#how about Lucy's parents who were left in the dark about the whereabouts of their daughter's body?

[the-greatest-magic-of-all]

Sorry for bringing discourse onto your blog but your post just reminded me of when I saw an unhinged rant abt how “if they have a senior year all the parents of the rat grinders should try and violently murder the bad kids and when tbk ask for redemption instead it isn’t given to them.” And I get that like you wanted your thematic bullshit or whatever but you LITERALLY just advocated for a munch of adults to kill teenagers without mercy bc of tbk not thinking twice when they need to save the ENTIRE world. Idk maybe we’ve lost the plot a little.

OH BABY! We've lost the plot in Costco and need to find a responsible grown-up to help us find it again.

Anon, that's the funniest thing I've seen in a while because... didn't the Bad Kids just take down Oisin's Grandma not one episode ago? I'm sorry, what are the Copperkettles gonna do? Bobby Dawn (to quote Gorgug) is a regular freak. Henry can get someone to cast Plane Shift and go get Ruben back. Like, damn, I WISH the Ratgrinders' parents would show up so they can come get their kids, the fuck?

Also... The Bad Kids would never beg for anything not even redemption. Especially not from some adults who were about to kill them. They'd flip them off and insult them on a deep level only teenagers can before dying glorious deaths. And then they'd find each other across afterlives, figure out how to get back to the Material Plane and get revenge. Because what does death mean to the kids who died on the first day of school?

[aratilightwood]

You used to look at me that way.

This is a Thomastair au based on the 2012 romantic drama, ‘The Vow.’

There’s a lot of jealousy, angst and heartache, so you’ve been warned!

...

The Institute’s ballroom was alive with music. Every inch of the interior was decorated beautifully, while the theme gave off a glittery and romantic atmosphere. The musicians had set up near the entrance of the room to entice people with welcoming and joyous tunes. The place settings and cutlery were laid out on tables, by servants who spent hours walking to and from the kitchen to gather food.

Gold banners hung across the the wall on one side of the room, marked with runes that symbolised love. On the other side, lay a large rectangular table with a three tier cake. It was inscribed with the words, ‘Congratulations Barbara and Oliver,’ in icing. The courtyard outside was scattered with numerous carriages, each adorned with the insignia of various Shadowhunter families.

Majority of the party guests had arrived. The ballroom was packed with familiar faces. Anna and Christopher stood near the table where they kept lemon tarts, and they placed liberal amounts on their own plates. Lucie and Cordelia were having a private conversation with Matthew, who arrived earlier with his parents, although Charles’ whereabouts were unknown. The remainder of the guests formed a circle around Barbara and Oliver as they swayed rhythmically to soft music. It drifted across the room, and enticed people to join the couple on the dance floor with a chosen partner.

But Thomas Lightwood was standing at a large window, and looking out for one person in particular.

He wouldn’t miss this, Thomas hoped. Not tonight of all nights.

He momentarily glanced at the dance floor where more people began dancing. Oliver held Barbara close in his arms as he bent down to whisper something in her ear. Barbara threw her head back and laughed out loud.

Thomas’ heart softened at the sight. It had been a while since he saw his sister laugh like that. In fact, no one in the Enclave had a reason to be happy over the past few weeks since the demon attacks and plague. That was until he’d helped Christopher develop an antidote that saved them all.

“A memorable day,” Christopher had said. “Something that’ll go down in history. They’ll think of us as heroes.”

Thomas was interrupted from his reverie when he heard the sound of wheels approaching the Institute outside. He glanced back at the window and noticed it was a carriage he hadn’t seen before. Once it was stationary, the door opened to reveal a man with dark complexion and raven hair. Thomas’ heart skipped a beat and he stealthily walked towards the ballroom’s exit, earning a quizzical look from his mother.

He came, Thomas thought. He remembered.

His heart beat with anticipation like the thrumming of a drum, as he made his way to the Institute’s entryway. The distance felt like the length of the River Thames and it was agony. But when he reached there, he stopped dead in his track after hearing a murmur of voices vibrating through the great mahogany door.

It couldn’t be, Thomas contemplated. His family’s already here. He must be alone.

He took a deep breath, turned the handle and stepped outside. The sight before him caused a dull pain at the pit of his stomach. Below the steps of the Institute stood Alastair, looking dashing in a tailored blue suit. But he wasn’t alone. Beside him was Charles, though his beauty didn’t compare, even as he playfully winked at his companion. They walked up the steps, shoving at each other with cheerful banter from what Thomas could only guess was a private joke.

Alastair’s laughter quietened when he noticed Thomas standing at the Institute’s entrance, looking like a wounded puppy. Charles’ eyes narrowed as he looked between the two boys with cool interest. An awkward silence fell upon the three of them, so much so, Thomas could’ve heard crickets chirping.

“Thomas!” Charles exclaimed while holding out a hand. “Congratulations on your sister’s engagement.”

Thomas shook his hand firmly and smiled, “I’m glad you could make it.”

Charles nodded and gave him a friendly pat on the back, “I’ll see you two inside.”

As soon as he disappeared inside the Institute, Thomas turned to face Alastair with a questioning gaze.

“I know I’m late -“ Alastair said solemnly.

“What happened?”

“Charles and I thought it would be fun to have a couple of drinks at the tavern.”

Charles and I, Thomas repeated to himself. It’s always been Charles and Alastair.

“Well it’s not like there are any drinks here, right? With it being a party and all?” Thomas said sarcastically.

“We had things to discuss,” said Alastair in defence. “Private matters.”

“Of course.”

Alastair huffed with frustration before his attention was drawn to the Institute, where lively music drifted down the hallway from the ballroom.

“We’d better get inside,” he said as he brushed by Thomas.

Thomas frowned and followed after him with caution. Both of them felt on edge, with the altercation outside still playing on their minds. Their relationship had been delicate over the past few weeks, and it was like walking on eggshells whenever they were in each other’s presence.

How do I make him see? Thomas deliberated. How is it possible to make someone fall in love with you again?

One of the key aspects of love was having patience, and Thomas had heard as much from his friends and family. But they could only offer their sympathies. How much longer could he wait until both of them had to move on with their lives, with or without each other?

When they entered the ballroom, they awkwardly stood still for a moment. Alastair was absorbing the warm atmosphere, as it was a contrast to the bitter weather outside. Annoyingly, Charles’ deep voice sounded from across the room, where he was standing with a group of his Enclave friends. He beckoned Alastair to join him, so with a curt nod to Thomas, Alastair strode towards the other boy.

Thomas cursed under his breath and walked to Christopher and James. They were gathered around Matthew, who was recounting a mournful story. His puppy, Mr Oscar Wilde, had been acquainted with Magnus’ cat, Church. Disaster had struck when the puppy became over excited and chased the cat around the ballroom, before Church viciously bit his tail. Matthew had spent the past half hour trying to coax Oscar from underneath one of the tables, who had been afraid to face everyone while Church was still in the room.

There were other topics of discussion as well, such as: Cordelia and James’ impending marriage, Sona’s surprise pregnancy and Elias’ trial where nothing could be discerned from his clouded recollection of a terrible night. Thomas nodded and hummed throughout the conversation to give the impression that he was listening but, his attention was elsewhere.

His eyes were trained on where Alastair and Charles stood. It was evident that they were only intent on each other. His ears were open to the discussions they were having with the people around them. However, it wasn’t the storytelling of their time in France that bothered him. He didn’t cringe when Alastair spoke of their favourite cafe in Paris. Nor did he roll his eyes when Charles pondered over them getting lost in Marseille and having to ask for directions, because they’d left the map at home.

What bothered him the most was how relaxed they were. They were comfortable with each other because of the history they shared, while he and Alastair only had an ounce of that ease. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t divert his eyes from them. It was something in the way Alastair rested his hand above Charles’ elbow, or when Charles smiled down at him, that made Thomas’ heart drop. His hands formed into tight fists at his side, leaving nail marks across his palms. If anyone paid attention, they would’ve noticed the tension in his posture.

Suddenly, the atmosphere inside became stifling and for the second time that evening, Thomas hastily walked out of the ballroom.

The Institute’s entrance wasn’t close enough as Thomas took quick strides, before opening the door and stepping outside. The cool air was a relieving presence. He walked down the steps, became stationary and started some breathing exercises his father taught him. It was a useful tactic while dealing with stress. This was a habit of his whenever an environment became overwhelming, and he had to remove himself from the situation. But his meditation was cut short when he heard the door open and close behind him.

“Tom.”

He knew who it was and yet he couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“Thomas?” Alastair repeated.

There was a long pause, but with Thomas’ lack of communication, the silence was deafening. Alastair walked down the steps and gently tugged at his arm to turn him around.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you out here by yourself?”

“I’m surprised you noticed since you’ve been draped over Charles this entire evening,” Thomas replied as he roughly pulled his arm back.

“What?” Alastair looked puzzled. “I’ve known Charles for a long time. He’s been easy to talk to and confide in since the accident.”

The accident, Thomas thought as a shiver travelled up his spine.

A few months ago, Thomas was sitting in the passenger seat of one of Alastair’s motor cars while they were driving home from the theatre. The roads were slippery and the car toppled over, landing upside down in the middle of the street. Alastair had immediately fell unconscious. It took the Enclave half an hour to arrive at the scene. But while the Silent Brothers were able to heal their physical injuries, they had yet to cure Alastair of his amnesia.

“I understand that,” Thomas said after a beat. “But it’s been four months. I thought you would’ve remembered something, anything - about us.”

Alastair sighed and tentatively cupped Thomas’ cheek with his hand, “look -“

“It hasn’t been easy. I’ve tortured myself watching you move on with your life, while I’m the only one who remembers what we had.”

“Do you think it’s been easy for me?” Alastair asked incredulously as he removed his hand. “I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to recover my memories. I’ve been to the Silent City nearly everyday. I’ve lied to people about my health by saying I’m fine, when all I want to do is disappear!”

Alastair whipped around and prepared to walk back inside, before Thomas caught hold of his wrist.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Thomas said as his voice cracked. “And it hurts. It hurts so much because you used to look at me the same way.”

“I know I loved you, Thomas.” Alastair said mournfully. “I just don’t remember it. I truly am sorry.”

With that, Thomas slowly let go of Alastair’s wrist. Only after the other boy retreated up the steps of the Institute, did he finally drop to his knees and placed his face in his hands.

After months of holding back, the tears finally came and he welcomed them.

...

Guys, I’ve been working on this fic for weeks so I hope you enjoyed it.

Also, I’m ten followers away from my next milestone so thank you!

[secret-engima]

Nox and/or Ardyn meeting little Prom?

(Ohhhh okay then. Buckle up because I can do literally nothing by halves and this ask exploded into a 2.5k long HC format story/thing. Also @wolfsrainrules @hamelin-born @sparklecryptid you three might find this interesting?)

…

-Nox likes to think he knows himself pretty well. Which is why he would be the first one to admit that, in some things, he is a total coward. Ask him to blow up a Nif base, no problem. Tell him to face down daemons, sure as long as he had enough flasks to set everything on fire. Ask him to escort his little brother to school? The school where, somewhere amidst the other faceless classmates, Prompto also goes and learns and Nox might encounter him?

-In that, Nox is the greatest of cowards.

-It’s been four years since he was discovered by Regis and talked into living in the Citadel and while Nox has learned to swallow the pain of being around so many people who don’t remember him anymore (have never been through what he went through with them once upon a time) and embrace the happiness that they are alive and whole… some wounds still felt too deep. It was why Nox tended to discreetly vacate the room when Ignis and Gladiolus were chatting with Noctis (their Noctis, not him, not the brother who had died for them because they were not the brothers he had died for). It still hurt too much sometimes to look at them and know that, on the one hand, they were happy and whole and loyal to their Noctis, unblinded and unscarred. But on the other hand … they didn’t know him. They were … younger than him. Looked at him with a mix of respect and confused hurt (respect because he had protected Noctis when they couldn’t, confused hurt because they both knew that Nox tended to abruptly leave the room when they were in it despite his best efforts to be friendly).

-The thought of meeting Prompto like that, seeing blue eyes look at him like a stranger where once he had been a most trusted friend…. Nox was a coward. He didn’t want that kind of pain. (Prompto had always been different compared to Ignis and Gladiolus, the commoner brother who sought him out rather than the brothers who were bound by oath first before love had formed. The brother who followed not because of oath first and affection second but always, always because of their friendship first. Because the Crownsguard oath had just been a convenient excuse to follow Noctis into the jaws of death and back where otherwise Noctis would have tried to make him stay behind. If seeing Ignis and Gladiolus made it hard to breathe sometimes, Nox didn’t want to know what seeing Prompto would do to him). So he avoided Noctis’s school like the coward he was and prayed Noctis could make friends with Prompto on his own.

-Of course, the world seemed to make a hobby out of forcing Nox to jump headfirst into his fears.

-Nox is exploring Insomnia in the middle of a faintly drizzly late afternoon, hoodie pulled over his head to help keep people from noticing him and recognizing the Second Prince of Lucis (eldest prince yet not crown prince, the tabloids were still going on about that and it had been four years), meandering down some random, mostly unpopulated stretch when he hears the cursing. Loud, ugly cursing, slurred and edged with violence in the way only angry drunks could get (who gets drunk in the middle of the afternoon anyway?). Nox frowns and jogs closer, some instinct niggling in his head that the drunk wasn’t cursing at air, and that if Nox wasn’t there to break it up, something might go wrong. He’s about ten yards away when he sees the drunk begin stomping on something, hears the crunch of plastic and glass and a young voice begin sobbing in fear and grief both, “St-stop! Stop, that’s m-my- m-my-!”

-Nox feels the world slow down, every hair on his body prickling from the static of his own rising magic. Sees the drunk raising a fist toward the blond little boy who had done nothing but protest the destruction of his treasure. The world freezes in place, like one of Prompto’s battle snapshots. Everything is clear. The drunk, the broken fragments of camera under the man’s feet, the chubby little boy cringing away from the impending violence, blue eyes wide and terrified behind his glasses. Nox exhales and feels the world turn blue.

-Prompto-my friend-my Sharpshot-my Prompto-you-dARE- 

-The drunk slams into the dirt hard enough to knock the wind out of him, has one chance to gasp out a curse before magic swells like deadly blue tides and sobriety is burned into the man’s brain by the sheer, painful weight of terror at having at least fifteen blades of varying shapes and sizes, all of them pulsing with barely leashed power, pointed at his throat. Nox towers over the man, fury stirring his long hair like a breeze, eyes gleaming like fresh blood as the clouds over their heads thicken and snarl with promise (the taste of the Fulgarian’s magic sits on the back of Nox’s tongue, waiting for the barest hint of desire on Nox’s part for Ramuh to manifest and unleash Judgement). Nox inhales and tightens his mental grasp on what is left of his self control. Exhales past bared fangs and hisses in the voice of a hundred old kings, “Touch Prompto and I’ll make you scream.” The former-drunk cringes into the dirt, not enough air in his lungs to plead for mercy that Nox doesn’t want to give. Nox gives it anyway, using the last scrap of self control to hiss, “Leave. And don’t come back.”

-The man crawls out from under Nox’s glittering armory and then runs without once looking back.

-Nox inhales, exhales, reels in the screaming power in his blood that wants to chase the man down and cut him open slowly for his transgressions (Lucis Caelums were not possessive because they were kings, they were kings because they would gladly tear apart nations for what was Theirs), dismisses both his armiger and Ramuh lingering in the clouds with a flick of his hand. He pulls his hood down and turns around to look at Prompto, swallowing back his own fear of being face to face with the boy who was once his best friend (so small, so small and civilian and oh astrals what if Nox has scared him off forever, to the point even Noctis will never befriend him?), as he drops down to his knees in front of the shaking boy, “Are you- are you okay?”

-Prompto is shaking, and there are still tears in his eyes, but after a moment of gaping the boy doesn’t run. He roughly swipes his eyes clear and bows, “Y-Your Highness! I- I-!” His gaze catches on his ruined camera and tears start to return, and Nox can’t stop himself from reaching out with his hoodie sleeve to wipe them away with a gentle shushing noise.

-“It’s okay, Prom,” Nox breathes, “You’re safe, it’s going to be okay. I’m sorry about your camera. Hey,” Nox wracks his brain for the camera parts and trivia Prompto always chatted about, oblivious to the way the little boy in front of him stares in confusion, “let’s see if the memory card survived, yeah? Then we’ll know what to do.”

-Somehow, Nox talks Prompto’s tears down without breaking down himself, helps the befuddled boy rescue his memory card from the pieces of his camera, then takes him down to a little camera store to buy a replacement (Nox had taken the camera in his armiger down there for repairs once, because even if the old timeline was gone he still wanted to keep the pictures and memories it held). Prompto starts crying again when Nox splurges his royal allowance to get Prompto a good camera (or, he assumes it is, he’d just watched to see which one Prompto stared longingly at the longest and grabbed it), which almost sets off Nox’s tears, but somehow he manages to talk them both down again long enough to pay for the camera, a protective case, and a carrying strap and walk the boy home.

-Somewhere in all that, Nox thinks he introduces himself, but honestly he isn’t sure. His mind is hazing a little from the panic.

-Somewhere in all that, Nox thinks Prompto asks how Nox knew his name. Nox freaks out internally for twenty seconds before blurting out some nonsense about looking up the faces and names of Noctis’s classmates for security purposes, which the twelve year old seems to buy without a blink (thank goodness).

