twowritingdisasters

[twowritingdisasters]

hi i just read your take me there take me home series and can i just say how amazing it is? i’m in literal tears right now and the last one with estarossa and zeldris, i just wow i love it and i love all of them so much

wow thanks!! we've been kinda having writers block for the past few months but will update soon!! :D

[twowritingdisasters]

Take Me There (Take Me Home): Two Brothers, One Alley

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

The streets of the city are busy, loud and full of clamoring. Twenty-one year olds who are black out drunk, teenagers who are partying like there’s no tomorrow. No one would bother seeing a child slave with pitch black hair running for his life in these streets this late. 

Master, please don’t find me.

Zeldris weaves his way through the crowded sidewalks, too small to be noticed. He rapidly looks behind him every few seconds, seeing if the master is following. The master is not, not even any of his other servants--slaves, really--follow. But he still feels a pair of eyes on him. 

Despite no one following him, he still runs. No one stops him, no one questions it. No one even bats an eye at the boy with torn clothes, bruised body, and the brand of his master on his shoulder blade. 

Eventually, he stops. He finds himself in an empty alley, no sound to be heard. And lots of hiding places. He scurries to the darkest spot he could fit into, moves boxes and trash bags around so he can’t be seen. No one will find me here, not even Master.  

***

Meanwhile, a boy no older than nine seeps his way out of a household. He’s as quiet as a mouse, just as scrawny as a bird. His grey locks of hair fall into his eyes as he slips away from the people who have drunk themselves stupid every night, blamed him for everything they’ve done, gave him false hope, and have starved him. 

They are not as bad as his father. His father beat him repeatedly, starved him worse, burned most of the photos of him as a child and the photos of his brothers. He barely managed to save a small box of them. He was blamed for his older brother’s run away and adoption into a new family. 

Estarossa is on the street now, in the city. He scopes out where he would like to stay--that hotel down the street looks comforting and warm--when he spots a little kid dashing through the crowds. The boy is no younger than six, just a few years younger than him. Something about the way his face looks and the way his hair is styled made him seem familiar. Estarossa follows him, worried if someone would do something to him. 

When the child stops, he’s in an alley, making a hiding spot from something--maybe someone. Estarossa quietly walks down the alley and sits next to the pile of boxes. “Hey,” he murmurs. His voice cuts through the air in a high pitch whisper, and is jarring to the both of them. Somehow, Estarossa manages to continue. “Are you running away, too?”

***

Zeldris is surprised to hear someone. His voice terrifies him, but not as much as his master’s does. Don’t speak, or Master will hear you. And what if he takes this boy too?

They both sit in silence, staring at each other. There’s something about the way this boy still has light in his dark brown, almost black, eyes--although, it’s clear he’d been through turmoil, there’s faded scars on his cheek and forehead--and the way his hair is; messy, like he never bothers to brush it. He grasps part of a word, maybe a name, in his head. Going against everything he’s been taught, Zeldris says, “Esta...rossa?”

The boy turns his head in surprise, eyes widening a little. He gives off a toothy smile, which warms Zeldris’ heart. He doesn’t know what connections he has with this boy, what their history is.

Somehow, Estarossa convinces Zeldris to come out, little by little, inch by inch. Zeldris is shaking, out of cold and out of fear. The last time someone acted like this towards him, he was put in shackles and had the numbers 2211 burned into his skin. Estarossa pulls him into a warm hug, as if they are schoolboys who haven’t seen each other for a very long time. “You get some sleep, and I’ll watch you. Then I’ll explain everything in the morning.”

Zeldris can’t trust this boy. He violently shakes his head, ripping himself away immediately. You are only the dirt I walk on, says his master in his mind.

The look in Estarossa’s eyes screams that he is emotionally hurt. Zeldris doesn’t know to fix it, which means punishment. It means torture and less food and words shoved down your throat so that you don’t have a voice. Don’t speak, don’t disobey, do as you’re told, or you will face death.

Zeldris’ eyes tear up at the fact that this boy hasn’t done anything to hurt him. He wants to trust him, but he can’t trust anyone anymore. They settle to stay together in the little hideout that he made. 

But they both fall asleep, which is something that is hard to come by. 

***

Zeldris wakes up to him in Estarossa’s lap. It’s still dark outside, about five in the morning; the time Zeldris is supposed to wake up. His master will be furious to find that he isn’t there to work, and will send everyone to go get him. 

Zeldris doesn’t want Estarossa in the situation he is in, nor does he want to leave him. He wants to know more, but he has to leave. Shaking the boy awake, Zeldris asks him about their past together. Estarossa rubs his eyes, then begins. 

“So, you and I are brothers, with one big brother,” says Estarossa slowly. He doesn’t even wait for Zeldris to ask questions. “Our big brother ran away when I was a toddler. You were just a baby, then. I don’t know how, but our father kept us somehow, even after he was sued. I protected you while he...he did bad things to me. When you could walk, I took you far away from him, and then I got adopted into a...bad environment. How have you been, though? Looks like the place I took you to was bad...”

Zeldris can’t even understand half of what Estarossa just said. Why would his own brother do that to him? He examines Estarossa’s face before speaking, quietly, so no one that is listening in can hear him, “I have to work. If I do one thing wrong I get hit, and one time I almost died. But I ran away last night, and that’s how I met you.”

***

Estarossa’s heart shatters when he hears this. All those years ago, he thought he was saving him, when he just caused him child slavery. Estarossa quickly pulls him into a hug, tears meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, Zeldris. I’m so, so, so sorry...” 

Zeldris just sits there, hearing Estarossa repeat himself over and over again. They stay like this for a quite a while, until the sun comes up. Estarossa lets Zeldris go, and then wipes his eyes. “Let’s go find some place to stay for tonight already, so that we don’t have to deal with your--”

“My master,” Zeldris says softly. Estarossa bites his lip and looks away at the street outside. He grabs Zeldris’ hand and they start walking. 

Fortunately, they are near a neighborhood with a bunch of rich-looking houses, and some are vacant. Maybe they could sneak in for a night or two or something. There’s one huge one at the end of the street, with two cars in the drive way. 

Curious, the boys walk down the street and Estarossa peers into the window closest. He has to stand on his tip toes just to look inside; damn those high windows. He looks in and sees the dining room, where there are three teenagers in pajamas, their hair wild from bedhead. “Ugh, why does school start today?” complains a girl. She yawns while sitting down. “And why so early?”

“Because the world hates us,” jokes a boy. His red eyes are full of somewhat excitement, though. “But I haven’t been to school in years, so I'm actually sort of excited-not-excited. I had to cram every single thing I missed over the years in, like, a few months.” 

“Haha, bitch,” says another boy. He laughs a bit before taking a seat. He seems small for his age, with his round cheeks and scrawny frame. 

“You had to do the same thing, Mr. I-had-a-near-death-experience-in-the-snow!”

“Boys! Be quiet!” commands a woman. She has dark, black hair and these amber eyes that peer into your soul. “Eat before Escanor takes you to his job--well, your school.”

They all groan, then get to eating some toast as soon as a tall man sets it down. Another teenager with dyed pink hair walks in, followed by someone much smaller than them. This one seems familiar to Estarossa. Meliodas? Same hair style--always messy, never brushed. Same eyes: emerald green, except this time they’re filled with life. And this boy is healthier, looking much stronger. It can’t be him. 

Estarossa continues to watch as the family finishes eating and the teens scramble on their way to their rooms, and a little boy about Zeldris’ age get crayons from a drawer.

He looks back down to Zeldris, who’s sitting down and looking at the road. Estarossa touches his shoulder and the boy jumps, throwing his hands in the air and hitting the wall by accident. The noise was loud--too loud. They both hear footsteps from inside, and Estarossa doesn't have enough time to move him or Zeldris before the woman with the black hair pops her head out of the window. 

Estarossa watches as her complex amber eyes move between him and Zeldris. Her eyebrows are slightly furrowed, as if she was trying to figure out their identities. Estarossa doesn’t know if he can trust whatever she says. “Boys, are you alright?” she asks. It’s almost genuine, almost sincere. “My name’s Merlin, and I would gladly help you in any way I can.”

Zeldris softly grabs Estarossa’s shirt, pulling on it slightly. Estarossa knows that his brother can’t trust anyone, but if that’s really Meliodas, then maybe they’d have a chance at a better life. Estarossa waves him away. Zeldris bites his lip, then hides behind Estarossa. 

Merlin waits patiently, leaning against the window sill. Her expression is unreadable, but Estarossa can feel the intention of kindness from her. “Is the blond boy... Meliodas Colere?”

The name slips from his tongue, and feels almost foreign. He’d forgotten his brother’s full name, and how...wrong it felt to say. The woman’s eyes widen a bit, as if she knows the boy.

“Yes, but he’s my son now,” Merlin’s jaw tightens just a tiny bit, as if she’s questioning what to say. “Meliodas Ljon is his name. Would you like to come inside? I’d rather talk to you two where it’s not so cold.”

***

Zeldris clings to Estarossa as they both walk into this woman’s house. He can feel a pair of eyes on him, as if his master is watching. Who is he kidding? He’s always watching. 

As they both sit on a couch, across from this woman--Merlin, she said--his lip trembles. The silence between the three is what scares him most as a man walks in--he looks somewhat surprised, but his eyes say that he’s seen things like this before. “This is my husband, Escanor,” Merlin says. Zeldris sinks into the couch and hides behind Estarossa more. Don’t touch me. 

“Hi,” Escanor waves just slightly. “I apologize I can’t talk more, but I have to get ready for work and take five teenagers there.” He kisses Merlin’s cheek and heads off somewhere upstairs. 

Zeldris comes out of hiding a little bit, just to see what Merlin and Estarossa have to say to each other. He still doesn’t know what Estarossa saw in there, but whatever it was, it must have been good enough to agree to walk into a stranger’s house just because she knows your older brother. 

Merlin studies the boys, and she finally speaks. “To start off, what are your names?” she asks. Her eyes are on Estarossa first. 

“Estarossa Colere,” Estarossa replies. They both look at Zeldris. “This is Zeldris Colere. We’re Meliodas’ younger brothers.”

There’s a glint in Merlin’s eye. She leans forward and places her chin on her hand. She’s examining us, Zeldris thinks. She’s going to make us work, isn't she?

But something contradicts all of what Zeldris believes she wants to do. She looks motherly, caring, and...something he doesn’t know. Merlin takes a deep breath, and asks what their story is. Estarossa explains everything that happened to him, from being blamed for Meliodas’ disappearance to being taken into a new family and being abused more there. 

When she turns to Zeldris, Escanor walks downstairs with five teenagers behind him. They all slightly acknowledge the boys in one way or another, and one with the same eye color as Zeldris stares for a short time before getting dragged out by another teenager. Is that Meliodas? 

Zeldris turns his attention back to Merlin, who asks him the question she asked his brother: What is your story?

He rapidly shakes his head, tears already brimming his eyes. If you tell anyone, you’re dead. Zeldris reminds himself. You were born to work and you will die as someone less than dirt. 

“Zeldris, it’s okay! We’re fine!” Estarossa tries calming him down, but Zeldris pushes him away. He falls off the couch and sprawls out on the ground, and shoves himself away from the two. Tears start spilling from his face, which he quickly cleans up.

Zeldris calms himself down in the next few minutes, then looks up. He looks straight into Merlin’s eyes and says, “I’m sorry. I won’t cry, ever again.” Zeldris’ lip trembles. “What’s my punishment?”

***

Merlin furrows her brows, looks over her shoulder to see Arthur in the other room, too distracted by the TV to notice what was going on. She lets out a breath, then turns her attention back to the ragged boys in front of her. Merlin already knows she’s going to keep these boys, but she asks them what their backstory is so that she knows what to do in case they have a mental breakdown. 

Like Zeldris. 

Unlike Estarossa, this boy’s clothes are torn, and he doesn't talk. She watches as he calms himself down and asks what his punishment is. Merlin crouches down on her knees slowly. “What do you mean, Zeldris?” The boy doesn’t reply. He just lifts a sleeve to show scars and burn marks--both new and old. 

It’s infuriating. 

Merlin purses her lips, then moves a little closer to the boy. She can sense the fear, the pain, and the shivering. “Do you have any more marks on you?”

Again, the boy doesn’t say anything, just reluctantly turns around and lifts his shirt over his head. On his left shoulder blade, in big, blocky letters are the numbers 2211. She quietly reaches for his shirt and puts it back over his body. He turns around, and gives her a quizzical look. “You’re not going to hit me?” 

