thought. Especially when there was still so much she was just starting to understand about this shadow world he’d dragged her into. (Well, ‘dragged’ was not totally fair; she did kind of offer, after all.) They hadn’t really talked much after that, until they’d ended up in front of her house, and Theo had cocked his head at her and said, “Why are we here?” Vanessa gave him a deadpan look. “You got kicked out of Camille’s friend’s place, remember? What, were you gonna sleep on the street?” “Sleep…” he’d said softly, like he was testing the word out, or the idea. “I hadn’t thought…” “Yeah, obviously.” And on purpose, too. Why else would the first thing he asked for have been alcohol, other than that he didn’t want to have to think about his new lowly position in life? But he was obviously tired-- eyes shadowed in a way that had nothing to do with the mystical and everything to do with physical and emotional exhaustion. She’d seen herself looking like that on more than one occasion, especially before he’d rescued her from the hellscape universe where her father was dead and there was nothing she could do about it. They’d gone inside, just walking like normal people instead of that vaguely-irritating appearing thing Theo had used to do before. (It was like he just hated doors or something, she sometimes thought.) Her father wasn’t home yet, and wouldn’t be for another few hours at least, Wednesdays being his longest work shifts. She took advantage of his absence by not sneaking around the house, guiding Theo to the living room couch and sitting him down. He sat there in the dusky darkness while she rummaged around in the kitchen for snacks. They didn’t have any alcohol in the house, but junk food could be just as good a balm. Sitting down next to him in the dark, Vanessa handed him a package of Oreos and a cola, while she dug into a fresh bag of cheese puffs and a Sprite. Theo looked down at the junk food in his hands. “What do I do with this?” he asked, apparently perturbed for some reason. She pulled the cola out of his hand with little resistance and popped it open, replacing it in his grip. “Drink,” she said. “You know how to do that.” Diligently, he took a swig of the chilly can, but his face morphed into a vague distaste as he swallowed. (Vague only because he was hardly emoting at all right now, she knew. At his normal rate of emotion, it would definitely be at least a scowl.) “This is far too sweet,” he said, and he set it aside on the end table. “Yeah, well,” Vanessa responded, grabbing the Oreos and ripping the package open. “You’re living now, okay, so you need calories and junk.” She pulled a cookie out and jammed it into his mouth. He seemed a little surprised, but he chewed on it anyway, and the tenseness in his shoulders faded a little. She didn’t know if that was because he liked it, or just because it was something to do. After a minute, she turned on the TV, keeping the volume low and just letting the colors wash over them. Theo was staring in the right direction, but she’d have bet he wasn’t really seeing the reality-TV shenanigans. (Probably a good thing, in this case, because it would have just annoyed him if he realized how stupid it was.) An episode or two passed, and she was starting to feel pretty drained. “Hey,” she started quietly, not wanting to shock Theo out of his trance too badly. “I think I’m gonna go crash. You should sleep too.” She got up to go find a blanket for him, but his gaze followed her, a little lazy, a little lost. “I don’t know how,” he said. “You don’t--” Vanessa blinked, and she blinked again. God, why was it her responsibility to teach him how to be a human? Shouldn’t it be Camille’s job since he was the one that took Theo’s powers? (Not that she thought Camille was great at being human either, but still.) She took a deep breath. “You just… Just close your eyes and don’t do anything. I dunno, pretend you’re dead.” A flicker of emotion crossed his face, probably unrelated to her suggestion. It was something she’d describe as ‘confused and annoyed about it’; maybe consternation. “I don’t know if I can do this, Vessa,” he said, and she knew he wasn’t talking about sleeping. Not exactly, anyway. “I mean, that’s…” She shrugged. “That’s life, right? You just have to take it a day at a time. A minute at a time.” He was zoning out a bit, staring at a spot on the wall, but she managed to catch his eyes and noted that they didn’t glow like they did before, that pale white-gold that always seemed to loom out of the shadows of her room. They were just light brown now, and tired. “Hey look… You know I’ll be here to help, okay? I’ve gotten through like ten thousand days. I’m sure I can help you through a few.” “Seventy-two hundred and sixty-three,” he said. “The days you’ve been through.” She scoffed and turned away to hide her smile. “Ok well that’s still a lot more than you.” She walked off to go find a blanket, wondering for a minute if Theo was going to be hot or cold natured, before she decided on an old course hand-woven thing her mom had picked up from somewhere, ages ago. She didn’t know if it’d be too hot or too cold, but if she was feeling as bad as she thought he was, that was the one she’d pick for herself. Ironically, he was out like a light by the time she got back. “Hey,” she said, draping the blanket over him. “Old man?” There wasn’t even the slightest downward twitch of lips, so she knew he was really finally asleep. Maybe his first sleep in a thousand years. She hoped it was a good one. She couldn’t say what exactly possessed her (maybe it was just that he couldn’t shy away or judge her), but she reached down and smoothed back that little piece of hair that always fell forward onto his forehead, and followed it up by pressing her lips to the empty space it left. She took a deep breath and inhaled his new, living smell. It wasn’t anything really specific. Just… warm. Smelled like hair and body oils and a little bit of lingering whiskey. Compared to the too-clean nothingness she’d whiffed before, when he pulled her close enough to teleport them someplace, it was just… better, more real. Smelled like a man who was living some kind of life, step after step, not… two feet on the wrong side of a grave. “Sleep well,” she said, even though he wouldn’t hear her. Then she tottered up the stairs and fell into bed, with just enough energy and presence of mind to kick off her shoes. Of course she didn’t hear the front door open, or her father cautiously step around the strange man sleeping on the couch and up the stairs in the desperate hope his daughter would have some explanation. “Nessie,” he said softly, settling his hand on his shoulder and just barely rousing her. She turned and glanced over her shoulder at her father, miles too tired to remember anything other than the fact that she was stupid tired, but there wasn’t a moment in her life where she ever thought of brushing off her dad, so of course she shook herself awake. “Dad. What’s up?” “Do you know why there’s someone sleeping on the couch?” Vanessa sighed. “Uhh, yeah. That’s my friend. Theo.” “Theo doesn’t have his own place?” her dad asked, raising an eyebrow just a little bit, just enough to show he was skeptical, but not mad. She tried to get her brain back in order and remember the excuse she came up with earlier. “Uh, well, his place had a f- flood, like a bad one, and they made everybody get out, but he’s kind of new to the area. I mean, he just moved from England, so he doesn’t have any family or friends to stay with.” Mr. Mattock’s face wasn’t hard to begin with (it never was), but it softened to hear his daughter trying to help a friend in his time of need. “That’s nice of you,” he said, and Vanessa knew he was being genuine, though he still seemed just the slightest bit uneasy. “He doesn’t really look your age though. He’s not… your professor, is he?” Vanessa grimaced, and she could tell her face was turning a little red. “No! No, he’s, um, he works at the library on campus.” Her father hummed, but he didn’t seem to be really criticising her story. “Well, alright. I’ll let you get back to sleep and then maybe we can talk more in the morning. G’night, sweetie.” “Night, dad,” she responded, and she managed to hold back her heavy sigh until he was out of the room. And then she fell back to sleep. She wanted to stay up and think about all the stupid little details she was going to have to probably remember for his cover story, but she was too tired to think anything other than ‘screw it’. xXx

[lydiaphantom]

Fanfiction: As You Wish

Fandom: Teen Wolf / Marvel: Infinite war

Warning: Bad words

Paring: Theo Raeken x Liam Dunbar

Additional Tags: Angst, MCU / Teen Wolf crossover, Good Theo Raeken

Be careful with what you wish, Liam. Your wish can come true.

(Sorry! Bad grammar!)

The war between hunters and supernatural wasn’t over. Liam doubted that something like that could be ended for real. After all, everything started because of the fear, people were afraid of something that they barely had an idea of, Anuk-Ite did a great job by triggering this fear. And even if now it’s gone, some people still were afraid, and that is only a matter of time before someone like Gerard would lead them.

Liam wasn’t ready for the next threat, not mentally. He was tired both emotionally and physically. The constant nightmares about everything that happened, especially about Brett and Lori, only made him more anxious and jumpy, the lack of sleep was playing a dangerous game with his mind and IED. Liam Dunbar literally was a walking time bomb and no one knew when would he explores.

Salvation came to him unexpectedly. More specifically Liam accidentally runs into Theo one day, when the young werewolf tried to deal with his anger. He was in the middle of the Beacon Hills preserve when he spotted a familiar dark blue truck, hidden between trees and shrubs. Liam didn’t hesitate before he knocked at the window.

That was how Theo Raeken of all people ended up living with Liam’s family. Of course, it wasn’t so easy, and at first Theo rejected the offer but then when Liam’s mother, Jenna, found out that Theo was living in his truck and her son didn’t do anything about it to make this situation better, she went to the chimera by herself and practically dragged him to the Dunbar-Geyer’s house.

At first, Liam was happy to have Theo next to him. They played video games and watched a lot of movies on Netflix together with Liam’s family. The young werewolf quickly gets used to it. Especially when he admitted that Theo actually was his anchor and was pretty much the only one who was able to calm Liam down in a matter of a second. Liam was okay with that. But when he noticed that he started falling for certain chimera, it was the beginning of Liam’s ‘freaking out’ moments. He even started regularly snapping at Theo. Liam couldn’t allow his feelings to take over his mind. He just can’t. What pack would think? They weren’t Theo’s biggest fans, so if they found out that Liam has feelings for the guy, who tried to kill their Alpha, they most likely to think that he lost his freaking mind and will send him to Eachen House for the thoughts like this or they will think that Theo manipulated him again and will send him if not to Hell, then away from the Beacon Hills. And Liam wasn’t happy with any of those alternatives. 

Deep down he knew that he probably overthink this whole situation but Liam was tired and his mind was fogged with fear and worthless worries he barely could think straight. Liam did see how much Theo had changed, he saw as the older boy took Gabe’s pain and then left without another world. Liam wasn’t stupid, he noticed how much Theo did change, how much the former killer was trying to be better.

And yet it didn’t stop Liam from hating and despising the warm feeling that he gets every time he saw the chimera. This, and his IED wasn’t helping, so with those feelings involved, he started to be more aggressive toward Theo. 

The pack now was at Liam’s house, together they all were having a great time while speaking, discussing and joking like they always do.

Even Theo was laughing, recently the pack members finally had started including him in pack meeting and Theo was truly grateful for this. After all this shit that he had done to everyone in the room, he never allowed himself even dream about the possibility that the pack will start to trust him again. That was beyond his expectations. Liam remembered Theo told him that once when he had one of his endless nightmares. They became even closer after that, Liam could swear he heard as Theo called him his friend when he was discussing something with Jenna, he didn’t mean to listen that just happened and Liam never mention this to the other boy. Then his feelings got involved so Liam started to be cold with him again and Theo had no idea what he had done to piss Liam off so much.

Raeken stand next to Mason and Corey while he was telling some story from his work. Liam was standing near to him too, trying to focus on the story the other boy was telling and not on how much the chimera was looking good with his hair swiped back a little and how hot it was when he unconsciously run his hand through them. Liam really should change the way he was thinking before this situation becomes awkward. Heck, why this should be so difficult, Liam didn’t ask for those feelings but look at him now. Trying so hard to hide them, he even closed his eyes trying to focus on something else and not on the voice telling him that he is in love with a certain chimera. Liam was so busy trying to calm himself down he didn’t even notice that his breath became heavier.

“iam, Liam,” the beta heard someone’s worried voice, but it sounded so distend he wasn’t sure whom it belongs to. “Hey, Little Wolf, come on, everything is fine. Just breath, breath with me.”

Theo. This voice belongs to him.

Liam couldn’t bear that anymore.

Theo was in the middle of the sentence when Liam snapped for the third time for this day.

“Will you ever shut up?!” he shouted anger took the best of him this time. Liam barely could hear anything besides his heart, which now was beating too fast even for a werewolf, but still, he noticed that the room went silent. He saw as Theo tensed and closed his mouth immediately, his eyes wide, he clearly was confused by this reaction. Liam definitely should apologize now. “You like, speak all the time like anyone could be interested in what you are saying,” yeah, that definitely didn’t sound like an apology.

“Liam, what happened?” Theo asked slowly looking around like someone could tell him what was wrong. Liam scoffed but followed his gaze and noticed that everyone was staring at him now.

‘Fuck, oh fuck, they know, now they know everything and will kick me out,’ Liam thought.

“Little Wolf?” Theo asked again.

“Shut up, just shut up this all is your fault, shut up!” Liam snapped and there was no coming back now.

If Liam wasn’t so much focused on his anger and for a second would take a quick look around him he would be able to say that Theo was clearly shocked by this outburst but even more aghast by the fist that followed right after this. Liam saw as the chimera fell on the floor clearly feeling a sharp pain as his nose was broken. Again. What he also did notice was the fact that three pair of hands were holding him tightly so he won’t attack Theo one more time. Briefly, Liam glanced up only to notice that it was Scott, Mason and surprisingly Malia who were holding him. That also was the moment when Liam remarked that he actually never stopped screaming.

“That your fault do you hear me, that all on you. I hate you, hate you so much. What do you even thinking about yourself, huh, Theo? Acting like everything is fine like we all can fucking forget what you did last year! Well, guess what?! We will never forget! I will never forget! I won’t forget what a monster you were, what a monster you are!” Liam screamed and all Theo could do was listen.

“Liam-“

“No! you don’t get to say anything. I don’t wanna hear another beautiful lie leaving your mouth. I’m done with you!”

“Please-“

“I regret the day I pulled you from Hell! After all, that is where you belong! I wish you could just disappear from my life!” Liam also regrets the words he said the moment they left his mouth. Immediately the anger died out and was replaced with all-consuming guilt. He was stupid enough to take a look on Theo and the scene broke his heart as he saw the single crystal clear tear that was running down chimera’s face. Liam took a deep breath and nearly chocked because of the sticky scent. Sadness. Regret. Pain. He barely could detect the scent. Not that it really mattered. No one was holding him now but all eyes were on him, yet all he can look at was Theo’s hazel green eyes which were full of pain. The pain Liam caused and now had no idea how he could fix all this.

Liam actually opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he couldn’t find the strength to make a noise. And then something caught his attention. Theo’s right hand started turning into dust. The chimera rose his slowly disappearing hand. There was no fear in his eyes nor denying. Just acceptance.

That broke something in Liam.

‘I wish you could just disappear from my life!’ Liam heard his own voice in his head on repeat and that was driving him crazy.