-Nox walks Prompto to his house and realizes that the house is dark and … empty. Not just physically, but … to his senses. There’s no warm glow that seeps into wood and stone when happy life-forces spend a lot of time there, no signs of Prompto’s parents at all. Just a lonely little impression of the life-force Nox knows is Prompto’s. He asks where Prompto’s parents are (it’s evening already, shouldn’t they be home? Or at least worried about the whereabouts of their son?). Prompto answers that they’re busy at work, in a melancholy voice that means this is normal. Something ugly and black and possessive (something that purrs like Ardyn’s voice when he’s more Accursed than Uncle) rises up in Nox’s soul and drags the next questions out of him.

-“How often are they home? How often do you see them?”

-Prompto doesn’t hear the ugliness, doesn’t seem to think anything of the questions beyond answering the kindly, teenage prince who bought him a camera that is probably worth his parents’ car, “Once a m-month. Maybe. If they aren’t called out of town to a c-conference.”

-Nox sits on his emotions so fast it least his ears ringing. He manages to say goodbye to Prompto and walk home, immediately sweeps into a training room and tears it apart in his efforts to bleed off the fury that makes him want to kill something. His uncle and father all but sprint into the room in concern for why the entire Citadel is faintly trembling with Nox’s magic, Axis lurks in the corner with an expression that says he’s just waiting for Nox to give him names to murder on Nox’s behalf. Nox waves Axis and his father away, hides his face in Ardyn’s shoulder until they reluctantly leave and then tells Uncle what he’s seen and heard and learned.

-Ardyn listens to his story, to his soul-deep pain that the child version of his best friend is being neglected, was neglected all his childhood in the past timeline and Nox never knew, and in Ardyn’s eyes Nox can see the same ugly, possessive thing seething in Nox’s chest.

-Ardyn presses a kiss to his nephew’s forehead and says one thing, “Give me three weeks, Dearest Nephew, and have a suitable guardian picked out.” Then Ardyn sweeps out of the training room with a predatory stride Nox hasn’t seen since they were tracking down Bersithia for some well deserved murder.

….

-Ardyn has no real opinion on Prompto Argentum. He remembers the boy, of course. The defiant little thing that fought the Accursed at every turn despite his terror, the boy who was destined to be just another MT unit until the Lucians stole him away. But when his Dearest Nephew returns from one of his wanderings through Insomnia and shakes the Citadel with his grief-fury-fury-grief, Ardyn is already mentally preparing to do something drastic. Nox refuses to speak of it to anyone but him, which immediately narrows down the options to something involving their time-travel. Once Axis and Nox’s father have been convinced to leave, his Dearest Nephew huddles into his shoulder, physically vibrating with barely contained magic as he tells his story, explains the source of his pain.

-And Ardyn feels fury too. He does not know Prompto Argentum, especially not in this timeline, but this was the counterpart of the young man who had spat in the Accursed’s eye and followed Nox into the jaws of death without hesitation despite the aura of fear coming off the blond that Ardyn’s daemonic half had been able to taste like fine wine. This is one of Nox’s Chosen, one of his former brothers who was still precious to his heart.

-Ardyn kisses his Dearest Nephew’s forehead, tells him to give Ardyn three weeks and to have a suitable guardian picked out.

-Then Ardyn goes hunting.

-It is easy, pathetically easy, to get what he needs. The paperwork, the evidence of neglect, all the formal steps to his plan. Really, the longest part of it would have been orchestrating the emotional leverage, but Nox has accidentally done that for him by being so kind and protective of Prompto. Ardyn doesn’t need to lift a finger to recreate the budding friendship between Crown Prince and little Niflheim survivor, as Prompto pulls on his unknown wells of courage and befriends Noctis himself at school, probably as an unspoken thanks to Nox, or possibly just because the boy is too lonely to resist trying any longer. Either way, by the time Ardyn sweeps into Regis’s study and casually drops the case folder on the king’s desk, Noctis and Prompto are already fast friends who have been enjoying a continuous sleepover at the Citadel for about five days now (Ardyn’s idea, casually aired during one of Prompto’s day visits and then reinforced every time the boy reluctantly makes to return to his empty house, the excuse Ardyn is going to use to explain why he took interest in Prompto’s existence and home life).

-Regis gives Ardyn a look of long suffering, because apparently the former Chancellor of Niflheim shouldn’t be able to manipulate the Lucian legal system this thoroughly or some such nonsense, but the look fades into one of concern when he reads everything Ardyn has gathered about Noctis’s new best friend.

-With the king himself serving as the judge of the private court case, the former guardians of Prompto Argentum stand no chance (the fact that they don’t even try, don’t even fight to keep what they should have treasured makes something in Ardyn’s blood snarl. He makes a note to join his Dearest Nephew in the training room later).

-Prompto Argentum becomes Prompto Leonis almost overnight (and isn’t that an interesting choice of guardian, Ardyn wishes he knew how Nox pulled that off) and Ardyn is dragged along to visit the boy as the poor child adjusts to suddenly having a new home and a guardian that actually makes time for him despite his busy schedule.

-Ardyn looks down into large blue eyes in a very adorable face and feels a tiny piece of his heart melt. He sees the way Prompto looks at both Nox and Noctis with utter loyalty and adoration and a part of him coos.

-He relishes in the exasperated noises Dearest Nephew makes when Ardyn happily plops his hat onto the little blond’s head and sits on the floor to let the child ramble about the fancy camera Nox bought him and all the amazing (confusing) things it can do (why something meant to take pictures needed that many buttons and settings, Ardyn didn’t know).

-Ardyn feels himself smiling and takes far too much glee in the sputtering sounds both Nox and Cor make when he dubs Prompto his Artist Nephew. Inwardly cackles at everyone’s protests when he tells Prompto that he is now Ardyn’s fifth nephew and that Ardyn’s other nephews are Dearest Nephew (Nox), Littlest Nephew (Noctis), Logical Nephew (Ignis, who sighs at the sound of his new nickname every time), and Angry Nephew (in the corner, Gladiolus growls).

-“For the last time, it doesn’t…!” Protests Nox, but one look at Prompto’s hopeful look (at having more family, at having people who genuinely care) and the protest dies. Ardyn sits back smugly. Artist Nephew acquired.

-Now, to lure Cid and Cindy to Insomnia so Ardyn can watch the infamous crush Nox talked about in their previous timeline form…

[passionforfic]

The short story anthologies in the Shadowhunters Chronicles

At the end of each mini series within the Shadowhunters Chronicles, there is an anthology of short stories where a secondary character becomes the center of the story telling, giving readers a look at what happened after the events, as well as a look at the past. Each anthology gives readers light for deeper understanding of characters and the importance of  characters that might not have been a huge presence in that particular series or trilogy.

The first anthology published between Mortal Instruments and Infernal Devices was Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy; which takes us to the reopened Shadowhunter Academy where Simon is learning how to become a Shadowhunter. The stories are all connected to Simon. We hear of characters that become central in Infernal Devices, as well as of others that made cameo appearances in Mortal Instruments and that will be very important in the Dark Artifices trilogy.  I loved this anthology because Simon is one of my favorite characters.  It was nice seeing him become a leader among his classmates. This anthology gives us a sense of temporary happiness around those characters we learned to love in Mortal Instruments after the Dark War. We get to see Jace, Clary, Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus as they visit the Academy for various reasons and interact with Simon.

The second anthology published between Infernal Devices and Dark Artifices was The Bane Chronicles, which takes readers through Magnus Bane's adventures. Magnus has some hilarious adventures, others that are sad and brave. His chronicles have a common message: love. He believes in love - everyone has a right to be respected and loved.  We get to see Magnus' interaction with Catarina, Ragnor and Tessa. . .  We get to meet Edmund Herondale and the others of his generation that were the parents of the main characters in Infernal Devices. . .  We also see Magnus' relationship with Camille and other lovers across the times, including the first awkward interactions with Alec Lightwood. And we get to see how Maguns and Raphael met. Through Magnus' tales we get to see the world as it changed over the centuries and decades, we see humanity at its best and at its worst.  It also hints at part of  the Shadowhunter history as well as that of the vampires in New York.

Now, after the Dark Artifices trilogy and the first book of the Elders Curses trilogy, we have the Ghosts of the Shadow Market.  This anthology centers in Jem's life after becoming a Silent Brother. Most of the stories at some point lead the characters to a shadow market - only one story does not take characters to one. I believe this is the anthology that connects all the mini series that we have read and those that are coming in the following years.

Jem, as Brother Zachariah, has interacted with Shadowhunters and Downworlders for more than a century and the stories in this anthology take us through his life from 1901 to 2013. The first stories introduce the children of the main characters of the Infernal Devices trilogy: Matthew Fairchild, James and Lucie Herondale, Christopher and Anna Lightwood as we see Jem in his first years as a  Silent Brother. He is still too connected to the world he had been supposed to leave behind the moment he became part of the brotherhood. But these are the children of his friends and they see him as part of the family. The following short story takes Brother Zachariah to the Tennessee Shadow Market looking for one thing and finding the whereabouts of the lost Herondale. This is the beginning of the story behind Kit Herondale's family heritage. Roland and his Fey wife have a secret that will cause this line of  the Herondale tree to hide and Brother Zachariah promises to find the lost Herondale. We see Brother Zachariah struggle with his humanity and the coldness of the brotherhood as he visits this shadow market and goes to London during World War II where he sees Tessa and Catarina one night. An episode of his life that shows that his love for Tessa is still strong and that his promise to the Herondale is still strong.  As the chronology continues, we see Brother Zachariah tracking down the lost Herondale through France where he sees Celine, a very hurt girl who sales her soul to Valetine for a man that she knows doesn't love her. This is the story of how Jace's parents came to be together.  Years later Brother Zachariah witnesses the night Jace becomes part of the Lightwood home and he meets Raphael and Lily.  Later we see Jem after he left the brotherhood. Here we see how he interacts with Alec at Argentina and we learn about how Rafe becomes part of his family with Magnus. We also get to see how Kit becomes part of Jem's family and how Ty is doing away from home next to the ghost of his sister. And  the anthology ends with a hint of what will come our way in the final trilogy of this amazingly complex chronicle. Each of these anthologies give insight to the big picture and readers can make the connections between each short story and the novels. I must say that each one has something that makes the anthology special. I like how they are each centered on a particular character, who is the uniting thread  among the stories within the anthology.  I know there will be other anthologies between the remaining trilogies, and I can't wait to read them.

[ilovemygaydad]

Friends in Dark Places [remastered; ch 3]

pairing: moxiety and logince (later on) with the addition of others if i feel like it

WARNINGS: mentions of self harm, mentions of suicide, mentions of scars, mentions of throwing up, food mentions, mentions of pain, hospitals, ivs, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, swearing, a knife, blood, insensitive language regarding mental illness, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog

a/n: idk why linebreaks don’t wanna work so we’re just gonna pretend they’re there okay thanks bye

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 10 - chapter 11 - chapter 12 

companion fics: exes and ‘oh’s

-

The first thought that popped into Virgil’s mind when he woke up was that it was far too bright. He squinted, trying to make out something. A dull, throbbing pain coursed through his wrists, and he groaned at the memories. Patton was going to give him so much shit.

It didn’t take too long for Virgil’s eyes to get adjusted to the bright lights. He was in a hospital room, and everything except for his blue smock was bright, clinical white. There wasn’t anyone else in the room with him--for the time being, at least--but a light blue backpack had been discarded on one of the chairs in the corner. Patton must have quickly thrown it together before they’d left.

The door slowly creaked open, and Virgil’s eyes snapped to the movement. Patton creeped through, only standing up straight once he’d realized that Virgil had woken up. A frown spread across his face as he moved to sit in the chair at Virgil’s right side.

“Virgil, you’re lucky that Logan and Roman had a free period today and were able to come get us to the hospital. What you did was very dangerous, though I’m sure that was your intention.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but obviously I did, and I’m so sorry about that. Still, we need to talk about your situation because you aren’t fit to be left on your own. I’m not going to force you into any situation you aren’t comfortable with, but I want to keep you safe.” Patton was speaking at a million miles an hour, barely comprehensible due to worry. Virgil shrugged and turned toward the only window in the room, watching the cars pass by on the road many stories below. In the back of his mind, he dreaded having to leave. He’d been in this hospital before on the rare occasion that a family member was dying, and from his memory, the local hospital only had elevators and emergency-only stairwells. Of course, Virgil was wildly afraid of elevators.

Patton was still talking when he tuned himself back in. “I know you didn’t want anyone to find out about your situation, so I cleared it with my parents, and we checked you in under my name and made sure that there would be complete confidentiality. You’ll be covered under my parent’s insurance, so you won’t have to pay for anything. They want to make sure you’re okay and are perfectly fine with this.” He knew that Patton was trying to be comforting, but it just made Virgil feel more guilty. He was taking so much from this family. They were committing fucking insurance fraud for him.

Hot pinpricks formed in Virgil’s eyes. He tried his damnedest to will them away, but they began to slip down his face regardless.

“Hey! Virge, it’s okay. What’s wrong, kiddo?” Patton placed a light hand on top of Virgil’s arm, avoiding the tender spots where the bandages had been wrapped around him. Virgil forced himself to look at his companion. He hadn’t noticed before, but Patton had intense bags under his eyes, suggesting that he hadn’t slept at all during the night. His guilt only grew.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil whispered. “I’m so, so sorry that you have to deal with my depressed emo garbage. You don’t deserve this.”  He was a burden to everyone he met--merely bringing them down with him. There was no escape the sinking ship that was Virgil Thomas. Once you got on, it was hell on earth.

“Y’know,” Patton began. It was obvious that he was trying to pick his words out very carefully. “I’ve been in situations similar to yours. Although they weren’t nearly as intense, I’ve had great doubts about my self-worth. You really are a good person who deserves a good life, Virgil. I can just feel it. I really do want to help you, and I don’t care what I have to sacrifice to get you back on your feet.

“All of that aside, we need to talk about your living situation. Do you have anybody at home who will be worrying your whereabouts?”  Patton laid expectant eyes on Virgil.

“Um, not really. My dad is almost always out of town, and my mom hasn’t been around for years.”

Patton nodded thoughtfully. “Alrighty then. Would you be okay with staying at my house for the foreseeable future? We would obviously have to grab your things from your house, but I’d feel better if you stayed with me. And I’m sure that you’ve seen that we have more than plenty of room for one other person.”

“I guess that’ll be okay.” Virgil’s voice was shaking slightly. He didn’t know whether he should be sad or happy. He was receiving so much kindness, yet he didn’t feel like he deserved it. His thoughts were interrupted when a nurse came into the room.

“Mr. Thomas? I need to ask Mr. Shea some questions. I’d ask that you leave the room… unless Mr. Shea is okay with you staying.” The nurse had a large smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes like Patton’s did.

“Um, I’d rather Pat--uh, Virgil stay in the room, if that’s all right.” Virgil gave her the best smile he could scrounge up, and she gave a curt nod, her brown hair swishing around her face. She took the seat on the opposite side of the bed from Patton.

“Mr. Shea, my name is Nurse Lucy. Do you remember what happened before you were admitted into the hospital?” Nurse Lucy pulled a pen from her pocket and began to write on the clipboard she’d had on the table next to her.

Truthfully, the events of the day had become fuzzy in Virgil’s mind. He could remember with clarity yelling at Patton and running to the bathroom. And then he punched the mirror and cut his knuckles, but after that? He had nothing.

“I don’t really remember anything…” Virgil’s face scrunched up just slightly in thought.

“Well, Mr. Shea, your friend with the tie told us you had a ‘severe panic attack,’ and Mr. Thomas followed up by saying you hurt yourself with ‘broken glass from a mirror’ and then passed out due to a mixture of blood loss and anxiety. Do you remember any of that happening?”

“I remember the panic attack and the mirror part; although, I remember the latter only vaguely.” The teen didn’t really like the direction that these questions were going. They were getting far too close to striking a nerve. As if he’d been reading the other’s thoughts, Patton piped up.

“Nurse Lucy, Vir-- Patton has been through a lot today. How long do you think these questions will take?” Virgil sent a silent thanks to whatever deity that was watching over him.

“Just a few more minutes, Mr. Thomas,” the nurse replied with a saccharine smile. “Mr. Shea, have you had any bouts of depression within the past four months?”

“Yes,” Virgil answered.

“And how long did the depression last?”

“It started when I was fourteen and has been on and off for the past three years.” His hands began to shake.

“Have you had suicidal ideations or attempted suicide in the past four months?” The clinical tone of the nurse’s voice caused Virgil’s breath to hitch. Patton gave a small squeeze, reminding Virgil that he was still there.

“Yes. To both.”

“How long have you been having suicidal thoughts?”

“Since I turned sixteen.” He raised his left hand and ran it through his hair. He already knew the next question she was going to ask before she even opened her mouth.

“When was the last time you attempted to commit suicide?” Time seemed to freeze in the room. Virgil glanced over at Patton, who had a pained expression on his face. Lines of worry were etched across his fair skin, and his normal smile was pressed into a harsh frown.

“Today,” Virgil whispered. It was the truth, and he was sure Patton knew it regardless of if he wanted to believe it or not. He looked at his feet, refusing to let his gaze shift to either of the people at his sides.

“I see,” Nurse Lucy said with sterile crispness. “Since you were admitted due to injuries from a mental illness and have admitted to other mental instabilities, you will need to stay in the hospital for at least three days for further mental examination.” She stood up and smoothed out her pants.

“Um, Nurse, will I be allowed to stay during the exams?” Patton’s soft voice broke through the unrelenting silence.

“That depends on the doctor’s specifications. If you have any questions, I can leave his phone number here so you can discuss with him. Now, if you two will excuse me, I have another patient that I need to check up on.” Virgil could hear her clicking footsteps leave the room and the hollow thunk of the door closing.

“Virge, will you please look at me?” Patton asked with genuine sweetness in his voice, not the fake sugary bullshit that the nurse had given him. Virgil turned his head slowly. His breathing was becoming shallow, and he could feel a panic attack coming on.