Merlin shakes her head. She sits back up, and reassures both him and Estarossa that she won’t ever purposefully hurt them. Merlin already knows Estarossa’s problems, and is already planning on calling them. She asks Zeldris who has done this, and he tells her. 

That afternoon, when the teens and Escanor come back home, she introduces the two boys as the new additions to the family. Both boys and Mel have a long conversation, followed by a hug fest and it ends with them sobbing. 

About a month or so later, she watches their stressed and tense looks go to ease, and she watches as their demons crumble in court. 

Estarossa and Zeldris Ljon finally join. 

[twowritingdisasters]

Unleashed: One

Seven people, seven creatures. 

The government took them, kidnapped them and robbed them of their lives. Mixing their DNA with the creatures’ DNA, the government thought they would help in war as a secret weapon. 

As much as they tried to get out, nothing worked. If they even dared to get out of the cages, they were taken out of the rooms, away from the lab, to be whipped or beaten. Sometimes someone came back with sharp objects sticking out of their body. And other times, especially with the women, nothing happened to them; but they still came back sobbing and marks on their body.

It’s not like they could escape, anyways. People guarded all the doors, surveillance cameras were everywhere, watching them. They watched as their little guinea pigs were being tortured and blood pouring out of their bodies. 

Meliodas was the first one there, the longest one there. He was a freshmen in college when he was taken without a word, lured into a trap. When he awoke to six other empty cages, he was startled. They all had empty shackles in them, except for his. His hands were above his head and bound. 

An hour later, he was dragged into a lab and slammed onto a table, face first. They bound his wrists and ankles, making him immobile. They tore through his back and inserted the DNA of a dragon--where did they get the DNA of that?--and he gained wings that he could retract any time he wanted. His emerald eyes became cat-like. 

He didn't bother trying to escape, it only took the scars on his back to remind him of where he stood now.

***

Diane was the second. She was a woman in her second year of college, who was kidnapped by getting her alcoholic drink drugged. She didn't know how it happened, she was even watching the bar tender make her drink. 

When she woke up, she found herself in a hospital gown, near a shaking boy staring at her. Diane asked what was happening, and he trembled as he answered. “We’re--we’re experiments for--for the g-government. For war.”

Diane didn’t comprehend what he’d said until wings of a dragon sprouted from his back, and she saw the slits of his eyes. She gasped as he continued. “They said the--the next one was going to be--be a serpent.”

The door started opening. The boy whimpered as soon as someone walked in. They were in a government uniform, and grabbed the boy. He was taken into another room on the other side. And Diane heard the screams. 

Hours later, the screaming stopped. The boy’s body was being pulled into his cage, this time he had black spiraling horns out of the tops of his skull. The government officials walked in front of her, unlocking her cage. They forced her body out and into the room the boy was in. 

After hours, her throat hurt from screaming. Her body ached, and she could see everything in color of temperature at will. She touched her finger to her teeth, and found fangs. They injected the serpent DNA into her.

***

Ban was the third to be taken. A thief, the best there was, was held down and had drugs shoved down his throat, rendering him useless against the government for the time being. When he woke up in a cage much too small for him, he heard the hiss of a woman to his right--he learned that her name was Diane--and the voice of a boy crying directly below him--his name was Meliodas. They both looked terrified, eyes sunken in and bruises all over their body. 

They explained to him what was happening to them, and it infuriated Ban. They talked more, and he saw the features of the animals they were infused with. Diane had tears rolling down her cheeks. “And if you try escaping they...they take you into a room,” she warned. She pointed to another door, probably the way out. “They punish you...when I tried, a man forced himself on me.”

Ban was about to say something, maybe a comforting word or...or something.  This was similar to what happened to his sister Killia. She was taken from him, no sign that she was even there. Months after looking for her, she was found in a river with nothing indicating she’d ever wake up again. 

Then he was pulled in for his first experiment. They tore up his chest and injected something into his bloodstream, causing him to be able to have the temperment of a fox.

He immediately tried escaping, tried slipping away, but it didn't work. He had glass slid across his cheek, and that was when he gained a scar. 

Then, they injected a substance that made him gain immortality and the power to drain someone of their physical strength, and call weapons to him. Which was a bad, bad idea. 

***

Not long after, an incapacitated boy--King--with light brown-gold hair was being rushed in and thrown in a cage. He was in his freshmen year of college, kidnapped outside of campus.

As he woke up, he could see double. Everything was confusing, the last thing he remembered was a first to the face. Three people met his gaze. They all spoke at once, trying to warn him about...experiments? A bear? DNA?

“What?” He managed to croak. His eyes adjusted, and he started taking in his surroundings. The cages, the shackles, everything. “What the fuck--where am I?”

“Government building,” said a woman. She was in a cage above him, just to the left. He tried looking where she was, but only saw hands gripping the bars. “Don’t fight back.”

He gulped. Hours later, he was snatched up by men and thrown on an operating table. Doctors drilled holes into his skin for his blood, then forced to mix his DNA with a bear’s, and he grew fur behind his ears and the ability to control plants. He then knew what true pain was.

***

Gowther was awake when he was taken in. He was shoved into a cage on the bottom, away from the people he saw. They all had terror sewn into their skin and trembling lips. 

He tried looking at them, lightly grabbing the bars. They were all above him, crouched and cramped, just like he was. Some were asleep, trying to forget what was happening, and others were screaming for them to be let go. 

Those who were screaming were tazed, and he was pulled into the lab. Scientists tore open his head and implanted a ram’s horns. He was turned into a beast.

***

The next two came in a blur. They were a married couple with a nine-year-old son. The couple were thrown into the labs at the same time, forced to watch the other go through hours of pain. 

“Merlin!” the husband, Escanor, shouted. He watched as they tortured her, turned her body into something of a boar. She had retractable tusks by the time they were done with her. 

Merlin could do nothing as she was forced to witness her husband’s body being ripped apart. When it ended, he had the ears and fangs of a lion. They were thrown into cages far away from each other.

***

That was seven years ago. By now, Meliodas had claws that could rip open someone’s chest in three seconds, along with scales lining his shoulder blades and calves. He could breathe fire and counter any attack that was thrown at him.

Diane had gotten scales as well, and gained venom for her fangs. They were on the spine of her back as well as her collarbones. Her tongue was forked, and it slithered in and out of her mouth every now and then. But now she could control the size of her body and the earth’s surface.

King’s hands turned into claws of a bear, and he was taught to wield daggers and other weapons. When he tried using them on his captors, he was beat. 

Both Merlin and Gowther’s hands had nails like hooves, hard and not easy to crack. Gowther could drop someone’s heart rate and kill them, while Merlin could read minds and with the flick of her wrist knock the wind out of your lungs. 

Escanor’s hands had fur on them, the muscles in his body growing. If he tried screaming, a lion’s roar was all that came out. He could call energy from the sun and use it at his will. 

Ban got claws and fangs and a white strip of fur lining his spine. He was tortured the most because he was immortal now. Everything about him changed--except for one thing; his knack of stealing. 

When he was pushed into his cage, he watched as they tazed everyone just once. He watched the guards leave, and lock the door behind them. He waited. And waited. 

Then, he reached into his pocket, and could hear the jangle of a ring of keys in his hand. Quietly, he unlocked his cage and slid out, much to everyone’s surprise. Before they could say anything, he started unlocking their cages. 

As soon as they were all out, crouched onto the floor, he said, “I think we can get out of here.” 

[twowritingdisasters]

Take Me There (Take Me Home): Arthur

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Don’t catch me don’t catch me please don’t catch me--

Arthur darts in and out of the legs of his father’s employees, heart pounding with terror as he chances a glance over his shoulder. Maybe he shouldn’t have run from his tutors--I’m gonna get punished so badly later, they’re gonna hurt me, please don’t hurt me--but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle being stuck in that room, too scared to do anything but listen and try not to mess up, too scared to be anything but perfect. He dives into a cubicle as his math tutor’s voice echoes down the hall-- “Young Master Pendragon”, they say, as if he’s master of anything, and he tucks his legs to his chest with an involuntary whimper. He clutches the small notepad and pencil he managed to get against himself, pressing himself into a corner as he curls beneath a desk, shifting behind a chair to hide better. 

His tutor’s shoes clack on the impeccably clean floor, passing him by, and he stiffens, biting down hard on his palm to stifle another whimper of fear. Please don’t find me please please don’t find me please--! “Young Master Pendragon, if you don’t come out...” There’s a sigh, before they change tactics. “If you come out now, you won’t be in trouble, I promise.”

Liar, liarliarliar leave me alone I don’t wanna learn taxes and economics I wanna draw please... He bites down even harder to keep himself from making noise, fighting back a shudder as his teeth manage to break the skin. The sound of shoes on polished hardwood fades out, and he dares to close his eyes--only to open them as the sharp, clear sound of heels draws closer, terror washing over him anew. A woman, probably, and he watches a pair of sleek, elegant black heels pause in front of where he’s hiding next to someone he recognizes as one of Father’s assistants; his tongue starts to taste of iron, the icky tang familiar to him now, and he feels like crying. 

“What’s all the ruckus about?” The voice is unfamiliar, warm and soothing, like honey and sunshine and things he only gets if he’s very very good, very very obedient. There’s a scary edge to it, though, and he feels tears well up as he tucks his legs closer to his chest. 

“Ah, Ms. Ljon!” someone responds, their voice dripping false cheeriness. “So good to see you! Mr. Pendragon’s meeting with you won’t be hindered, I assure you.” He recognizes that voice, it’s one of his father’s aides, Miss Iolanthe--one of the nicer ones, who sometimes doesn’t tell Father when he’s been bad. Still, running from lessons and work is Really Really Bad and she’d have to report to Father and then he’d be locked up and hurt and thrown out and no one would ever love him and--

The choked whimper escapes him before he can stop it, and he clamps his hands over his mouth in horror, shaking. The first voice--Ms. Ljon?--doesn’t react, though, simply shifts her stance as the aide’s shoes shift toward the desk. “That’s not what I asked.” The scary edge is definitely there now. “I wanted to know why Uther’s right-hand man is parading through the halls calling for a ‘young master’, and why the fuck there’s a frightened child hiding underneath this table--and most importantly, why the hell no one seems phased by it.”

Arthur’s lip wobbles--this Ljon person is scary, and once she finds out how bad he’s been she’s gonna bring him to Father and Father would punish him in front of everyone again--and he bursts into silent tears, crying quietly. The aide stammers something, but Ljon must do something, because he sees her feet move and a noise like a wildcat’s snarl comes from her, and the aide tells her everything, just how bad he is, how many times he’s been punished, how willful and disobedient he is. His entire body shudders as she says helplessly, “I try to keep him safe as much as possible--but Mr. Pendragon’s other aides and the tutors he hires, they all believe the same stuff. It’s like they want to break him so they can mold him into the perfect heir, the stuff I’ve seen some of them do, it’s--”

“And this happens in front of his employees?” Horror chases away the scariness in Ms. Ljon’s voice. “They know, and they haven’t called--they haven’t done shit?”

“You think people haven’t tried?” The aide’s voice shakes as she speaks and Arthur trembles at it, trembles at the fury there. It might not be addressed toward him, but it’s still terrifying when grown-ups get mad. “Mr. Pendragon is highly respected and incredibly wealthy. People have tried to break contract, to involve the police, but he buys them off, them and the lawyers, and ruins the lives of anyone who tries to stop him. He could beat the poor thing in court and no one would say a word because of how powerful he is.”

“I want to see Uther.”

“Ms. Ljon--”

The growl that comes from the woman is petrifying, and Arthur sobs aloud as the aide, similarly frightened, spins on her heel and hurries off. A sigh follows, the woman slipping off her heels--and she sits, and he gets his first good look at her. Her eyes are bright gold, her hair sleek and black, a scarlet tattoo inscribed on her pale neck. Father said that only delinquents and hooligans got tattoos, but the aide had said that he wanted to meet with this lady, which means that he either doesn’t know or doesn’t care. He knows the light in her eyes--anger, rage, hurthurthurt--but her lips are curving into a gentle smile. “Hi, baby,” she whispers, and her voice doesn’t have that angry, frightening edge anymore. “My name’s Merlin.”

He stares at her, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he hiccups, before shaking his head, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes. “N-o-o-o-o...��

That angry light flashes in her eyes again--he can tell without even looking--but the honey-warm tones of her voice don’t change. “I’m not going to hurt you, darling, I promise. I’m just going to stay here with you until you feel a little better okay?” Despite himself, he peeks through his fingers at her. She’s still smiling gently, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. She’s not yelling or hitting or pinching or grabbing, she’s just...watching.