“Theo-” Liam started but this time the chimera interrupted him.

“As you wish, Liam,” he only said and with that completely turned into dust.

Theo Raeken was gone. One moment he was there and next he wasn’t. And the last thing Liam said to him was that he hates him. Theo just died, as Liam assured himself, with the thought that he doesn’t belong here. That the only person he considered as a friend actually can’t stand his guts. This was too much.

For some seconds the room was completely silent.

And then Liam fell on his knees and screamed.

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

Hey, that was something new for me to write. Please let me know what you think!

Your opinion is important!

[starrystarrybabe]

Speakeasy Nights (BoRhap Boys x Reader Mob!AU) CHAPTER TWO

Rated R once again, because this series will be chock-full of smut. I saw what a good response the last chapter got, so I decided to write another chapter.

DISCLAIMER: I did not create this AU all on my own. It is inspired by the AU created by @borhap-socials, @deakydeakydeaky, and @i-the-fangirl. I have permission to do what I want with it, and I am not copying ideas. Only writing things inspired by previous AU’s.

This chapter will deal more with Atropos’ backstory, and begin to delve into the relationship between her and the female gang, Olympus.

Names:

Death- Rami

Conquest- Gwilym

War- Ben

Famine- Joe

Silence- Allen

Hera- Lucy

Eris- Priya

Atropos- (y/n)

CHAPTER TWO

--

You wake up to the smell of coffee being brewed and stale cigarette smoke. Looking around the spacious room, you instantly recognize it as Famine’s guest bedroom. You’ve woken up here after a rowdy night many times before, and this is nothing new to you.

Sitting up and wincing, you let your silk robe fall off your shoulders. In the mirror across from you, scratches and bruises are highly visible on your hips and as you stand up, you see scratch marks on your back and ass.

Smiling at the sight, you move to re-tie the robe around your waist, slipping on a pair of slippers and running a finger through your hair. You love the feeling of being raw and sore, because one of your favorite things in the world is letting your lovely boys have their way with you.

They’ve been this way with you since they first met you, many years ago. You partially trained them to be as deadly as they are, since you yourself were trained by the old gang that used to rule the area.

You run away from your home, sobbing and screaming for help. Your parents have just been murdered by a rival gang, and you would’ve been killed too if you hadn’t run away from the men who killed them. The streets of Brooklyn are dangerous this time of night, especially for a little girl in a thin nightgown, since you’ll be killed by the cold if not by a man.

You run down an alleyway, and bump into someone’s legs, falling down with a thud, and landing in a puddle. Whimpering, you stand up and look down, the occasional sniffle coming out of your body.

“Watch where you’re going, kid. You shouldn’t be here anyways. It’s dangerous for a young girl like you this late out here,” a voice scolds you.

“I-I’m s-sorry, sir. I d-didn’t mean to knock into you.” Your voice is meak and quiet.

The man leans down with a sigh, tipping your chin up. You blink away tears and face a man with wild brown curls and gentle eyes. “What happened to you, love? No little girl just ends up on the streets in her nightgown without a good reason.”

“A m-man shot my mommy and daddy.” You try to hold back tears. “I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, sir.”

The man is joined by a foreign-looking fellow in a fur coat you could’ve sworn your mother wore, a blonde man with blue eyes and a patterned suit, and a man whose hair is like a puffy cloud around his face. He looks up at them.

“Prenter’s men killed her parents.” He looks back down at you. “The man had a moustache and bangs, correct?”

You nod, and the rest of the men are visibly agitated. Obviously this is not the first time they’ve dealt with the man who killed your mommy and daddy.

The foreign-looking one leans down and smiles at you. “Would you mind telling us where your house is, darling? We’ve been meaning to get rid of the man who hurt your family.”

You point down the street. “I-I think it’s two blocks away. I was running and I lost track.”

The group of men stand up, and the one with the puffy hair kneels down to pick you up. “I won’t hurt you, alright? None of us will. Right now, we’re going to take care of that bad man. You can stay with us for now, alright?”

You know that you can trust these men. You feel good about it, so you nod and let him hold you, closing your eyes.

They bring you to a car and you are seated on the man’s lap as the whole group of men fill in. They load their guns and start up the car, and you look at the weapons curiously. The man next to you-- the blonde one-- smiles at you and you look at him curiously.

“Do you want to learn how to use a gun, love?” he asks you.

You don’t want to see anyone use it against anyone else you love ever again, but now that your parents are gone… well, you guess that you don’t really love anyone anymore. You nod. “Yes, sir.”

He chuckles and ruffles your hair. “Just call me Roger, love.” He shows you how to use the gun, and how to aim it, and you nod, following his instructions, and doing it once more on your own.

“Good job… what’s your name, love?” Roger praises you before realizing he does not know your name.

“(y/n) (l/n), Mr. Roger.” You respond a little louder, smiling slightly. You like these men.

“That’s a beautiful name, (y/n). You’re sitting on John’s lap, but we just call him Deaky. The one in the fur coat is Freddie, and the one you first ran into is Brian.” Roger guides you through everyone’s names, and you smile.

“Hello, everyone!” you wave happily at them. “Thank you for saving me.”

You retract your statement about not loving anyone anymore. These men could be the new people whom you hold near and dear to your heart.

You walk into Joe’s kitchen, where he’s making breakfast for you, and already has a cup of coffee ready. Sitting at the kitchen table, you smile at him.

“Sleep well, (y/n)?” Joe asks, finishing the eggs and putting them on two plates.

“Very. Who knew three hours of vigorous sex could be that exhausting?” You sip your coffee and smile as he brings you a plate of scrambled eggs. “Thank you, darling.”

Joe smiles and sits down next to you with his own coffee and eggs. “It’s no problem, (y/n). I’m more than happy to take care of you after a long, hard night.”

You smile and lean back. “Did you have fun last night?”

He nods, sipping his coffee. “I did, but I would have much preferred having you to myself. There’s nothing wrong with sharing you, and it was very arousing watching you get used by all of us, but what can I say? I’m a guy more partial towards one on one sex.”

You shrug. “Well, we can’t always get what we want, can we, Joe?”

You sit in the backseat of the car as the men enter the building where the murderers are, and fiddle with the gun they gave you, liking the sound of the bullets rattling inside the barrel. You’re bored, and almost falling asleep when you hear someone open the car door and drag you outside.

Scared, you look up at the man, and recognize him as the one who killed your mommy and daddy. You begin kicking and hitting, but you’re a tiny thing, and you have practically no impact on the man.

“Stop it! Stop! Please, stop!” You beg the man, but he throws you against a brick wall, smirking. You can feel yourself becoming dizzy from the impact, and when you touch your wound, you feel wetness. As you pull away your fingers, you see blood on them. Slowly, you look up at this awful man.

“You’re a sneaky little one, aren’t you? Didn’t stay put like a good girl and wait to join your parents.” The man’s Irish accent sneers at you, and he puts his hands on his hips. You shakily raise your gun at him, and he just laughs at you. “Do you really think that a little girl like you can hurt me? You’re cute, but that won’t wo--”

He’s cut off by you pulling the trigger and falls down, pressing a hand to his chest wound, which is bleeding profusely. He looks at you in horror, but you don’t notice, because you’re in a state of shock.

You just shot a man. That was a new experience, and not as horrible as you thought it would be. Granted, he was a very bad man, but this was still very new to you. You’re not sure how to react.

You don’t notice as Freddie runs over to you, and surveys the scene. He inspects you, and feels your injury, and tries to get your attention. After five minutes, you respond.

“(y/n), darling, please! Answer me!” Freddie begs you, cupping your cheeks.

You blink at him and look to Paul. “I hurt him.”

Freddie nods. “You did. But darling, he hurt you first. He killed your family. He deserved it.”

Brian runs over and checks you, seeing your injury. “We need to get her to Miami, now. He can fix her up. (y/n), can you hear me?”

You turn to face Brian. “I shot him.”

“Yes, love. You did. I’m very proud of you. Now, let’s get you safe and patch you up.”

You don’t remember the rest of the ride back, and when you wake up, you find adoption papers on your bedside table, proclaiming your new legal guardians to be Brian and Anita May.

Joe smiles and laughs sadly. “I guess we can’t always get what we want.”

You hear a knock on the door, and Joe stands up to open it. Allen walks inside, and you wave at him. He waves back weakly, and you smile.

“Hello, Allen. When are we dropping off the body?”

“In two hours, (y/n),” he responds, quietly sitting next to you.

“Two hours? I should start drawing a bath now, then. I still smell like sex.” You stand up and finish your coffee. “Thank you for the breakfast, Joe. It was delicious.”

He smiles at you. “You’re welcome. Have a nice bath.”

You blow him a kiss and walk off to take a nice, warm bath.

-

That night, you all convene in Death’s house, and as you make your way to the meeting room, you’re stopped by two very surprising faces: Hera and Eris. With a frown, you make your way over to them.

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting to see you two here. Did Death invite you here for business, or are you here because you plan on trying to cheat my boys out of profit?” you comment, looking over the two women.

Hera raises a brow. “We’re here for business, Atropos. I have no idea why you think I’d try to cheat Death.”

Eris shakes her head. “You’re far too distrusting, Atropos. You can trust us. Why would we lie to you? You’re too smart for us to pull that off.”

You sip your champagne skeptically. “Hera, you know that if you play your cards correctly, Death will fall to his knees in front of you, and Eris, every time you get caught in a lie you try something more clever. I’m telling you, I won’t fall for it.”

Hera sighs. “Can you trust us for a moment? We trust you. That’s why we offered to let you be part of Olympus. You know, that offer still stands.”

You shake your head. “No. I get that you want to have an all-powerful girl gang, but it will never happen. Hera, you’re far too erratic to plan for the long run, and Eris, you’re not even-tempered and logical enough to stop her from making impulsive decisions. You might be doing well now, but it won’t last and I know it. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to see my boys.”

You walk away, rolling your eyes. They’ll never succeed. You’d know. You grew up in a gang, and when Freddie died, the whole thing fell apart because the dynamics changed too much. You were forced to go into the profession of prostitution to survive, and build yourself from the ground up.

The glory days always fade. The sun always sets on a gang’s glory. If someone was stupid enough not to realize that, then they were doomed to fail.

Hera didn’t realize this, and for that reason, she’d never succeed.

TAGLIST: @andtheytoldustotellyouhello @plethora-of-things @borhap-socials @everybodyplaythegame @i-the-fangirl @deakydeakydeaky @shisterfackisback

[strangerstuffandthingsimagines]

So Do I (Nancy Wheeler x Fem!Reader)

So do I (Nancy Wheeler x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Nancy and the Reader have been friends for a long time, when Barb disappeared they got closer. They developed feelings for one another, although Nancy puts off breaking up with Steve. The Reader finally confronts Nancy at Tina’s big party.

Warnings/Triggers: The story revolves around a closeted relationship which could be triggering for some, I’m not sure how to go about tagging that so DM if you know. Slight swearing.

A/N: I’ve noticed there isn’t a lot of Nancy x Reader fics and I thought I’d make one for any LGBTQ+ fans of stranger things. I want everyone to feel represented and included, so feel free to request fics like that :) This one ends a little bittersweet, I usually tend to write sadder themed things unintentionally haha. Also I couldn’t help but picture the reader as Camila Cabello from her Havana video! I thought her “nerdy” characters outfits fit perfectly with stranger things.

Song I listened to while writing : Halsey - Strangers ft. Lauren Jauregui

You followed closely behind Nancy and Jonathan as you left the classroom. Tina, a notorious party thrower, handed you a bright orange flyer with “Come get sheet faced” written in bold black letters.

“Thanks” You murmured before running up to Nancy’s side.

She was busy convincing Jonathan to go to the party tonight, she hadn’t noticed you were even there.

“Nance?” You said, lightly touching her arm.

Nancy turned to give you a small smile before continuing to pester Jonathan. You let out a sigh, pushing the frame of your glasses back.

You scanned the flyer again, tracing the little ghost with your finger. You pondered the idea of going, even though it wasn’t really your scene.

“Are you going, y/n?” Jonathan asked, hoping you’d say no so he could prove to Nancy that he wasn’t the only one not going.

“Actually, um maybe.” you said looking up from the flyer. Nancy gave you a surprised but pleased look, her soft smile making your heart race.

Your conversation was interrupted by Steve Harrington as he scooped Nancy up in his arms and prompting the two into a mini make out session. Jonathan bowed out before things got too awkward for him, leaving you to third wheel yet again.

You cleared your throat, breaking the two apart. Nancy gave you a sympathetic look as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“See you later Nance.” was all you muttered, turning away to hide your tear brimmed eyes.

Music blared from Tina’s house, you sat in your car for a moment taking in the chaos of the drunk teens that ensued. You tapped your fingers against the steering wheel, debating one last time if you were going to commit to this or not.

Then you saw her, you saw Nancy. Your Nancy.

She leaned on the porch railing, sipping from her red solo cup.

“You got this” you told yourself, giving your steering wheel a tap.

You made your way across the lawn, careful not to step in any piles of vomit. You realized you weren't dressed as anything, kind of forgetting the whole Halloween part of the party.

“Risky Business, right?” you commented gesturing to Nancy’s outfit. She perked up when she saw you.

“Yeah.” she said looking at you, then back to her cup. “Steve’s idea.”

You nodded, walking past her to look around the porch. Things changed between you two after Barb…vanished.

The Summer of ’84

“Thanks Mom, we’ll be up in my room.” Nancy called to her mother who had offered you two some snacks.

You stood infant of her vanity, pictured of you, Nancy and Barb covered the mirrors edges.

“I miss her.” You whispered, carefully touching one of the photos longingly. Nancy stood next to you leaning her head onto your shoulder.

“Me too.”

You placed the photo back in its spot, securing it with the thumbtack that held it in its place. You let out a sigh and flopped down onto Nancy’s bed.

“When did life get so complicated?” You asked staring up at the patterns on her ceiling.

Nancy flopped down next to you, mirroring your gaze. She stayed quiet for a moment, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt.

“I don’t know but I do know one thing,” she said, her mattress dipping slightly as she turned to face you.

You turned onto your side, staring back. Studying her face…studying her lips. “And whats that?”

“I know that all we have is each other now.” she softly spoke, her eyes glancing between your eyes and lips.

That was the first of many kisses and tender moments between you and your best friend that summer.

“So how are… things?” Nancy asked, guilt written all over her face.

You leaned against the railing, admiring the scenery.