“I need you to listen to me, okay? You are going to be okay. I’m going to stay with you through all of it, even if the doctor wants me to leave.” A whole new wave of tears began to stream down Virgil’s face. This time, however, Patton climbed into the hospital bed, bringing his new friend into his arms, not caring about the tears that would end up staining his shirt. They stayed in that position, Virgil crying into Patton’s shoulder, until the former fell asleep.

---

“I don’t understand why we have to run errands for some kid that we barely even know!” Roman complained, crossing his arms with a huff. He and Logan had received a text from Patton that, as soon as school let out, they needed to go to the house of the kid they’d drove to the hospital and pick up anything they thought he’d need, whether it be clothes or electronics or whatever.

“Technically, Roman, we’re not running errands for Virgil. We’re running errands for Patton, who happens to be working to help a stranger. This is for our friend.” Logan turned off the engine of his disgustingly old Dodge Intrepid. He shoved open the squeaky door and walked up to the porch of the large white house.

“Yes, but--” Roman argued as he’d exited from the passenger seat-- “Why do we have to do this? Why can’t he do it?”

“Did you see how Patton was acting when we were checking Virgil into the hospital? He was an emotional wreck. I doubt he’d even leave Virgil’s side if we threatened to murder a puppy right in front of his face. He obviously has some sort of emotional attachment to the kid.” Logan punched in the code to unlock the door. The way that Patton had gotten the code was a mystery that Logan would probably never be able to solve. Shaking the thought from his mind, he pushed open the door and led Roman inside.

The inside of the house was just as plain as the outside. Light grey linoleum tiles lined the floor, and every surface was painted white. Even the doors were white. It was the biggest disgrace to the profession of interior design that either of the teenagers had ever seen.

“The bedroom is upstairs, correct?” Logan asked, looking around for any semblance of a clue that indicated someone actually lived in this house. The whole thing was oddly bare; there were just a few pieces of furniture in each room that he could see.

“Yeah, second door on the right.” Roman had already made it halfway up the stairs by the time he’d finished his sentence. Logan sighed and followed his dramatic friend.

It would have been easy to find out which room was the correct one even if they hadn’t had the directions. The door to Virgil’s room had been painted black and stuck out like a sore thumb against the blaring white of everything else. Roman swung the door open and walked inside with a flourish that only he would add.

“What a dreary nightmare this place is.” Roman grabbed a vinyl sleeve that had been discarded on the floor. American Beauty / American Psycho by Fall Out Boy. With a slight eye roll, he shucked the sleeve onto the desk to his left. He looked to Logan and saw that he’d had already gathered a pile of assorted black clothes onto the black duvet. Shocking.

Roman let out a long sigh and gathered things from the desk. He took a few notebooks that were labeled with school subjects and their corresponding binders, a pencil case, a pair of over-ear headphones and attached cell phone, a well used black eyeshadow single, and a weird little cube with a bunch of buttons on it. He placed them on the bed and grabbed a backpack from the floor, stuffing his finds into it. Logan had pulled a suitcase from somewhere-- probably the closet--and had begun to neatly fold clothes and pack them up.

“I’m going to search for the bathroom to grab Mr. Black Sky’s toiletries.” All Roman got in response was a nod. With a slight eye roll, he left the room and began to peek into each room in the hallway. The one third on the right turned out to be another bedroom, as was the fourth, the one across the hall from that one was a linen closet, and the two down the hall were completely empty. Last, he checked the first door on the right. He opened the door and found a pristinely clean bathroom, minus the spread of toiletries across the counter.

Roman grabbed the toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush that was laying on the ground near the edge of the counter. He picked up a small rectangular metal thing that was hidden behind a stack of washcloths. It suddenly snapped open to reveal a small knife that had little flecks of blood on it. His stomach dropped, and he quickly closed the blade, nearly throwing it back onto the counter.

His mind strayed back to the time when Pat had been having a rough time. He and Logan had stayed up until ungodly hours researching things to help. Roman remembered when he’d clicked on a link and was brought to a website about cutting with graphic images of scars and cuts. Although he was not normally squeamish around blood, the thought of his friend hurting himself had nearly made him throw up.

He’d seen similar scars on Virgil when he’d helped Logan patch up his cuts. A shiver ran through his body. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Roman? Have you acquired everything that you need?” Logan’s voice called from the room over. Roman shook his shoulders and stood up straighter.

“Yeah, Lo. I’ll be there in just a moment.” After throwing one last glance at the knife on the counter, he made his way back to Virgil’s bedroom. Logan grabbed the toiletries from his hands and shoved them into the backpack before slipping it onto his shoulder. The two brought the bags out to the car and stowed them in the back seat. Roman’s memories from the bathroom were soon forgotten when he received another text from Patton.

Patton Delivered at 3:30 pm Virge has to stay in the hospital for the next few days for mental examination. They’re worried about him attempting suicide again. If you guys could pick up a stuffed animal from the gift shop, I’d really appreciate it! <333

Roman Read at 3:31 pm Of course, Pat! We’re just leaving the house now, so we’ll be at the hospital soon. Do you need anything?

Patton Delivered at 3:31 pm Just a water bottle. See you guys when you get here! <33333

Patton Delivered at 3:47 pm I just realized I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. Can you grab me something to eat in the cafeteria?

Roman Read at 3:50 pm I’ll add it to the list of things we need to do that Logan’s forcing me to write. Be there in 15.

Patton Delivered at 3:50 pm Awesome! <3

Patton Delivered at 3:54 pm Roman?

Roman Read at 3:54 pm Yes, Patton?

Patton Delivered at 3:55 pm Thank you both. I really appreciate what you’re doing for Virge and I.

Roman Read at 3:56 pm It’s no problem Patton. You’ve had a rough day and deserve some rest.

Patton Delivered at 3:56 pm You and Logan are fam ILY.

chapter 4

[galbinuscarnation]

Singing in the Rain

When Alastair Carstairs becomes a resident of the London Institute, Matthew Fairchild finds an unexpected companion during a night out of town.  Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, microaggressions (racism, sexism) Malastair fan fiction.  Ao3: Link

Water trickled between the cobblestones and the air was moist and foggy. Matthew Fairchild stumbled and leaned against a lamppost to get his bearing in the last hours of the evening. He attempted to blink away the now settling sleepiness from his night out at the tavern. The alcohol wasn’t helping matters, he felt as if his family home was much farther than realized, although it was normally an easy walk for a glamoured shadowhunter. He reached into his pocket for his stele, and applied a shaky night vision rune. Still the fog persisted although he was able to walk towards his home easier without the help of the lamps. The rows of townhouses were starting to become more and more unfamiliar and eventually Matthew sat on a bench to rest. He swayed a little and heard something shift next to him, and a small note grow hushed. Matthew would reflect that he was much more intoxicated than intended, for being near such a disturbance should have kicked his warrior instincts into gear. Instead he stared besides him into the eyes of the last person he expected to be sitting on the bench alone. Well, now he wasn’t alone any longer, but that did not wipe the scowl off the bleach blonde man’s face as he regarded Matthew’s rumpled and wet state. “Allo, fancy seeing you here, Alastair ‘Eyebrows’ Carstairs,” Matthew greeted with a sloppy grin. Alastair arched his aforementioned dark eyebrows upward at Matthew’s presentation, and seemed to realize his own actions and the words Matthew had spoken. He wiped his brow, in a sad attempt to mask it as wiping the rain but was a self conscious acknowledgement of his contrasting complexion. He turned away from Matthew and frowned at the darkness beyond their lamppost illumination. “Where is your party, and dare I say, my sister?” He asked. Matthew sighed and lolled his head back to let the drops drip down his face. “I’m out alone, everyone’s in bed I assume.” Matthew admitted. He tilted his head towards Alastair. “You have a nice voice.” “Pardon?” Alastair sputtered, and even in the mist Matthew could catch the faintest blush on his face. “Your singing? You were singing yes? Or humming…” Matthew closed his eyes and yawned, before nodded his head at an unspoken agreement. “Yes, it was quiet but lovely, it could lull me to sleep.” “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about Fairchild,” Alastair spat, getting up suddenly. “Still as incorrigible as ever,” Matthew muttered, but then pouted at the other man’s actions. “No wait,” He snatched Alastair’s coat and tumbled off the bench, his knees landing in a small puddle. A pair of arms reached over belatedly to help him stand up. “Hey…” Alastair pressed his hand on Matthew’s cheek and neck to right his head and get Matthew to look at him properly. “You’re intoxicated.” “Duly noted,” Matthew slurred with a chuckled, and leaned against Alastair’s warm coat. “And lost… I’ll admit I’m also lost in the maze that is London.” He heard a harsh swear in a foreign language that sounded derived in the same sort of root as the soft sounds he heard earlier. Alastair wrapped Matthew’s arm over his shoulder, and began to walk with Matthew leaning languidly against him. Together they began to take steps, Matthew would recall he was utilizing muscle memory that Alastair conjured from leading him to the right path. “You ought to present yourself more decently than this.” “Ought I?” Matthew glanced up at Alastair’s mopped hair, covering half his face from its dampness. “You of all people would be elated that I’m presenting less than admirably.” “Why should my opinion be of any use to you?” Alastair grumbled, flipping his hair off of his eyes and squinting in the mist. “You wouldn’t even be bothered by it.” “On the contrary,” Matthew drawled and paused, in realization. He grimaced and managed to shift his weight so Alastair wouldn’t be hefting the brunt of it after all, sobering slightly. “Forget it.” Alastair was silent for a moment, as they reached an intersection, before he turned and led Matthew onward. “I bother you that much.” It wasn’t a question, and Matthew could feel the incoming wave of guilt that he was used to drowning in absinthe and not rainwater. He hadn’t realized they’ve stopped again until he felt an oddly reassuring hand on his back, and he suddenly leaned up against a wall and vomited into an alleyway. “Matthew,” He could faintly hear Alastair’s warning, but he collapsed against the wall and upchucked some more before wiping his face with the back of his hand. He heaved, but had nothing left to empty, and coughed.

“There goes supper,” Matthew moaned sorrowfully for a moment as he stared at the mess. He was met with silence, and had a sudden panicked thought that Alastair has abandoned him. He glanced up to see Alastair standing underneath a roof collecting rainwater with a kerchief. He clutched it and hurried back, before thrusting it in Matthew’s face.

“Wipe, you’re filthy.” He murmured, and despite his vocabulary his tone was kind. Matthew simply stared in bafflement at the cloth and Alastair grunted in frustration before beginning to wipe Matthew’s mouth and cheeks himself.

“Wh...why?” Matthew breathed as Alastair held his hands and began to wipe them as well.

“If your parabatai caught you in this state under my care I’ll never hear the end of it from my sister.” Alastair explained. Matthew was at a loss for words, he could only stare at the worry wrinkles in Alastair’s forehead and the knot of concentration in his expressive dark eyebrows. Matthew cleared his throat, and Alastair suddenly looked up as if in realization of whom he was doting upon.

“That’s not… what I meant.” Matthew confessed. Alastair could only stare as Matthew leaned closer to inspect the water droplets upon his face. “I meant… why am I bothered by you of all people.”

Alastair opened his mouth, probably in an attempt at a dismissive retort, but Matthew shushed him with his thumb. Alastair swallowed and Matthew was aware of their foreheads touching. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his once arch nemesis, the one that clouded his thoughts nearly once a day.

“Matthew,” Alastair spoke with a pained noise and gently pushed Matthew against the sturdy wall and repeated, “you’re intoxicated.”

Matthew’s head thumped at against the stone and he could only see the vaguest sense of longing from Alastair’s forlorn expression before everything went black.

Some time since then Matthew found himself grumbling and fumbling, and was cocooned in a bed sheet. He felt familiar hands grasped his own and he unleashed a dopey smile. “Jamie? James is that you?”

“What priced head have you parabatai?” Matthew fluttered his eyes open to see James Herondale peering at him with a mixture of genuine concern and disappointment. Matthew groaned in realization and put a hand to his throbbing head.

“Enough so that I cannot recall coming to bed.” Matthew admitted. James shook his head with a slight chuckle.

“I swear on the angel that I never thought I’d see the day Alastair Carstairs arriving sopping wet with you in his arms. I nearly walloped him right then and there if Cordelia hadn’t restrained me.” James described how he awoke with unexplained apprehension before rousing Cordelia and Lucie to inquire about Matthew’s last known whereabouts. They were dressed to brace the rain when Alastair barged into the institute with his unconscious body.

“That would have been a sight to behold,” Matthew smiled and then winced. What an unfortunate turn of events that would have been for the shadowhunter who guided him (and apparently carried him) home. The longer he was awake the more he began to remember the events of the night past.

James had continued fretting and then Lucie and Cordelia arrived with Thomas and Christopher. Matthew could hardly muster the energy for his fools facade, that he had a bit too much ale, that it was merely a rare occurrence. Hardly anyone seemed to suspect a thing was afoul, although initially Christopher was under the impression that Matthew was gravely ill, and Thomas seemed cheered at the fact that his school boy hero had actually committed a kind act. Lucie was peppering Matthew with questions about why on earth Alastair was out and about, but he feigned ignorance. James was too preoccupied with a medical journal and applying runes to his arms to help him disguise last night's events from the prying eyes of their parents. Only Cordelia seemed to have a much harder, perhaps suspecting stare at Matthew throughout the morning.

Eventually Matthew had the ability for a moments peace, and lumbered his way to getting dressed. He snapped his suspenders on and was brushing his hair when he heard laughter outside the institute. He peered from the curtains to see his very own brother Charles Buford Fairchild with his fiance, Ariadne Bridgestock on his arms, accompanied by none other than Alastair Carstairs. Gone was the dour, melancholy man from the night before. Here he was cheered and even laughing in unison with Mrs. Bridgestock. Matthew frowned, suddenly overcome by a twisting feeling in his gut. He didn't have time to waste, obviously Alastair had informed his brother of his whereabouts, since the couple happened to be spending a short time visiting his parents in the town house.

Matthew threw on a dull brown jacket he’d left around, his entire wardrobe was usually at his home and the club room. He thrust open his door only to collide into Cordelia. After taking a moment to gather his bearings, and fix his hair, Matthew gave Cordelia a look of astonishment. She glowered uncharacteristically back at him, and Matthew felt the knot in his stomach tighten further.

“What happened between you and my brother?” Cordelia inquired, frowning up at him.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Matthew answered with a crowd pleasing smile.

“I am aware that you were faint last evening, but I am referring to the Academy.” Cordelia amended. Matthew narrowed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the corridor. Cordelia could be an enigma, she was Lucie’s parabatai but she was also a Carstairs, and due to family circumstance her brother and she were now living at the institute. She either had no idea what transpired between Alastair and James at the Academy or she knew it all, and Matthew wasn't sure which was worse.

“Why do you ask?” Matthew decided to find out what she knew, if anything.

“Because the way you gaze at each other is like how Anna and Mrs. Bridgestock do. I simply mean to know what the context is.” Cordelia softened her hard stare, and was staring at him with a curiosity and understanding of a younger sister. Unfortunately for Matthew he was never made aware that Anna had also confided in Cordelia regarding her… history.

“Are you implying that Alastair and I were-” Matthew’s voice was raised an octave he never thought to achieve when the bell of the institute rung, announcing the arrival of his brother. Cordelia’s eyes widened in shock at Matthew’s demeanor, and Matthew realized his grave error.

“I didn't mean to speak of any offense?” Cordelia’s voice echoed down the hall in confusion, but Matthew had briskly made his exit. Matthew’s mind was buzzing as if it were a hive containing a thousand bees, after the implications of Cordelia’s words and last night he was forced to reexamine many things. He simply did not have the time to analyze every interaction he had with Alastair since the Academy days, but now what was he to do? Matthew brushed a shaky hand through his quaff and took a deep breath before displaying yet another facade for a different type of crowd. “Well I thank you again, Alastair, for your prompt notice about my brother,” Charles Buford Fairchild could be heard in the foyer. “I need to have a word with the head of the institute regarding a request from the Consul. I trust you to attend to Mrs. Bridgestock while we’re here.” Matthew had almost stepped out to greet his great bore of a brother but he was already walking elsewhere, presumably to Uncle Will’s office. “I doubt you need ‘attending’ to,” Alastair said in a smart yet dejected tone, and Ariadne let out a cough into her gloves. She then gave Alastair a gentle pat on the arm, and Matthew squinted suspiciously. He had no tolerance for the enemies of his friends, and Anna didn’t delve to much into detail, but Matthew understood heartbreak when he saw it. Alastair he was forced to tolerate, also it was much easier to fume from afar and potentially eavesdrop. “He’s a gentleman, and you are his closest confidant.” She assured him. “What more can I ask for?” “Perhaps he could give your prowess credit when it’s due.” Alastair reminded her with a scowl. This comment made Matthew arch an eyebrow, he’d never known Alastair to criticize his brother, at least in his presence. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one compelled to act in a certain manner for the politics and propriety obsessed Charles Buford. “Indeed.” Ariadne agreed, and nodded in the direction Matthew thought he was cleverly hiding in. “I thought it was Mister Herondale who blended with the shadows.” Alastair made a uncharacteristic noise upon noticing Matthew’s presence. Matthew frowned and stepped out from his corner, making no secret of his distaste with Ariadne for the time being. Ariadne only tore her eyes away from Matthew’s for a moment to glance at Alastair, but she held her head high. “Clearly I didn’t blend in enough,” He observed, and gestured to the grand windows shining the early afternoon sun upon his golden head of hair. “Must be my complexion.” The pair shared a painstakingly obvious look of solidarity and disbelief, but they said nothing and raised their equally dark eyebrows at each other. Alastair cleared his throat and the moment was forgotten. “You’re welcome, by the way.” “Pardon?” Matthew faced Alastair so he wouldn’t have to dwell too much on Ariadne’s presence. “I informed your brother that after cards you spent the night in the Institute,” Alastair explained. “I… did?” Matthew was at a loss as to why he would tell such a fib. “He failed to mention your hair powdered escapades last night.” Ariadne added. Matthew’s jaw dropped at Ariadne’s crass. “Which you would be grateful for Mr. Fairchild.” “I am grateful!” Matthew argued. “Splendid!” Ariadne shot back. At her raised tone, Alastair placed a hand on her shoulder and she took a breath, produced a fan and fanned herself with it. Matthew huffed and cast a sidelong glance at Alastair’s atrociously attractive mug before stomping away from the pair. He marched straight out the door, paused and turned back to them. “Do us all a favor and stop interfering.” He stared pointedly at Ariadne, since he could not stop Alastair from coming and going as he pleased. With the final words he slammed the front door shut. It was hardly noon and he was aching for another swig. The following week was wrought with strife between the Fairchild’s wedding preparations and the typical business of the London Institute. Matthew could hardly stand being in a home shared by his brother and Ariadne, and the club room was only accessible during business hours. He lamented spending any time at the institute for fear of encountering his nemesis Alastair. Cordelia attempted to initiate a continued conversation but Matthew busied himself with excuses.