He nods. Her smile widens a bit at that, soft and warm. “Can you tell me your name, darling?”

Name. He’s “Young Master Pendragon” to the tutors and aides, “Sir” to the workers, “brat” or “boy” or “Heir” to his father. He doesn’t want to be any of those, has wanted to be anything but those for so very long. All he wants to be... “A-Arthur,” he whispers, his voice trembling and making the words shake too. 

Her eyes soften, the light in them almost tender, and he lowers his hands slowly, sets his notebook down. Merlin’s eyes dart to it and she tilts her head at him. “Do you want to tell me what that’s for?”

If she finds out she’ll take it drawing is bad drawing is useless not allowed-- He shakes his head wildly, a soft “uh-uh” escaping him as he scrubs at his eyes. She makes a sympathetic noise, soft and warm. “Okay, baby, you don’t have to. Can I give you a hug?”

A...what? He’s been hugged, of course, but just for cameras, and it was always too tight and a little frightening. Merlin’s gaze is warm, though, and she’s not standing to try and make him quiet or forcing him to do anything, so he shifts a little closer. She pats the ground encouragingly, and bit by bit, Arthur finds himself inching close enough for her to reach. He lets her loop an arm around his shoulders, steadying him as he trembles violently before pulling him against her side. The warmth feels...good, and he huddles against her side, feeling safe for the first time in ages.

Then his father storms in and it all comes crashing down.

Father is a big man, with wide shoulders and sharp eyes that always seem like knives, piercing whatever he decides to turn his gaze upon. Terror washes up and over Arthur as his sharp eyes flick to him and then back. “What is the meaning of this, Merlin?” His voice is That Voice, low and pleasant like he always makes it right before he hurts him, and Arthur whimpers, pulling free of Merlin’s grasp. He inches back toward the safety of the desk, but Father’s gaze pins him in place and he shudders, bringing his hand toward his mouth subconsciously to bite down on his palm. Good boys don’t cry in front of their betters, after all, and bad ones get punished and Arthur doesn’t want to get punished again. 

Merlin stands, all slinky and graceful like a wildcat, and despite the fact that she’s shorter than Father, she seems bigger--the first person he’s met who doesn’t bow her head or move away from him. “I was hoping you could tell me, Uther.” Her voice is equally low and pleasant. “Miss Iolanthe was kind enough to inform me of your actions toward a six-year-old.” She began to circle him, her eyes drifting to Arthur’s own. 

“I am a believer in corporal punishment, yes, but I have never--”

“Shut. Up.” And Merlin halts in front of him, her teeth bared in a snarl. “Emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation, neglect, public humiliation, and enough physical punishments that he’d rather hurt himself than draw or write or do whatever it is he wants to do with that notebook. People treat their pets better than this, and here you are, abusing your own son freely in your own. Damn. Office.” He watches in awe as Father opens his mouth, only to be cut off by Merlin’s hand. “Don’t. As if that wasn’t enough, you’re teaching him how to manage a company at six fucking years old. Six. He doesn’t even have a decade’s worth of life on him yet and you’re pushing this shit like it’s the end of the fucking world if he doesn’t learn how to balance a checkbook, physically fucking abusing him if he messes up.”

Father’s eyes glint with rage, as they always do when he perceives a challenge. “It’s not abuse if will make him and the company stronger.”

At that, Merlin laughs, and Arthur stares at her in shock. “Stronger. Yeah, right--I’ve seen what abuse--and that’s exactly what it is, you delusional nutbag--can do to someone. I see the traces of physical abuse every day in my sons, verbal abuse in my daughter and child. And yes, they’re resilient and strong, but kids aren’t like swords. They don’t get stronger when you shove them through the fire, they burn, because they’re flesh and blood and too young to know that you’re a complete and utter FUCKWIT!”

Father snarls at her and he bites down harder, the iron tang of blood filling his mouth again as he shuffles backwards. “Even if all this was true--” It is, Arthur thinks, wants to say, but the pressure of that terrifying gaze is too much-- “you have no proof.”

“She has my testimony.” Miss Iolanthe’s voice trembles, but when Arthur whips around to look at her, her eyes are bright with anger. “I’ve watched you hurt that child since he could walk. No more.”

“No more,” one of the employees calls in agreement, another echoing the sentiment, and Arthur stares in blatant shock as nearly the entire floor starts chanting together, slowly and raggedly at first before speeding up. “No more no more no more no more--”

Father growls as Merlin lifts her chin, the light in her golden eyes smug. “What do you want, Ljon?”

“No more no more no more no more--”

“Don’t you get it, you imbecile?” He stares at her in awe as she steps closer, her eyes flashing. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what he wants.” Abruptly she turns, and he flinches back in surprise as she kneels in front of him, extending her hands. “I can get you out of here,” she tells him softly. “I can get you away from him--from them. Permanently.”

“Arthur, I forbid it!”

“No more no more no more no more--”

The look in her eyes is warm, hopeful, trusting, and he hesitantly takes her hand, flinching as Father roars in protest. Merlin smiles, warm and gentle and bright, bringing his attention away from the angry monster of a man behind her and back to those kind eyes. “What do you say, baby?”

“Don’t you dare,” Father hisses. “Arthur--”

But Arthur doesn’t want to be like Father and he doesn’t want to be strong and he just wants to feel better than this, so he nods. “Y-yes,” he chokes out, and she smiles, and--

A hand clenches around his arm, pulling him violently back, and his father’s voice hisses in his ear, something about how bad he’s been and how ungrateful he is, how dare he--and the painful grip suddenly vanishes with a shocked yell. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s screaming, wails of terror coming from his throat. In front of him, Merlin draws her fist back before shaking it out, teeth bared. “If you’d let him go, I would’ve let you sign over custody quietly and fairly,” she says, and her voice is back to low and pleasant. “But I’m glad you didn’t, because now I have an excuse to tear you to shreds.”

She picks him up despite his sobs, strokes the back of his head gently before kissing away the tears. “I’ll see you in court,” she purrs to Uther Pendragon, satisfaction dripping from her voice at the sight of the steadily-forming bruise on his face. 

The destruction of Uther Pendragon is a court spectacle talked about for months afterward. Merlin’s accusations revealed a host of corrupt dealings, harassment charges, bribes--nearly everything a person could think of when it came to the words “corrupt CEO”. Still, the Ljon family ignored it all as Uther’s world came crumbling down, their eyes fixed on the sweet violet-eyed boy with a sunbeam smile.

“Arthur, careful you don’t get crayon on the rug,” Merlin admonishes; her youngest son looks up at her and beams shyly, the picture he’s been steadily coloring balanced on a lap-desk in front of him. Already he looks healthier, happier, a new light in his eyes and a bouncy cheeriness to him that hadn’t been there before. Next to him, Meliodas gives her a thumbs-up, flipping through shows on Netflix before settling on Big Hero Six; the others had all taken to Arthur immediately, adoring the boy as much as she and Escanor did and doting on him utterly. He’s latched onto the rest of them as well, slotting into their family with the greatest of ease.

Arthur Ljon.

She likes the sound of that.

[twowritingdisasters]

Sin City: Black and Blue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

At the Daimonas Corporation-- the Headquarters, not the little pawns out in the field-- there was a meeting consisting of the Ten Commandments, the ten most elite soldiers in the entire facility, and their boss. He was better known as the Demon King. 

Three months ago, two of the Commandments, Derieri and Monspiet, reported about an Inhuman that attacked them, by the name of Harlequin Navarro. As always, when an Inhuman’s identity was found out, they would be taken by the Corporation. But this one was a bugger, always gone when they showed to his apartment, door and windows always locked with quite a few locks, and some other shit to keep them away. 

“So, how willl you get to him?” asked a Commandment. This one was one the second son of the Demon King, a brainwashed Inhuman with the drive for world domination, just like his father. Estarossa.

Monspiet eyed him just slightly, then cleared his throat. “You know that nuisance, Sloth, and his apparent partner, Fox?” The group seemed to give some sort of signal that they knew them. The city wouldn’t shut up about them, so it was hard to not know of their existence. “I do not know who Fox is, but it is clear what Sloth’s identity is. If we catch Sloth, we catch whatever rebellion he’s planning.” 

The Demon King shifted in his seat at the end of the table, and ordered Estarossa and his youngest son--another brainwashed Inhuman by the name of Zeldris--to get their secret weapon: Meliodas. He was an Inhuman, the Demon King’s first experiment, his first downfall. And the scariest one they had. 

But as soon as they got to the labs, to Meliodas’ cage, it was empty. Meliodas was no where to be seen, gone. The cage was in shambles, its bars into bits and metal into ash. He was the first escapee of the Demon Clan.

Meanwhile, King was inside his house, watching Ban drink every single beer he could find. The cans were everywhere, and the TV was on. Very loudly. God, doesn’t this guy ever stop drinking? King thought. If he weren’t immortal, he’d die of alcohol poisoning. He looked at Oslo, who was staring out the window. King followed the dog’s gaze, seeing a boy with blonde hair. The boy was limping, and had these glowing emerald eyes. 

He whispered something to Oslo, and the dog vanished into the shadows. King grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, yelling at Ban to get his mask on. “We’re not on patrol for another thirty minutes,” protested Ban. But he did as he was told anyways.

“So what, you ass,” King retorted, getting his hood on. He looked at the mask carved from ivy, dark as basil. Putting it on, King looked at the window again, and the boy was gone.

***

Meliodas’ aches worsened with each step. His head hurt, as if his brains were splattered across his skull. Every cut, bruise, and injury inflamed the deeper he breathed. The scientists--no, torturers-- had been unimaginative, but dedicated. 

He wondered if he left a trail of blood behind, or maybe even worse, his smell. He knew he didn't have much time before the Demon King--that monster--went looking for him. Despite his want to give up and collapse right there, his will was much stronger. But thank god he was born with shielding powers.

Meliodas didn’t know how far away he was, but he’d been limping for about an hour, keeping away from the city lights. They worsened his migraine and increased his chance of death, or getting brainwashed into a pawn for that wicked man he called a leader. 

Finally, his body gave way. He fell flat on his back, unable to move.

***

Ban followed King on the rooftops, the boy he had only met a month and a half ago. He was fast, able to move through the air faster than anything he’s seen. And he’s terrifyingly fast when he’s angry. 

He didn’t know where King was taking him. He was darting his head in every direction, muttering to himself and occasionally whistling, as if calling to some animal. 

Soon, they stopped, and King pointed down towards a boy. His hair was matted down, grease darkening the gold blonde. His chest was bare, with few scars lining. And it was moving up and down, slowly. The boy must be dying. “Sloth, you fuck, why did you drag my ass out here to this--”

“Shut it, Fox,” King spat out the word and gave him an intense stare. “He’s one of us, okay? I dragged your ass out here because he could be taken and--”

“And you want to recruit him?” Ban groaned. “Precisely.” King waved a hand. “Now, go, fetch!”

Ban raised an eyebrow at him, then looked at the boy. “I’m not a dog--”

“Was I talking to you?” King smirked underneath the shadow of his hood, Ban could feel it. 

Suddenly, a huge beast came out of nowhere. It was possibly faster than King, racing through the air like nothing could defy it. It jumped down from the rooftop, creating a portal that swallowed the boy and the two vigilantes in a second.

***

Meliodas woke up with a light above his head. I can't be back. Mel, go back to sleep, please. He thought he was back on the operating tables. He could feel someone about to poke and prod at him, tearing his chest open to see the cause of his black shields.

But instead, he heard two men arguing.

“That... monster is your dog?!”

“He can vanish into the shadows and create portals, fucker!”

“What the fuck--why didn’t you tell me!?”

“He was there when we met, you dumbass!”

It continued like that, full of nonsense about some dog who could do some weird shit. Meliodas turned his head just slightly, seeing a very tall man with sharp red eyes and silver hair, and a scar on his left cheek. The other one was much shorter, with amber eyes and brownish gold hair. He looked like a child. The latter raised his hand, making his eyes glow. Oh, fuck. An Inhuman. Was the other one an Inhuman as well? It was only a matter of time before the Corporation would find them, only a matter of time before all three would get experimented on--

Meliodas felt something wet touch his arm, a tongue. He couldn't recoil, it was too painful. Instead, he craned his neck to see a dog--a really big one, too--who had soft, blue and green fur. It’s mouth was wired into a smile. He moved his hand just slightly to pet the animal. Is that the dog those two are arguing over?

When Meliodas glanced back at the two men, he noticed something familiar of the smaller one. Scrawny, no muscle strength whatsoever, the color of his hair and eyes. Meliodas heard the Commandments talk about him before. He apparently attacked two of them, wielding the power of plants. He could just barely remember his name. “Harlequin... Navarro.”