“Besides being a third wheel for a month, things are okay.” You said sarcastically, taking a sip of whatever was in Nancy’s cup. “What are you doing here Nance?”

Nancy folded her arms across her chest, her back now against the railing looking down at you.

“Steve’s idea of being ‘normal teenagers’ for the night.” She said lowly, grabbing her cup and taking another swig.

“Why are you even with him Nancy? After what happened? I just…” you trailed off, straightening up.

“Don’t” Nancy interjected, “Don’t do this now…not here.”

“Then when Nancy? Don’t tell me that we aren't anything, don’t tell me that when you kiss me-“ you said running a hand through your hair in frustration. “that when you kiss me it doesn’t mean anything” you said fighting back tears.

Throughout September, Nancy would sneak in kisses with you between classes behind the school, or leave little notes in-between the pages of your text book. Then October came, she grew distant…cold.

“What do you want me to say?” she said in an angry tone, her eyebrows narrowed in a glare.

You looked at her for a second, your heartbreaking in your chest. You searched her eyes for an answer.

“You’re full of shit.” You scoffed, brushing past her and heading toward your car. A part of you died inside when Nancy didn't call after you.

“Y/N?” a voice called out to you, you jumped slightly as you were lost in thought.

You had pulled over in the side of the road, feet dangling off as you sat on the trunk of your car.

“What do you want, Harrington?” You spat, your voice filled with malice.

Steve had seen you sitting on the trunk of your car, thinking your car broke down he quickly pulled over to make sure you were able to get home safe.

You stared at your hands placed in your lap, wanting to avoid Steve’s gaze. The car bounced slightly as Steve lowered himself onto the trunk. Once he saw your tear stained cheeks he knew that car troubles were the least of your worries.

“Me and Nancy got into a fight.” Steve said, looking down the road. “She said I’m bullshit, our love is bullshit, oh and just about everything else is…wait for it…you guessed it, bullshit.” He added whilst shaking his hands theatrically in front of himself.

You let out a small laugh between your tears, finally facing Steve. You weren't the biggest fan of Mr Harrington, mainly due to your jealousy, but in the moment he didn’t seem so bad.

“We got in a fight too.” You finally said, uncomfortably grinding your teeth together. “I told her she was full of shit.”

Steve laughed lightly, leaning back onto his elbows. “I guess you inspired her.”

There was a silence between you two for a while, not an awkward one either, just…silence.

“I love her.” Steve whispered.

“So do I.” You whispered back, nervously looking over at him.

Steve looked shocked for a moment, but quickly softened when he looked at the sadness in your eyes. He sat up and wrapped his arm around you, he murmered about things getting better and that he would be here for you if you needed him.

You tilted you head, resting it on his shoulder.

“Why do the people we love, not love us back?” You chocked out.

“I’m not sure.” was all Steve could say, not knowing what else would make you feel any better.

- Let me know if you would like a part 2 of this or not! Thanks for reading.-

[hotsterfield]

Guardian “angel” - pt. 1 - P.P.

Word count: 1901

Resume: When you are born, you are assigned a guardian angel, and you have that angel for the rest of your life, no matter what happens to the angel. Even if they kicked out of heaven, which is exactly what just happened to Peter Parker’s guardian.

Masterlist | Promptlist

A/N:  My new series!! I’m so excited to share this with you, and I’m really looking forward to hearing what you guys think! The first part is a bit short, but hopefully the next part will get a bit longer. I do have a bit of a writer’s block at the moment, so writing the requests is taking a bit longer. But yeah, hopefully that’ll be over soon. If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

Peter let out a frustrated sigh as he walked into his room. He didn’t know what to do. He was invited to a frat party, and he really wanted to go, but he had also promised aunt May then he would have dinner with her tonight.

“If I go home to Aunt May, I’ll miss the party. If I miss the party, Aunt May will get upset” He said to himself.

“Go to the party, you dumbass. May will understand. You’re at college, you’re supposed to get drunk” You said casually from the bed. Peter jumped, and looked at you surprised.

“Who the hell are you?! And why are you in my room?!” He said chocked. He didn’t have a clue to who you were, and he didn’t exactly find it comforting that you were just sitting on his bed. His!  door had been locked. The windows were closed, so how had you even gotten in?

“Oh right! You don’t know me, but I know you, and you need to have some fun. Do you have any idea how boring your life is? The Spider-Man part kinda makes up for it, but even with the superhero thing, you’re still so boring!” You said, as you left the bed. It was strange finally talking to a human.

“I-what? I’m not… him. I’m not Spider-Man! Who are you?! This is pretty creepy. How did you even get in here?! WHO ARE YOU?!” He yelled, looking rather panicked.

“Oh, calm down. I’m Y/n. Your very own guardian angel. Every human gets a guardian angel when they’re born, and you are stuck with that angel for the rest of your life. So, you’re stuck with me” You smiled, as he just started to look confused.

“What are you talking about? Guardian angel? Are you serious?” He asked, not believing a word you said, which caused you to roll yours eyes at him.

“Yes. So I’ve been keeping an eye on you, your whole life, which has been really boring. So I know everything. I know how attached you are to your aunt, especially after your uncle died. I know how you were stupid enough to get bitten by a spider. I know how long you spent admiring your abs, after you got your superpowers. I know that for a moment, you were a bit turned on by your reflection. I know you had a crush on MJ, that you always regret doing anything about. Do I need to continue, or do you get the point?”

“No. You can just stop now. Point proven” He quickly said, a slight blush rising in his cheeks. “What… Why does no one know about angels? Why don’t you just talk to people?”

“Because we’re not allowed to talk to humans. It’s the most important rule, and you get stopped every time you try. You used to be able to talk to your human, once in their life, usually in a time of crisis, but for some reason, which I was totally not a part of, you can no longer do that. So over angels stop you every time you try, so” You explained.

“Then how are you talking to me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Right. The rules apply to guardian ANGELS. Technically, I am no longer an angel, so the rules don’t really apply to me, anymore. I am still your guardian, just not an angel” From you were born, you knew you wouldn’t stay an angel forever. That was simply just not possible for you.

“How do you stop being an angel? Does this mean that you’re really bad at your job? Should I be worried?” He asked, sitting down on the floor.

“I am very good at my job! I never broke any rules, and I’ve always been very good at protecting my humans. Almost none of them got killed. Some died, because they were stupid, but there was nothing I could do about that. I just got kicked out”

“If you didn’t break any rules, then why did they kick you out?” He pressed on.

“Well, I am not a full blood angel. My mother is Hela, ruler of Hell, which according to Christians makes me part devil. So I read the whole rule book, and I kinda tried to see how much I could get away with. There was a lot of grey areas, that no one had discovered. When I did something, they would often make a rule afterwards, so no one else did it. Then after 99 rules, I guess they had enough. They made a rule, about being reason for 100 rules get you kicked out. So here I am!” You explained. You were proud of the rules, but the being kicked out part wasn’t too great. You still hadn’t told your family, and you knew they wouldn’t be too pleased.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope. I had a lot of fun though, so it was totally worth it”

“Of course. You were telling me to ditch my aunt, and go get drunk, when it’s actually illegal for me to drink. I wonder why you got kicked out” He said sarcastically, finally coming to sense with everything.

“I’m your guardian, not your conscience. And as your guardian, I always know what you want, and I know you want to go to the party. So, stop thinking about what everyone else wants, and start doing what you want. Do you have any idea how long, I’ve wanted to tell you that? You spend your life saving people, you can do something for yourself sometimes” Sometimes it had annoyed you, how good a person he is.

“Aunt May will get upset if a cancel”

“No, she won’t. She wants you to have fun! She wants you to live like a normal college student. That includes going to parties, and maybe even getting into a fraternity”

“And you’re sure about this?” He asked, still needing to be convinced.

“Yes. And before you ask again, yes. Just call her, and tell her you’re going to a party. While you do that, I’ll buy some alcohol, so you don’t show up to a party sober. And while you’re at it. Get dressed for a party” You said, leaving before he could say no.

***

“Y/n! I’m so glad you told me to go!” Peter said loudly. He could hardly stand up straight, but he was still speaking clearly.

“That’s great Peter. Now instead of following me around like a lost puppy, why don’t you find a nice girl and talk to her?” You had been at the party for 2 hours, and not once had he left your side. He kept getting drunker, and slightly more annoying as the time passed.

“I’m not good at that. Talking to girls. Or people in general. Especially girl. I don’t know what to say, so I just stutter and it gets really awkward” He argued.

“I know, but that’s when you’re sober. Just take a chance, for once in your life” You begged, as eyes looked for girl to leave him with. Someone who was a bit drunker than him, but not completely wasted. Someone who looked like they were a nice person, because that would properly be important to Peter.

“But what am I supposed to do? Just walk up to a girl, and start talking. I don’t know how to flirt with people” He continued, as you found the perfect girl.

She was sitting alone on the couch, looking a bit uncomfortable. She had short brown hair, and a cute face. She looked nice, and most importantly. She looked like one of those people, who had been dragged to the party by one of their friends, who had assured her they would stay together all night, but after an hour, said friend had left her alone, because said friend had found some hot guy.

“Compliment her. Then ask her about something really common. A TV show, a movie. Hell, ask her what she thinks about Spider-Man, or some other avenger. Just something. And then you just talk, and maybe even lean a little, and if you’re really going for it. You kiss her” You said. “Now, go talk to the brunette on the couch”

Before he could answer, you gave him a gentle push, sending him on his way towards the girl. You kept standing in the middle of the crowd, keeping an eye on him. You just wanted to make sure everything went okay. When they started talking together, and you saw a smile on the girl’s face, you decided that it was going okay for him.

You went back to the kitchen, to get another drink. You had been drinking more than anyone here, but it was hardly affecting you. Human alcohol didn’t really effect you that much, so you could keep drinking, and always stay close to sober.

“Hi there. I don’t remember seeing you around campus, and I’m pretty sure I would remember a face as gorgeous as yours” A voice said, making you turn around. The voice belonged to a good-looking guy, who was eyeing you up and down.

“A friend invited me, and since I do love a great party. Well, here I am” You smiled at him, and carefully biting your lip, as you started walking towards him.

“I’m glad you are. You made the entire party hotter” He said, while sending a wink. You kept walking closer to him, making him back up against the wall.

“Oh yeah?” You said flirtatiously, as your face got really close to the guy. The tension between you growing fast, and you were close enough to feel his hot breath. “Too bad I’m not interested” You said, as you walked away from him.

You went back to check up on Peter, leaving the guy standing alone. Peter was still talking to the girl, and they were sitting a bit closer than before. You noticed that Peter was starting to lean in, and the girl quickly took the hint. Their kiss didn’t last long, but this was still a big step for Peter.

Just as the kiss had ended, Peter threw up. The amount of alcohol he had consumed, was too much for him to handle, and his body had decided that this was the perfect moment. The whole scenario was so entreating to you, so you couldn’t help but laugh.

You still hurried to his side, and apologized to the unfortunate girl, before helping him out of the house. He, of course didn’t want to go, but you were much stronger than him. There was no way you were leaving him at the party like that. He would only make a fool of himself. Scratch that, a bigger fool of himself.

As you walked back to his apartment, which was only a 15 minutes’ walk, he managed to throw up two more times.

“I don’t want to go to bed! I’m not even tired!” He said, stumbling over the words. He couldn’t stand by himself, so you had to keep supporting him.

“Too bad, Spiderboy.  Just lay down on the bed, and I’ll get you a bucket” You said, as you dropped his body on the bed. When you returned to his room, he was already passed out. So much for not being tired.

“Well Spiderboy. Who knew you could actually be interesting”

 TAGLIST

@augurydemon @rock-n-roll-queens @m-sterre @exclusively-inclusive @@rock-n-roll-queens @m-sterre @exclusively-inclusive @behxndthemask @andreuskystuff

[mikkeneko]

[Fic] The Kindness of the Tyrant (Hawke/Anders)

Written as part of the Handers Secret Satinalia 2015 event as a gift for losebetter, who requested "bonding over food - whether bigger satinalia feasts thrown at hawke's estate with everyone milling around, or quiet breakfasts shared in front of a little clinic fire on cold mornings." The Hawke in this story is losebetter's custom Hawke, Circinus Hawke aka 'tinyhawke.'

Inspired by the story of the family whose $35,000 wedding was cancelled at the last moment, so rather than letting the reception go to waste, they invited the city's homeless to the meal.

 ---

The clinic was filled with patients, stone walls echoing with the sound of voices, interspersed with racking coughs. Harvestmere had been unusually cold this year, and the Ferelden population was undergoing a low-level outbreak of colds and flu. It was a frustration to Anders, because as much as he wanted to help, ran himself to the bone trying to help, there was a limit to how much he could actually do. Too many of his patients were suffering from years of malnutrition, dirty air and water, and cold weather unrelieved by proper shelter or insulation. He could drive pneumonia from lungs, bring down dangerous fevers and ease strangling swelling on throats, but there was no magic spell or herbal potion that could cure poverty.

He did what he could; several large metal braziers set at intervals around his clinic provided warmth, and there was a big heavy cast iron pot bubbling away in a corner with medicinal soup. It had taken Anders a while to hit on a winning formula; so chock full of vitamins and nutrients that a single mouthful would go a long way to strengthening a person's constitution, but so vilely bitter that only the most desperately starving patients would want more than that single dose.

But it had been a cold Harvestmere, and Firstfall was likely to be just as bad; the Free Marches were farther north than Ferelden and warmer, but that didn't mean they never  got seasons of snow or ice, and it was looking to be just such a year. Anders missed snow, but he didn't look forward to seeing it fall in Kirkwall.

A stir at the clinic doors caught Anders' attention; he looked up from his alembic to see the Ferelden toughs that had been lurking menacingly by the doorways draw aside. From this angle he couldn't see -- yet -- just what (or who) they were reacting to, but he thought he could guess.

Hawke stepped in through the doors of his clinic, a small, slight, spritely figure that moved with such energy and grace that people couldn't help but react to it. Varric followed behind, the dwarf only a foot shorter than his friend and yet even with all his stocky solidity, he trailed in Hawke's wake. It was entirely unconscious on his part -- he didn't mean  to intimidate people into giving way before him, like the waves parting before the bow of a ship -- but his aura of charisma and authority was such that people couldn't help but react to it.

Besides, there was not a person in Darktown who didn't know who Hawke was; his small stature combined with those unmistakable tattoos attached to a reputation that was as heroic as it was intimidating. Short size or no, Circinus Hawke could have cleared the toughs out of his way with a casual wave of force magic from his hand; he didn't, because he didn't need to. People gave way before him willingly.