His luck had run its course, because as he was sneaking away from his home once again he encountered Alastair on the same bench as the rainy night. Alastair bore his signature scowl and regarded Matthew apprehensively.

“I’d ask why you are out here all by yourself, but I remember you have a habit of drowning your potential in liquor.” Alastair sneered. Matthew rolled his eyes and waved his hands vague at the near empty streets.

“At least I don’t brood out in the open with such a ridiculous head of hair.”

“What is your grievance with my hair? You never fail to mention it, yet your hooligan friends bear unruly mops.” Alastair pointed out.

“It obvious that you as much effort as I do with my hair, and yet it’s so atrocious.” Matthew countered.

“Forgive me for not aspiring to your incongruous standards, Fairchild.” Alastair turned away and crossed his arms. “Don’t you have sordid business in the tavern to attend to?” Matthew plopped himself onto the bench besides Alastair, to his dismay. “Define ‘sordid’, mon cherí.” He carelessly rested his arm across the back, knocking against Alastair's jacket. He jolted and scooted away, to Matthew’s surprise, and for a moment Matthew was compelled to sooth the fear he thought had flashed in Alastair's eyes.

“Don’t speak to me like that.” Alastair croaked. Matthew frowned and relaxed his poster, recognizing that their feud wasn’t sustainable. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence, it was usually Matthew’s expertise to fill it with his trusted companions. He was very hyper aware of silence, although there were distant noises of carriages and people about the night, he yearned to fixed it even with his nemesis. “That’s right, you spent some time in Paris with Charlie and his fiance.” Matthew murmured.

“Mrs. Bridgestock is my closest friend, you best withhold your scorn in my presence.” Alastair warned.

Matthew sighed and rested his head against his palm, staring up at Alastair under the illumination of the street lamp. “Why do you suppose I scorn her so?”

Alastair gave Matthew a sidelong glance, his frown deepening. “You scorn me, so you scorn anyone associated with my circles. Perhaps you even scorn your very own brother as well.”

Matthew raised his eyebrows and let out an awkward chuckle, covering his eyes a moment. “I don’t simply scorn people willy nilly.”

Alastair’s fist clenched on his laps, and he looked away from Matthew for a moment. “I’m aware of that as well…”

Matthew uncovered his eyes to catch Alastair’s distant expression. He reflected back to Cordelia’s inquires, despite how awkward it was to hear perhaps there was a truth. He yearned to please people, it took much of his energy to spite. He imagined how exhausting it must seem for Alastair, walking around as if he detested the very ground he walked upon. Why was it that he singled out Matthew of all the people he sneered at?

“Do you scorn me?” Matthew asked of Alastair. Alastair’s mouth opened quickly as he started to perform what Matthew could now see was as much of a facade as his own regarding his pretense of cheer and tomfoolery. “...truly Alastair?”

Alastair stared into Matthew’s eyes and paused, his mouth reworking itself from whatever he had been about to say. “I…” He got up suddenly, the spell Matthew hadn’t realized they were both under dissipating with the action. “I must attend to… to… my sister. It much too late for me.”

Matthew narrowed his eyes and got up, frustration flaring. “Answer my question.”

“Is that a demand?” Alastair stared challenging towards Matthew.

“Yes! … no! I mean…” For once Matthew what at a loss, but Alastair had already begun to storm away. Matthew ran his hand through locks, befuddled and now alone. He groaned and kicked the lamp post before shuffling away to do exactly what Alastair expected of him.

Later that evening Matthew fumbled around the corridor, pressing his hands against the walls to balance himself. The stone cold walls of the institute kept him from falling asleep right on the floor, but he desperately needed to be anything but conscious. His mind spun with the memory of his very Mama collapsing before his eyes, and the stricken expression of his dear Papa. He reached the door to the bedroom and pushed it, blindly reaching for the covers. He didn’t even kick the shoes off his feet, but when he landed on the mattress the world spun. He coughed and found himself moist in the face, but could not comprehend his tears until the sobs emitted from his mouth. He buried his face into the linen to muffle himself, and eventually he lost all senses, finally escaping his torment consciously Alastair stared owl eyed at the broken boy in his arms, who had barged into his room and bed. He knew that Matthew had no idea where he was or what he was doing, but when his nightshirt became stained with tears he mustered up enough wakefulness to rub Matthew’s back and murmur the tunes of his childhood, eventually rocking Matthew against him. He blinked away the sleepiness to concentrate on the lyrics.

“I’m so sorry…” Matthew whimpered, but Alastair could tell Matthew was experiences some sort of a night terror. He intellectually knew that Matthew was not speaking to him, but he still answered.

“I’m the one who's sorry Matthew.” Alastair confessed. He brushed Matthew’s deflated hair back into place and sighed, thinking of the state of his own hair. He was torn between his desire to have such looks or simply appreciate them upon the aesthetically attractive Matthew Fairchild. Alastair knew that it was the latter, but he couldn't let it be known. Matthew despised him, with good reason, and he found himself so infuriated with Matthew himself, only founded on the jeers and perceptions of him from the Academy. That time seemed as if it were a dream, so much had occurred since his school boy days.

The London Institute was much more isolated than the residents realize. Alastair found the tight knitted enclave disconcerting at best, but they were kind enough to take his sister in. He supposed they had no choice but to allow Alastair as well, despite his behaviors towards their children in the past. No doubt it was Charles influence that he weren't dragged down alongside his father…

Alastair sniffed and rubbed his eyes to rid himself of the treacherous tears threatening to escape. His quiet fury against his so-called patriarch festered but because of who he was holding against him, he wouldn't allow the grief to release. Instead his trembling lips concentrated, beginning to sing again. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Matthew’s cries lowered into sniffles and eventually settled completely. They nestled together, both relaxing within the hold. Alastair’s stubborn resting frown softened, and Matthew’s restlessness calmed, his expression settled down to a content smile. Despite everything, the pair slumbered peacefully through the night, for the first time in a long while.

[mermaidmafia-official]

{Part One: Lucie Blacknall}

- Hiraeth -

Given the distance from my destination, days of travel by train left me with too much time alone with my thoughts. Staring listlessly out the windows as trees and vistas passed by, my mind wandered, having discarded the book I picked up at the first station. Oscillating between guilt over abandoning Soledad in the abandoned apartment block in an old part of the city I just escaped and guilt over leaving my sister years ago. I was developing a bad pattern of disappearing on people who relied on me.

I tried to tell myself that leaving Soledad was what was best for her, and I did truly believe that. She wasn't cut for the life of a vagrant: the daughter of upper class political moguls who had no time for her, causing her to act out in such ways as escaping her family's estate by way of blackmailing a thief she had discovered was pilfering her mother's personal pharmacy. I hadn't been overly pleased about being found out, and much less so about being blackmailed into bringing someone ill-prepared for a life of vagrancy ... but it had more appeal than a jail cell. She was used to being waited on, having everything there for her, and lounging by the pool all day - never had she gone without a meal, had to run for her life. More to the point, she was hopelessly clumsy at nicking things. Eventually, she was sated with lounging in my questionable abode while testing any and all substances I managed to bring back for selling, which was helpful but only just. She did have other ... skills that were much to my liking (as well as her own), but that was more of a perk of being blackmailed into keeping her.

But it wasn't enough to keep me around.

The moment a little bald man managed to find me (how he ever did, I will never know I'm sure - it seemed almost supernatural) and present me with a envelope detailing a relation and an inheritance I had no idea existed, I was partially out the door.

I did feel bad for taking advantage of Soledad's near state of a constant high by telling her I was running to the shops. She muzzily asked me to join her in bed. Brushing off her weak hands, I planted a light kiss on her head, shouldered my rucksack, and left. I had tucked a note into her jacket before leaving as a goodbye - mostly to save face in pretending that it pained me terribly to be away from her despite our shared, er, lust - and maybe felt even worse about calling the tip line set up by her "concerned" parents regarding her whereabouts. Boarding the first train, I imagined black cars converging on the old apartment block, spilling out well-tanned and toned men in dark suits and sunglasses, and rushing the stairs to find her dozing peacefully.

It seemed like the right thing to do.

Days later found me walking into a coastal village on the tip of god knows where from a bus stop a kilometre or two outside the village proper. I didn't mind the walk, but spending so much time alone in my own head was starting to wear on me, both physically and emotionally. I had successfully chewed away the skin around both thumbs and had made a start on my fingers by the time the bus rolled up to the weathered shelter. No one else got off and no one got on as I stepped off to find the number for a taxi that, once called for, never came.

Luckily, I didn't have to go much further when I located the pub. Like all pubs in small towns, it was filled with slightly grizzled but hardy looking older men and women having their customary evening drink and social. They all stopped and turned to stare as I walked in, my hair flapping like a frizzy pennant in a sudden gust that had come up, pushing me slightly into the warmth of the local den. I plopped down on a stool, dumping my rucksack on the floor as the publican - a willow of a woman with shockingly pale hair - appeared to take my order.

I should have known better but I was craving a dark stout and ordered as such. My nerves were beginning to take over, but I tried my best to ignore them as my stomach churned, hoping the drink would offer some ease.

I was very, very wrong.

The publican asked a few questions as I began to drink, but before I could give up an answer that might satisfy the locals, my stomach heaved in protest. I rushed into the women's, clanged open a stall, and fell to my knees like a repentant sinner before emptying the contents of my stomach into the porcelain bowl before me. Reeling back, I wipe a shaky hand across my mouth, unable to stand for a few moments. Pressing my back to the stall wall, I squeezed my tight trying to ignore the sour taste in my mouth or the sluggish churning of my stomach.

Maybe this was a mistake.

I had no right to reappear like this into Luna's life. Had no right to claim whatever Blacknall inheritance there might have been in my true name. I wasn't her anymore ... at least I didn't feel like I was.

Several minutes and another downpour from my insides later, I walked out of the bogs shakily, face and hair damp from hastily splashed tap water. I slumped back into my stool, eyes downcast as I huddled closer to my half finished stout not wanting to finish it wishing desperately that I had taken a booth instead of boldly sitting at the counter.

A glass of water appeared before me with a dull thud. I looked up to see the publican waiting almost patiently before reaching slowly to take my unfinished beer away and sliding the water into its place before me.

"Drink," she commanded, turning away to attend the other patrons. Tentatively and obediently, I took a sip, savouring the feeling of the cold, clear water washing the sour taste away and back down where it belonged. Greedily I gulped down the rest of it.

"Did Mr. Thwart not show you the way proper?" came a voice from behind me. I turned out of interest, but realized an older man was looking at me curiously. "That little ras - oh, er sorry you're not ... Miss Blacknall," he trailed off.

Luna was already here. Of course. My stomach churned its nothingness - I would have to arrive tail between my legs. Not that I imagined it any other way, but this confirmed it.

I offered a weak smile. "Miss Blacknall in a sense," I replied, the name feeling strange to hear myself say after so long. "You must have met my sister, I'm guessing." The man looked a little relieved to hear this, relaxing slightly. He looked as if to say something else, but the woman behind the counter got there before he did.

"You're a Blacknall as well then?" I turned back to look at her.

"More common than I thought," I tried to joke but the publican barely tweaked a smile. Instead, she looked me over, as if trying to assess my status based on my recent inheritance. "You'll be wanting to get to the cottage before dark," she stated, eyes unreadable. "Priam, will you take the girl?" she asked, addressing the man beyond my shoulder. His expression mixed between wanting to help and a nervousness that I couldn't make sense of - maybe he was afraid of the dark? Places like these often clung to old mothers' stories about the fair folk and other bogeymen.

"That's all right," I piped up, feeling braver than I felt, "I don't mind a late night walk. Just set me in the right direction and I'll get myself there." I grinned broadly, trying to appear as convincing as possible. "You've already delivered my sister safe, so that as much I thank you for and couldn't possible ask of more now that it's getting late."

The old man's face flushed a bit red as he glanced from me to the woman behind me, a look of shame and embarrassment coming over him. She shook her head in a manner that indicated how foolhardy she clearly thought I was, but the gentleman slunk off to join others around a table, visibly shrinking before throwing guilty look my way.

A curious lot, these locals, I thought. I was used to finding my way and taking care of myself - a little night time stroll was hardly enough to scare me off.

In the time it took me to pluck up both my courage and rucksack, the publican had stretched out a length of string, snipped it with a pair of ancient scissors, and began twisting it into several knots.

"You'll be needing this," she said, finishing the last knot before holding it out to me. I looked at the string - the type used for typing up parcels - and looked at her, the cynic in me taking over momentarily. Her eyes gazed back intensely, indicating that it would probably be best for me to take it without question.

"Erm ... thanks," I replied, holding it awkwardly.

"Keep it on you."

I waved her off dismissively, trying to get out of the pub as quickly as possible and to remove myself from the events that had taken an undoubtedly strange turn. I strolled down the high street, glad to be putting distance between myself and the pub, and enjoying the fresh sea air being blown in as the dark clouds above heralded an incoming storm. My steps faltered a little upon realizing I hadn't gotten any directions to the cottage I was meant to go to, but at the edge of the town I could see, highlighted by the moon, the caisteal in the distance sitting precariously upon a cliff's edge. Easy enough to find.

Casting off the odd bit of string for birds to use, I made my way, pushing against a sense of foreboding and the desire to run away in fear of an awkward reunion and forgiveness that would need to be sought.

I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if Luna even let me in. It would probably serve me right to have to sleep on the cottage steps.

[yukiwrites]

Dragon Family, Reunited

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @breeachuu​! I had so much fun writing this I couldn’t stop giggling!

Summary: King Validar contacted Frederick during the knight’s searches for the last Gemstone, Sables, informing him that the artifact was being safeguarded in Plegia. The Ylissean League decided to bite this blatant bait in order to finally complete the Fire Emblem -- all the while the manakete siblings did their best to finally catch up with their parents, Nidra and Henry.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Cynthia and Meliodas traveled together after finally being reunited as family -- one year into being thrown into the past in opposing continents.

"You said we'd be going to Plegia instead of Ylisse, Meli! What did you mean by that? I thought Mother and Father were back at the castle with everyone else-" Cynthia munched on her food over a fire after they started their pilgrimage to the land of the desert from Port Ferox.

"Well," Meliodas carefully undid his braid, a ritual he loved to do before going to sleep, "Sir Frederick had been looking for the last Gemstone, Sable, for months to no avail. This did not happen back in our future, as you know."

Cynthia crossed her legs more comfortably, looking up as though searching for a memory. "Yeah, if I remember it right, the Fire Emblem was never truly complete and Luci had to perform the ritual to ask Naga to send us to the past without one or two 'stones."

"Sables was precisely the one we did not have." Meliodas pointed. "I do not know if it's because of our coming back in time that sped things up or if the grimleal here are simply that much stronger, but the events of our future are happening at an alarmingly fast rate here. Back then, we would still be at war with Plegia at this point; not to mention the whole Walhart business."

"Mhm, mhm." The younger manakete nodded, her cheeks chock-full with food. Meliodas went on.

"There was no actual time to look for the Gemstones in our future, but now... Peace stretches and Sir Frederick was able to do a thorough search through the lands." He said with a worried sigh, massaging his long hair after untangling it from its braid. "Before I left, I heard the soldiers from his squad mention something about plegian messengers contacting him regarding the whereabouts of Sable."

"Oooh, like a true spy, Brother! Nice!" Cynthia snapped her fingers in approval, stealing a chuckle out of the older manakete.

"Haha, nothing so epic, I'm afraid, Cyn. I overheard him talk with Lord Chrom about the contents of the message and, well, they did not contain happy tidings."

Cynthia's heart dropped. "You know how to keep your audience hooked, Meli, I'll give you that. I'd be on the edge of my seat if I weren't sitting on the ground!"

Meliodas smiled with a tint of worry. "It seems like King Validar was the one who had kept Sables away from the public eye -- that's why we never found it back in our future, it was in the grimleal's possession."

"Cheap bastards!" Cynthia slapped her knee in frustration.

"Hey, language!"

"Oh, um, cheap Dastards!"

The older manakete squinted. "Better; not good, but better."

"Heehee," the younger manakete scratched the back of her neck. "But hey, traveling to Plegia takes, like, one week from Castle Ylisse, right? Aren't we gonna miss them if we go straight there from here?"