The boy turned his head, dead silent. It hung in the air as Meliodas just realized that he said the name out loud. After a long, awkward silence, Meliodas spoke, “Uh, well, first of all, thanks for getting me out of the streets.” The boys shifted a little, before sitting down either on the floor or in a chair. 

“Call me King,” said the boy. He seemed uncomfortable. “The fucker over there is Ban. My dog sniffed you out and we both came to look for you. I have a few questions.” 

Meliodas blinked, moving his gaze around the room. It was full of plants, either in pots or hanging from the ceiling. He looked at the ivy hanging from the ceiling farthest from him, and the realization sank in. He nearly fell out of his seat. “You’re Sloth!” Meliodas shouted. King shushed him. Meliodas quieted down and continued. “If the Demon Clan finds us here, they will take us back to get experimented on. Please, let me out of your.. whatever. You don’t want to know what they will do to you, to people like us. I don’t know your intentions, but the Ten Commandments want your head.”

A hint of hurt flashed in King’s eyes, as if he’d known what the Corporation would do. He said something to himself--a name?-- then met Meliodas’ eyes. “What’s your name, and what’s your relationship with that monstrous Clan.”

Meliodas didn’t want anything to do with the Demon King or the Corporation anymore. He wanted to take them down and give them a taste of their own medicine. “Mel. Just that,” said Meliodas. “And the boss... is my father.”

King’s fingers snapped, and daggers surrounded Meliodas. All the remaining strength was being sucked away from his body, rendering him truly unable to move. Was that Ban’s power? He was being too quiet on the floor. Meliodas looked at both of them, and realized that Ban also looked familiar--Fox. He groaned. “Look, I am Inhuman as well. I can counter almost every attack that comes my way, and I make black shields that protect me,” he explained. “But if I get too angry, I go rogue and can’t control the darkness of this power. My father had me experimented on and managed to brainwash my brothers.”

The daggers moved away, forming into a pillow and landing on the floor. King rubbed his forehead, huffing out a sigh. Meliodas could see the gears shift in his head as Ban returned his strength. Ban looked at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. It seemed he was trying to get into King’s mind as well. “King,” said Ban finally. It broke the silence. King shot him a glare. “It seems to me that Mel already knows about the Inhuman army. We could use that to our advantage.” 

King nodded, then turned his eyes to Meliodas. “Look, I found out about this army overhearing two Commandments,” said King. “I know what the Corporation can do. I’m here to stop it since the authorities don’t care,” King gulped. “But I need a team for it. Join me, and we can free your brothers and every Inhuman.” 

Meliodas’ decision was easy: Yes. 

Not long after, he was given black clothing with a mask that made his eyes pop out. He was known as Dragon, the swift protector of Fox and Sloth. His fame arose quickly, making more of a threat against the Corporation and his father. 

[twowritingdisasters]

Sin City: Foxtrot

Chapter One

The media, like the muckrakers of old, picked up on the presence of a new player in the city’s eternal struggle between human and Inhuman almost immediately. Green mask, they said, untamable ivy, impossibly fast with eyes that glowed amber. Hellbent, some claimed, on Inhuman domination, while others insisted that he only meant to use his cursed powers to defend the hellhole of crime and prejudice that their home had become. Even the Inhuman population was divided, some cheering him on while others groused that he was only turning more people against them. Either way, Sloth was growing in infamy and seemingly growing in power and confidence on top of it, hiding in the shadows less and stopping both rabid, wild Inhumans and cruel, Inhuman-loathing agents of law enforcement.

Ban Volpin wanted absolutely no part in it. The shadows were where he thrived and he was doing fine in them, thank you very much. Thieves were meant to avoid the spotlight, and he was the best thief there was, which meant avoiding Sloth. Unfortunately, Sloth himself seemed to have other ideas, and, being the complete and utter bastard Ban would soon discover he was, he seemingly became intent on dragging him into this...bizarre crusade.

It began--as things usually did with Ban--when he tried to pickpocket a kid walking some shaggy mutt. Slipping his wallet out of the pocket of his hoodie was easy, and Ban hummed with delight as he flipped it open, reading name printed neatly on the inside. Harlequin, huh...that’s a damn unfortunate name if I’ve ever heard one. “Ah, crap,” he muttered, flipping through it; no driver’s license, no credit card, no identification other than the name. Like me, he thought, and bit back an irritated curse. Like us. Like all the Inhumans. He almost wanted to go back to return the wallet, but hey, a thief had to make a living somehow. He could probably rip off the label, pawn it somewhere--ooh, there were a few twenties in there, could probably buy him a steak at some slightly-better-than-shitty restaurant, wouldn’t that be nice--

“Hey.” 

He turned, glanced down and met the amber-eyed glare of the kid he’d pickpocketed moments ago. Fucking shit. He flipped the wallet shut, tilting his head nonchalantly down at him. “Whaddya want?” The wallet wasn’t worth fighting over; there wasn’t much in it, but if the kid asked, he’d hand it back. No point in outing himself as an Inhuman over sixty bucks and some cheap fake leather. 

To his surprise, the kid--Harlequin, whatever--smiled. Smirked, really, his mouth twisting wickedly at the corners as he hummed low in his throat, sounding amused. “You’re one of us, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

In answer, the kid’s sclerae suddenly flashed amber, the iris darkening, and the dying weeds sprouting out of the cracked concrete flared with vitality. He hovered a few inches off the ground before dropping to the sidewalk again. Inhuman. Figures. “It’s been awhile since anyone’s been able to steal from me. You’re a good thief.”

Ban scoffed. “Look, if you want your wallet back, ya don’t have to resort to this...bullshit, alright?” He gestured aimlessly at him with one hand, tossed back the wallet with the other. “You caught me, it’s fine. No flattery necessary~”

“Is it flattery if it’s true?” The boy’s eyes glinted. “I mean, you seem annoying. And like kind of a dick. But you’d be useful, too...”

Well, fuck, that was a sentence Ban absolutely loathed. “I’m not here to be used by anyone, fuckwit,” he snapped, turning to stalk away. “Much less some brat who thinks they know shit about me.”

He got about five steps down before something slammed into his side, throwing him into an alley; he snarled, lashing out at whatever it was before swearing as it sliced up his hand. The injury sealed up quickly, as usual--unkillable and all that--but the annoyance of it made him curl his lip as he clawed at it and struggled. Fuck it, he found himself hissing mentally, extending his hand toward the bastard as he called on his power. 

Locating his opponent’s energy was easy, sapping it even simpler. He grinned wickedly as he dodged a blow from the bastard’s knives--knives, really? Against a thief? Ha, amateur. There might’ve been a lot of those damn ninja blades (ugh, he was starting to get an inkling of who this fucker was...), but with his agility boosted and his adversary’s slowed, avoiding them all was a piece of cake. Any wounds that were left sealed up in seconds, the spatters of blood on the glass-covered ground the only signs he’d been wounded. 

Unfortunately, the bastard didn’t have any physical strength he could sap at all--goddamn weakling relying on his powers all the time--but there was plenty of speed and strength in his gift, and he slowly drained that all away, grinning as the swarm of knives slowed to a halt, the boy dropping to the ground with a gasp of exhaustion. The knives coalesced into a--a freaking pillow?--swooping underneath the kid as he collapsed--and why the fuck was he still grinning? “Knew you were good.”

Ban scowled at him, flexing his hand as power thrummed around it. “And why the fuck does it matter to you?” 

His grin faded, flattened to a sharp scowl. “Because the Daimonas Corporation has plans--for the city, for the world, for everything. And their plans aren’t exactly good, either.”

Daimonas Corporation, plant control, shifting weapons...oh fuck, he’s-- “You’re Sloth.” It wasn’t a question, and the kid--Sloth--tilted his head toward him with arched eyebrows. “Then what--”

“The Daimonas Corporation is planning to create an Inhuman army.” The words came out in a rush, as though he’d been waiting to tell someone. “I’ve been trying to stop them, but I can never get close enough, never get proof, and the cops aren’t gonna do shit. Even as Sloth, I can’t fight that many rogue Inhumans on my own, don’t have the skills to get to their information, but you--you’re a thief, a good one, and you don’t steal from people who can’t afford it. Plus, you’re an Inhuman, which gives you a stake in this already.”

Fucking-- The Daimonas Corporation, better known as the Demon Clan on the streets, were like the bogeymen of the Inhuman population. At least half of them had been attacked, experimented on, or used in some way by them, and the other half had at least ten close calls between them. An army of controlled, brainwashed Inhumans wasn’t a stretch, and after what they’d done to Killia…

We’ll save her, they’d said when he’d brought her to them, out of other options. He’d pleaded with them--don’t attack her, she’s not like me, she’s normal--but they’d taken her blood, used her until there was nothing left, killed her and tossed out her body for him to find later.

He wanted nothing to do with those bastards ever again. “And why the fuck should I join your crusade?”

Sloth didn’t answer, only blinked seriously at him. “One night patrol, just one. And if you’re not on board, I’ll let you walk.” He extended his hand. “I’ll even let you keep the cash.”

It was a bad deal, a shitty idea, and Ban knew he should walk away, knew he should turn and leave. What else could this kid give him, anyway? Who knew if he was even telling the truth?

But Ban clasped Sloth’s hand in his, meet his eyes before letting them flash red briefly, the sclerae changing shades as he activated his power for a brief second, letting the added agility flow out of him. “Ya drive a hard bargain, Sloth.”

The kid grinned again. “Call me King.”

One patrol turned into five, then ten, then a nightly rotation, the new red-armored vigilante fighting alone just as often as he fought in tandem with Sloth. A new name began making its rounds throughout the human and Inhuman communities--Fox. Quick, clever, and unfailingly deadly, Fox’s easygoing, joking manner grew in fame far more quickly than Sloth’s icy anger and sarcasm, the scarlet-masked hero even gaining a few fans. People remarked on his greed, his strange deftness and accuracy for a man of his build, wondered whether he really followed Sloth’s agenda or whether he had a different purpose entirely. Support for the heroes had begun to grow even in the human community, mostly among the young, and the Inhumans were nearly entirely for them.

Ban glanced at his reflection in a diner window and snorted softly, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Fox. His eyes glittered scarlet as he gazed out across the road, at the sleek, imposing building rising above his city, the letters D.C. flashing on it. The Demons had already released a statement condemning them, and most of the humans stood against them already, armed with prejudice and privilege.

Good. He stirred sugar into his coffee, and grinned--a fast, foxlike smirk. Let the war begin.

[twowritingdisasters]

Chapter Five: Gowther

Note: Every book mentioned in this chapter is a real book. We will be crediting the authors at the end of the chapter. Please enjoy, and check out the books; they’re great. 

Chapter One 

Chapter Two 

Chapter Three  

Chapter Four

Gowther first sees the man from across the bookstore that’s been kind enough to give them a job, pausing in their work at reshelving the young adult section to gaze curiously at him. He has the look of someone who simultaneously knows what they’re doing and has no clue whatsoever--definitely familiar with literature, but like he’s looking for something for someone else. A gift, probably, they decide, resuming their organization of the Inkheart saga in an attempt to ignore the dull ache within them at the thought. Hope whoever he’s getting it for likes it, at least.

As Gowther finishes organizing the Inkheart saga and ready to move onto the next series of books, there is a crash--followed by a “Oh, shit!”-- in the next aisle. Sighing, Gowther turns to the next aisle, they see a girl with long, white hair, bangs covering one of her ice blue eyes. Her name is Elizabeth, she goes to school with them. 

Books are scattered all over the floor--they just organized those fifteen minutes ago--with one in her hand. Gowther doesn't have any clue how this happened, but starts cleaning it up. “Need any help, Elizabeth?” 

“Gowther, you’re such a helpful boy,” she says, while helping to pick them up. Gowther feels a slight pang in their chest. “The book we had to read over summer was wedged really tight into the bookshelf and I accidentally knocked over a bunch of books with it.”

Gowther can’t help but laugh at that. They organize the books in an instant, leaving Elizabeth with The 57 Bus, and take her to the cash register to pay for the book. Afterwards, they ring up the man they saw a while ago-- he is getting two books, both are part of Gowther’s favorites; Forgotten Fire and Six of Crows. “Both books must be a gift,” says Gowther, putting the two in a bag. “I read those, and they’re very good.”

“Ah, thank you, young man.” The man smiles a bit, gripping the handles of the bag. Gowther feels a deeper pang in their chest, as if they just hit a brick wall. “One is for my son, and the other is for a class I’m teaching this year. I teach English and History.” 