"Hawke," Anders greeted him warmly, standing up straight and reaching for a cloth to wipe his hands on. He reached for a smile and found one not too far to summon, warmed by Hawke's presence in a way that none of the braziers could manage. "Varric. What can I do for you?"

"Don't worry, nothing's on fire," Varric assured him with an easy smile. "Just thought we'd stop by to see our favorite healer."

Hawke stepped lightly into the clinic, his eyes moving around the room as he took in the crowds of people, huddling around the braziers or doubled over on the cots, coughing. His eye fell on the bundle of herbs that Anders had been working with. "Are you in the middle of something right now, Anders?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing important," Anders said. That wasn't quite true; he'd been preparing a batch of embrium, yarrow and peppermint to decoct into a tea to pass around the clinic, to those suffering from fevers. But Hawke took priority; ever since Leandra's death, still raw after only a few months, Anders was determined to be there for him, whatever he needed. Unless someone was actively dying, or actively trying to kill them, Hawke came first. "It can wait."

"Well, I… just wanted to ask… do you have any plans for Satinalia yet?" Hawke asked, fidgeting uncomfortably with the grip of his staff.

Anders grimaced. "Probably right here, doing this exact same thing," he said. "It would be nice if death and pestilence took time off for the holidays, but unfortunately they don't."

"Oh," Hawke said; his voice was neutral and his expression blank, but his slender shoulders slumped with disappointment.

"What about you?" Anders asked, trying to get past the disappointment. "Going to party it up in the Hanged Man again this year, like old times?" For the past four years -- ever since Anders had known him -- Hawke had celebrated the annum in the Lowtown tavern, inviting all their motley band of misfits.

"Well, not exactly..." The fidgeting had returned, doubled. Hawke began to wander about the clinic, looking in on every brazier and pot.

Anders let him, knowing his boyfriend's particular ways. "Oh?" he said encouragingly.

Hawke made two more circuits around the clinic before he blurted out, "Did you know that in Hightown, the nobles plan their parties months in advance? Sometimes years!"

"Really?" Anders snorted in disbelief. "How long can it take to plan a party?"

"He's not kidding," Varric observed. "Commissions for the decorations go out as early as Summerday, and the special orders get shipped in from all over the Free Marches. It's killing time for the Merchant's Guild." He chuckled, rubbing his chin as he shot Hawke an appraising look. "But I can't see you planning one of those fancy gigs, Hawke."

"Well, no..." Hawke muttered.

Anders frowned. "What's this about?" he asked, looking from Hawke to Varric and back again.

Hawke took a deep breath. "I was going through my backlog of mail," he began, "and I found a stack of letters from the Confectioner's Guild... "

Anders blinked. "Kirkwall has a Confectioner's Guild?"

"Oh yeah. Best in the Free Marches," Varric assured them. "Absolutely vicious when it comes to import taxes, though; don't mess with them unless you want to wake up to a marzipan horse's head in your bed."

The conversation stopped there for a moment as they all briefly contemplated this vision, then Hawke forged on. "Anyway, apparently… Mother had really been planning ahead this year. She had an enormous party planned! Decorations, food, even an orchestra... All the orders went out months ago. I - I guess after she died, nobody knew to cancel the orders. And now it's too late." The corners of his mouth turned down.

"You could still write to them and cancel," Varric pointed out.

"I could, but..." Hawke sighed. "It was the last thing Mother wanted. And I'd hate to waste all the craftsmen's hard work. But at the same time, the absolute last thing in the world I want to spend Satinalia doing is mincing around with some of those Hightown frills pretending like nothing's wrong." The stutter left Hawke's voice, forced out by rough anger for a moment before his expression cleared. He shrugged. "So instead of sending out invitations to all the noble houses, I thought I'd just invite everyone."

"The whole gang up at the Amell estate, eh?" Varric murmured.

Anders sighed. "Hawke, I appreciate the thought, honestly I do. It sounds like a marvelous time." It sounded like a fantasy too good to be true, really; up in Hawke's grand, weatherproof house, spending Satinalia tucked up with his boyfriend. "But I just can't leave my patients."

"No, no, you don't understand." Hawke waved his arms vigorously. "I mean everyone. All your patients."

"All my --" Anders repeated in disbelief. "Hawke, at this point I treat most of Darktown!"

"Yes, yes, that's what I mean," Hawke agreed eagerly, nodding. "All the Ferelden refugees. All the homeless. Everyone."

" ...Hawke, I --" Left momentarily speechless, Anders fumbled for a reply.  "That's a lovely idea, it really is, but you can't just..."

"Why not?" Hawke's chin took on a stubborn set. "Mother's party plans were for a hundred guests; I've run the numbers, and I can bump that up to a hundred and fifty, easy. More if they don't mind rubbing elbows."

Varric cleared his throat. "I think what Blondie is trying to say is, a whole gaggle of vagrants up in Hightown?" He shook his head. "The nobles will shit themselves."

"Yes, I know. But I don't care," Hawke said forcefully. "I never wanted to be a noble, I just wanted to provide for my family. But now I am one, and why shouldn't I get to decide what that means?

"Besides, isn't that what Satinalia is supposed to be about? The town fool crowned king for a day, turning the social order upside down? The other nobles can suck it up for one night. They don't need another party, they don't need the food, they don't need shelter for the night." Hawke looked around the clinic, at the groups of shivering and coughing bodies. "The people of Darktown do."

He looked at Anders with wide, earnest eyes. "Will you spread the word, Anders?" he pleaded. "Your patients trust you. They don't trust me. I'm not really one of them any more."

Anders thought that Hawke underestimated the reputation he still had among the Fereldens, but Hawke's speech had rendered him momentarily stunned. All he could do was nod agreement. "Of course."

"And... you'll be there?" Hawke said hopefully.

"Well, since you've conveniently arranged for all my patients to be in Hightown that night... I guess I don't have a choice, do I?" He smiled.

Hawke perked up immediately, a smile lighting his face and shining in his eyes. "Great!" he enthused, before turning an eye to their other companion. "What about you, Varric? Do you have any Satinalia plans?"

"Nah, Satinalia isn't really my thing," Varric said with a shrug. "I figure I'll probably hole up in my room with a good book, polish Bianca, maybe get some Antivan takeout."

"Oh," Hawke said, looking crestfallen. Anders felt moved to intervene. "What, really?" Anders teased Varric. "You'll follow Hawke down sewers, spider-infested caverns, and the Deep Roads, but one little party and you beg off?" "It's not like that," Varric protested while Hawke sputtered behind him. "It's just that in my line of work I get exposed to all sorts of Satinalia fever for months on end. It's enough to burn a dwarf out, you know? I just… another night of…" Hawke stood there making such concentrated pleading eyes that Varric's protests trailed off to a low grumble. The dwarf sighed. "Oh, all right, Hawke, just for you," he grumbled. "Yay!" Hawke cheered, and Anders smiled.

---

Dusk arrived quickly on the appointed day, and the Amell Estate was transformed. The doors were flung open, spilling light and warmth out onto the street -- but there was no danger of running out of either. Every fireplace in the building was lit, roaring with heavy logs, and every wall and available surface was laden with candles and lanterns. Between the multiple hearths, the hundred tiny flames, and the mass of warm bodies packed into the stone walls, they'd had to leave the door open to avoid the danger of overheating.

Shining glass was everywhere; every brace of candles was in its own glass holder, and there were gas lamp-bubbles of all sorts of shapes and sizes. A few were cast of colored glass, turning the light that spilled from them into bright colors: red, orange, pink and green. Cut branches of evergreen draped the walls, woven into wreaths or strung into long garlands with bright red and gold ribbons, studded with bright red berries and tiny star-shaped white flowers.

The symbol of Satinalia, at least in Chantry controlled lands, was the evergreen bough; supposedly, it symbolized Andraste's unending life at the side of the Maker. All but the poorest of households managed to procure at least one branch or bough of some species of evergreen for the house -- pine, fir, cedar, spruce and juniper -- even if, by the time it passed through a long chain of enterprising merchants importing them from colder regions, they could only manage a rather small and sickly sprig to mount over the door. For the Amells, there was no skimping; Leandra had purchased a handsome, still-living fir to mount in the main hall, in addition to the yards and yards of evergreen foliage that plastered the walls. The grand tree nearly groaned with the weight of decorations; candles in colored glass bubbles, sugarcanes in fanciful shapes, and streamers of white cloth draping over the branches and piled in heaps on the ground below, filling in for snowdrifts rarely seen this far to the north.

The Confectioner's Guild had contributed more than their weight; an amazingly colorful and intricately detailed array of tiny animals, stylized snowflakes, and terribly out-of-season flowers all sculpted from marzipan sugar graced the tables, shelves and mantles. Dozens of tables had been laid out in rows in the main hall, covered with dark green and red cloths, and at the center of each one was an artful arrangement of live-oak leaves, sugar flowers, and a miniature serene Andraste holding a flame in her tiny hands.

Few of the guests had much attention to spare for the centerpieces, however, when the tables practically bowed under the weight of food laden onto them. Every table had pitchers of ale, beer, and bottles of eggnog for the children. The caterers had monopolized the Amell kitchens since the morning and still needed to bring in their own deep, covered dishes of foods already prepared.

The guests were encouraged to take plates and knives and wander the tables, helping themselves to whole turkeys, chickens, ducks and geese baked in their own skins; to sliced ham sparkling with brown sugar crust, steaming roast druffalo, and pork chops in beds of mushroom soup. There were dishes of nuts roasted with herbs, sweet potatoes cut into thin rashers and fried until they curled, roast beets, and even scalloped turnips in cheese sauce. Several platters gleamed yellow with cut cheeses and sliced pineapples, while silver platters were heaped high with round, uncut pyramids of apples, oranges and pears.

The enticing aroma of the food wafting off the tables mixed with sharp pine sap from the cut boughs, the warm smell of woodsmoke from the burning logs, and the sooty taste of candles and oils to create a heady atmosphere of celebration. It was just as well the ceilings in the Amell estate were high, so that none of the smoke or the press of bodies concentrated too thickly near the floor.

They had come up from Darktown in knots and gaggles, small groups of families or larger groups huddling together for confidence in the unfamiliar streets of Hightown. As night fell the temperature dropped, and fine sleet began to rain down on the stone pavement; but the light and noise of the celebration drew them in, and Hawke was there in the open doorways, arms wide to beckon them in and a beaming smile on his face making the delicate tracery of flowers bloom.

Once inside they had looked around with a daunted awe, but it hadn't taken them as long to regain their confidence as Anders had feared; by now the benches and chairs were filled by Darktowners, dugging into the offered food with gusto. The elderfolk or injured sat in more comfortable chairs closer to the walls, and had plates and mugs brought to them by their families; the children, driven to near-hysteria by delight, had abandoned the tables after the first few bites of food had been bolted in order to race around the hall and gape at all the bright, glittering decorations.

Aveline was not in attendance -- she had been invited, but declined, citing a need to be on duty on Satinalia so that some of her guards who had children at home could spend it with their families. But all of the other misfits in Hawke's usual gang were there, somewhere. Anders spotted Fenris perusing the drinks table, ears low, probably grumpy over the lack of a wine which could be thrown at the walls. Merrill was, perhaps predictably, entranced by the living tree and the arrangements of greenery; at the moment she was petting one of the garlands with an entranced expression, causing it to grow visibly greener and longer as he watched. Varric, true to his word, had put in an appearance -- he was comfortably installed in one of Hawke's low divans before the fireplace, and was enthralling a crowd of Undercity gutternsipes with a storyteller's cadence and expansive gestures. He couldn't see Isabela from here, but he knew she was around somewhere; knowing Isabela, probably in the kitchen spiking the drinks with rum. Anders resolved to keep a wary eye on any glasses of eggnog he was offered over the course of the evening.

He and Hawke stood together on the second-floor landing, looking over the balcony at the party below. The hum of happy voices rose up to greet them, mixed with strains of music from the promised orchestra on the platform underneath them. Periodically, one or both of them would make the rounds -- Anders to check on the sicker guests by the walls, Hawke to greet new guests coming in through the door. But they would each return to their post before too long, leaning comfortably against the balcony and each other.

Hawke had a mug of eggnog in his hand; Anders was toying with a shiny green apple. "Where did you get fresh fruit at this time of year? he asked.

"Imported from Rivain," Hawke replied. "Almost more expensive than the rest of the food combined. That's one of the reasons I didn't want to cancel -- it would have been a crying shame to ship it all this way and then let it rot in a warehouse."

"It's a nice touch," Anders said appreciatively. "A lot of Darktowners suffer from scurvy or rickets. This will help."

Hawke nodded. "I hoped it would," he said. "That's why I didn't have the caterers slice any of it. That way they can take it with them, and hopefully they'll keep a little longer."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Hawke taking a sip of the sweet drink in his hand as they watched the party below. The guests were warming up, becoming more comfortable; Anders caught the strains of heavy Ferelden accents from below, where a group of raggedly-dressed men were importuning the orchestra to play Andraste's Mabari. So far, at least, the players were ignoring them, but Anders was willing to bet by the end of the night they'd change their (heh!) tune.

Nor was the orchestra the only entertainment Leandra had engaged for the evening; there was also a clown, dressed as the Fool King, circulating among the crowds. He wore a bizarre outfit that combined humble peasant dress with the most ridiculous excesses of upper-class fashion, and his performance was an artful mix of noble affectations with dockworker crassness. Anders suspected that his usual routine for these events put more emphasis on mocking the rustic ignorance of the peasantry, rather than the other way around -- but he was a professional enough performer to read his audience and change his show accordingly. A group of children followed him around as he moved from table to table, occasionally picking up fruit or dishes to use as props in a routine that left the adults roaring with laughter.