"We did waste the good part of three days in the sea, indeed, and it took me another three to find you in the first place," Meliodas took one hand to his chin in thought, "however, I do remember hearing Lord Chrom say that they would take their time preparing for a trap, so it's safe to assume that they took at least one week to gather all the supplies needed."

"Oooh!" Cynthia slammed one fist over her open hand, as though she had made a great realization. "Then that means they're leaving Ylisse right about now!"

Meliodas nodded. "Indeed."

"But can we make it in one week? And I'm not leaving my partner behind!" She lifted her index after asking the question the moment her brother opened his mouth to reply. "I'm seeing this through as a Pegasus Knight; I'm not leaving my faithful steed behind just 'cause flying as a dragon is more efficient -- and epic, I'm not denying -- okay?"

Meliodas tucked his index finger back down. "While I do understand that your pegasus has been with us since the very beginning and that she deserves as much validation as possible for getting you through all of your heroic adventures, I do not think that she can keep up his trip if we want to catch up to our parents in one week."

Cynthia puffed her cheeks, looking away from her brother to her steed. "We can take turns carrying her! Our dragon arms are tiny, but I'm sure we can carry her like a kitten if we try hard enough!"

The pegasus huffed uncomfortably, kicking up dust.

"I daresay we have her answer," Meliodas snorted.

"C'mooon, pal?" Cynthia jumped from her spot, running towards the pegasus. "It's gonna be great! You'll get to rest your wings and we can jump straight to action the moment we're thereee!"

The pegasus turned its head away from Cynthia.

"Hah, she's got an attitude!"

"Mgrgr, don't laugh, Meli! I'm having a serious conversation with my partner here!"

"Very well, very well!" Meliodas raised his hands in defeat. "I will turn in for the night soon, but allow me to say one more thing before I do, hm?"

Cynthia tried bribing her pegasus with tasty carrots, but spared a glance to her brother. He winked with a smile.

"We can still make it even if she doesn't agree with your idea -- we will just need to pace ourselves and go through a straight line, from here to Castle Plegia."

"Eh?! Then why are we having this conversation in first place?"

"You really thought I would try to talk my little sister out of bringing her partner with us? I know how important all of this is to you, silly!"

Cynthia and the pegasus exchanged glances, both of them huffing in confusion at the same time. "Then, uh-"

"I just wanted to hear if you had any better ideas, but I suppose our friend here will agree with my way of handling things, will she not?" He lied down on his bedroll and winked to the pegasus, who nodded vehemently.

"Hey! You're supposed to be MY partner, girl!" Cynthia patted the pegasus' head as it released a sound that looked like a laugh, as much as an echinus could laugh, of course.

Meliodas chuckled himself to sleep, way too happy to finally be able to have such a friendly banter with his sister to care about the pegasus' weird sounding laughter.

The Shepherds, on their hand, had their plate full with preparing to waltz right into an obvious trap, though Robin had faith in all of her planning. The Queen's calmness and posture dealing with the sudden jump into action after months of anxious inertia made the transition as smooth as it could be -- and soon they were already way into Plegian territory.

As per Henry's recommendations, Nidra wore a hood and few more clothes wrapped around her body to protect her from the burning sunlight, though her long ears somehow always managed to pop out of any elaborate tucking they tried. Instead, the manakete resigned herself to having half-tanned, half-white ears, though that was the least of her worries at that moment.

"Henry... Henry... you know of our son boy, our darling young and dashing manakete son Meliodas, yes? And how he went to find our baby girl Cynthia whom we've yet to meet?"

The dark mage pressed his lips against each other so as not to burst into laughter. "The same one you've been mentioning non-stop for the last three hundred and ten hours? Yup, sure do!"

Nidra leaned her head -- most of her entire body following, actually -- over her husband's shoulder. "I should not have let him go, Henry. Oh, I should have stopped him! He's just a BABY! And he went to find his equally baby-esque little sister! I should have been with him!"

Henry giggled, lifting his index. "But then that would mean leaving the only friend you made in what, two millennia? Behind on a quest you promised yourself AND her you'd see through, right? Nyaha, now I'm throwing your words back at you!"

"That is exactly right!" Nidra looked down at her own hands, exasperated at her powerlessness. "Meliodas is old -- no, not old, big -- enough to take care of himself, seeing as he was one of the survivors from their apocalyptic future... So I let him go look for our baby daughter so we all could reunite, but... But... He's just a baby..."

"Nyaha, c'mon, Ni-Ni!" Henry teased, bumping his shoulder so Nidra could lift her gaze to him. "He's, what? Seventeen or something? Lucina is around twenty but she aged three years here in the past, so the oldest Meliodas can be is sixteen-and-something, right?"

Nidra exhaled deeply, drying the sweat off of her forehead with the cloth wrapped around there. "Do you KNOW how young that is in manakete years? I do not think I was out of the crib by the age of sixteen! In conclusion, he and his sister are babies."

"WITH human blood inside them! That kinda made them spriiing up, right?" Henry gestured with his hand from his knee to way past his head, tip-toeing for effect. "He managed to look for us on his own and everything, Nidra! They're fine!" Henry held his wife's hands, squeezing them so she would look straight into his eyes.

"Hah... I do understand with my head that they are proper adults who can take care of themselves," Nidra looked down to their hand hold, chewing on her lower lip. "It's just that... I've always longed for a family, as you know."

"Yup. Me too."

Nidra chuckled, mirthless. "Indeed. I simply want to protect them from any and all adversities they might find in their path -- they've been through so very much already, and at such young age! They do not deserve any of this! They deserve to be pampered and loved and protected like any child their age should! Human OR manakete."

"Or both, nyaha!" Henry bumped his head on Nidra's, the dumbness that followed finally making the manakete chuckle for real.

"... Indeed. Or both; as they are. Half-human, half-manakete children that need just as much protection as any other baby their age."

"Not baby -- child! Try again!"

"But they’re just babies..." Nidra hissed under her breath, holding back a smile.

"Ni-Niiii..."

The manakete twisted her lips, but gave up resisting. "Very well -- CHILDREN. Still young and still worthy of protection and pampering."

"I like pampering! And I'm a dad! Their dad!" He laughed, pulling his wife for a hug. "Trust them a bit, you worry-wart! They'll show up anytime, now! We can even see Castle Plegia already."

Nidra reciprocated the hug, resting her worried frown on her husband's thin shoulder. "Indeed, they shall -- oh! C-could it be?"

"Ohh, dragon radar, dragon radar!!" Henry let go of the hug, holding his wife by the arms. "Dragon radar?!"

Being shook by her husband, Nidra absentmindedly looked at the far-up sky, feeling the familiar tug of home calling her from the sky. It was still so very weak, but she could tell that the feeling was coming towards them -- towards HER.

"D-dragon radar...!" She smiled foolishly, pulling away the extra wrappings she had around her body.

"Transformation incoming!" Henry cupped both hands in front of his mouth to yell to their surrounding companions, so they would be able to make way for the dragon that would pop up in the middle moments later. "You're not leaving me behind this time!" He grabbed her tail and climbed onto her back at an astounding speed, tickling her scales.

"I wouldn't dream of it! Hold on tight!" She opened her wings, startling the soldiers who had made way for her into running farther from her reach.

There were two of them! She could feel the presence of two manaketes! HER CHILDREN!

Nidra flew with the swiftness and precision of her thousands of years of experience, laughing at her husband's loud yodelling and incoherent screaming of joy.

She found a manakete flying side by side with a pegasus knight, seeing them way before they could actually see her -- though the both of them could feel the mutual pull of their family bond.

"There!" She quickly made her way towards them, opening her large wings a few meters away from running into them.

One could see that, despite having brighter-colored scales, Meliodas was still a young manakete -- his dragon form was at least half as big as his mother's, her thousand-year-old scales showcasing not only her experience but her wisdom as well.

Cynthia screamed. "MOTHER?! YOUR DRAGON FORM IS SO EPIC, LEMME JUMP OVER!!"

"Wh- do not stand on the pegasus- Cynth- you're standin- Do not jump- SHE JUMPED, wait, I got you, oh by Naga, you're so small, such a little girl, a baby-" Nidra panicked, catching Cynthia mid-air with her small manakete arms, all under Henry's loud cheering.

"THAT WAS AWESOME, I WANNA TRY IT LATER!!" He kicked his feet, holding onto Nidra's neck for his dear life.

"FATHER!!" Cynthia beamed at him from Nidra's chest. "THIS IS SO AWESOME, I WANNA JUMP AGAIN!!"

"NO!" Nidra and Meliodas yelled in unison, slowly descending to the desert below them. The startled pegasus stood there in shock, simpy following his knight to the ground.

"Oh, but you are so very small, I do not want to let you go-" Nidra sniffled, her voice thundering awkwardly. "So, so very small..."

"Mother, your dragon form is AMAZING! Wow, look at all those scales! And I thought Meli's was the prettiest dragon ever! You win by far!"

"I think so, too! Her scales are so strong-looking and deep!" Meliodas transformed back into his humanoid form, lifting both arms as a silent gesture for Nidra to hand him Cynthia so she could transform back herself.

Nidra hesitated, wanting to hold her baby a while longer, but Henry's sliding down her back and falling on his behind snapped her out of it, making her slowly hand her young daughter to her son.

"And even her FINGERS are strong, Meli!" Cynthia gushed, hugging her brother before he put her on the ground. "Manakete's arms are so tiny, but Mother's made it look like they were big and strong and- oof!"

Nidra transformed back just in time to tackle her children, pulling them right into her chest. "Oh, my babies...! I am overjoyed to see you safe and sound! Do not startle me like that!"

"But you caught me! I knew you would!" Cynthia laughed, wrapping her arms around Nidra's waist.

"Of course I would, silly." Nidra sniffled, kissing her daughter's head -- she had the same green hair as Nidra herself! That in and on itself brought tears to the manakete's cheeks.

"Family hug!" Henry came from behind Cynthia and Meliodas, sandwiching them between him and their mother, giggling non-stop. "I can't believe I have the most epic family ever! I MEAN, DRAGONS!!"

"I know, RIGHT?!" Cynthia kicked her feet, raising up sand around them. "I'm so glad I'm part of this family!!"

Meliodas and Nidra laughed, the former withholding strangled noises from trying -- and failing -- not to cry. "I am so happy you all are part of it as well, my children; my husband. Thank you so very much for coming back to me. Thank you, thank you... I love you more than words can convey."

Cynthia felt her chin tremble with emotion -- seeing her Mother's strong dragon form made her steel her resolve; there was no way she was going to let such an epic dragon perish in battle, not when she herself could transform and help her from the start of it all!

She would fight her doomed future and kick it in the face alongside the most epic family ever -- hers!

[youcannotfindme-blog1]

Writing Prompt: Part 1

You come back from a holiday and find your best friend missing. you search desperately, but no one has any recollection of your friend ever existing. Eventually, you’re shipped off to a lunatic asylum, where you find your best friend, who claims the same thing happened to them, but it was you that no one remembered.

This honestly was so fun, I thought cheerfully, finally something off the bucket list. My family and I were coming back home from a very interesting trip to Spain. It can be said that I’ve had too much fun.

We were at the airport in Barcelona, and we passed by a gift shop and Storm came into my mind. Storm is my bestest of the best friends I have, and the idiot was enjoying her time in Brazil right now, we were to return at around the same time and it couldn’t be more exciting to see her again. I really should bring her a souvenir or she’ll eat me alive.

I went into the shop to grab her something, maybe a number of the hot clerk at the till will do. Dean popped his head in the shop, gave me a weird look and asked: “Maddie, what on hell are you doing in there?”

There were so many options for magnets oh my goodness, I can’t choose.

“Maddie,” my brother exclaimed, “don’t ignore me, idiot.”

“I’m buying this for my boyfriend,” I sarcastically told him, rolling my eyes at my idiotic brother, “duh genius, it’s for Stormie.”

“Who?”

“Dean, I told you how much I fucking hate it when you do this,” I huffed. They really like to pretend that she’s not real.

Talk about rude.

Turns out, the whole family is making the same joke. It annoyed me so much, to be honest, you can’t erase someone's existence like that. But my parents really took it up a notch, they talked to the whole freaking town to pretend that she’s not here. I really don’t get when the joke ends.

I just want to see my best friend.

It’s been three days since the joke started, and I have had enough. Too much is too much.

So what did I do?

I confronted my family.

We were eating dinner, a pile of pizza from Pizza Hut because my mom was not bothered to cook dinner and dad cannot make peanut butter sandwiches even if his life counted on it. Everyone was watching the TV, a pre-recording for the world cup games, and I found it to be the best time to ask them nicely to tell me where Stormie is.

Or as nicely as I can get.

“When does the fucking joke ends?” I ask hotly.

My parents shot me a disapproving look and both said at the same time “Language, Mads.”

I shake my head, I didn’t care, “I really mean it, where the hell is Stormie. Did you lock her up or something? You know she’s a nice girl.” Or as nice as she can be.

Yeah, we both are two peas in a pot.

My mom sighed “That’s our line. Maddie, it’s really immature of you to keep on bugging us about the whereabouts of this Stormie or Storm when she isn’t even real. I thought you were old enough for imaginary friends.”

If I did not have anything connecting my jaw with my skull, it would have totally hit the ground.

I’m the immature one here?

“I’m the immature one?” I voiced my thoughts, screaming at them, “you’re not allowing me to see my best friend and because what? Because you hate her for some weird reason.”

“Maddie,” my dad scolded, “watch your tone. Apologise to your mother. Now,” he stood up from his seat on the couch getting angrier by the minute.

Good, someone is also getting angrier by the minute, and that's fucking me.

“I’ve tolerated this for three days okay? Three days without seeing my best friend,” I angrily explained. I shouldn’t explain myself to them, they were the ones who didn’t want to tell me where she is.

And I will raise hell if I have to.

“That's it, Maddie,” my dad shouted at me, taking the tomatoes place of being the reddest thing on Earth, “I’ve had enough of your Stormie bullshit.” Oh, so he’s still playing the game. Well, two can play this. I raised an eyebrow and taunted him with what he hated the most, having his words thrown back at him, “Language.”

And that is, my friends, is how you tip the scale with my dad.

That earned me a warning for not mentioning Stormie for the rest of my life or he will personally deliver me to the mental asylum where I’m “supposed to be” in, not to mention that I am also grounded. No going out or having fun. He also took my freaking laptop. That one hurt real bad.

Guess what though.

I am not one to actually listen.

So, that very night, when everyone was finally asleep in their relative bedrooms, I snuck out from my second story window soundlessly. I love how I use what I learn in Gymnastics to save the life of my best friend. After school activities is actually doing me good. I would have never thought.

That bitch should really be grateful when I see her.

Scaling down from the window is actually the easy part. Not getting caught by the motion detector flashlight was the tough bit. But I’ve done this a million times, so I know the right places were I should go and where I shouldn’t.

I know what you’re thinking, but they were emergencies. They were Stormie emergencies.

I was about to reach the sidewalk in front of our house to turn left to start the trip to Stormie’s house when what I didn’t anticipate happened. Lucy happened, the little bitch. She started barking and wiggling her tail when she saw me from the lounge window that’s facing the road. I started panicking when I saw the light in my parent's bedroom on, and I did the only thing that popped into my mind. Run.

And so I ran and ran until the cops actually chased me down and made me stop.

But I was not going down without a fight because I knew that my parents told these cops to pretend that my best friend is imaginary and that I am mentally disabled. Once both cops got out of the car I made a run for it.

I tried really because they caught up to me almost immediately.

What the hell? I thought I was fit.

They handcuffed me, I’m not lying, and shoved all not too nicely into the back of the car.

I’m not going to lie, this isn’t the first time I was back here.

What? I didn’t say I was a saint, I made mistakes.

The car ride was getting longer than it should. Anxiety settled in, what on Earth is happening to this God forsaken town? Is time bending a thing?

I mustered up whatever courage and calmness left in me and curiously asked “Where are we going? Because you missed the turn that would take us to the Station.”

The cop driving looked at me from the review mirror and ignored me.

Uh, rude.

“Can you please answer my question?” I asked politely. Look, I’m making effort. My mom would be so proud.

The other officer, the one riding shotgun, answered instead of officer driving (I’ll call him Officer Egg because he rudely ignored me and I hate eggs) “no one said we were going to the station.”

Okay, officer shotgun (I’ll call this one Officer Kale because that grass thing is the nastiest thing on Earth, and because I hated vague people) did not make it any better.

Officer Egg chucked at my annoyed expression. I huffed and kept on asking because everyone hates that one person who keeps on asking questions, whether they were idiots or did it to spite the ones questioned. And I am no idiot.

“Where are we going?

Are we lost?

Can you take off my handcuffs cuz they hurt me, plus, it’s pretty kinky, don’t you think?

Hello? Is there a brain somewhere in that skull of yours?

Cuz you both sure look like you need a brain transplant soon.

Ooo have you seen the zombie movie Warm Bodies? Nicholas is a hottie, I would so tap that,”

Honestly? So much respect here.

“Who’s your celebrity crush? Oh wait, are you two married?

You don’t happen to be married... like to each other, are you?”

My trump card.

“NO,” they both shouted. They stammered and tried saying that they were just partners.

I grinned like the cat from Alice in Wonderland, they so like each other.

I approve honestly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” I assured them.

“There isn’t anything to tell about us,” Officer Kale exclaimed, his voice a few notches higher. Officer Egg just gave him a pointed look to tell him to shut up.

This is very interesting.

I love this.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I repeated, but felt more than I saw, my smile turn as dark as the night sky, “unless you tell me where we are going.”

The silence that followed was so thick you could have probably cut it with a butter knife. The tension was so obvious on both of their shoulders. Was really any relationships between partners that bad? I personally find it cute.