“My two favorite subjects.” Gowther responds, then watches the man go. 

A few hours later, Gowther’s shift is over. They grab their things and start to walk home. 

***

The next day, Gowther wakes up with the worst feeling in their stomach--a feeling of dread mixed with hunger. They go downstairs, get an apple, and head back to their room. 

The room is filled from floor to ceiling with books along one wall, all ranging from historical books to young adult novels. They stare for a little bit at one book, This Book is Gay. Their mother disapproved of them getting that book, but Gowther got it anyways. They want to come out to their mother as nonbinary, but are too afraid to. They know their mother would... Gowther doesn't even want to think about that. The dread in their stomach worsens.

In their closet, there lives a single skirt--it is a navy blue skirt that they found in the lost and found at school. Gowther has not worn it since they found it, but today they’d give it a try. They grab the fabric--it feels soft against their fingertips. As they slip into it, they feel almost at home in their own skin. 

Gowther never cared for pronouns, never cared how they expressed, but it’s hard being nonbinary in a household that doesn’t respect even gay people, and in a world where that term is new. They were surprised that their mother even allowed them to grow out and dye their hair pink. 

Looking in the mirror, they move the skirt to their liking, making sure it doesn’t show off too much, nor too little. It somehow fits them, and they like it. They start walking around their room like the girls do at school--swing their hips just slightly, legs not as far apart like what boys do. They feel full of bliss as they put their hair up into a little ponytail--or maybe a man bun? They do like that style better-- and actually smile, which they haven’t done in a very long time. The feeling of dread is gone, replaced with hope.

That is when their mother walks in.

They stare at each other, no words said. Gowther’s eyes widen just a little bit in shock, then the reality of the situation trickles into both people; Gowther is in a skirt, with their hair tied back, and looking fairly feminine. Their hope is replaced with full blown fear.

Gowther’s mother looks them up and down, face growing pale by the second. “Gowther, sweetheart, what are you doing?” she asks, though the look on her face tells Gowther that she already knows.

Gowther doesn’t know what to say. They try to find words, scrambling for them. “I, uh, am wearing a skirt--”

As soon as those words spill from their mouth, she slams the door open and briskly walks towards them, ripping off the skirt. Their mother tears it right in front of them, rips out the ponytail, and throws a pair of pants at them. “Get your fucking pants on. You are a boy.” 

As they do as they’re told, Gowther’s eyes drifts towards the window, not wanting to look at their mother in the face. For a brief moment, they think about what would happen if they were hanging from it. Their mother grabs their chin, forcing them to look at her in the eye. “Be a man! Look me in the eye!” Gowther shoves her hand away, but she catches their arm in a tightening grip. “Don’t shove me away. Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”

“Mom, let go of me,” Gowther tries wrenching their arm away, but it doesn't work. “It was nothing--I wasn't doing any--”

Smack!

Gowther’s glasses fly off their face as the shock runs through them. Their mother just slapped them. They reach down, looking for their glasses, and are relieved that they aren’t broken. Finally being able to see, they stand up and look at her in the eye. “Well, since the cat’s out of the bag,” Gowther says, trying not to cry. “I don’t want to identify as a boy or as a girl. Nonbinary.”

Their mother has tears running down her face. Why is she the one crying? She doesn’t deserve to. She didn’t just get smacked in the face for no reason, or yelled at, or have nail marks in their arm. Storming out of the room, she screams, “When can I have my son back!?” 

Gowther, knowing their mother would come back to yell at them, barricades the door. Sitting on their bed, they let out a sob. Their arm and face stung, the pain getting to them now. They can’t understand why they didn't fight back, why they didn’t do anything more than what they said. 

Bang! Bang! BANG!

Their mother is banging on the door, screaming at them, demanding to let her in. Gowther, disgusted, gets a bag and packs everything they need-- clothing, toothbrush and toothpaste, and cash. Opening their window, they look back at their bookshelf full of memories. Fuck it, they think. I’ll sneak in and get the books slowly and surely. 

Taking a chance before their mother unhinges the door, they grab two books and jump out the window. 

***

Three days pass. Gowther’s unable to sneak in, to get their books, since their mother locked the window. Luckily, their mother hasn’t chucked them out just yet.

Gowther is lucky that they were able to tell their boss everything. Their boss doesn't understand the term nonbinary, but reassures Gowther that they wouldn’t hurt them in any way. Gowther lives in the bookstore now.

Missing posters with their face on it are everywhere. At their job (Gowther had to hide so that she wouldn’t find them), at the cafes, in the library, everywhere. Gowther seems to go unnoticed, though. They take away the posters whenever they see them, and no one has noticed. 

Again, Gowther is reshelving the history section of the bookstore when a boy with blonde hair and emerald eyes goes to them, a quizzical look on his face. Gowther, looks him up and down, and wonders why he is so tiny. He asks where the LGBT section is, and Gowther points them in the right direction, even recommending some. “I would recommend Simon vs. The Homosapien Agenda, along with its sequel, Leah On the Offbeat. Both books made me cry.”

The boy thanks him, and leaves towards the direction Gowther pointed him in. As they watch, they see a familiar man following, looking at other books as well. They go back to reshelving the books, and finish in no time. They walk back to the cash register, ready to ring up some people waiting in line. 

They ring up the boy from earlier along with the man, seeing the books that Gowther recommended in the boy’s hand, along with some more books from the young adult section. As the man is about to hand over the payment, a woman shoves in front of them and grabs Gowther’s chin, pulling them towards her. “You fucking worthless--Get back home, now.” 

Gowther’s eyes widen as worry fills their stomach and realization sinks in; their mother. Gowther tries to give an excuse, but their mother raises a hand, just slightly. Their boss tries to intervene, but is stopped by their mother. She threatens to sue the bookstore if he tries to stop her, and slaps Gowther again. They hold their glasses this time, and look up. 

She is pulled away from the cash register, by an unknown hand. The man from before gets in front of her, asking her to calm down. “I’ll sue you if you get in the way of me and my son!” she screams. 

“Ma’am, I’ll sue you right back and take that child’s custody,” the man threatens. “I’ve dealt with this before and I can deal with this again--”

“Fuck off!” Gowther’s mother says, and smacks the man’s arm. People stare at what’s going on, some concerned, some terrified. The boy with blonde hair has a phone in his hand, slowly inching towards Gowther, who has ducked under the register. 

“Hey, you,” he says. Gowther looks at him with relief. “My name’s Meliodas, Mel for short. That’s my dad, Escanor Ljon. We can get you out of that life at home, if you want.”

Gowther’s sliver of hope seems to grow. This boy seems nice, offering to help without even knowing them. Gowther nods, showing the marks on their arm from their mother. Mel takes in a shaky breath, and it’s clear he’s been through something like this before--getting hit, getting hurt by your parent, and offered help. He looks at his phone and dials a number. 

Police come by twenty minutes later. 

***

While Escanor goes to court for Gowther’s custody (and the claim that he tried to assault their mother), they stay at Mel’s household. There’s a girl no older than them--Diane, they’ve learned-- who seems to know to lick her wounds until she came back with steel on her hands. Another boy--Ban-- who is taller than anyone, who has a knack for stealing things. A very nimble and small boy--King-- who’s words are as sharp as a knife. And lastly, Escanor’s wife, Merlin Ljon. She is smart and caring. They talk a little bit, just so that Merlin understands Gowther’s situation. 

“My mother was okay to me my entire life,” Gowther explains. “When I was a preteen, I sort of figured I didn’t belong into the gender binary. I kept it a secret from my mother until about a week ago, when she walked into my room while I was wearing a skirt.”

Merlin nods, her face showing that she already knows the outcome. Gowther comes out to her, explains more of what happened, and what Escanor did for them. Setting down some papers, she looks at them. 

“I need you to hear this,” she says. “You are still you, Gowther. You are still the same, nonbinary or not. The same person who has a loving family now, with siblings who will watch your back and depend on you. But you get to exhale now, Gowther. You get to be more you than you have been... in a very long time. You deserve everything you want.”

Gowther tears up at that, pulling in a shaky breath. Merlin goes over to them and kisses their forehead. 

“So, that means instead of a new brother, I get a genderless diety as my sibling?” asks a voice. Gowther turns their head, seeing Diane on the stairs. They nod just slightly. “Oh, thank God! I can finally get a break from all the shit they get into!”

Gowther smiles at that, and follows Diane up the stairs.

***

Gowther’s custody is shifted over to the Ljons’. They get their books back, and get a room that overlooks the backyard. They are content, dealing with their brothers and sister, and feel happy-- no misgendering, no rude comments. 

All is well. 

Books mentioned in this chapter:

Inkheart saga by Cornelia Funke The 57 Bus by Dashka Slater Forgotten Fire by Adam Bagdasarian Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo This Book is Gay by James Dawson Simon vs. The Homosapien Agenda by Becky Albertalli Leah On the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli

[twowritingdisasters]

Sin City: Sloth

Red lights blinked and alarms blared. Doctors ran around as if they were chickens with their heads cut off, trying to find the exit. Vines as strong as ten thousand warriors wrapped around the laboratory’s insides, strangling anyone in their path. Alarms kept blaring.

“Someone, tranquilize the Inhuman!”

“Kill him before he kills us!”

“Help--!”

Splat!

Drip... Drip...

Blood splattered the walls, dripping off of the vines that drove into skulls and hearts. The Inhuman was reluctant, but what could he say? They were testing on him and his sister once more, and he couldn’t bear it. His chest was scarred, mind troubled, and alone. Every single Inhuman in the facility was dead. 

King woke up in a cold sweat. It went down his back and was beading across his forehead. It was still dark outside, like how it was that night. He swung his legs off the bed and started for the bathroom. 

After splashing some water in his face, he could calm down. He still felt delirious, but had some of his senses back. He blinked and walked into the kitchen. King flipped the light switch, and saw that the plants were a little shriveled up. As soon as he lifted his hand, they flourished with life. Sighing, King leaned against the counter. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the window.

Trying to lead a life that normal humans would is hard for King (well, really any Inhuman). Especially when he has little reminders of what happened to him, like dreams and nightmares, his own power, and his dog. Looking at the clock, he saw that it wasn’t even close to the time his alarm was supposed to go off. He walked over to the window of his apartment and stepped out for a bit. 

The cold air seeped through his skin as if he was a sieve. The air cut into his lungs, but it was refreshing. Resting his chin on his hand, he muttered, “At least there’s one nice thing in this shit city: Clean air.”

A shiver ran down his spine as soon as he said that. A shadow moved from the corner of his eye, swift as a bird. He felt like he was being watched. Fear dripped through his body like water, starting from his heart. A cold, wet-- snout?-- touched his cheek, and huffed. King yelped, jumping back. 

His fear receded as fast as it came. “Really, Oslo?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. A dog-- well, a mutant dog-- smiled proudly, showing it was happy to see King. “You just had to scare me. Plus, I told you not to use your power on me.”

Oslo was a mutant dog who had soft, green and blue fur. He was loyal to King, as he was tested on so many years ago and was saved by King. Oslo had gained the power to shape into the shadows, and grow in any size he wanted. He held out a tongue, and licked King’s face. He laughed a bit, then scratched Oslo’s chin. “Let’s take you for a walk.”

The shadow dog smiled even wider, forming itself into the shadows and meeting King at the bottom of the apartment buildings. King started walking in one direction with Oslo, away from the buzz of the late night city. As they walked, King took in the night air, rubbing his eyes. He was finally getting tired, and couldn’t wait to go back to his home and get some sleep.

A glass broke in an alley across the street. Oslo’s ears perked up, and he turned his head. Before King could open his mouth, the dog was already across the street and into the alley. Sighing, King looked both ways, and ran across the street. “Oslo, come here!” he commanded in a whisper. 

The dog showed up from the shadow of the building, pointing his nose towards a street light, where two people were speaking. They didn’t seem to notice King’s presence, but their presence worried him. King walked a little closer, the feeling of fear crawling into his skin once again, ten times worse than when Oslo came by just a few minutes before.

“Daimonas Corporation will take down this city, and find all the Inhumans,” said one, a man. King’s breath hitched, the gears shifting in his head too fast. The man continued, “And after getting every single Inhuman, we will force them to conquer the world for us.”

King looked up at the building near the two people, and read a sign. Daimonas Corporation.

He gasped, then quickly covered his mouth. His heart was pounding, threatening to burst out of his chest. Inhumans were to be hidden, they were seen as less than humans, monsters who belonged in hell, creatures that deserved a fate worse than death. They were despised. Why had he moved so close to one of the Corporation’s buildings?