Anders knew the children of Undercity well; while he and a couple other Darktown regulars made efforts to provide for and protect them, he did not make the mistake of thinking them sweet or innocent. They were skittish, skinny, savvy little street rats, few of whom would scruple about stabbing a man for his purse or at least stealing his shoes as he lay drunk in an alley. They had to be that way in order to survive, and most of them had grown up too young, oftentimes having to provide for siblings younger than themselves or older relatives crippled by illness, injury or grief. Yet here they were, gawping at the colorful displays of light and greenery like apprentices facing their first lesson on elemental magic; hanging on Varric's words as though each one was a treasure, following around the Fool King like a flock of ducklings. As though, just for one night, they could truly be the children they had never been allowed to be. "You have to realize that a lot of these shiny things are probably going to disappear into pockets before the end of the night," Anders mentioned to Hawke in an undertone. He hated to say it, it felt almost like a betrayal of his fellow Darktowners, but it was the plain truth. "That's fine," Hawke said with a hum. "There's nothing out here that I would really mind losing, and what else would I do with it all tomorrow? Pack it away in boxes to never see the light of day again? If it helps brighten their day a little bit later on, or can bring them a few coppers to put food on the table, then I don't mind. Besides, isn't the point of Satinalia supposed to be giving gifts?" "Hawke... thank you for all of this," Anders said softly. The whole thing was dazzlingly, stupendously generous, in ways that normally only existed in fairy tales. Then again, life with Hawke was often like living in a fairy tale; he was one of those just larger-than-life figures that Anders all too often found himself swept up by. "A lot of these kids were born here, or they don't remember their lives before becoming refugees. For most of them this is the first time in their lives they've had a chance to see such beauty, hear such music, or even sit down and eat a meal at a table. Your kindness has given them a memory they can treasure for the rest of their lives." He was expecting a smile for that, maybe a lumescent blush, or better yet, one of Hawke's adorable stammers. What he did not expect was what he actually got; silence, and when he glanced over at Hawke he saw tension hovering over him and a furrow of upset on his brow. "I wonder…" Hawke said. "I wonder if it really is kindness." Anders blinked, startled. "What do you mean?" he said. "Of course it is." "What I'd really like like is to give them all this forever," Hawke said lowly. "But I can't. Not all the treasure in the thaig would be enough for that. Isn't it more cruel to give it to them for one night, and then take it away? I mean, they're having fun now, but when the party is over they'll have to go back to their hovels and slums knowing that the rest of Hightown lives like this every day, and they'll never have that. I wonder if their joy tonight will turn to bitterness tomorrow." He looked out over the party, the corners of his mouth tugging down. "Isn't it kinder not to know what they can't have?" Anders took a moment to find the words. In a way, this was Hawke all over; constantly worrying over the prospect of people being hurt, whether now or in the future, always striving to make things right, always miserable and frustrated when he couldn't. "Hawke... you can't fix the whole world," he said. "No one man has that kind of power. This is an incredible gift, and everyone in this room knows it. This is a beautiful night. And yes, when it's over, there will be disappointment, and discouragement, and maybe even bitterness, but that's just part of normal human feelings. When you lose something beautiful, it hurts, but that's no reason not to create beauty in the first place. "You've reminded these people that there's another world outside of the sewers; and yes, maybe the contrast hurts, but it can also remind them that there's a hope of a better life out there for them and their children. Maybe they'll get there someday, maybe they won't, but it's always better to try." He thought back to his own years in the Circle, to Irving, convinced that everything he did was for their own good, coddled and curtailed and smothered, all choices stifled before they could be born. Thought of Karl; thought that for all the things that hurt about his death, what he regretted was not knowing him in the first place but all the feelings he'd never dared to feel, chances he'd never had to take. "It's always better to have the experience than not, better to have the chance than not, better to have the choice than not. Taking away people's choices so that they won't feel regret or disappointment may feel like a kindness, but it is the kindness of the tyrant." For a long moment Hawke didn't answer; then at last he sniffed loudly and let out a strained laugh. "When did you get so wise, Anders?" he said weakly. Anders smiled ruefully. "I have no idea, really," he said. "I guess if you make enough stupid choices in your life, at least a little bit of wisdom has to accrue just to keep the balance." They watched the party for a little longer, the glitz and glamour transforming the familiar house into something out of a fairyland. In a few hours it would be over, and they'd all have to return to the real world; but for tonight, at least, they could pretend. Hawke sniffed again, and Anders stole a sideways glance at his face and realized that he was crying, tears trickling down his face and glittering in the shimmering lights. "She's gone, Anders," Hawke said, and Anders knew he meant his mother. "This was the last thing she did in this world, the last thing she wanted. This was the last piece of her…" "I know, love," Anders said softly, and abandoned the balcony to wrap Hawke in a full-bodied hug. Hawke pressed tightly against him, his small body quaking with sniffles and sobs, warm tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt. Anders just tried to be there, and hoped it would help. At length the music beneath them changed, a stately rhythm that Anders knew, and he gave his boyfriend a nudge. "Listen, they're starting up a waltz," he said. "Dance with me, love?" Hawke pulled back, wiping his red eyes on his sleeve, and gave him a bright, wet smile. "Of course," he said, voice only a little hoarse. He reached out his hand, and Anders caught it, giving it a firm squeeze as they descended the stairs together. A small square of the floor had been cleared aside for the dancers, and Anders and Hawke fell into the one-to-three pattern of the dance, Hawke leading. On one turn they spun by Isabela embracing Merrill, the smaller elf standing on the tops of her boots and both of them laughing. On another, they saw Fenris waltzing at half-time, leading a red-headed little Darktown girl through the steps. It surprised Anders a little to think that either Isabela or Fenris would know how to ballroom dance; but then again, he supposed he shouldn't have been. After all, Isabela had been married once to a rich man; she'd learned all the lessons of high society, even if she usually scorned to use them. And Fenris would have been witness to all sorts of society events at Danarius' side. No matter what lay in their pasts, they were all here tonight. No matter what the future brought, they would always have this memory. The chance once taken, the choice once made -- there was nothing and no-one that could take that away from them. ~end.

[mrbananny]

Baby Blues

Summary: Wyatt becomes jealous over a new member in the family.

Rating: G

Warnings: Family members arguing

Author’s Notes: Both Wyatt and Reid are based off the White and Red astronauts from the movie. In my headcanon, them and Benny are all brothers. At the beginning, Wyatt is 7 and Reid is 6. Alternate title: Nano doesn’t know anything about babies, but writes about them anyway.

    - 3 weeks -   This… baby, this squirmy tiny thing had only been here for a few weeks, but Wyatt already knew he didn’t like him. He hovered over his younger brother, Reid, holding the infant. He had been sleeping in his arms, tiny snores coming from him. Their mother had been standing all three of them, giving her sons a warm smile. “Ben’s cute, isn’t he?” Wyatt rested his chin on the arm of the chair Reid was sitting in. “Sure.” Reid ignored Wyatt’s comment and looked up at his mother. “Yes, mama!” Wyatt grumbled a bit. He knew that even before this baby was born he wouldn’t get anymore attention from the rest of his family, and his suspicions were turning out to be true. He took a long look at the sleeping baby before reaching out to poke it. He wondered what would happen if he did. “Wyatt!” His mother said, barely above a whisper. The child drew his hand back and rested his forehead on the chair, sighing.     - 1 month -   “Mom! I need help! Mom?” Wyatt had been making attempts to get his mother’s attention, however, she had been a bit busy running back and forth between rooms. “Mom!”   “Not right now, Wyatt!” That was always her answer. Wyatt slumped over the drawing in front of him. He had been trying to draw a rabbit in the field, but for the life of him couldn’t draw a rabbit. He was hoping he could get his mother’s help, but-   “Okay, Wyatt? What is it?” Well, this was the first time since that baby was born that Wyatt was actually successful in-   Ben had started crying from the other room, which had caused their mother to go fend to him. Once she had left the room, Wyatt let his head drop onto the table, followed by a quiet, “Ow.”     - 2 months, 3 weeks-   Little Ben had been sleeping on the loveseat with Reid, their mother sitting close by, keeping an eye on the infant. Wyatt had been too. A little too close of an eye. He had been sitting on the larger couch, hiding behind the arm and watching Reid and Ben. He couldn’t believe it. His own brother had ditched him for this… this thing. This potato with a mind and face. Reid and Wyatt have been best brothers for as long as he could remember. It took him a few days to get used to Reid, as Wyatt’s mother told him, but three brothers in one house was getting ridiculous. Wyatt felt his mother’s hand on his back. He jumped and turned to look at her. “Wyatt, sweetie? Is something wrong?” Wyatt pointed at the two sleeping brothers. “It’s the baby.” His mother didn’t quite understand. “What about the baby?” Wyatt sighed. “He’s hogging you and Reid all to itself. I don’t get to see you guys anymore.”   His mother sat next to him. “Well, he can’t exactly take care of himself. He can barely think. So it’s up to the rest of us to take care of him, Wyatt.”   “I know.” Wyatt’s mother rubbed his back as he continued his surveillance on his younger brother and the baby.     - 5 months, 3 weeks -   Two or three months had passed since then, their mother started calling him Little Boy Blue. Wyatt was jealous. He never got nicknames… even Reid was called Big Red, since he enjoyed the soda so much. Wyatt? He was always called by his first name. He sat on the couch as Reid sat in the floor with the drooling baby Ben on a rug. Baby toys sat in the middle of each of them, Reid picking each one up and holding it out to the infant, which was followed by happy squeals. His brother picked up a toy spaceship off the ground and handed it to the baby, who then reached out to it, giggling happily. Wyatt’s eyes widened as he instantly recognized the white and gray coloring. “REID!” Wyatt didn’t bother to notice the baby jumped at his sudden shouting. “What?” His brother responded. “That’s my toy spaceship!” He quickly jumped off the couch, ran over to his younger brothers, and snatched it away from them before Ben took it. “Wyatt!” The infant started reaching out towards the toy, now in Wyatt’s hand, making distressed noises. “Wyatt, give it back!” Reid shouted at his older brother. “No! He’s gonna break it!”   “Who cares if he breaks it? We can always get you another one!”   “I know that, but I like this spaceship!”   “Why are you so selfish?!”   “I’M selfish? That baby’s been stealing love and attention from both of us!”   “He’s a baby, Wyatt! They do that!”   Ben continued to reach out for the toy, Wyatt keeping it away.   As the baby started whimpering Reid stood up and reached for the toy as well. “Can’t you hear him whining?! He’s gonna start crying, just give him the toy!”   “I don’t give a darn if he cries!” Wyatt shouted back, receiving a shocked gasp from Reid. “Dad said not to use the ’D’-Word!” Wyatt pushed Reid away from him. “Yeah, well Dad’s not here right now! He’s stuck up in space like he always is!”   As Ben began to cry, Wyatt pointed at the infant and held his spaceship behind his back. “That thing’s been causing me trouble ever since it was born!”   “Why are you being so mean?!” Wyatt noticed the tears in his brother’s eyes. He stopped himself. At that moment, Ben’s soft cries turned into wails. Reid dropped everything to go pick him up, just like his mother showed him. He walked off to their room to play with the infant in there. At that moment Wyatt felt alone. It seemed as though his brother didn’t care about him. He picked up his toy spaceship by the wing and sat back down on the couch, looking at the floor.     - 7 months, 3 weeks -   Ben started to float at around 8 months. Neither of the two older brothers had started to float that young. Floating in this family was, well, hereditary. Nobody in the family tree understood why they all did it, they just did. Although, since Ben had learned to float, their mother started to spend less and less time with Reid and Wyatt until Ben got the hang of it.   Wyatt had been sitting on the couch watching cartoons, leaning against the arm. He hadn’t even noticed Reid come over and sit next to him until he had said something. “I’m sorry about the spaceship thing.” Wyatt said nothing and continued to watch his show. Reid looked at his feet dangling outward from the couch. “I heard Mom talking to Dad over the phone.” Wyatt looked at him, expression unchanging. “He might be coming home tonight.”   “So what?”   “Don’t you wanna see Dad?” Wyatt sighed. “I don’t know. He never seems to have time for us.” The child directed his attention back to the TV screen, playing re-runs of Tom and Jerry. Reid sighed and joined him.     - 8 months, 3 weeks -   Wyatt had started to notice that Ben had become chatty recently. It was a month or two since their father had come home from his mission, but chances are, he’d be going back soon. Reid had been sitting on the couch next to Wyatt, Ben sitting in his lap, babbling away. They had all been watching cartoons, their parents in the next room discussing Wyatt’s upcoming birthday. The soon-to-be-birthday-boy could barely make out what they were saying, only a few bits and pieces. He looked over at Reid, who was pointing at the television and telling Ben about all the characters. “Look, that one’s Pidge. He’s the smart one.” The baby followed with babbling. It was almost as if they were having a conversation. Almost. “That one’s Princess Allura. Isn’t she pretty?” The baby squealed as a result of Reid’s excitement.   Wyatt looked back at the kitchen, where their mother and father had been. He carefully snuck away from his brothers to eavesdrop on their conversation.   “I don’t care if you have another mission! Why can’t you ever be there for our sons anymore?”   “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s-”   “Don’t you give me any excuses, you understand, Sal? You’ve missed every one of these kids’ birthdays! Every. ONE.” Wyatt poked his head out from behind the entryway to the kitchen. His mother had been poking his father in the chest for emphasis. “I made it to Ben’s birth!” His mother scoffed. “Barely. You couldn’t even be there for Reid or Wyatt. Ben was the lucky one.” Wyatt held in a grumble. Of course Ben was lucky.   “How was I supposed to know you’d go into labor with Reid and Wyatt while I was still in space?”   “Maybe don’t plan missions for when your wife is 9 months pregnant!”   Wyatt looked back at Reid sitting in the living room, his head now peaking over the back of the couch, overhearing everything as well. His expression showed signs of worry.   “Next time you decide you want to go back into space, think of all of us and how much I need your help with your sons, understand?”   No answer. “Do you understand me, Sal?!”   “Yes, Grace.”   Wyatt noticed his mother turning around to head back into the living room. He quickly ran back to the couch, launching himself back over the couch by floating a bit. Ben had been making noises of distress due to the sudden tense atmosphere. Reid immediately made attempts to calm him down by pointing to the TV again. “Uh, l-look! It’s Keith! He’s the cool one! Uhm… so is Lance, too? I guess.” Wyatt grew worried for his parents.     - 9 months, 1 week -   Two weeks past and Wyatt’s birthday eventually rolled around. Everyone sang. “Happy birthday to you! Blow out your candles, son!” Wyatt did as told and made a wish before blowing out his candles. Reid, who was sitting next to him at the picnic table outside, leaned closer to him. Both to ask a question, and get a goog whiff of that cake smell he loved. “What you wish for?” Wyatt made a motion as if he was zipping up his lips. “Can’t say!” Reid was disappointed. “Aww, please?”   “Nope!”   “Okay…” Their mother came by with a cake knife and several paper plates and plastic forks. Wyatt had made several friends in the neighborhood they lived in, which meant the party had been chock full of little kids with the occaisional teenager. “Alrighty! Who wants cake?” Wyatt’s mother had asked everyone. Her question had been followed by several childrens’ excited shouts. “Birthday boy gets first slice!” She dug the knife into the cake and cut out a small piece with the Orion’s Belt constellation on it, put it on a paper plate along with a plastic fork and handed it to him. Wyatt loved cake, especially chocolate. Chocolate cake was his absolute favorite. He dug into it almost immediately. His mother continued handing cake to the rest of the children, taking care of Reid and Ben before the others. “Here you go Reid. Benny.” Wyatt watched Ben stare at the cake that was placed in front of him on his high chair. It was obvious he didn’t know what to do with it, why waste perfectly good cake on a toddler who could barely think? His mother watched Ben carefully. What were these two doing?   Ben smashed his face into the cake. Of course. “Mom?” Wyatt called out. “Yes?”   He quickly tried to think of an excuse to get her over to where he was sitting. “Where’s dad?” Wait, he shouldn’t have asked that should he? His mother looked at him. “He… couldn’t make it, Wyatt. I’m sorry.” Yep. He shouldn’t have asked that. “Mom? Can I get a hug?” She just continued to watch the infant in front of her. “Mom?” He gave up. It was pretty obvious that even on his birthday, that baby was still the center of attention.     - 10 months -   Reid’s birthday wasn’t too long after that. It had already come and gone as fast as Wyatt knew it. Ben became even more chatty than before. It had gotten to the point where his mother never left his side to make sure she’s there for his first word. In fact, she had been trying to get anything close to a word with more than one syllable out of him now.   “Okay, Benny. Say ‘Mama’!”   “M… ma…”   Wyatt had been sitting in the dining room with them eating his breakfast. Did she really have to do this now? He swallowed the food in his mouth and called for his mother, grabbing her attention a little later than wanted. “Mom, there is a new toy spaceship at the toy store now. I was wondering if we could get it?”   “Don’t you already have plenty of spaceships?”   “Yeah, but this spaceship is different! It can shoot lasers and missiles and stuff!”   The baby continued to chatter. “No, Wyatt. You have enough toy spaceships already.” Reid looked over at Wyatt making attempts to convince his mother to buy it. “It shoots lasers?” He asked the older brother. “Well, I mean, it doesn’t really shoot lasers, it’s just lights that make laser noises.”   “Ooh. Mom?”   “No.”     - 10 months, 1 week -   Reid had scraped up his knee during a family trip the following weekend. Well, family as in just the boys and their mother as their father couldn’t make it, again. Reid had hollered for their mother outside where he and Wyatt had been playing by the lake. Their mother came rushing out of the lake house and over to where Reid was sitting next to a tree branch he had fallen off of. She had handed baby Ben over to Wyatt to old him while she was fixing up Reid’s knee with a first aid kit she had brought out. All Wyatt could do was stare at the infant as it went to reach for the dog tag around his neck. He held the baby farther away from him. “Stop!” Ben didn’t do as he was told, and as Wyatt returned the baby to his chest, the baby reached for it again, causing Wyatt to go into an endless cycle of constantly holding the baby both close and far. He heard his mother speak up over his dilemma. “Wyatt, sweetie? Could you please take Benny inside for me and sit with him on the couch?” Wyatt internally groaned, yet showed an expression of annoyance behind his mother’s back. He did as told, of course, he just wasn’t happy about it.   “You just sit there don’t you?” Wyatt held the baby by the back of its shirt. The baby didn’t respond with anything except incoherent babbling. “Hmm.” He noticed the baby still fascinated in the dog tags around his neck. As Ben reached out for them again, he held his hand out to stop him. “No! You’re not supposed to ever touch these!” Ben just stared. Wyatt held them in his hand. “These belonged to Dad when he first went into space. He had four of them. I got two and so did Reid.”   “Here.” He reached for a baby toy nearby and handed it to him. Ben took it and instantly put it in his mouth. Wyatt tried to hold back a smile. He stopped himself. Wait, he couldn’t be starting to like this baby, could he? No. He moved Ben to where he had been leaning against the couch. “You may be cute, but just know that I don’t like you.” The infant giggled in response as he reached for Wyatt’s hand. “What are you doing?” The baby held tight onto the older child’s thumb. Wyatt actually did smile that time. “I still don’t like you, okay?”     - 11 months -   A month later, after they had been back home. Reid had been learning how to make Ben’s formula from his mother, Wyatt keeping a close eye on the infant in the living room, where he had been handing an assortment of toys to him. “I don’t see why you love these spaceships so much. I didn’t even like spaceships this much when I was a baby.”   “Alrighty, come here, Benny.” His mother had walked into the living room, giving Ben the bottle of formula. “You two getting along alright?” Wyatt shrugged. “I guess.” They were. “Well, I’ll leave Reid in here with you two. I gotta go make dinner.” She bent down and gave each of her boys a kiss on their forehead. “Bye, mama!” Reid had said to her as she walked back towards the kitchen. Reid turned his head to face Wyatt, who had been smiling at Ben. The middle child gasped, startling his older brother. “You DO like B-”   He had been interrupted by a hand covering his mouth. “No! I don’t!” Wyatt chuckled. “I don’t.” Reid rolled his eyes in disbelief. “Whatever, we both know you do.” It was true. Ben actually did start to grow on Wyatt. But Wyatt just couldn’t tell Reid that! He’d blab to their mother and they both would never let him forget about it. He took his hand from Reid’s mouth, and turning away from both him and the baby.     - 11 months, 3 weeks -