But that's my opinion, one that I wouldn’t speak about right now.

Officer Egg sighed.

Victory to me bitches.

He stayed silent for a long time, and it irritated me to no end.

“Well?” I asked eagerly, “Where are we going?”

Officer Kale looked at me and then back to Officer Egg and then back at me, obviously at a loss.

“Speak up,” I scowled. This is taking too long.

Officer Kale sighed “You’ll see it soon. We’re near.”

“No,” I fumed, “I want to know now.”

I sounded like such a brat.

“Don’t be a brat,” Officer Egg shot back.

He reads my mind, crap.

I was about to retort a reply to Officer Egg but then I saw the sign outside and it stopped my brain from functioning.

The Jensen Mental Hospital.

A freaking lunatic asylum.

“No. Fucking. Way.” The words were breathy, my throat is actually closing on me.

I’m going to faint.

I am shipped to a mental asylum.

To the freaking Jensen Asylum nonetheless.

We were pulling into the entrance, a team was waiting.

Waiting for me.

“No, no no no there must be a mistake. I can’t go there. I am not crazy.”

The car stopped and the officers got out.

“There is a mistake,” I screamed repeatedly.

“Please do not make it harder on us, Ms Fallon,” Officer Kale tried calming me when he opened the door to pull me out.

“There is no way in HELL that I am admitted into a lunatic asylum,” I shouted at his face, “I am not crazy.”

“Said all the crazy people,” Officer Egg muttered as he pulled me out.

“My parents,” I shouted. My parents will tell them that I am not crazy. “Talk to my parents, they’ll tell you I’m not crazy.”

“Ms Fallon,” a doctor in his white coat greeted at the entrance as the officers kept on dragging me into the asylum, “your parents were the people who called us to admit you here. You were showing some disturbing signs of mental disorders.”

I froze in my place. My mind a mess, not being able to process the fact that my parents did this to me.

This joke is not funny.

“This is not funny,” I screamed, “it’s enough that no one believes that Stormie fucking disappeared from the face of Earth like she never existed in the first place. This is taking is too far.” My throat is burning with the shrilling.

This is too far.

“We will take care of you, Ms Fallon,” one of the nurses that strapped me into a hospital bed when I was in my frozen state. I thrashed at the table, trying to get one of the straps to loosen up so I could escape.

Fucking run out of this place.

Nothing prepared me for the harsh pinch of a needle going into my arm, immediately drugging me to the point where I saw nothing but darkness.

Betrayal, cold darkness.

[rock-and-compass]

7.02 thoughts

Okay. Here we go. I’ve slept on this but it was written while I watched the episode.

Under the cut because of negativity

The suitably vague “Years Ago” – I don’t think we’re ever going to get an explanation as to why everyone’s ageing is funky and exactly how long has passed since Henry left town…

A bit of friendly sword-play turns into sulky teen pretty darn quickly – Henry doesn’t seem nearly old enough or mature enough to be leaving home… although I guess there is nothing like leaving home to make you grow up quickly. And boy does he grow up quickly!

“This isn’t an ending Emma, there’s more to come.” …You keep trying to tell us that A&E…

Hook and Emma are clearly planning on expanding the family and, I guess, not finding it so simple…. I think this is supposed to reinforce the “Emma is too pregnant to help” discourse that runs under the episode.

Good god, you just happen to have that magic message-in-a-bottle bottle lying around and just happen to mention it now. How many times would that little piece of plot convenience have come in handy?  dark swan; missing hook; wish world; baby Gideon . . . every other freaking time that a character has been missing, lost or trapped. The thing with fantasy is that it still needs rules – to make anything conveniently possible with a new magical item that is then never seen again undercuts the narrative and makes the story trite. If you want people to be summoned to other realms then establish a method via your story, not just produce yet another artefact that can miraculously do what you need done. One of the core tenants of this show was that travel between realms was hard – but they’ve broken that rule so many times while still pretending that it holds true that it has become ridiculous.

Another realm … more “years later” yep. Continue with the vague. And Henry’s “in love” already to the point where others are noticing. So no slow burn for Hella then.

Why would Henry say “Captain Hook” into the bottle? Surely is would be “Emma, Regina and Killian” as Henry has called him for, jeeze I don’t know the duration of the proverbial “years” that have apparently passed. But I guess this is why WishHook is suddenly also in this new realm…

And now we are suddenly in “Today” sheesh. The break-neck speed continues.

“Rogers” asking about Emma complete with CS theme has potential. Well Didn’t that turn out to be a big old tease?

“People should be given a second chance” Hello theme of the day.

Still don’t get why the step mother has so much control over Lucy. It’s annoying and doesn’t assist in building any interest in the Cinderella storyline.  The newcomers acting continues to feel contrived and pantomimic, particularly Lady Tremaine and Co.

Such clunky dialogue – “where’s my other mother?” not “where’s mum?” or even “where’s Emma?” Could they make it any more transparently obvious that this is an explanation session for those legions of new viewers that this spin-off has failed to pick up.  The writing really is subpar this season, even from Jane Espenson who I always thought was better than the rest.

Hmmmm – so Hook when covering for Emma’s whereabouts, lies to Henry, at Emma’s request, about “what really happened” so Henry doesn’t drop everything and go running back to Storybrooke but can “get on with his life”. I wonder when we will find out what this is . . . or is it meant to be the baby news. It’s very vague.  Still, nice to see Regina’s opinion that “Emma is wrong” get shut down so efficiently by Killian. If only people had done that more often in Storybrooke… One must suspect that Regina is not concerned with telling Henry the truth as much as she is desirous of using this information as a way of getting her son home…

What is with Weaver’s voice?

Who are these people???

Ugh. I really really hate that Wish World and everything associated with it – Wish Hook included! This is a massive stumbling block for me. I was on the fence before – if it had been Our Killian, I probably would have continued with the show. But not with this. I can’t go forward with a show when it has just become a mockery of itself. Killian and WishHook are NOT the same person. One is a bad joke taken too far. The other is a character that I genuinely love.  I can’t commit to WishHook even if he is magically made to resemble GenuineKillianJones. As WishHook himself says, with absolutely no logic to underpin his explanation, they may have had similar beginnings but life and experience took them in very different directions so nope, not the same person.

The biggest issue for me is that WishHook was created with a wish just a few “years earlier” in season 6 - he didn’t actually exist before this. HE DOESN’T HAVE THE HISTORY THAT THEY APPARENTLY WANT US TO BELIEVE HE HAS. HE LITERALLY DIDN’T EXIST BEFORE THE WISH WAS MADE. He is a theoretical construct created out of the malicious twisting of Emma’s once uttered wish that she was not the saviour. The Wish World was not factual. Emma would not have actually been that meek little princess if she had been raised by her parents – the WishWorld was an insulting, twisted fantasy that is now infecting the entire show and we are supposed to embrace that caricature, that glib joke of WishHook as our substitute Killian. Others might like it, but it’s not for me.

It’s like, in life, we are all products of our choices…. Let’s say you had a choice between two paths – Path A and Path B - you have to choose one and there is no going back. You pick choice A and follow that road until the next set of choices presents itself. Path A becomes your path and effects and influences the person you become.  All the possibilities from choice B cease to exist. That path is closed and all the potentials it offered become purely hypothetical. There is no alternate “you” walking down Path B. But this is what this stupid premise wants us to accept and the upcoming episode titled “The Garden of Forking Paths” would seem to confirm this. And it might make sense if there had been time travel involved but there wasn’t – it was a wish and a new wish at that.

And didn’t Regina discover that WishRobin was not “her” Robin - HE WAS NOT THE SAME PERSON and he ended up going back to the wish world where he belonged. So sorry, I can’t accept the Killian and WishHook are “the same person” as a justification for reinvesting in the show.  I was invested in Killian Jones, not a very poor wish-born imitation. Unfortunately, it smacks of the writers wanting their cake and to eat it too – they want Colin/Hook in the show but they also want to facilitate Emma’s exit and preserve CaptainSwan’s happy ending.  So okay, I’ll take the slice of CS cake and go away and eat it, but as a consequence, I’m good and full – I can live without the slice of WishHook.  

Colin is great as Killian but his “officer Rogers” is kinda bland and underwhelming. Sorry. I know I’m the minority on that one. Lol.

Ugh Rumple.

No. no one would pay $550 to see a kiddie ballet concert. And all this Hyperion Heights stuff is just a bit . . .  boring.

Gaaaaaaah how could a recently created wish version of Hook have a daughter????? Sorry I can’t buy any level of care for this silly plot contrivance. There is no logic at all.  And it all feels so emotionally manipulative – they tell us Emma and Hook are having a baby but we’re never going to see that one come to fruition so they fob us off with WishHook and his freaking WishDaughter trying to make mileage off the fact that mush of the audience would have loved to have seen Emma and Hook as parents.

Lol. Regina is such a loser. She can’t find a life outside her adult son. One might theorise that she isn’t truly happy living a ‘good’ life… And Henry continues his pattern of being the parent in this relationship when he suggests she stay in the new realm.  Yeah, another reason I exit at this stop. And she was added by CGI into the goodbye scene. Hilarious.

Oh Jaysus… the exposition in that final WishHook/Henry scene at the bar – we didn’t have time to show it all so we’ve got to tell it (and add in a dash of completely superfluous Roni in for good measure)

Final thoughts: The episode was underwhelming and not an appropriate tribute to Emma Swan.  I’m happy that Emma and Killian are happy in Storybrooke – though it would be nice to at least know the name of their baby. I’m glad they are free of Regina and Rumple and that the whole town gets to live in peace and far away from those two utterly horrible people. I wish the story was continuing in Storybrooke, not Hyperion Heights. With no Emma and no Killian in Hyperion Heights, it’s just not a place I’m interested in. But, can I just add that I was prepared to keep watching if it had been the real Killian in Storybrooke. Yep, I know that would have meant that Emma and Killian would be separated yet again, that the CS baby may not have been hatched . . . but you know what it would have given me?

Hope.

…Hope that one day there was a chance, ever so slim or remote, of seeing Emma Swan again. Rogers would have automatically bee an altogether more compelling character because he wouldn’t be an imposter – he would have been our Killian, with an opportunity to have a story outside Emma but also to keep her as an important part of the story, even in her absence. That would have got me back. As the story stands, with the ending we were given, I have literally no hope or expectation of ever seeing Emma and Killian ever again. I do feel the choice not to keep authentic-Killian in the story will cost them in the long run – I think it was a short-sighted narrative choice that allowed them to exit Emma with no fuss or consequence.  So yeah, for me, personally I would have preferred to have seen Killian and Emma as part of the curse (I would have made Emma an inanimate object ah la Beauty and the Beast or as a swan or a cat or whatever – They promised us that whoever cast this curse learnt from the previous one so what could have been a more important lesson that neutralising the saviour.) Yes the fandom would have been furious but they still would have had a reason to watch – I mean, those OQ fans are still begging for Sean to return… but they’ve exited Emma and Killian in a way that effectively silences the fandom.

I’ll accept the nice ending because it means that Emma and Killian get to live on elsewhere, but unfortunately, it also means I’m done with the show.  

[robbyrobinson]

Shattered Innocence

Normally one would try to avoid having bad luck any way possible. With Lincoln, however, he fully embraced it. Ever since Lynn lost that baseball game, she prohibited him from attending any of her sports-related events, fearing that he might jinx them. Truth be told, Lincoln would rather have the house to himself than go to one of his sisters' stupid presentations. So, when Lynn began to spread the rumor that Lincoln was cursed, he took advantage of it. While his family was away, Lincoln had full range of the house. He freely read his comic books in his underwear, among other things. Sure, it was dirty of him to lie to his family, but he'll they'll forget about it once he sets the record straight with them. Unfortunately for Lincoln not only was he being excluded from his sisters' personal events, but he was also left out of attending events he truly wanted to engage in. Soon, his parents fell victim to his lie, and they kicked him out of his own home. Despite his insistence that he wasn't bad luck, Lynn continually pointed out that when he went to her game she lost, thus solidifying their superstitions. Not once was Lincoln allowed back in the house, not even to use the restroom. Slowly, the day turned to night, and the Loud family was preparing for bed. Before excusing themselves to their bedroom, Rita and Lynn Sr. approached the door, and gave Lincoln a blanket and pillow.

Lincoln: Please, let me back in. I swear that I'm not bad luck.

Lynn Sr.: Sorry, sport, but better safe than sorry.

Rita: Besides, your father and I are taking the girls to the beach tomorrow. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen to any of them, right.

Lincoln: I guess not.....

Lynn Sr.: Right. They could either get eaten by sharks, or maybe they could get sunburns, or....

(Rita punches him in the arm to get him to stop talking.)

Lynn Sr.: Sorry, son.

(Rita pets Lincoln's head)

Rita: Don't worry, sweetie. We'll check up on you in the morning.

With that, Lincoln was left alone in the darkness. He tried to situate himself onto the porch, but it proved to be bumpy in comparison to his bed. Despite this, Lincoln found himself slowly drifting off to sleep with the sound of crickets chirping. Morning slowly came upon the horizon, and his parents wake at around 6. After getting themselves fully dressed, the two descended down the stairs, and entered into the kitchen. Rita grabs a box of cereal from one of the cabinets, and pours the cereal into a bowl. She then walks towards the refrigerator, takes out a jug of milk, and pours the contents of the jug into the bowl. She then heads towards the front door.

Rita: Good morning, sweetie. Breakfast is ready.

(She slides the bowl of cereal through the doggy door, but she receives no response.)

Rita: Lincoln?

(She still doesn't receive a response. She opens the door to find that his blanket had been abandoned.) \

Lynn Sr. (yawning) Is Lincoln up?

Rita: I can't find Lincoln anywhere.

Lynn Sr.: Can't find him?

Rita: Nothing but his blanket is here.

(She shows him the discarded blanket.)

Lynn Sr.: Don't worry, dear. I'm sure that he went over to Clyde's house for the nigh.

Rita: Right, right. I'll call the McBrides this instant.

(She dashes towards the phone, and she calls the McBride residence. Howard answers the phone.)

Howard: Hello?

Rita: Yes, Howard. I'm just calling to see if Lincoln happened to spend the night over at your house.

Howard: No. Haven't seen him all day.

Rita: Oh, okay. Thanks.

(She hangs up.)

Lynn Sr.: He's there?

(Rita shakes her head.)

Lynn Sr.: That's odd.....

(Their daughters wake up and start to walk down the stairs.)

Lori: (yawning) What's all the ruckus?

Rita: Your brother's missing.

(Their eyes widen.)

Luna: Did you call Clyde's house? Maybe he's there.

Rita: I called them. They hadn't seen him.

Lori: Hold on, I'm gonna text Bobby.

(She rapidly texts her boyfriend about Lincoln's whereabouts. Almost instantaneously, Bobby quickly replies, saying that he hadn't seen him. Neither had Ronnie Anne.)

Lori: Oh, this is bad....

Lana: You don't think he ran away because we kicked him out?

Lola: I think so.

Lynn: Maybe he's just playing some prank on us. I'm sure that he's hiding somewhere in the house.

Lori: Yeah, that's right. Well, what are we waiting for? Let's search.

(Lori and Leni crawl underneath the stairs of the house's porch, only to come across the artificial skeleton left over from Halloween. Lucy checked the attic, but she sees that her bats were crouched there. No trace of Lincoln whatsoever. Luan and Luna check the boiler room almost as if to expect that Lincoln would be hiding in the boiler. They open the door to the stove, but they find it empty. The sisters gut the house in hopes of finding their brother. For all of their efforts, they only manage to leave a huge mess.)

Luna: I believe Lincoln really is gone....

Lynn: And it's all my fault.

Luna: How?

Lynn: I was the one who said that he was bad luck in the first place. Now he's gone because of me......

Lori: No, don't say that. I'm sure he'll show up.

Lynn: You promise?

(Lori nods. The family goes about their day. The sisters wanted to skip school so that they could devote their time to searching for Lincoln, but Rita goads them to leave. By the time that the girls return from school, Lincoln had yet to return.)

Lucy: It's been hours. Are we sure that Lincoln isn't....

Lola: Isn't what?

Lucy: Dead.

Lana: Don't say that, Luce!

Lucy: It's been 6 hours. What do you think?

Lana: You're wrong! Lincoln's coming back, I know it!

(The parents come in, having finished their conversation on the phone with the authorities.)

Lori: What did they say?

Rita: We've just filed a missing person's report.

Leni: Who's missing again?

Lori: (face palm) Lincoln, Leni.....

Leni: Linky's missing? Oh no!!

Lana: Will they be able to find him, mom?

(Rita looked at her daughter with a grim expression on her face.)

Rita: I just don't know, dear. The best we can do is hope for the best.

Lynn Sr.: They just sent out a search party. They're already looking for your brother as we speak.

(A few more hours go by. The girls try to go about their usual activities. A sense of gloom prevented them from fully enjoying them.)

Luan: It's been how many hours now?

Lisa: 12 hours.

Lola: Lincoln must really be mad at us for treating him badly.....

Luna: Even if he is, he wouldn't be the kind of guy to just walk away.

Lola: He tried to tell us that he wasn't cursed, but we let our stupid superstitions get in the way.

Lynn: I hope he returns real soon. I need to make up for what I said.

Luna: We all should. we should respect his privacy. If he doesn't want to attend all of our gigs, who are we to judge?

(They all agree. On cue, there was a knock on the door.)

Lori: That must be the search party!

(She runs to the door to alert her parents. They rush into the room. Rita goes to open the door, and two officers were standing there. One was short and heavy, while the other was tall. They both had forlorn looks.)

Rita: Yes?

Officer: Yes. We've been sent out to search for your son. After some thorough research, my partner and I have both figured out his whereabouts.