He tried stepping back, but only stumbled over and fell. Fear came over his entire body as the realization settled in-- He’d be back in the labs, his mind going to be brainwashed into destroying the world. He patted the ground lightly, signaling for Oslo to come to him, to which he obeyed. 

Luckily, no one noticed King’s fall. He quickly got up, shaking slightly. He turned and started to go, until he heard the worst thing: Whorf!

Oslo barked at the worst time. King heard footsteps coming towards him, and he didn’t have enough time to get away. The two people-- a man with purple hair and a woman with wild blonde hair-- were dressed in black, and the man had a cloak. Oh, fuck, he thought. Two of the Ten Commandments; the Daimonas Corporation’s strongest soldiers.

King smiled a little, trying to hide his fear under it. He grabbed Oslo by the scruff of his neck, and tried to come up with an excuse. “I, uh, I wasn’t doing anything,” he stammered. “My dog ran when I wasn’t looking. Sorry to bother you.”

The man who spoke before eyed him, and the woman did the same. King turned and seemed like he couldn’t get out of the alley fast enough. His legs were like jelly, his heart like a drum, lungs not getting enough air. As he turned the corner, the man appeared in front of him, and put up a finger. “Not so fast, Inhuman,” he said in a low voice. He cracked a cynical smile, white teeth as sinister as his intentions. “Derieri, get the dog.”

King’s heart almost stopped. How had they figured out that he was an Inhuman? Did they sense his fear? There was no time for questions, only time to get out. There was no way King was going to go back to that lab, and relive the sight of the bloody mess of his sister. 

“Not my dog--” Vines reached around from his back, reaching for the man in front of him. His eyes were highlighted and shone a bright brown. The man dodged his attack, and shoved King to the ground. King gulped down a breath as he just realized he revealed himself. 

Hearing a yelp, he turned his head to see Oslo trying to get away from the woman. “Oslo, hide! Go home!” King yelled. The big dog stopped, turning its head in confusion. The woman lunged for the dog. “Now!”

Suddenly, Oslo slipped into the shadows, unable to be seen. Both Ten Commandment soldiers looked at King, fury in their eyes. The man who pinned him down forced pressure onto King’s arms, making him immobile. Vines quickly wrapped around his opponent’s body and threw him off. He was unconscious when King stood up. 

He turned to see a flash, followed by the sound of a photo. The woman put a camera away, and ran towards her partner, ignoring King. “Soon enough, you’ll be with us,” she threatened. “Enjoy your last few days of freedom. Now, run along, demon. Run along.”

And King sprinted. Tears streamed from his eyes as he ran. He was caught, he was going back to the labs, going back to hell. He’d sooner die than go. He didn’t want to see the white lights shining down at him, seeing the cages, or the people waiting to poke and prod him. King soon found himself stumbling up the fire rail to his apartment and slamming the window shut. He hyperventilated, and slid down to a crouch, letting the tears go. Oslo appeared from the shadow of the kitchen counter, and lied down next to his master.

“This has to be stopped,” he whispered. He knew the police wouldn’t care about an Inhuman’s life, but maybe-- just maybe-- they would help to save a human’s life. If they wouldn’t help, then he’d be on the run for the rest of his life. 

Whatever fatigue that was consuming King had completely been washed away with what he discovered tonight. At dawn, he called in sick for work-- his boss will be furious with him tomorrow-- then put on a jacket, pulling the hood over his head so he wouldn’t be seen or recognized.

Going the opposite direction of the encounter with the soldiers, he jogged towards the police station, which was a few blocks away. When he arrived, he drew a breath, and huffed. These people usually grabbed Inhumans, taking them to get a trial and then throwing them in jail for essentially no real reason. If those Corporation members already let the police know of him, he’d be done for. If he accidentally revealed too much, he’d be thrown into jail with the rest of the innocent Inhumans. A shaky hand grabbed the handle to the door, and he went inside. 

“Sir, I’d like to report something about Daimonas Corporation,” he said at the front desk. Sweat beaded across his forehead as the officer gave him a questioning look. “They’re planning on world domination using Inhumans--”

The officer burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Are you drunk, kid?” asked the officer. “Inhumans are a threat to us, and the Daimonas Corporation are taking them to get executed, like they should. Beat it.”

King’s heart shattered. His hope left him. He left without another word, anxiety consuming him. He was going to die destroying the world. King jogged back to his apartment, steering clear of anyone who was from the Corporation. No one lunged for him.

Getting into his apartment, he locked the door and went into his room. King had to do something about this. He didn’t want to get caught, he didn’t want any Inhuman going through what he went through. Oslo watched him pace, staying away from the window in case anyone was watching. 

“Well, I knew we were going to have to get out of this apartment someday,” King finally spoke after muttering. It broke his heart to even think about leaving his home-- he stayed here for years, and it was the only place he felt safe in. “But that can be later. Right now, I need to save this city myself.”

In the next few days, King forged an eye mask made out of the darkest green ivy, got a spear and a few daggers-- heaven knows where he learned how to wield those-- and became Sloth, the city’s vigilante.

[twowritingdisasters]

now that you have anounced 2 new fics are you going to continue "Take me there take me home"

YES just we're both busy 'cause Matt here keeps falling asleep and has a lot on his plate and Blade has tech week for a show she's in. Matt has a little less on his plate tho and will continue it later. - matt

[twowritingdisasters]

Unleashed: Summary

They were beaten, broken, bruised. They were taken from their homes and made into inhuman monsters, held in cages for years as one by one they were dragged to their tortures. They were tired and angry and out for blood.

So when they saw an opportunity to escape...they took it.

 Dragon, Serpent, Fox, Grizzly, Goat, Boar, Lion. Seven humans turned into seven hybrids with strange, unusual powers. Seven hybrids about to become seven criminals willing to do whatever it takes to protect their own. Seven criminals willing to risk everything to bring down the people who ruined their lives.

It’s about time that the world felt the sting of their fury as they were at last unleashed.

[twowritingdisasters]

Sin City: Summary

An Inhuman’s life is never easy. An Inhuman experiment? Even worse. Still, Harlequin “King” Navarro has managed to make it work (sort of). He’s got an apartment (with questionable electricity and sketchy neighbors), a sort-of job (that resulted in him pitching a guy out a window, but let’s be honest, the idiot deserved it), and enough income to feed his crazy mutant dog (no, he’s not joking) for awhile. Making a living in this goddamn city is difficult, but he’s pretty sure he’s got it under control.

...Except for the part where he uncovers a conspiracy to bring down the city he lives in, and the authorities ignore him. And, well, as a resident of this hellhole, he can’t exactly let that happen.

It’s a matter of fight vs flight, and as much as he’d like to run and never look back, he’s gotten attached to his city. Gathering seven people who want to protect it is the easy part. Forming a team and training by stopping crime isn’t that hard either.

But taking down the Daimonas Corporation--the Demon Clan--and their Ten Commandments...

Well, either way, the Seven Deadly Sins and the Healer are going to give them hell.

[twowritingdisasters]

Chapter Four: King

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three 

Chapter Five

Creak, thump, thump.

A bush moves just slightly as a boy runs off in the dead of the freezing night. Snow hits his feet, immediately making them ice cold. The air smells of distant smoke, and the worry in his gut grows. In his hands is a newspaper article, titled Orphanage Burns to the Ground.

Cars fly by, but they seem faded and fictional, as if in a dream. The boy is still running, even though he knows his “parents” wouldn’t care about him being gone; they disowned him. They would have never cared about his sister, or him.

He runs into the inner parts of the city where there are parties and bar fights, into neighborhoods where families are eating dinner, completely and utterly lost. Thank God it isn’t snowing yet. He wishes he knew where he was going, where the place he called home for years went-- why did his fragmented memory leave him like this?

All he remembers is two faces, one name, and that he was at an orphanage with the both of them. One was his sister, and wasn’t adopted with him all those years ago. The other-- his friend?-- was adopted right before he was. He can’t even remember his own name.

Snow starts to fall, making it harder to see. He keeps running and running and running.

Elaine.

He finds the place he’s been before-- the orphanage. The scent of smoke fills his nose and lungs, and it feels as though he’s going to die instantly. Snow hides the ashes of everything that he can’t remember; the nameless faces of kids he grew up with, the crossed out images of people who taught him, his broken childhood.

His throat closes up like a hand trying to choke him. His nose starts to hurt from the cold, the anxiety consuming his body and tossing him into an abyss. Waves of anger and grief wash over him, just little by little. Tears land on the snow and ice.

He shouldn’t be standing here. It won’t help his memory, and it for sure won’t be any good for his health. Oh, god, why did he decide to run away? He could have-- no, should have-- just stayed in line and maybe he’d forget about Elaine and his friends and all the murky memories wouldn’t be there.

He walks out in the glistening snow, and watches people coming out of their homes to shovel the white fluff away. He stares, knowing that they all have families and friends and memories they hold dear to their hearts. Some of them stare back at him in either disgust, pity, or worry. A voice stops him in his tracks. “Hey, are you alright? Were you in that fire?”

He turns around, and sees an old man out on his front porch. The boy shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak. “M-my sister... I can’t remember... I don’t know if she’s alive.”

The man walks down to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. It took the small boy to realize his voice was rasp and had cracked. The older man pulled him into an embrace, and said, “There was only one survivor-- a girl. She’s at the hospital in a coma. If you think she’s your sister, then go.”

He gave the younger boy directions and off he went.

***

It’s been weeks.

His stomach is nonexistent, his brown eyes are sunken in, and his lips are blue and chapped from the bitter cold of snow. Damn him, he knew he should have brought a winter coat. He’s been trying to convince the hospital to let him see his sister for a number of weeks, but--

“Look, kid-- if you don’t have your legal guardian with you, you cannot go farther than the front desk.” A nurse types away again, more annoyed at him the more he comes in. She narrows her eyes at the small boy with brown hair and crisp, hazel eyes. He looked no cleaner than a dirt poor child looking for food to feed him at least once for a while.

“But I want to see my sister.” His voice is practically inaudible. “Please. Her name is Elaine--”

“And we actually have to be able to hear you.” The boy puts his hands on the desk. Tears start prickling his eyes. The nurse rolls her eyes, her hand grabbing the phone. “If you don’t leave now, I’m calling security.”

His hands disappear into his pockets. It is a sunny afternoon outside, but that doesn’t stop the snow from still being there-- there is going to be a snow storm tonight, and he is supposed to find some shelter; as if. The sun is almost set.

The boy starts shaking as two security guards grab at his sweater; two different hands on his arms, one grabbing his hood, and the other grabbing the back of his jacket. He yelps and squirms, trying helplessly to get away as they drag him outside. 

“Please, don’t throw me out-- I’ll do anything!” His voice is shaky as he tries to raise it high enough so they can hear. “I just want to see if my sister is here!”

The security guards drag him, ignoring every single word he says. The boy feels his body go from slightly warm to freezing in a mere matter of seconds as they go outside-- he struggles more. “Please, please, please let me go! I don’t have a family to go to!”

They don’t care. He could starve and die without a word and they would not care. The guards throw his ragged body onto the side walk, and he puts his hands above his head in a protective position. The guards’ scoldings are close, yet far away as it’s getting harder for him to breathe-- short and shallow breaths are not good when it is winter and you don’t have anything to keep you warm from ice and snow and cold. 

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on over here?” a voice shouts. There is some footsteps-- fast, like running. The boy slowly looks in the direction, and sees a much taller man with rust colored hair approaching the guards. “You shouldn’t be yelling at a kid like this. He’s obviously--”

“Sir, don’t butt into other people’s business like that,” says one officer. “We’re done here anyways.”

The man tries stopping them, but to no avail. He huffs, looks over at the boy, and smiles a little. He slowly and cautiously walks over to him-- he flinches, gently grabbing his shoulder and helping him up. 

An image of a girl with long, brown hair and purple eyes pops into his head for just a split second. She is very small, with a boy a little older-- this boy has long, red locks that reach his waist. He suddenly disappears. Who are those two? Are they two more faces without names, dancing upon his memories? Or are they his memories coming back to him.

Before the man can speak, the boy jerks back, out of the grip on his shoulder. “Don’t touch me!” he shouts. Tears roll down his cheeks as more and more things start overwhelming his head-- the girl with brown hair again-- Gerheade, a boy with greenish hair and eyes as alluring as a candle flame-- Helbram?-- , and a girl no younger than five-- Elaine. “Don’t hurt me!”