  Ben’s first birthday was next week. Reid had been helping his mother prepare the decorations for the rest of the family to come over. So much to do for a tiny baby, Wyatt thought to himself. Why were they going through so much trouble for something that can barely think for itself? It just didn’t make sense to the child. The two children had been watching programs for little babies like Ben to keep him distracted. Wyatt had been growing bored. Sighing, he picked the baby up from his lap and turned it around to face him. He thought a moment. “You’re a weird baby.” Ben giggled and reached out for Wyatt’s face, grabbing his nose. Wyatt, now unable to breathe through his nose, laughed. He said, nasally, “Yep. Really weird.” Ben smiled and tightened his grip on Wyatt’s nose. “Owie!” He pulled him away. They had a secret staring contest for a short while.   “Do you even think? Can you think?”   The baby babbled.   “What do you think of? I bet it’s spaceships like me and Reid.”   The baby giggled once more. “P… pa… 'pace'tip!”   Wyatt’s eyes lit up. He gasped. “YOU SPOKE! LIKE, AN ACTUAL WORD ALMOST!” He stood up from the couch, Ben dangling from his grip before the older child corrected himself and held Ben properly. He couldn’t believe Ben had said his first word! And he was the one to hear it! He ran to the backyard where his mother and Reid were. “MOM! BENNY SAID 'SPACESHIP’!! MOM!”   You know, maybe Wyatt could get used to his new brother after all.

[mysidewriting]

Through the Storm

Note: I'm taking an actual break from posting this story, not sure when I'll be back. School/life is actually a bit too demanding and my writing has turned to shit... So sorry guys, I'll hopefully be able to post new stuff again very soon.

Chapter Sixteen

"Are you as stressed as I am?" Gold asked, shoving his phone into his pants pocket. "This charizard shit is getting way out of hand."

"It's always been way out of hand." I muttered, meeting his topaz eyes from where I sat on the opposing couch. "We're just getting to the root of it now... hopefully."

We were the only two currently seated in the rec room of the basement, attempting to relax. I was shocked at how many couches could fit into one room, there were four placed around the large space and it somehow still looked well designed. A large TV hung on the wall with an amazing array of movies and games filling the cabinet below. As much as I hated the idea of waiting around while crazed people were out to kill the champions, the thought of curling up in this comfy room with a movie was very appealing.

Gold stretched his arms over his head, letting out a sigh as he did so and folding them behind his head afterwards. "Some crazy shit is going to go down. That's for sure." He let out a short snicker, "Especially if that Red guy is gonna be here."

"Do you not like Red?" I asked, shocked at his words. I had figured the two got along, but Gold was a lot more of an explosive personality than Red was. Red was quiet, reserved, and thoughtful; where Gold was harsh mouthed, quick-witted, and blunt. Though he was laid back most of the time, giving off such a passive, carefree vibe - he really wasn't much for stepping back and taking in the entirety of a situation.

Red was that type of guy, and I guess that difference was, understandably, enough for the two of them to have conflict.

"He's a fine dude." Gold said through a heavy sigh. "But we're pretty equally matched in battle, our rivalry runs a bit too deep to have a great friendship." He chuckled.

"Makes sense." I said, smiling at the floor. "I'm excited to see him again, I'm sure Green will come with too."

"Ha! The two never go anywhere without each other." Gold boasted. "That narcissistic prick will be here too. No doubt."

I couldn't help but laugh at his choice of words for Green, he was right… But Green was fine beneath that conceited mask.

The two of us sat there for a while longer, both spread out across the couches and rambling about stupid league challengers that shouldn’t have made it through our elite fours. He had been the Johto champion for much longer than I’d been the Alolan champion, only losing his title for about three days before reclaiming it once again. It had been three years since he’d come anywhere near losing a serious match. Hearing his stories made me wonder why Kukui had thought I was special, two years straight of being the champion didn’t seem that monumental, especially considering how new Alola’s league was. Both Red and Gold had been around so much longer…

I didn’t want to ask anyone about it though, didn’t feel like it was worth the time and didn’t want to seem too obsessed with being ‘the best’. I knew I was a great battler. That much was obvious considering I’d never once been beaten in a match – whether it be for fun or serious. That’s probably what it was then. Just how well I was doing rather than how long I had been the champion. It was weird thinking back to the first few weeks of my trip, or even thinking about things before I’d left. I was so deep into this mess that I’d nearly forgotten what my normal life felt like.

Hau entered the room eventually, looking between Gold and I rather confusedly before grinning and taking his own couch. He flopped down on it hard, stretching his legs over the arm rest and sighing dramatically. “This place is super cool, so comfy.” He said. “It kind of reminds me of your mom’s house, Moon!”

Mom…This place did have some eerily similar vibes to my mother’s interior design choices. Very homey and lived in, not messy, but chock full of blankets and other inviting objects. “When’s the last time you saw my mom, Hau?” I asked.

“Uhm, I stopped by for a few minutes like a day or two before Gladion and I flew here. She was busy with work stuff though, so I didn’t stay long.” He explained, eyes lost up on the ceiling.

Lillie and Gladion stepped into the room then as well, Lillie dragging her brother over to the only other open couch and having him sit next to her. I watched the two of them bicker momentarily, the topic of the disagreement skillfully hidden behind gestures and knowing glances to each other. Gladion ended the fight by letting out a frustrated sigh and crossing his arms over his chest, gaze traveling off to a corner. Lillie smirked as though she’d won. Wonder what that was about…?

“How was she? Did she look okay?” I asked Hau after finally dragging my attention away from the siblings. “I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to her yet.”

“She’s good! She loved those pictures from Oak!” Hau exclaimed in response, What? “Pictures of you and Lillie in Kanto, she was super excited about them!”

“Oh!” Lillie cheered, “So that’s why Oak wanted pictures from me!” She grinned towards me and I couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward about all of it. That my mother had some pictures I didn’t know about and that Hau had been looking through them… I would have been fine if it was just my mom but…

“Wait… what?” I laughed, “I didn’t know about any of this.”

“Oak emailed me and asked if I had any pictures of you while you were visiting Kanto. He said he needed them for a surprise and I totally figured he meant a surprise for you. It’s so much cuter that he sent those to your mom though.” Lillie explained with a soft giggle, “I bet those made her so happy. I sent him a lot of pictures from when we were at Seafoam Island.”

“Gladion and I saw them! They were really good!” Hau called.

I swear the room just got hotter, that couldn’t just be me blushing a furious mess… But of course it was just me. I pulled the hem of my shirt over my nose to hide the blush and slid a bit further down into the cushion of the couch. Gladion saw those too…? When the heck did he start going to my mom’s…? And I was wearing his sweater at Seafom. Arceus that’s awkward.

“Oh.” Gladion spoke up and I knew I should have turned to look at him, but I didn’t want to move. I feared embarrassing myself. “Yeah, I forgot to tell you about that, Moon. I met your mom a little while ago.”

“Why?” I asked without moving, the laugh that left my mouth sounding a bit forced even to myself. “Why were you all the way over there?”

“Hau dragged me out.” He quickly explained, “Guzma was bothering your mom again, so I took care of it.”

That forced me to look up to him, meeting that blank gaze. “You did? Thank you. I know you hate having to interact with anyone from skull so I really appreciate it.” I said, recalling the few times he’d brought the team up since he had left it. Anytime any name relating to team skull came up he looked a bit sick or pissed over it. I couldn’t blame him, I knew that was a dark time in his life. I didn’t even need to know him as well as I did to understand that.

He nodded, “It was no problem, Moon.”

Hau started to shift around anxiously and I figured he was feeling guilty for starting the mess with Guzma in the first place, he quickly blurted out. “It was my idea to bring Gladion there!”

Lillie giggled, “You did well too, Hau.”

“You did.” I echoed, laughing as I saw the look of relief that passed over his face. “I really appreciate everything everyone has done to help my mom. It means a lot to both of us.”

“What happened with your mom?” Gold asked, finally turning his head to face all of us again. I thought he’d fallen asleep once Hau had come in, so quiet and so still on that couch.

I shifted around myself, sitting a bit more upright since my face wasn’t bright red any more. “My dad is a cheating jerk, I found out about all of it when I visited him back in Kanto. So I had to tell my mom about it over the phone and now they’re getting a divorce.” The expression on Gold’s face was remorseful but I waved him off before he could say anything. “It’s fine, I’m okay by now. Just worried about my mom.”

“She’s doing fine though!” Hau filled in, “She keeps saying it doesn’t bother her as much as she thought it would.”

I smiled, “My mom is a tough lady. She can handle anything.”

“Still, Moon. Sorry to hear that, parents can suck ass.” Gold said through a yawn, his back arching as he stretched – similar to a meowth. “Pretty sure my rival’s dad was the leader of team rocket. Like fuck.”

I glanced back towards Lillie and Gladion, just seeing what their reactions would be to his words. Lillie was shaking her head and Gladion was staring off at a corner once again, his jaw bone twitching.

“Oh trust me, you have no idea how bad parents can be.” Hau joked, “Lillie and Gladion know best.”

Gold looked to them, “Yea? You two have shit parents?”