Rita: Where is he?

(The two police officers look at each other before returning their glances at her.)

Officer: Ma'am, may we ask that you send your daughters out od the room?

Rita: (confused) Oh, okay. Girls, please go to the other room.

Lori: But mom, he's our brother! We have every right to.....

Lynn Sr.: Go to the next room, now.

(Lori freezes up at the hint of anger in his voice. Wordlessly, she orders her younger siblings into a line, and they leave the living room in single file.)

Lynn Sr.: Well, did you find our son?

Officer: Yes, we have.

Rita: Oh, I'm so delighted! Please, can we speak with him?

(The police officers look at each other again.)

Officer: Ma'am, I don't think he'd have much to say.

Rita: Not much to say? What do you me.....

(Her mind meditated on those words. Her eyes began to swell with tears. The officer produces a plastic bag, and shows it to the two parents, their mouths agape with horror. In the bag was Lincoln's orange shirt. Blood stained the front of the shirt giving it a rusted appearance. Rita threw herself into her husband's arms. Lynn Sr. did his best to comfort his distraught wife.)

Officer: Mr. and Mrs. Loud, you have my condolences.

[ilovemygaydad]

Friends in Dark Places [ch 3]

pairing: eventual moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: mentions of self harm, mentions of suicide, mentions of scars, mentions of throwing up, food mentions, mentions of pain, hospitals, ivs, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, swearing, a knife, blood, insensitive language regarding mental illness, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter@band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: so i have to repost all of these in a different format! yay fucking me!!!! please consider reblogging these if you’re a fan of this series because it’s all fucked up now

first - previous - next - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

-

The first thought that popped into Virgil’s mind when he woke up was that it was far too bright. He squinted, trying to make out something. A dull, throbbing pain coursed through his wrists, and he groaned at the memories. Patton was going to give him so much shit.

It didn’t take too long for Virgil’s eyes to get adjusted to the bright lights. He was in a hospital room, and everything except for his blue smock was bright, clinical white. There wasn’t anyone else in the room with him--for the time being, at least--but a light blue backpack had been discarded on one of the chairs in the corner. Patton must have quickly thrown it together before they’d left.

The door slowly creaked open, and Virgil’s eyes snapped to the movement. Patton creeped through, only standing up straight once he’d realized that Virgil had woken up. A frown spread across his face as he moved to sit in the chair at Virgil’s right side.

“Virgil, you’re lucky that Logan and Roman had a free period today and were able to come get us to the hospital. What you did was very dangerous, though I’m sure that was your intention. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but obviously I did, and I’m so sorry about that. Still, we need to talk about your situation because you aren’t fit to be left on your own. I’m not going to force you into any situation you aren’t comfortable with, but I want to keep you safe.” Patton was speaking at a million miles an hour, barely comprehensible due to worry. Virgil shrugged and turned toward the only window in the room, watching the cars pass by on the road many stories below. In the back of his mind, he dreaded having to leave. He’d been in this hospital before on the rare occasion that a family member was dying, and from his memory, the local hospital only had elevators and emergency-only stairwells. Of course, Virgil was wildly afraid of elevators.

Patton was still talking when he tuned himself back in. “I know you didn’t want anyone to find out about your situation, so I cleared it with my parents, and we checked you in under my name and made sure that there would be complete confidentiality. You’ll be covered under my parent’s insurance, so you won’t have to pay for anything. They want to make sure you’re okay and are perfectly fine with this.” He knew that Patton was trying to be comforting, but it just made Virgil feel more guilty. He was taking so much from this family. They were committing fucking insurance fraud for him. 

Hot pinpricks formed in Virgil’s eyes. He tried his damnedest to will them away, but they began to slip down his face regardless.

“Hey! Virge, it’s okay. What’s wrong, kiddo?” Patton placed a light hand on top of Virgil’s arm, avoiding the tender spots where the bandages had been wrapped around him. Virgil forced himself to look at his companion. He hadn’t noticed before, but Patton had intense bags under his eyes, suggesting that he hadn’t slept at all during the night. His guilt only grew.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil whispered. “I’m so, so sorry that you have to deal with my depressed emo garbage. You don’t deserve this.”  He was a burden to everyone he met--merely bringing them down with him. There was no escape the sinking ship that was Virgil Thomas. Once you got on, it was hell on earth.

“Y’know,” Patton began. It was obvious that he was trying to pick his words out very carefully. “I’ve been in situations similar to yours. Although they weren’t nearly as intense, I’ve had great doubts about my self-worth. You really are a good person who deserves a good life, Virgil. I can just feel it. I really do want to help you, and I don’t care what I have to sacrifice to get you back on your feet. 

“All of that aside, we need to talk about your living situation. Do you have anybody at home who will be worrying your whereabouts?”  Patton laid expectant eyes on Virgil.

“Um, not really. My dad is almost always out of town, and my mom hasn’t been around for years.”

Patton nodded thoughtfully. “Alrighty then. Would you be okay with staying at my house for the foreseeable future? We would obviously have to grab your things from your house, but I’d feel better if you stayed with me. And I’m sure that you’ve seen that we have more than plenty of room for one other person.”

“I guess that’ll be okay.” Virgil’s voice was shaking slightly. He didn’t know whether he should be sad or happy. He was receiving so much kindness, yet he didn’t feel like he deserved it. His thoughts were interrupted when a nurse came into the room.

“Mr. Thomas? I need to ask Mr. Shea some questions. I’d ask that you leave the room… unless Mr. Shea is okay with you staying.” The nurse had a large smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes like Patton’s did.

“Um, I’d rather Pat--uh, Virgil stay in the room, if that’s all right.” Virgil gave her the best smile he could scrounge up, and she gave a curt nod, her brown hair swishing around her face. She took the seat on the opposite side of the bed from Patton.

“Mr. Shea, my name is Nurse Lucy. Do you remember what happened before you were admitted into the hospital?” Nurse Lucy pulled a pen from her pocket and began to write on the clipboard she’d had on the table next to her.

Truthfully, the events of the day had become fuzzy in Virgil’s mind. He could remember with clarity yelling at Patton and running to the bathroom. And then he punched the mirror and cut his knuckles, but after that? He had nothing.

“I don’t really remember anything…” Virgil’s face scrunched up just slightly in thought.

“Well, Mr. Shea, your friend with the tie told us you had a ‘severe panic attack,’ and Mr. Thomas followed up by saying you hurt yourself with ‘broken glass from a mirror’ and then passed out due to a mixture of blood loss and anxiety. Do you remember any of that happening?”

“I remember the panic attack and the mirror part; although, I remember the latter only vaguely.” The teen didn’t really like the direction that these questions were going. They were getting far too close to striking a nerve. As if he’d been reading the other’s thoughts, Patton piped up.

“Nurse Lucy, Vir-- Patton has been through a lot today. How long do you think these questions will take?” Virgil sent a silent thanks to whatever deity that was watching over him.

“Just a few more minutes, Mr. Thomas,” the nurse replied with a saccharine smile. “Mr. Shea, have you had any bouts of depression within the past four months?”

“Yes,” Virgil answered.

“And how long did the depression last?”

“It started when I was fourteen and has been on and off for the past three years.” His hands began to shake.

“Have you had suicidal ideations or attempted suicide in the past four months?” The clinical tone of the nurse’s voice caused Virgil’s breath to hitch. Patton gave a small squeeze, reminding Virgil that he was still there.

“Yes. To both.”

“How long have you been having suicidal thoughts?”

“Since I turned sixteen.” He raised his left hand and ran it through his hair. He already knew the next question she was going to ask before she even opened her mouth.

“When was the last time you attempted to commit suicide?” Time seemed to freeze in the room. Virgil glanced over at Patton, who had a pained expression on his face. Lines of worry were etched across his fair skin, and his normal smile was pressed into a harsh frown.

“Today,” Virgil whispered. It was the truth, and he was sure Patton knew it regardless of if he wanted to believe it or not. He looked at his feet, refusing to let his gaze shift to either of the people at his sides.

“I see,” Nurse Lucy said with sterile crispness. “Since you were admitted due to injuries from a mental illness and have admitted to other mental instabilities, you will need to stay in the hospital for at least three days for further mental examination.” She stood up and smoothed out her pants.

“Um, Nurse, will I be allowed to stay during the exams?” Patton’s soft voice broke through the unrelenting silence.

“That depends on the doctor’s specifications. If you have any questions, I can leave his phone number here so you can discuss with him. Now, if you two will excuse me, I have another patient that I need to check up on.” Virgil could hear her clicking footsteps leave the room and the hollow thunk of the door closing.

“Virge, will you please look at me?” Patton asked with genuine sweetness in his voice, not the fake sugary bullshit that the nurse had given him. Virgil turned his head slowly. His breathing was becoming shallow, and he could feel a panic attack coming on.

“I need you to listen to me, okay? You are going to be okay. I’m going to stay with you through all of it, even if the doctor wants me to leave.” A whole new wave of tears began to stream down Virgil’s face. This time, however, Patton climbed into the hospital bed, bringing his new friend into his arms, not caring about the tears that would end up staining his shirt. They stayed in that position, Virgil crying into Patton’s shoulder, until the former fell asleep.

---

“I don’t understand why we have to run errands for some kid that we barely even know!” Roman complained, crossing his arms with a huff. He and Logan had received a text from Patton that, as soon as school let out, they needed to go to the house of the kid they’d drove to the hospital and pick up anything they thought he’d need, whether it be clothes or electronics or whatever.

“Technically, Roman, we’re not running errands for Virgil. We’re running errands for Patton, who happens to be working to help a stranger. This is for our friend.” Logan turned off the engine of his disgustingly old Dodge Intrepid. He shoved open the squeaky door and walked up to the porch of the large white house.

“Yes, but--” Roman argued as he’d exited from the passenger seat-- “Why do we have to do this? Why can’t he do it?”

“Did you see how Patton was acting when we were checking Virgil into the hospital? He was an emotional wreck. I doubt he’d even leave Virgil’s side if we threatened to murder a puppy right in front of his face. He obviously has some sort of emotional attachment to the kid.” Logan punched in the code to unlock the door. The way that Patton had gotten the code was a mystery that Logan would probably never be able to solve. Shaking the thought from his mind, he pushed open the door and led Roman inside.

The inside of the house was just as plain as the outside. Light grey linoleum tiles lined the floor, and every surface was painted white. Even the doors were white. It was the biggest disgrace to the profession of interior design that either of the teenagers had ever seen.

“The bedroom is upstairs, correct?” Logan asked, looking around for any semblance of a clue that indicated someone actually lived in this house. The whole thing was oddly bare; there were just a few pieces of furniture in each room that he could see.

“Yeah, second door on the right.” Roman had already made it halfway up the stairs by the time he’d finished his sentence. Logan sighed and followed his dramatic friend.

It would have been easy to find out which room was the correct one even if they hadn’t had the directions. The door to Virgil’s room had been painted black and stuck out like a sore thumb against the blaring white of everything else. Roman swung the door open and walked inside with a flourish that only he would add.

“What a dreary nightmare this place is.” Roman grabbed a vinyl sleeve that had been discarded on the floor. American Beauty / American Psycho by Fall Out Boy. With a slight eye roll, he shucked the sleeve onto the desk to his left. He looked to Logan and saw that he’d had already gathered a pile of assorted black clothes onto the black duvet. Shocking.

Roman let out a long sigh and gathered things from the desk. He took a few notebooks that were labeled with school subjects and their corresponding binders, a pencil case, a pair of over-ear headphones and attached cell phone, a well used black eyeshadow single, and a weird little cube with a bunch of buttons on it. He placed them on the bed and grabbed a backpack from the floor, stuffing his finds into it. Logan had pulled a suitcase from somewhere-- probably the closet--and had begun to neatly fold clothes and pack them up.

“I’m going to search for the bathroom to grab Mr. Black Sky’s toiletries.” All Roman got in response was a nod. With a slight eye roll, he left the room and began to peek into each room in the hallway. The one third on the right turned out to be another bedroom, as was the fourth, the one across the hall from that one was a linen closet, and the two down the hall were completely empty. Last, he checked the first door on the right. He opened the door and found a pristinely clean bathroom, minus the spread of toiletries across the counter.

Roman grabbed the toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush that was laying on the ground near the edge of the counter. He picked up a small rectangular metal thing that was hidden behind a stack of washcloths. It suddenly snapped open to reveal a small knife that had little flecks of blood on it. His stomach dropped, and he quickly closed the blade, nearly throwing it back onto the counter.

His mind strayed back to the time when Pat had been having a rough time. He and Logan had stayed up until ungodly hours researching things to help. Roman remembered when he’d clicked on a link and was brought to a website about cutting with graphic images of scars and cuts. Although he was not normally squeamish around blood, the thought of his friend hurting himself had nearly made him throw up.

He’d seen similar scars on Virgil when he’d helped Logan patch up his cuts. A shiver ran through his body. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Roman? Have you acquired everything that you need?” Logan’s voice called from the room over. Roman shook his shoulders and stood up straighter.

“Yeah, Lo. I’ll be there in just a moment.” After throwing one last glance at the knife on the counter, he made his way back to Virgil’s bedroom. Logan grabbed the toiletries from his hands and shoved them into the backpack before slipping it onto his shoulder. The two brought the bags out to the car and stowed them in the back seat. Roman’s memories from the bathroom were soon forgotten when he received another text from Patton.

Patton Delivered at 3:30 pm Virge has to stay in the hospital for the next few days for mental examination. They’re worried about him attempting suicide again. If you guys could pick up a stuffed animal from the gift shop, I’d really appreciate it! <333

Roman  Read at 3:31 pm Of course, Pat! We’re just leaving the house now, so we’ll be at the hospital soon. Do you need anything?

Patton Delivered at 3:31 pm Just a water bottle. See you guys when you get here! <33333

Patton Delivered at 3:47 pm I just realized I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. Can you grab me something to eat in the cafeteria?

Roman Read at 3:50 pm I’ll add it to the list of things we need to do that Logan’s forcing me to write. Be there in 15.

Patton Delivered at 3:50 pm Awesome! <3

Patton Delivered at 3:54 pm Roman?

Roman Read at 3:54 pm Yes, Patton?

Patton Delivered at 3:55 pm Thank you both. I really appreciate what you’re doing for Virge and I.

Roman Read at 3:56 pm It’s no problem Patton. You’ve had a rough day and deserve some rest.

Patton Delivered at 3:56 pm You and Logan are fam ILY.

next

[robbyrobinson]

Luan’s Problem (Part 2)

(It didn't take long for the ambulance to arrive to retrieve the unconscious young boy. Even though they were slightly distraught, their parents were able to give a coherent description of their situation. The Vanzillafollowed as soon as the ambulance backed out of their driveway. Not one sound was made in the van that day; it was so quiet in fact that you could hear a pin drop and yet it wouldn't make any difference. Luan never as much as made as one quip the entirety of the trip. The cruel words her sisters angrily gave her twirled endlessly in her mind. What if they were right? What if all this time, she was never funny? She looked across the van, but she was only met by her sister's angered expressions and dead silence. They had every right to be mad. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but she thrashes it by committing a heartless prank. She thought back on how he helped her with her comedy routine, and how they both bonded over that. She bit her lip to keep fresh tears from escaping her eyes. Lynn Sr. looks up from his rear view mirror, seeing the reflection of his daughter.)

Lynn Sr.: Luan, I am very disappointed in you. You realize that you are grounded for a week?

Luan: (weakly) Yes, dad.

Rita: We are also taking your business privileges. You are prohibited from attending birthday gigs for at least a month.

Luan: Yes, mom.....

(The family arrives to the hospital at around 3:30, and Lincoln is wheeled to the inspection room. The family anxiously waits in the emergency room. Once again, the mood was eerily quiet as none of the nine sisters raised their voices or fought over trivial issues. All eyes were on Luan, who sat a few seats away from her family. Sure, there were some efforts to lighten the mood, but they were futile. Soon, Rita and Lynn Sr. were called back, thus leaving the Loud girls to themselves. However, the mood was different. The moment that the parents left the room, they all start to throw insults at Luan. Luan just sat there, taking all of the blame. Why shouldn't she? They were right to treat her like garbage. Like garbage, what she did to her little brother was revolting. So, why take offense at something that was already true?)

Lori: If Lincoln dies, I am so done with you.

Luna: If Lincoln pulls through, I am going to kick you out of my room. I can't share a room with the likes of someone like you!

Lola: I may not be a little angel, but even I wouldn't do something that low.

Lucy: While I am a slave to the darkness, at least I have a heart.

(The sisters dished out more insults towards the ex-comedian - some being outright threats of bodily harm - eventually spurring Luan to leave the room, her head down. While she was away, Rita and Lynn Sr. return to the room to share the news. Thankfully, Lincoln hadn't sustained grievous damage from his long fall other than a broken leg; however, Lincoln sustained a minor concussion after his head hit the floor with such force. Lincoln's leg was expected to heal within a number of weeks, but other than that, nothing life-threatening. Rita inquires the girls as to Luan's whereabouts when she sees that Luan wasn't present, before concluding that she must be in the van. Luan walked slowly down the halls of the large hospital, her feet shuffling on the ground.)

Luan: All I wanted was to give Lincoln a birthday surprise, but now he'll probably never wake up again. My sisters are right: I'm no comedian. I'm a heartless monster. What am I to do?

(While she was deep in thought, she didn't realize that someone else was in the hall until she bumped into that person. Papers and pens scattered the floor as the unknown person groaned in disbelief. The enigmatic figure was that of a chubby, middle-aged man with thinning grey hair, as well as a white moustache. He also had a brown uniform on, and a look of irritation on his face.)