He bolts for it. He doesn’t know where he’s going, and he doesn’t care. Perhaps back to the ruins of the orphanage, perhaps back to his old family. Memories start flooding his head-- he remembers a time like this, a better time. He was much happier, playing with the boy he remembers as Helbram. He remembers Elaine when he first held her-- she was so small, so fragile, and he knew he had to protect her. But he’s failed. Suddenly, a name runs across his mind as he continues to run.

Harlequin.

Tripping over his own feet, he stumbles into the snow onto someone’s lawn. He coughs up watery bile. Whose name is that? Is it his? He tries putting the name to faces until finally settling in on his own. And it fits. That’s his name. Harlequin scrambles up and keeps running. His memories haven’t even come back fully, but he knows enough for now. 

The wind starts to pick up, and snow starts to fall, harder and harder the more time passes. Harlequin stops dead in his tracks, his eyes widening by the second. There is going to be a storm tonight, he thinks. He has nowhere to run to, or hide in. Nothing. He looks to his left, and sees the orphanage. Seeing as there is no other way, he dashes towards the building.

***

It’s the middle of the night by now. It’s a full on blizzard. It’s surprising that Harlequin is even still conscious. His body is shaking, covered in snow, turning blue and going numb. His teeth are chattering. He can barely move. A couple of lights show in his field of vision. Who could that be? Who is insane enough to go outside during a blizzard?

“Hey!” a voice shouts. It feels familiar, but new. “Kid! Where are you? Are you here?”

Harlequin’s tired eyes and numb neck move just slightly, as he sees more flashlights. Five, to be exact. He shudders as he realizes the voice belongs to the man from earlier in the day. Why had he come out here just to get some piece of shit like him? A woman’s voice is barely heard as she says, “Escanor! It’s too late and too cold to be searching for a boy! Come on, the kids are going to freeze.”

Kids. Fucking-- kids. Why did he bring his kids with them? Did they get here from their own will? How could a person go looking for Harlequin-- the friend who left, the brother who can’t protect. They should just let him die here. He’d be in the one place he should have been to die. Black circles start dotting his vision, and he can’t see. He sees the flash lights again. This happens for a few minutes until he realizes he’s slipping in and out of consciousness. The more the man’s voice come into hearing, the farther away it sounds. He closes his eyes--

Thump.

“Oh, my god!” A pair of hands grab his shoulders, firm but gentle. He opens his eyes slowly, seeing a girl with dark brown hair and violet eyes-- Gerheade? No, it couldn’t be. This girl has a darker, deeper color to both her eyes and hair. Her flashlight is on the ground; she must have tossed it to the side. “Dad! I think I found him!”

The girl picks him up carefully and starts walking in some direction. He shivers and shakes, too tired to even fight back. His legs are somehow moving, slowly but surely. She brings him to the man from before-- the one who stood up to the security guards-- and he enfolds Harlequin into his arms. Behind him are three others; a woman with black hair and hazel eyes, a short boy who has eyes that shone even through a blizzard like this, and a very tall man whose eyes were as sharp as glass. 

His vision goes black as he slumps into the man’s grip.

***

A few days later, Harlequin wakes up to see a white ceiling. Air was being circulated to his lungs through a wire, an IV stands on his left. The world seems fuzzy as non-understandable words start coming into hearing. Sharp pain hits Harlequin’s brain, near his left temple. Throwing up his hand towards his head, the couple look over in his direction, silent. The three stare for a few minutes, neither knowing what to do or say. It takes him a few minutes to realize that there are three other people in the room-- kids. He jumps as they all start getting up. 

“Kids, sit,” says a woman as she walks over next to him. The copper haired man walks out of the room, quietly shutting the door. Taking a breath, the woman continues. “I’m Merlin Ljon. The man that just walked out is my husband, Escanor. And these are our kids, Meliodas, Diane, and Ban. Escanor saw you run from here and had us all go look for you in that storm. Are you alright, though? Do you remember anything?”

Hesitation. Harlequin stares into her eyes for a moment before working his gaze around the room. He darts his gaze away from the kids-- these adults are far too young to have teenage kids. His eyes blink and his mind clears. Of course, he remembers anything-- not just anything, his childhood. In a quiet tone, he says, “My sister and I were brought to an orphanage as children. A few years later, I was adopted without my sister because my ‘parents’ wanted a man of the family. Not long after, I lost my memories because I was being careless and fell off the banister.”

Merlin grabs his hand gently, stroking his knuckles. Harlequin swallows down whatever bile was growing inside of him and continues. “For five years I didn't have any memories, and my ‘parents’ didn't tell me anything.” His voice becomes a little shaky as his nose starts to hurt. “Then the news of the fire happened, and I got little fragments of my memories-- it was enough to make me run away.”

A few sighs, a few gulps come from the kids. Harlequin feels his shoulders shake. “And then I came across the orphanage. I’m still devastated. Everyone I’ve ever known is dead, except for one person, and I really hope is my sister.” It takes Harlequin a moment to realize he’s been crying. “Then Escanor found me. I ran from him because I didn’t know what he would do. I thought he-- your husband, your father-- was going to hurt me. I thought that he’d throw me in the snow like some of the people who threw me out here.”

Harlequin’s breath hitches as arms wrap around his shoulders, a hand resting on the back of his head. He’s shaking even harder than he did before, tears rolling down his cheeks. He doesn’t realize that Merlin hugged him until after she pulls away. Meliodas, Diane, and Ban all get up-- Ban’s a fucking tower-- and hug him as well. Harlequin shakes under the tangle of arms, each breath coming out as a sob. The three quickly move when they hear footsteps at the door. 

Harlequin wipes his puffy eyes and looks at the door. Escanor-- the guy who saved his life-- is standing there with a doctor. He glares at the doctor for a brief second before Merlin rests her hand on his shoulder. Harlequin rolls his eyes and stares at the doctor. He briefly explains that Harlequin almost died of hypothermia, and would have if no one got him immediately. But since he had come in without any legal guardian, he’d have to stay there for a while until someone comes for him. After checking Harlequin’s vitals, he leaves the room with one sentence to make Harlequin almost leap out of the bed-- if Escanor didn’t hold him down, he would have: “By the way, the girl you wanted to see is your sister, Elaine.”

Harlequin starts weeping out of sheer joy. His sister is alive, somewhere in the same building. “Escanor, let me go,” he says, louder than he usually speaks. It surprises everyone. “I have to see Elaine.”

“Son, calm down for a second or so, alright?” Escanor says. Harlequin stops abruptly-- did this man just call him son? “We should know your name and a few other things, at least.”

His shoulders drop slightly. “Harlequin.” Only the last part is audible. “Harlequin Navarro. Call me King.”

A pause. Escanor lets go of him and sits down, his chin resting on his arm. Merlin bites her lip a little, eyeing her husband. Everyone’s eyes are on the young father-- Harlequin thinks he must've started as a teen dad, since his kids look like they’re fucking teenagers. A few short minutes pass, and Escanor’s eyes light up. “Become my son.”

“WHAT?” Harlequin’s mouth shot off before he can even process what the guy said. Everyone jumps from his shout. He stutters, “Trust me, you do not want me to be your damn son. I’m too weak, I have no chill, I have too much anxiety, I stutter, I'm a crybaby, I can’t even protect--”

“King,” says Meliodas. Harlequin glares for a second. “First off, try not to think such things. Second, there’s no going back now. Might as well just comply and let yourself be adopted, like the rest of us.”

Diane and Ban nod in agreement, smiling at him. Halrequin stammers, but is stopped by Merlin. She explains that they were already talking about it, and that they would adopt his sister as well. Harlequin stares, his hands shaking and eyes watering. No one has ever told him they’d happily adopt him. No one has ever told him to just stop thinking of himself like that. No one has ever loved him like the way he feels now-- except for Elaine. 

He grabs the front of his shirt, pulling it forward to get more air. He realizes he’s been crying. What were the tears for? Sadness, no. Anger, no. Happiness? Yes. King wipes his eyes and nods, agreeing to be the new son of the family. He’s going to get adopted.

***

In a month, Harlequin is living with the Ljons’, as one of their own. He’s out of the hospital, but goes back twice a week-- once for a checkup, once to see his sister. 

Everything is official. He is no longer belonging to no one. Harlequin “King” Ljon is apart of a caring family again. 

[twowritingdisasters]

Chapter Three: Ban

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Four 

Chapter Five

Too alert. His gaze drifts from a tall man with dark eyes talking on the phone, fingers twitching at his sides. While he certainly looks to have money to spare (his stomach growls at the thought of what those shiny cufflinks alone could buy him), the way his eyes dart around implies that he’s aware of his surroundings--not good in a target.

Too unaware, probably doesn’t have anything worth stealing. The girl flounces past him with a laugh, barely noticing his presence as she chats with her friend. As annoying as she is, the fact that she’s not alone, that he could startle her and make a scene is bad for him. He lets her pass without a word, eyeing the new phone in her hand wistfully. That alone would feed him for three days--God, three whole days of three meals a day, like a normal kid.

Maybe he should steal the phone anyway. It isn’t like she’ll be going hungry tonight if he does...

Ban snorts and shakes his head a second later. Half a sandwich and some scraps isn’t worth getting picked up by the system...not yet, anyways. His stomach growls again and he presses his back against the brick wall, eyes roving over the crowd again as he stuffs his hands into his pockets in an attempt to banish the chill. It’s only early October, but the bite of the wind makes it feel like fucking December. He chews his lip absently, ignoring the tang of blood seeping through the cracked, dry skin as he watches people drift by, each wrapped up in their own little world--normal worlds, with concerns like homework and new clothes and trends and love.

A low, dry chuckle forces its way past Ban’s lips. At least he’s got an advantage  there, having found out about the illusion of love a long, long time ago. Lucky me.

His eyes drift to a tall man making his way through the crowd, a notebook in one hand and glasses askew as he laughs and chats , wallet sticking out of his pocket. Absentminded teacher type, he observes, melting into the crowd and shifting towards him. Ought to be a rather easy grab; hopefully, he won’t even know it’s missing until the next block. 

Fifteen feet. He can hear the man’s voice, though the words are still a mystery to him. It’s warm and deep and rich, and he pauses for a second, a sudden, fierce sense of longing gripping him. It’s...it’s absolutely nothing like the voice of the bastard he called “father” (that piece of shit was the opposite of warm; he still shudders at the memory of him throwing him and Killia out of the tiny apartment leaving Ban clawing at the door, begging to be let back in), and he blinks as the man draws closer, a booming chuckle echoing. For some reason, his feet refuse to move and it’s all he can do not to stare in horror as his target nears.

Ten feet. He can hear the words now, hear the affection in the man’s words as he says, “Yes, Merlin, I’ll get lunch, don’t worry.” Another chuckle, another warm smile, and he wilts as the man snorts softly. “I assume Meliodas and Diane are having their usual?” An expression that makes Ban think of the taste of hot chocolate (something he bought for Killia when they were both small, when he’d managed to steal enough to get her something sweet for Christmas--before she’d gotten sick and the hospital refused to take her, save her, before they’d killed her), something sweet and heady that warms a person right down to their bones, spreads across his face. “Yes, I know. Love you too.”

Five feet, and Ban can suddenly move again. He lurches forward with a gasp, stumbling slightly. Kids. His target probably has kids and he definitely has people he loves and he has the ability to say I love you so casually, as if it’s real and it matters and--and--

“Are you okay?”

He’s kneeling on the pavement with no clue how he ended up there, the echo of pain in his knees suggesting that he just dropped, and he jerks back at the sound of the warm, rich voice. The man--the same man he just tried to steal from, to take from, the same one whose wallet he was about to grab (failure failure failure he fucked up again)--kneels in front of him, and all Ban can see are blue eyes and a worried expression. People are starting to stop, to stare, and they’re going to take him away and he can’t go back--he won’t go back. Never again, never never nevernevernevernever.

A hand touches his shoulder, and Ban throws up. Or he would’ve, if he had anything in his stomach; instead, the only things that come out are dry retching noises and sickly-sweet bile. He instinctively wraps his arms around himself as the hand pulls away, managing to glance upwards just long enough to see a look of pure concern before it hurts too much (lies, lies, it’s all lies no one’s ever actually worried for him he’s just going to sell him out kick him out hurt him) and he has to look away again. “When was the last time you ate?” that voice tries again, and Ban tightens his grip on his jacket--on himself--before shaking his head wildly.

There’s a sigh, soft and gentle. “Well, it can’t have been recently,” the man says, and he sounds...patient. No one’s ever sounded like that before, not around him; they’re angry, usually, or exasperated or in a rush. No one’s ever just...sat in the middle of the sidewalk and talked to him. It’s weird, and it’s terrifying, because Ban actually sort of likes it, which of course means it’s going to go away. “Can you stand?”