“Moms better.” Lillie muttered, “It took a while, but she’s doing better.”

“Is taking a while.” Gladion corrected, raising a hand to cover his face.

Lillie became a bit sullen at his words, but nodded in agreement anyway. “Family is a work in progress for us.”

“I’d say that’s a good way to put it.” I said with what I hoped looked to be a supportive smile towards both of them. “It’s working pretty well right now.”

Gladion nodded and Lillie smiled, clearly glad to see him accepting the term ‘family’ again.

Hau, Lillie, and Gold ended up spiraling off into more chatter about rivals and how they affected the battling skills of champions and even just typical trainers. Lillie had taken interest in the concept and I hoped she'd be able to find a rival of her own when she got to be more serious about training. I kind of let myself check out of the conversation, pulling out my phone to message my mom and tell her I was okay and apologize for not saying anything sooner. I wasn't sure about the time difference between Hoenn and Alola, but if it was getting late here - it was likely much later in Alola. She would either call or text me back when she got the chance, I hoped it was sooner rather than later - I was feeling homesick for her.

I leaned my head against my knees as Hau started laughing at something Gold had said. I felt disgusting, my stomach churning with the intensifying nausea. I need to tell Gladion already. I didn't want to walk across the room to pull him aside, though. I felt so weird about walking straight through the conversation that was happening, that and Lillie would question me about it... I looked up to him, seeing that he had resorted to messing with his phone as well.

He glanced up as I did, meeting my gaze rather quickly to my relief. His eyebrows pinched together as I made a face expressing how I felt. He waved his phone, confused by my nonverbal attempt to communicate... texting worked just as well.

G//What's wrong?

M//You told me to tell you if I felt sick? I feel sick...

I watched the stoic expression on his face falter momentarily as he read the message, eyes flicking up to look at me very quickly once again.

G//That's good, Moon. I was worried that you hadn't felt sick sooner.

M//good?! Why?!

G//That antidote I gave you should force your body to expel whatever toxins got in. It'll make you puke... but you'll be okay afterwards.

M//Oh. Great.

"Are you...?" I locked my phone immediately as Hau spoke up, he’d been watching. My cheeks started to warm and I shook my head before he could even finish the question.

Gladion's face had turned a bit red too, Lillie now peering at him. I stood from the couch and started to head towards the bedrooms, patting his shoulder as I passed and muttering a sorry for leaving him in the situation.

"What, were you texting each other?" Lillie giggled before I'd managed to completely leave the room.

Gladion just chuckled in response, standing from the couch as well and ushering me out of the room with his hand on my shoulder. "You can't leave me with that to deal with."

The bathroom floor chilled me to the bone, the cold of the tile seeping through my sweatpants so it felt like I was sitting on ice. I readjusted repeatedly, shifting to sit on my knees until they got to be cold. In all reality I was probably just making it worse for myself.

"Aren't heated bathroom floors a thing?" I asked as I shifted to sit on my butt once again, a shiver traveling down my spine.

Gladion made a face, "I don't know? I haven't really considered something so unnecessarily luxurious." He was seated next to the sink, seemingly not impacted by the cold floor whatsoever. Lucky.

"It's necessary!" I fake whined, "Think of how amazing that would feel after a shower."

"Is that why you keep moving? Because the floor is cold?" He chuckled as I nodded pathetically. "There's a small rug in the bedroom, Moon. I can bring it in for you to sit on." He didn't wait for a response before standing and disappearing through the doorway.

"Thank you." I called sheepishly.

He was adamant about me puking up whatever poison was in my system and had suggested we wait by the toilet until the nausea hit me again. We'd been sitting in the small bathroom of the bedroom I'd picked to sleep in for the past ten minutes - listening and commenting on the loud laughter coming from the rec room. We both wondered how much more shame would be tossed our way for texting while sitting in the same room. I was sure Lillie would comment on it whenever we sat and talked next. But, I felt like Lillie would comment on everything now that she knew I had an interest in her brother.

I stood as Gladion came in with the rug, he tossed it down exactly where I was sitting and I thanked him again before retaking the seat. It wasn't warm, but my butt no longer felt like the frozen tundra. He returned to his spot against the sink.>

"Maybe you should take some more of the antidote." He said.

I shook my head hard, gorge rising at the thought of having to taste that bitter drink again. "I don't want to."

"I know you don't but I'm getting worried."

"Let's just wait a bit longer?" I half begged. "Let's talk about something else, maybe I'll throw up if I'm distracted." I laughed, the situation was so strange and I was so thankful for his persistence considering how gross the end goal was.

"Okay." His gaze traveled to the ceiling and I found myself gawking over his facial structure and gorgeous eyes once again. "Would you mind if I interrogate you?"

"It's not interrogating if you ask, you dork." I laughed.

His face broke into a huge grin at that, bringing a blush to my cheeks. "I missed that."

Huh? All expression faded from my face, "What?" I could hear my heart pounding in my chest, amplified like a base drum in my ears.

"You calling me a dork." He shrugged, laughing at himself. "I don't know why I like it so much, but I do." That grin never faltered from his face as he spoke, such a rare sight for him. A broad genuine smile like that.

I ducked my head down, letting my hair fall over my face in an attempt to cover the more intense blush that his words had caused. I had been calling him a dork in an oddly endearing way, not that I had even intended too. Recounting all the times I had, though, it was always in an almost flirty context. He likes it? It felt like my chest could explode from the mix of anxious excitement that was brewing there. Does he actually have feelings for me too?

Do I really have the room to doubt that he does? He's so endlessly nice to me and it seems like he doesn't do any of it for anyone else... But he could just be doing all this because we're friends...

"To pick up where we left off then." Gladion continued as if he didn't see me blushing, I peeked at him through the drape of my dark hair. "What exactly happened in that forest back in Johto?"

"Oh!" I sat upright once again, surprised he was curious of something so far back. "It was Ilex Forest." I gave a brief retelling of what had happened that day, Celebi's appearance to the fight my newly evolved silvally had with the charizard. How I couldn't remember what had happened between when the charizard attacked and when I woke up chained at Magma. He winced as I explained that part, a momentary flash of guilt crossing his face.

"I should have warned you that there was a charizard in Alola looking for you." He said, looking annoyed as he glanced out towards the bedroom, "At least you would have been thinking about it then."

"It's okay though." I said, worried that the annoyance was directed at himself. "Celebi was a warning enough, I don't think anything could have changed the outcome."

Remorse still clouded his features so I continued, voice slightly more frantic as I attempted to get him to stop blaming himself. "Besides, we're a lot closer to solving the problem since I was brought to Magma! It was probably a good thing, honestly."

"True." He grumbled, rubbing his neck. "What happened at Magma then?"

My stomach churned as I thought of the place. "They had me chained up like a medieval prisoner..." Ugh the food they made me eat...

"So similar to Aqua then?" He questioned, looking disgusted as well.

"Yeah kind of." I muttered, placing a hand over my now aching stomach. "Basically I woke up chained to a wall with some guy telling me his plans to destroy the world. Then they forced..." I paused, gagging a bit as I remembered everything. Gladion tensed, looking ready to leap at me for some reason. "They forced me to eat... some nasty shake sort of thing..." It tasted like how I imagine bugs would taste... Another gag cut me off and....

I threw myself at the toilet as bile flew up my throat, what we had been waiting for finally happening. The thought of Magma being enough to make me retch up everything in my stomach. I barely caught the sound of rustling over my own disgusting sounds and suddenly a warm hand was on my back, lightly rubbing circles. You are too sweet... I stayed leaning over the toilet, letting everything empty out until the nasty feeling in my stomach faded.

After pulling the handle to flush all the nastiness away I fell back down from perching on my knees, yelping pathetically as I collapsed into Gladion's lap. He gasped and the hand that had been comforting me slid around my side so it rested above my stomach, inadvertently holding me in place. My body ached too much from barfing up poison to even attempt to move off his legs, my heart thudding painfully hard in my chest. I could just barely hear his own rapid heartbeat over my own, my head close enough to his chest that I was almost tempted to rest against him. We sat like that for a moment, both attempting to control racing hearts and unsteady breaths. He radiated a comfortable warmth that could lull me to sleep if I wasn't so on edge from the awkward position. Whatever gross feelings I'd had before had completely vanished, butterfree replacing the nauseas feeling in my stomach.

He leaned his forehead against the back of my head after a long minute of silence, an exhaled breath bathing my neck in warmth. I forced myself to not shiver at the sensation. Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy crap. His body relaxed and his hand on my stomach slid further towards my side, his arm going around me and pulling me a bit closer to him. "You're okay now, Moon." He said in a hushed voice, breath stirring the hairs at the nape of my neck. I couldn't help but feel like his words held many meanings, telling me I was safe now, not poisoned... but also saying that he didn't mind me sitting in his lap. I could be reading into that too much though.

But... He isn't pushing me away... And I don't really want to move... Arceus, what do I do?

"Moon! Gladion!" We both tensed as Lillie's voice called from the hall, sounding not far away. If she sees us...

A murmured swear left his mouth and he dropped his arm from around my waist. I stood, Lillie calling out once again - sounding even closer. I quickly stepped out into the bedroom, Gladion hesitating in the doorway of the bathroom as I continued on to the hallway. He waved for me to go ahead and my cheeks warmed again, I don't really want this to be shoved aside. I don't want to ignore what just happened...

I stepped into the hallway, expecting to see Lillie just outside so I prepared a smile for her. But instead of Lillie I was greeted with a spine crushing hug and a loud shout of "Moon!"

It took a moment of recovering from shock to realize who was hugging me and once I did I started freaking out as well. I pulled out of the hug. "Green! I didn't expect you to be here already!"

"I thought you were fucking dead, kid!" He shouted back with a grin. "Glad to see ya!"

Lillie stood behind him, grinning up until the moment that Gladion had stepped out of the room I'd just been in. Her face fell into shock and confusion as though she hadn't expected us to be together at all. Gladion had a significantly annoyed look on his face as he saw the former champion of Kanto standing in front of me.... Then I remembered that odd jealousy he'd had towards Green... Oh, Arceus.

Red reacted similarly when he saw me, a look of relief coming over his normally sullen face and wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. He spoke few words, simply saying. "Glad you're okay." Before falling silent once again. He grinned as Lillie came up and waved a pleasant hello, alerting me to the odd feeling bond that had formed between the four of us after what had happened at the restaurant. I'd had to leave Kanto so quickly that I hadn't had a chance to even really see Green and Red long. But all four of us seemed to have some deeper connection, likely relating to that first encounter with the charizard issue and also possibly the Seafoam island trip.

Gold, Steven, Hau, Lillie, Gladion, Green, Red, and I all piled back to the dinner table to hear from Green and Red about half an hour after they had arrived. Brendan and May had gone out to clean up some last minute things left behind at the previous hotel and assure that Aqua hadn't followed us to the house. I was kind of upset they hadn't invited me along since I had such an ache to go out and see things for myself - make some progress with the current issue. But they hadn't known, and I'm sure I'd be shut down almost immediately considering the fact that my name was on a wanted dead list.

Apparently Green and Red had been in Hoenn for two days now, having also found some suspicious evidence relating to the charizard attacks leading back to the region. They hadn't known about Aqua and Magma's location, or that Gold and I had been brought here. So once they got the call from Steven they made sure to come to the house immediately. Green spent a good five minutes complaining to both Gold and I about not contacting them sooner and saying we were safe and not dead. Gold only rolled his eyes at him, making some snide comment about how he wasn't at the top of his list for that sort of stuff.

No matter what it was, we hadn't had the time to tell anyone. I'd only been able to tell Gladion I was okay by risking my cover as an Aqua grunt one night. I tried to explain this, but the minute I said that I had called someone else Green started going off the walls again.

After he had calmed down, satisfied with his seemingly pointless ranting, Steven gave both him and Red a rundown of what we had learned so far and what we suspected to be true. Red's head bobbed, his face sullen and serious despite the severity of Steven's words. I envied him for being able to stay so calm in such a deadly situation for us, same with Steven. But they had both been champions for a very long time, and dealt with plenty of region-wide issues in the past. They had a much thicker skin than even Gold had. I was still just a kid when it came to experience with region-wide crises.

Steven thanked Green specifically for being here, glad that another significantly powerful non-champion had come to help with the issue. Green scoffed in response.

"I'm practically a champion, though."

Red laughed, shaking his head.

"But you're not." Gold stated bluntly, passing him and almost evil looking grin that made Green go a bit red in the face out of anger.

"That's what's helpful." I added with a shrug. "They probably won't be trying to kill you, so you're kind of under the radar."

Green laughed. "Pshh... I bet they are after me, I've been just as important in champion stuff as long as this guy." He hooked a thumb to Red.

"Don't victimize yourself, Green." Gold said, continuing with the snide remarks. "For once you're non-champion status is useful."

"Can we stop." I said, closing my eyes so neither would see me rolling them. Steven and Red agreed with me, nodding their heads.

"Fine, out of respect for Moon. I'll cut it here." Gold said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. The grin on his face was still picking fun at Green.

The other man said nothing more, though, only voicing an annoyed 'tch' before imitating the same contemptuous position as Gold had. I elbowed Gold, hoping he would get my message to ease up a bit and he seemed to follow it, letting the front legs of his chair hit the ground and sitting a bit straighter.

"I thought the champions got along really well." Hau muttered from the opposite end of the table, a harmless little comment...

"Oh the champ-" I slapped my hand over Gold's mouth before he could finish the sentence, drawing a booming laugh from Steven, Red, and Green.

"We're like any other family." I said to Hau, though I didn't have much grounds to make the assumption. Everyone nodded anyway, agreeing that it was a great way to describe the relations between champions.

Note: Thanks, hope you guys enjoyed this and everything else I've posted thus far! c:

[superbearfun]

Note to Readers– This is Chapter Six of a continuing Weekly Serial Story freely shared only here for followers of my Writing Blog.  If you missed the beginning, you can catch up HERE for the beginning and previous chapters. Follow the Blog now to be informed of every new post and update.

Pieces of glass flew everywhere as the window at first shattered and then seemed to explode from the force of a heavy, grey granite rock hurled from outside, startling everyone and causing all the bunnies to scurry in fright beneath the table to shelter from flying bits of glass.

Thump-a! . . . Bump-a! . . . Thump-a! . . . .

The rock hurtled, careened and bounced across the cabin’s wooden floor, finally coming to rest against the far wall.