Luan: I-I'm sorry, sir. Please, let me help you with those.

(She helps the man gather his papers.)

Luan: Here you go, sir.

Blogsby: Oh, please, call me Dr. Blogsby. Just watch where you're going next time, okay?

Luan: Yes sir. I'll keep that in mind.

(Luan prepares to leave, but she is stopped by Dr. Blogsby.)

Blogsby: You seem to have an awful lot on your mind.

Luan: You'd better believe it. Really, now, it's nothing to worry about.

(Blogsby places his hand on her shoulder.)

Blogsby: Care to speak about it in my office?

Luan: Oh, you're one of those psychotherapists, am I right? I shouldn't impose, I'd already done enough horrible things for today.

Blogsby: Please, just a few minutes, and we can all get this sorted out.

(Luan gave it some thought, and begrudgingly follows the psychotherapist into his office. His office was orderly, of course, but he also had several different knickknacks scattered throughout his shelves.)

Blogsby: Care for some tea?

(He pours some tea into a cup, and hands it to Luan. She thanks him for it.)

Blogsby: So, tell me. Why were you in such a rush earlier this day?

(Luan refused to answer his question.)

Blogsby: If it's too difficult an answer, I will consider your feelings.

Luan: I...I did something terrible to my brother earlier today.

(The psychotherapist quietly sips his tea as he listened.)

Luan: Today was my brother's birthday, and I was wanting to surprise him. Show him that I loved him. So, I decided to put fireworks on his door, so that when he walked in, he would be surprised.

Blogsby: The prank didn't end well, I assume?

Luan: (voice breaking) He fell off the stairs and now he's badly hurt because of me! All I do is try to make people laugh, but I only end up causing harm to the ones I love.

Blogsby: Oh dear. That is quite a blunder.

Luan: I don't even deserve to be his brother. My sisters were right: if I wasn't related to them, they would've dropped me years ago.

(Luan starts to cry. Blogsby hands her a tissue and she blows her nose into it.)

Blogsby: Do you know why you do these pranks?

Luan: No, I don't. It just seems that I was always interested in them ever since I was a little girl.

Blogsby: When was the first time that you ever did a prank?

(Luan strokes her chin.)

Luan: Well, it started way back in the fourth grade....

(The scene changes to a flashback of a young Luan preparing for her first day back to school.)

Rita: Luan, did you remember to take your medicine?

Luan: Yes, mom!

Rita: You didn't hide it under your pillowcase again, did you?

Luan: (sighs) Aw, mom! I don't wanna take that stupid medicine!

Rita: I know it's troublesome, but it's supposed to keep your mind focused. We don't want you to bounce around the room, right?

Luan: Yes, mom....

(Luan removes the medicine from her pillowcase. They were two light orange tablets. Luan shudders at the idea of taking these two pills, but as she was running late already, she mans up and pops the two tablets into her mouth. She then races down the stairs, and jumps into Vanzilla. Her other sisters were already accounted for. Lori looks out her window in boredom, Leni was busily applying makeup on her cheeks, Luna beat on the side of her seat with a pair of pencils, and Lynn was holding one of her many balls.)

Lori: (detached) Took you long enough, Luan.

Luan: Well, I'm here, aren't I?

Luna: You got busted again because you tried to hide your medicine again?

Leni: Medicine? Is Luan sick? Ew!

(Leni jumps back in her seat, and produces a can of Lysol.)

Lori: No, dummy. Luan takes medicine to help her AD-whatever. Mom says that it keeps her mind focused.

Leni: Oh.

Lynn: What do you think our new teacher will be like?

Leni: I bet he's totes cute!

Luna: Maybe he's a music man!

Lynn: Hope he likes sports.

(They continue their discussions until they arrived to the entrance of the elementary school.)

Rita: Have a fun day, girls.

Lori: We will, Mom.

(They enter into the room, and they see that they had been assigned different rooms; Luan was to go to this room that was lorded over by a woman named Mrs. Bittern. Luan strolls to her classroom, only to find that her students seemed....off. None of the children had smiles on their faces. Granted, the first day back to school isn't always festive, but these kids just seemed voidless. They had a look of boredom on their faces, they wore bland, gray outfits, and they looked dutifully at the board.)

Luan: This is weird.

(She goes to sit down, She looks over her side at a young girl who was quietly writing down the problems that were on the board.)

Luan: Hey there!

(The girl stops writing for a moment, and looks up at Luan.)

Luan: I'm Luan! Nice to meet you.

(Luan extends her hand to the young girl. The girl looks at her hand momentarily before going back to writing.)

Luan: Odd...

(The teacher walks into the room. She wore a light blue shirt, and a grayish skirt. She was a bespectacled woman who had her brown hair tied back in a bow. She takes notice of Luan.)

Bittern: (monotonously) Seens like we have ourselves a new student.

Luan: My name's Luan. Pleased to meet you.

(She goes to shake Bittern's hand. Bittern looks over the girl.)

Luan: What is it?

(Without warning, Bittern grabs the flower on Luan's shirt.)

Luan: Hey! Why'd you do that?

Bittern: First things first: we look down on individuality.

(Bittern balls up Luan's flower, and throws it into the trash can.)

Luan: My flower....

Bittern: Get to your seat. We're beginning class now.

(Ms. Bittern begins to teach math problems. It was multiplication. While going through some practice problems, she singles Luan out to answer some questions.)

Bittern: Luan! Please solve this multiplication problem for us.

Luan: B...but I'm not that good at....

Bittern: Do it now.

(Luan gulps nervously before walking slowly towards the board. It was a simple math question: 5 x 2. Luan looked at the problem for what seemed like infinity.)

Bittern: Well, Ms. Luan, we're waiting.

(Fearful of any possible repercussions, Luan quickly writes something on the board. The teacher looks at the answer sternly.)

Bittern: 5 x 2 equals 24?

(She looks at Luan disapprovingly. Luan gulps again when Bittern shakes her head.)

Bittern: Look what we have here, class. This exemplifies my point that those not willing to do the work will be failures in life.

(Luan's heart broke at the teacher's comment.)

Bittern: Someone else solve this problem.

(We come out of the flashback and back to Blogsby's office)

Blogsby: A tough teacher, I take it?

Luan: You don't know the half of it: Ms. Bittern made my life miserable. She always seemed to single me out for some reason. I never did anything bad to her, and yet she made me feel terrible about myself. Math was always my stumbling block. The numbers just got scrambled in my mind. You get what I'm saying?

Blogsby: By all means, I was never a fan of math.

Luan: But that didn't beat the day in which I failed a math test.

Blogsby: Explain.

(We return to the flashback, and we see that Ms. Bittern was handing out the results from the last test. She had a smile on her face as she passed out the sheets of paper to the students.)

Bittern: Mabel...great job as always. Madison, you've really been practicing. I am proud of you.

(Her smile dissipated once she reached Luan's desk.)

Bittern: Luan Loud......

(The tension was killing Luan. She receives her paper. Luan cringed in fear. She gently flips the paper over, and to her horror, she sees a big fat "F" plastered on it.)

Bittern: Luan....I am truly displeased. I work my tail off trying to help you understand, and yet you always keep slacking off. I don't see why I have to waste my precious time trying to teach an imbecile like you simple math. Looks like you'll be held back by the time this year's over.

(Bitter tears roll down Luan's cheeks as she watched Ms. Bittern turn around and walk back to her desk.)

(At 3 PM, Rita returns to pick up her children. While driving home, Rita notices that Luan was silent throughout the ride.)

Rita: Dear? What is it?

(Luan didn't answer.)

Rita: Are you being bullied?

(Luan still didn't respond.)

Rita: Girls, do you know what's eating Luan?

Lori: I don't know. She was down in the dumps after class.

Rita: Oh.....I see. Is it math again, Luan?

Luan: No....

Rita: Don't worry, dear. Your dad and I are trying to get you the best tutor. At a low price, of course. Everything will get better.

Luan: I doubt it.

(Sometime later, lunch was being prepared. Finishing, Rita calls the kids in. She notices that Luan was missing.)

Rita: Kids, where's Luan ?

(They shrugged)

Rita: Luna, since you're her roommate, could you go upstairs and tell her to come down for dinner?

Luna: Got it, mom.

(Luna ascends the stairway, and knocks on the door.)

Luna: Luan, you in there? Mom says dinner's ready.

(No response.)

Luna: Luan?

(Still no response.)

Luna: Luan, I know that that teacher made you upset, but it's not the end of the world.

(There was nothing but silence.)

Luna: Alright, if you're not going to open the door, I'm coming in. One....two....three!

(Luna opens the door and screams.)

Lynn: What the?!

Leni: Ah! Monster!!

Lori: No, Leni. Something's wrong.

(All of the family members run upstairs where they see a distraught Luna openly sobbing.)

Rita: Luna, what's wrong?

(Luna was crying so hardly, that her words came out as incomprehensible gibberish. Rita looks inside, and covers her mouth in abject terror.)

Rita: No....

(The girls look into the room as well. On the floor was a dishelved Luan who was face down. In her hand was a small bottle of pills. The girls quickly realize that those were the pills that she uses to stave off her ADHD.)

Lori: Someone call the ambulance!

WORK IN PROGRESS

See also

Part 1

[robbyrobinson]

Luan’s Problem

Now, this story was on my mind for a while. Basically, I pondered what would happen if Luan ever went too far with her pranks? Of course, there was another fanfic that explored it, but I decided to take the initiative and see why Luan has such a fixation with pranks.

Part 1

(It was another day at the Loud House; granted, there was ruckus as usual, but it is to be expected. However, what was particularly special about this day was that it was Lincoln's birthday. While the parents and Lincoln's sisters were preparing for the party, they were shy one person. Luan, the resident comedian, had been spending a few hours in Lincoln's bedroom, applying dozens of fireworks to Lincoln's door frame. Each firework was set to go off the moment that Lincoln walks into the room. If everything goes according to plan, Lincoln would have the biggest surprise of his life. True, Luan's pranks tend to go awry, but Luan made certain that everything would go off with a hitch. With match in hand, Luan unceremoniously lights the stack of fireworks, and quietly exited the room.)

Luan: This will make his birthday a real blast (giggles).

(Rita and Lynn Sr. decided that for their son's special day, they were all going to eat at a nearby restaurant, following that up with a trip to the movie theaters. After a head count, they saw that everyone was accounted for. Everyone, that is, except Luan. Lynn Sr. looked down at his watch, then back at the stairs.)

Lynn Sr.: I wonder what Luan's up to?

Rita: In fact, I haven't seen her all day. I remember she said something about doing something special for Lincoln.

Lisa: If I may, I seem to recall that Luan was conducting something in Lincoln's room.

Lincoln: (sighs) Well, I guess I should go up there. It's probably one of her dumb pranks again.

(Luan heard Lincoln walking up the stairs. Laughing to herself, Luan quickly hides behind a tall, potted plant across the hall from Lincoln's room. Lincoln arrives to the door to his room, and knocks on it.)

Lincoln: Luan, I know you're in there. You better get out now.

(Luan started to giggle at how clueless her brother was to the impending prank, only to stop when he glanced in her direction. After some moments of silence, Lincoln was about to leave, but sounds of sizzling were emitting from the wooden frame. Baffled, Lincoln wraps his hand around the door, only to realize that it was sealed.)

Lincoln: Stupid doorknob, work!

(He applies both of his hands onto the doorknob in a desperate attempt to pry the door open. Without any warning, the door flies open. To his surprise, he saw that fireworks were lined across his door frame. He scratches his head in curiosity.)

Lincoln: What the?!.....

(The fireworks explode in a succession, causing Lincoln to fly out of the room. The force of the blast propels Lincoln off the stairs, much to Luan's horror. Lincoln fell from the two-story stairway, and hit the ground with a hard thud. Lincoln's right leg shatters upon impact, and blood was starting to pile underneath him. His family heard the sickening sound, and immediately run into the living room. What they saw was simply nightmarish. Rita wept bitterly as Lynn Sr. consoled her, and the nine sisters were gathered around Lincoln's body. Lori bent down to Lincoln's level, panic-stricken.)

Lori: (frantic) Lincoln, Lincoln! Wake up.

(She shakes him a few times for a response to no avail. Each of the sisters took turns trying to elicit a response to Lincoln, but it seems that there wasn't any hope for him. While they were crying over his body, Lola speaks up when she hears a door slam upstairs.)

Lola: Guys! Someone's up there!

Lana: I bet it's that no good Luan!!

(All nine sisters sprinted across up the stairway in a flurry of anger and sorrow. They gut each others' bedrooms in their frenzied search for the comedian, but she was no where to be found. As they were about to leave, they hear the bathroom door slowly creak open. Without as much of an ado, they dash towards the bathroom door in the nick of time. Luan desperately tried to shut the door on her vengeful sisters only for them to pry the door open themselves. Luan was backed into a corner. She held her hands up, fully expecting them to hit her. However, she was only met by their angry glares. Each sister had a look of pure, unadulterated hatred on their faces, causing Luan to jump back in fright.)

Lori: Our brother is literally unconscious right now because of you!

Leni: Like, what were you thinking?!!

Luan: (nervous) I-I-I'm sorry...I just thought....

Lynn: Spit it out, or there will be hell to pay!

Luan: (calmly) I just wanted to surprise him!

Lori: (sarcastically) Oh, you surprised him alright. When are you going to learn that you're not funny?!!

Luan: (shocked) I-I'm no...

Luna: Your jokes suck, dude.

Lana: Your comedy shtick stinks!

Lucy: But then there's your pranks. They are simply the worst. You never take time to think that doing these pranks will result in harm!

Sisters: Yeah!

Lori: You could've killed our brother!!

Luan: I'm sorry....I just thought....

Lori: (laugh) You thought? That's a riot! Since when do you ever think? Oh, I know. Your puns. You always think that you're being clever by making puns, but face it: you know nothing about humor in the slightest!

Lisa: You're th only one who laughs at such schlock. The only reason why we laugh at you is because we felt sorry for you.

Luan: (shocked) Wh.....

Lori: This was supposed to be Lincoln's special day, and you ruined it. You know what? You're officially no longer my sister.

Sisters: If we weren't related, we would've dumped you a long time ago!

(The sisters all leave a crestfallen Luan alone in the bathroom. Mucus and fresh tears slowly fell down her face, causing her to wipe them away using toilet paper. Dejected by her own family, Luan subconsciously crawls into a ball, a coping mechanism of sorts.)

Luan: Lincoln....I'm sorry.

Part 2

(It didn't take long for the ambulance to arrive to retrieve the unconscious young boy. Even though they were slightly distraught, their parents were able to give a coherent description of their situation. The vanzilla followed as soon as the ambulance backed out of their driveway. Not one sound was made in the van that day; it was so quiet in fact that you could hear a pin drop and yet it wouldn't make any difference. Luan never as much as made as one quip the entirety of the trip. The cruel words her sisters angrily gave her twirled endlessly in her mind. What if they were right? What if all this time, she was never funny? She looked across the van, but she was only met by her sister's angered expressions and dead silence. They had every right to be mad. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but she thrashes it by committing a heartless prank. She thought back on how he helped her with her comedy routine, and how they both bonded over that. She bit her lip to keep fresh tears from escaping her eyes. Lynn Sr. looks up from his rear view mirror, seeing the reflection of his daughter.)

Lynn Sr.: Luan, I am very disappointed in you. You realize that you are grounded for a week?

Luan: (weakly) Yes, dad.

Rita: We are also taking your business privileges. You are prohibited from attending birthday gigs for at least a month.

Luan: Yes, mom.....

(The family arrives to the hospital at around 3:30, and Lincoln is wheeled to the inspection room. The family anxiously waits in the emergency room. Once again, the mood was eerily quiet as none of the nine sisters raised their voices or fought over trivial issues. All eyes were on Luan, who sat a few seats away from her family. Sure, there were some efforts to lighten the mood, but they were futile. Soon, Rita and Lynn Sr. were called back, thus leaving the Loud girls to themselves. However, the mood was different. The moment that the parents left the room, they all start to throw insults at Luan. Luan just sat there, taking all of the blame. Why shouldn't she? They were right to treat her like garbage. Like garbage, what she did to her little brother was revolting. So, why take offense at something that was already true?)

Lori: If Lincoln dies, I am so done with you.

Luna: If Lincoln pulls through, I am going to kick you out of my room. I can't share a room with the likes of someone like you!

Lola: I may not be a little angel, but even I wouldn't do something that low.

Lucy: While I am a slave to the darkness, at least I have a heart.

(The sisters dished out more insults towards the ex-comedian - some being outright threats of bodily harm - eventually spurring Luan to leave the room, her head down. While she was away, Rita and Lynn Sr. return to the room to share the news. Thankfully, Lincoln hadn't sustained grievous damage from his long fall other than a broken leg; however, Lincoln sustained a minor concussion after his head hit the floor with such force. Lincoln's leg was expected to heal within a number of weeks, but other than that, nothing life-threatening. Rita inquires the girls as to Luan's whereabouts when she sees that Luan wasn't present, before concluding that she must be in the van. Luan walked slowly down the halls of the large hospital, her feet shuffling on the ground.)

Luan: All I wanted was to give Lincoln a birthday surprise, but now he'll probably never wake up again. My sisters are right: I'm no comedian. I'm a heartless monster. What am I to do?

(While she was deep in thought, she didn't realize that someone else was in the hall until she bumped into that person. Papers and pens scattered the floor as the unknown person groaned in disbelief. The enigmatic figure was that of a chubby, middle-aged man with thinning grey hair, as well as a white moustache. He also had a brown uniform on, and a look of irritation on his face.)

Luan: I-I'm sorry, sir. Please, let me help you with those.

WORK IN PROGRESS