Wearing boots and not wanting any of the others’ bare feet to be cut on broken shards of glass, I motioned Little Red Bear and everyone away. Carefully stepping around the larger glass splinters, smaller pieces crunched and crackled beneath my feet as I made my way across the room.

Reaching the rock, I carefully picked it up to find a message, painted in bold red letters on the flat bottom.

I held it up for Little Red Bear to see.

“LOOK OUTSIDE”

Little Red Bear quickly tossed me a broom from the corner.  I hurried to sweep up the shattered window glass pieces from seemingly everywhere, anxious to see who or what was to be found outside.

Had the weasels ganged up and overwhelmed Albuquerque while guarding the rabbits? Holding him hostage?  Worse?  Had the coyotes run wild and taken potential story characters? What had been done that they wanted us to see?  Thoughts raced thru my mind while hurriedly sweeping glass.

Before I could finish, another rock came sailing in thru the now open window space, striking the far wall and falling down in a loud “CLUMP” on the floor.  I walked over to find another message awaiting . . .

“WHAT’S TAKING SO LONG?”

I worked even faster to clear the remaining few pieces of glass from the floor and tops of tables.  

Emptying the last dust pan filled with broken glass into the trash can, I joined Little Red Bear, already slumped and frowning, at the broken window.

A short distance from the cabin, the smallest ostrich, the one whose protest sign Little Red Bear had ripped apart earlier in the day, stood with his tongue sticking out atop an upturned wooden rain barrel, forcefully waving a freshly painted new sign while wagging his head in an unhinged, wibbly-wobbly, deranged back and forth manner, taunting Little Red Bear.

RED BEAR IS SO UGLY HIS MOTHER

HAD TO BORROW A BABY

TO TAKE TO CHURCH ON SUNDAYS!

Then, aware that we had each seen the new sign, the ostrich flipped around, shaking his backside and tail feathers at us while displaying the reverse side of the sign.

AND HE SMELLS BAD!

“Sticks and stones, Red,” I reminded, trying to comfort and gently moving him back away from the window and sign message. “Sticks and stones.”

“My Mother never borrowed nobody’s baby — or cub — to take to church,” Little Red Bear grumbled in protest. “That little ostrich is just makin’ up stuff. To be hurtful. That’s not nice.”

“No, it’s not nice, Red. Don’t let it get to you. Just remember – ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me.”

“I suppose,” Little Red Bear replied, rather dejectedly, “but right now I’d like to take a few sticks and stones to that guy’s bones.”

“You know that wouldn’t solve anything and just serve to make matters worse. Just let it go and be the bigger man.  Err, bear. Be the bigger bear. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe the next sign will be about you, and then you can be the bigger man.”

“Well, Red,” I replied, patting and ruffling the hair on his shoulder. “There’s always tomorrow. Hold on to that thought if it cheers you up. We never know what the morning will bring around here right now, so we’ll see. Maybe they’ll do that for you.”

We both laughed.

“But in the meantime,” I continued, “we have a window to patch and guests to make comfortable for the night. It’s time to get bunnies in blankets.”

“Bunnies in Blankets! Oh, that sounds good.  Let me get this here window covered and I’ll get some started and made up real quick for us!”

“No, no, Red.  Not those Bunnies in Blankets.  Henrietta’s baby bunnies — I need to round up some comforters and blankets for them to go to bed and keep them warm tonight. It’s getting late. Do you always think about food?”

“Well, not always.”

“But maybe?”

“Well — maybe.”

We both laughed again.  Little Red Bear patched the broken window with some large sections of cardboard for the night, while I prepared bedding areas for Henrietta and her family of bunnies.

“Why did they have to bring my Mother into it?” Little Red Bear called over from the window. “She’d come straighten ‘em all out in a hurry if she knew about what they’d said.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah,” I agreed, still laughing. “She would reset their clocks all right.  There would be nothing left but a pile of feathers by the time your mother finished with them all if she knew what they’d been saying about her cute little baby bear.”

“Watch the ‘baby’ stuff,” Little Red Bear corrected, laughing himself at the thought of his mother dealing with the ostriches. “There would be feathers flying for sure! Don’t those ostriches know not to ever anger a mother bear?”

“Good thing for them she’s not around then,” I added while spreading the blankets and comforters on the floor for the bunnies.  Henrietta gently tucked each one in with a bunny kiss on the forehead.

“Maybe,” Little Red Bear answered. One could tell that he was still entertaining thoughts of flying ostrich feathers in his mind though, by the half grin on his face.  Then he unexpectedly burst into a fit of hearty and loud laughter.

“Wouldn’t those ostriches be sad to find out that after all of their efforts to make us mad and hurt our feelings, we were still inside here laughing and not crying into our pillows?” Little Red Bear managed to get out, between laughs.

Henrietta’s baby bunnies, snuggled in their blankets, were all giggling too, because laughter is contagious, after all. Henrietta shushed them, of course, while chuckling to herself.

“Yeah well, that’s what it’s all about, right?” I responded. “Not letting them get to us or ruin our day? It’s up to each of us whether we choose to be happy or give over control of our thoughts and happiness to others.  And with you laughing so loud right there beside the broken window, I’m guessing the ostriches might know.”

The prospect of the ostriches being aware that they had not affected him seemed to delight Little Red Bear still more, and he laughed even louder.

In a little while, with the window patched and bunnies nuzzled and settled in, Little Red Bear and I headed upstairs, deciding to call it a night after what had been another long and trying day.

We all awoke the next morning to find the sun peeking up over the treetops. Soon it was shining brightly, warming us on Honey Hill and burning off the night’s fog in Hoppers Holler below; with clear, cheerful blue skies overhead.  A beautiful Sunday morning.

Heralding spring, dandelions were popping up thru what open ground was left unoccupied by the encampment surrounding the cabin. Pink and white dogwood trees were in bloom, scattered thru the woods over the hillsides. The delightful sounds of birds singing, chirping, whistling and warbling filled the air.

There were many birds singing, in fact. The trees were chock full of them, all having come to see for themselves what all the uproar was about in the neighborhood. The encampment of wildlife had grown larger and even more spread out over the hillside as late-comers had continued to arrive all thru the night. Apparently, word of the ostrich protest and goings-on was still spreading over the mountains and thru the hollers.

This morning’s light revealed the construction of a rather large treehouse in the grove of trees on the hill slope out back. Raccoons can be just as busy as beavers when they set their minds to a task. Uncomfortable in their hastily constructed lean-to shelters with so many of Farmer Turner’s contentious hounds encamped nearby, Cooter’s raccoon platoon had constructed an imposing treehouse structure overnight, complete with a swing for the young-uns.

Speaking of the beavers, they completed and already rented out their second and third lodges, with new work begun on a fourth and fifth, with “For Rent” signs of course. Construction is booming it appears.

After spotting what the raccoons had accomplished overnight with their magnificent treehouse, the beavers, considering themselves to be highly skilled carpenters and builders not to be outdone, decided to try their paws at treehouse construction, as well.

Of course, the beavers needed to also construct a nice ladder in order to reach it, not having the natural ability to climb trees as do the raccoons.  A good number of trees would remain upright in the woods if beavers could climb, and not have to chew and fell trees in order to secure out-of-reach twigs and branches for food.  But they don’t, so they do, so to speak.

Little Red Bear and I both agreed the beavers’ treehouse resembled more of a traditional beaver lodge with a second story added than a true treehouse, but if you have a winning design why change it, I suppose.  And we certainly cannot argue with their success, having already rented the new unit out before work was even completed.

Securing the ostrich’s permission to cross the picket line, a family of enterprising chipmunks set up a Farmer’s Market on our front porch and yard. With the help of some beaver carpenters they had quickly assembled stands displaying and selling a large selection of various acorns, nuts, seeds, grains, berries, fruits, vegetables, mushrooms, earthworms, bugs, corn, juice, milk and eggs. A veritable little “Nature’s Wildlife Grocery Store” for the campers.

Critters have been filing in steadily to replenish supplies and to do their grocery shopping. Chipmunks are renowned for their food-storing habits and to their credit recognized a ready market for their warehouse of stores and supplies, but I didn’t ask them where they obtained the fresh produce, milk and eggs. Sometimes it is just better not to know. But with all of Farmer Turner’s hounds camping out back, I have a sneaking suspicion where at least some items may have come from.

Dealing with enough issues right now though as it is, and we were running out of food to distribute to everyone anyway. The chipmunks and their market were a welcome sight, to be honest. I will cover whatever is missing from the neighboring farmers after all this blows over. Though, it may get costly if this Ostrich Crisis goes on much longer.

I suppose the ostriches realized too, that it was best for all of us if the assembled friendly and so far, merely curious crowd of onlookers remained that way, and did not turn into an out-of-control hungry mob, so allowed the chipmunks to cross the picket line and set up shop.

Newspaper circulations and revenues are up substantially for both the owls and squirrels. And word has come to me that the weasels are still managing to clip unsuspecting visitors now and then for “camping fees” on the outskirts of the area.

It seems everyone is making money off the ongoing Ozarks Ostrich Crisis except those truly involved in the affair – Little Red Bear and the ostriches. And me – the meat in the sandwich caught in the middle as work has come to a screeching halt on new stories. Isn’t that always the way, though?

But thinking about it, somewhere in there may lie the grounds and basis for a future settlement to resolve all of this, perhaps. On the other hand, it doesn’t seem the ostriches have cared much about anything other than disruption of our writing work so far.

It is amazing how far down the wrong bumpy road one poorly chosen little word or comment can send us sometimes. Case in point – Little Red Bear’s ‘flightless’ comments to the ostriches.

Have said it before and will undoubtedly say it again – words are like toothpaste. Once squeezed out, toothpaste is all but impossible to get back inside the tube again. And thoughts and words are the same way – good or bad – and seem to take on a life of their own once let out.

Having been spoken and let loose, words are out running around on their own for all to hear, and then we must deal with the consequences because they cannot be unsaid. There are no ‘Cancel, Clear, Delete’ options on speech. We can be sorry and apologize for the poorly chosen ones right off, but the words are still out there floating around in the air, and hiding in folks’ memories looking to cause trouble at a later time.

Think twice, speak once. Or better yet sometimes, not at all.  My advice everlasting.

And in Little Red Bear’s case, the consequences of an off-hand comment came immediately in the form of picketing ostriches and an abrupt stoppage of work on his stories. Of course, how could any of us have predicted the ostriches’ reaction to being questioned about their useless wings? Ostriches are indeed “flightless”, after all. No secrets there. Little Red Bear was merely seeking information, even if not in the most delicate way, perhaps. Maybe the world is simply getting a little too sensitive, seeming to almost seek out things to be offended by at times.

Regardless, due to poorly-chosen words or over-sensitivity, the ostrich crisis lives on. New onlookers and campers are still arriving every hour, a steady stream of woodland shoppers keeps the chipmunks’ new market hopping, and the picket lines encircle and wind around the cabin.

Getting back to the ostriches, having observed that the encampment of observers had encircled my home, the ostriches decided that their picket line should also. Just so no one missed out on seeing their protests, I suppose. Instead of merely parading with their picket signs back and forth across the front as they had been the first days, they had by Saturday worn a path around the whole cabin, having taken advantage of the packs of coyotes and weasels to lengthen the picket line.

Today’s new development was discovering that a second circle of picketing ostriches, coyotes, and weasels had been added to the non-stop picketing parade around the cabin, marching in counter-clockwise fashion to the clockwise direction of the first, a circle within a circle rotating in opposite directions. Dizzying to watch.

With so many signs marching in different directions, it seemed that no matter where Little Red Bear went inside the cabin, he inevitably found himself at a window when a “LITTLE RED BEAR IS FAT, UGLY, AND SMELLS BAD!” sign paraded past.

Little Red Bear’s restraint to this point, although measured at times, has been admirable. I wonder myself, for the ostriches’ sake – how far do they really want to torment and agitate – a “bear”?

Thinking it might be time to draw the window shades and blinds before things get more out of control. As gentle and good as he is, even Little Red Bear’s tolerance level has limits, as do we all.

With tomorrow being Monday and the start of a new work week, if all goes well a sizable number of the spectators may be packing up and leaving to return to various woodland duties and jobs for the week, perhaps easing the uproar and potentially enabling some meaningful dialogue on the issues with the ostriches tomorrow.

The beaver lodges and the raccoon’s treehouse present an interesting legal quandary. They each constructed them using their own materials, but they are on our property without our permission.  I wonder if the beavers and raccoons would allow me to sub-let the new properties when this is all over? Getting ahead of myself there, probably. This all needs to be resolved first. Peacefully if possible, but with coyotes and weasels involved that’s never a sure thing.

At least, thru the efforts of the enterprising chipmunks and wildlife grocery though, everyone is getting fed now. And that’s always a good thing.

Except, the coyotes and weasels, who have displayed no interest whatsoever in the chipmunk’s market.

That is a worry. Weasels and coyotes are always a worry.  Hungry – doubly so.

But right now, I have to deal with a little piggy who appears as though he’s made one too many trips to the market.  I thought the chipmunks had only set up produce and dairy departments. Apparently there is a section in the back I may have overlooked.

Some critters seem to be enjoying the ostrich protest and events a tad more than others, it would appear. This fellow looks drunk as a skunk.  I had better go outside and get hold of this party animal before Albuquerque the Sheriff pulls him over under suspicion of SWINE – Shopping While Intoxicated Nearly Embalmed.

Gotta go.

To be continued . . . .

Thanks as always for following along and visiting with us! If not doing so already, Follow the Blog now to be informed of every new post and update.

As a special ‘thank you’ for everyone, Little Red Bear has included the Pinterest Recipe for Bunnies in Blankets that he mentioned earlier in the story, a nifty little appetizer featuring Caramelized Baby Carrots in Crescent Roll Wraps, just for fun.  You didn’t really think that we would be harming baby bunnies, did you? Find this recipe and much more on my Pinterest Boards.

Be sure to check in next week as events continue to unfold in the “Ozarks Ostrich Crisis”, a continuing weekly serialized free story available only here on the Writing Blog.  See ya then!

Kindness costs nothing.  Be kind whenever possible, while keeping in mind that it is always possible.   Be the reason someone smiles today!   — Jim  (and Red!)

“Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith.” – St. Francis of Assisi

“Anger helps straighten out a problem like a fan helps straighten out a pile of papers.” – Susan Marcotte

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  Chapter Six of The Ozarks Ostrich Crisis: “To Market, To Market” Note to Readers-- This is Chapter Six of a continuing Weekly Serial Story freely shared only here for followers of my Writing Blog.