He resists the urge to scoff, because of course he can stand--except when he nods and tries to push himself to his feet, his legs give out from under him. The man, though, he catches him, catches him and doesn’t get mad when Ban gasps and claws at him in a sudden fit of utter stupidity. No, instead he talks, talks about what he was going to do, what he does, about the weather. Ordinary things. Things that normal people do, and it shocks him so much that someone would bother to chat with him about the weather and ask him if he wanted to come along for lunch that just...stops.

And he lets the man lead him to his car, sliding into the seat without really recognizing what he was doing, and gazes down at his hands in pure, silent shock as the car starts up and he’s driven away.

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

The man’s name is Escanor Ljon, and he’s got kids, apparently--two of them. Which is surprising, because he looks too young to have any children at all. Maybe they’re really small, he thinks, blinking at the sign above the restaurant that Escanor just vanished into. His stomach growls and he grimaces, hunching over a bit in the passenger seat; he can practically taste the food (not that he ever actually will, of course), mouthwatering and savory and delicious, and he huffs a sigh as he leans back uneasily. Really, there’s a lot of problems with what’s taking place, the main one being that he has no clue what Escanor plans to do with him. He can’t just be doing all this out of the goodness of his heart. It’s not how the world works; he has to want something and Ban has to be there for a reason. 

He’s jolted out of his pondering when the car’s locks click open, tensing in response to the sudden noise (if it’s open, he can run, he can escape he has an out). The door on the driver’s side opens, and the scent of food (warm and good and savory and he just quivers with longing as he inhales) wafts into the car as Escanor slides back in with a chuckle. “Sorry about that. Hit the lunch rush.” Ban follows the bag of takeout with his eyes as the man rummages through it, practically salivating and desperately trying to keep himself from drooling, from grabbing the bag and vanishing. He owes him this much, at least--owes him enough to try and sit still.

“Ah, here we are!” Escanor crows in triumph as he pulls a container free of the bag. Ban blinks in surprise as it’s passed to him, taking it instinctively. It’s...some sort of pasta and meat sauce, piping hot and spun together, looking so tantalizing that it physically hurts not to rip open the lid and gorge himself on it. He’s passed a fork next, and he blinks before shooting a wide-eyed look at Escanor, who smiles a bit...sadly, he thinks, shocked. “I’ve seen a lot of people go hungry,” he says softly. “Eat your fill.”

He sounds sincere, which is something that no one really is, but this is the first person to at least pretend give a shit about him since...since he was born, really. So Ban does, hesitantly taking a bite as he hunches over the food (there’s no telling whether it’ll be taken from him, so he’s gotta guard it, gotta keep it out of reach)--and his eyes widen as he swallows, hunger becoming more than a dull thrum of agony for the first time in years. He shovels it into his mouth, closing his eyes with a groan as he scrapes it clean, barely tasting each bite as he devours it all. 

He’s still licking his fork clean when Escanor pulls into the driveway of some fancy house, huge and pale and almost cold, except for the lights in the windows. Ban freezes as the man takes the bag of food, eyes following him as he stands. “This is it,” he announces cheerfully, turning to face him with a sunny smile, and Ban knows he shouldn’t follow him, knows that now is when he should book it and never look back. But the smile is warm and he hasn’t been hurt yet...and he’s fucking stupidly desperate for something, and this man seems to pull on the part of him that wants to be able to be like the kids he watches walk by, with things like friends and parents and three meals a day. So he follows, feeling unusually shy as Escanor unlocks the door and ushers him inside. It’s not as opulent as it looks from the outside--luxurious, yes, stylish, yes, but there’s a feeling of being lived in that gives it a more casual air. It doesn’t stop him from feeling like he doesn’t belong here, of course, but he manages to relax as Escanor calls, “I’m home!” and shuts the door. 

A female voice, cool and filled with endless amusement, echoes through the hallway and Ban stiffens instinctively as she trots into view. “Escanor, I sincerely hope you brought--oh.” The woman pauses, golden eyes widening slightly. She’s young, with sleek black hair twisted up in a loose bun and a scarlet tattoo on her neck, wearing comfortable clothes and a catlike smirk that swiftly dissolves into confusion--and then into a smaller, more genuine smile that somehow manages to make his nerves dissipate. “Hello, sweetheart,” she greets, and he jolts at the nickname, eyes widening. He knows it’s a term of endearment, has heard people call each other that in passing, used to call Killia that, but--but it’s never been directed at him. She shoots a reproachful glance at Escanor, who wilts a bit--a man who somehow towers over Ban, who knows full well that he’s too tall for his age, that he looks far older than barely-thirteen, looking sheepish at a single glance from a woman he could probably carry around. To be fair, the woman looks sharp and sleek, all cold steel and a red mouth that undoubtedly hides fangs. “You didn’t tell me we were having company.”

“It wasn’t exactly...planned, Mer.”

Ban flinches at that, opens his mouth to speak, but before a single word gets out someone bellows, “You PRICK!” A cackle resounds in response, and he whips around as someone thunders down the stairs, jumping the last two steps. 

It’s...a kid. Though Ban doesn’t really have any right to call people that, considering his own age (though he hasn’t felt it for a long time--it’s hard to be thirteen when you’re struggling to eat more than three times a week); he stares dumbfounded at him, at bright green eyes and unruly blond hair and a smile as wide as the open skies and bright as the sun. He’s twirling some sort of brush that he vaguely recognizes as being some sort of make-up-y thing between his fingers, tucking it behind his back as another kid, a girl with brown hair pulled up in pigtails, storms down the steps and places her hands on her hips. There’s a smudge of black under her left eye, the fire in her violet eyes wild, but there’s still affection beneath the annoyance as she glares at the blond. “Where the fuck,” she hisses, enunciating every word, “is my mascara.”

The blond raises his eyebrows, and Ban resists the urge to snicker as “Mer” covers her mouth, clearly trying to hide a laugh. “Who knows, Diane? Maybe if you kept better track--”

“Don’t you dare try that on me, you insufferable little--”

“Mer” coughs, and they both look up, eyes snapping to her, before looking back at him. “Meliodas, Diane, this is...” She glances apologetically at him, and he blinks at her in confusion before wincing. Right. My name. God, he hasn’t told anyone in...in years.

“Ban,” he rasps after a moment. “M’name’s Ban.” 

The woman gives him a soft smile and dips her head. “I’m Merlin. These two--” Ban looks back over at the two and forces down a surprised laugh; somehow, in those brief seconds, Diane’s managed to both grab the mascara back and smear the word “ASS” on Meliodas’s cheek. Merlin huffs a noise that could be either a sigh or a laugh, her eyes gleaming. “Are idiots,” she announces, earning an outraged cry from both of them, “but they’ll take you upstairs to clean up while Escanor heats up lunch.” She jerks her head at Meliodas, who rolls his eyes but seizes Ban’s hand (he jolts a bit at the contact, at how easily it comes, but he lets himself be led up the stairs) and drags him along. Diane follows with a snort of laughter, and he lets himself be herded into a brightly lit, clean bathroom. 

“So,” Meliodas chirps, turning on the sink and splashing water over the smears of black on his cheek. Ban raises an eyebrow despite himself as he frowns and rubs fiercely at the makeup, succeeding only in smearing it everywhere. “Ah, damn...anyways, where’d Escanor find you?”

“What?”

Diane huffs, flouncing past and elbowing Meliodas in the ribs; the blond yelps and glares, flicking water at her. Despite this, there’s an easy camaraderie and their movements, the way they’re angled ever so slightly towards each other. Ban’s good at reading people, has had to be in order to survive, and these two...they have the look of people who’d burn the world down for each other, who have each other’s backs above all else. The brunette hums, dabbing at the comparatively tiny smudge on her cheekbone with a tissue. “What this idiot means is that Dad--” he doesn’t miss the way that Meliodas tenses slightly, almost uncomfortably at the word, and he wonders-- “has a habit of finding people who need help, who need a home. Mom does too, but really, Mel found her, so...” She shrugs. “He found me, saw something in me, I guess, and wouldn’t let that go. Eventually he--” Here she nudges Meliodas playfully, and he snorts, doing the same (something in him aches for that, for that easy bond, to share contact so easily and insult each other and not doubt)-- “beat off some fucker in the alley where I was sleeping, brought me here to clean up, and Dad sued the hell out of my biological family.” She shrugs again, but he can see it now that he’s looking for it--the mark of the streets on her, so eager to rely on others while verbally pushing them away, the grins and the insults that hide a fierce love because she knows how easily these good things can be taken away. It’s there on Meliodas, too, in the way his eyes dart over his shoulders and his grin seems to falter as he blinks too hard and too fast in the mirror. “What he’s saying is ‘what’s your story?’”

My story. Ban snorts softly, crossing his arms. “Not much to tell. Parents were bastards, didn’t want kids, so as soon as my sister could speak...we were out.” Killia. Laughing, smiling, oh-so-sweet Killia, who’d made him smile even when they were starving and freezing. Killia, who’d died because that hospital wouldn’t take her. “She lasted...four years, before she got sick. Pneumonia, the mortician said.” A choked noise passes his lips; it takes him a moment to realize that it’s a sob, that the burning in his eyes isn’t brought on by wind or cold or dryness--that he’s crying. “They--they wouldn’t take her, because we had no records. They just...let her die, and they took her body--and I wouldn’t let them take me, too, so I ran before the system could catch up and hid on the streets. Your dad caught me...’cause I was trying to steal from him.” He tries to shrug, but the gesture crumbles and he sucks in a shaky breath, forcing himself to stare into the mirror. 

He hasn't seen himself in a mirror in ages, hasn’t let himself look, but what’s there... That person is haggard and rain-thin and hunched over, so pale and tired-looking that it seems a feather could knock them over. Their eyes are overbright, are teary, and he blinks swiftly to try and clearly them away. It doesn’t work (of course it doesn’t work) and a few tears trail a path through the grime on his skin.

An arm wraps tightly around his shoulders, two more around his waist, and there’s the pressure of two warm bodies against him. Meliodas hums low in his throat, the noise almost a purr as he presses into his side. “I lost my brothers to the system,” he says quietly. “It’s not the same, but...I know what it’s like to miss them.” Diane rests her head on his shoulder and simply makes a quiet, comforting noise, squeezing his shoulders gently.

And for the first time since Killia died, Ban lets himself grieve.

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

That night, he takes a shower--a proper shower, with hot, running water and so many different soaps and shampoos that he finds himself sitting down in the cascade to try and make sense of them all--and sleeps in a real bed, wearing clothes that are far too big for him, but clean and warm and...he feels safe. Which is a novel experience, all things considered. Meliodas bounds up to the attic, Diane to a room just a bit down the hall, and Merlin ruffles his hair gently before murmuring, “We’ll talk in the morning.”

It’s morning now, and Ban yawns as he trots down the stairs, running his fingers through his hair with a feeling like awe--he forgot what clean hair felt like--before stopping as Merlin, holding a cup of coffee and smiling slightly, greets him. “I thought you might get up early,” she explains, and he follows her into the kitchen warily. It smells good in there, like chocolate and butter and something else that’s sweet, and he’s practically salivating by the time he realizes that Escanor’s cooking pancakes. Real, homemade pancakes, like the ones the kids in movies have for breakfast. He peers at them for a second, earning a smile from Escanor, before shuffling over to sit on one of the island’s stools. Merlin sets her coffee down, bracing her hands against the table, and with a sudden rush of terror he realizes what she’s about to say.

“I can go,” he blurts out quickly (he doesn’t want to, he really doesn’t want to, it’s only been twelve hours but he feels like he belongs here, like this is where he was supposed to be this entire time). “I--if you just get me my clothes--wait, no, if you can point me t-toward where you put them I’ll get them and I’ll leave, I promise, I--”

“Ban!” Merlin looks absolutely horrified and he feels terribly, awfully sick at the devastation on her face; it’s his fault, it has to be, there’s no other way--and then he gasps as her arms come around him, as she hugs him tightly against her chest. He has no memory of ever being held like this, of ever having a real mother the way they are in stories--or a father, for that matter, but one day with these people and he can almost imagine what it’s like and he doesn’t want to let go. “Oh, honey,” she breathes as he shudders. “We weren’t going to throw you out, we were going to ask you to stay.”

What? Ban draws back, eyes growing round as he stares at her, gaze darting over her face as he hunts for the deception--it has to be a lie, has to be, no one’s ever wanted him before and a family like this one (so warm and inviting and wonderful, so good) certainly wouldn’t, not if they knew what he was. But there’s no lie, nothing but a deep sadness in her eyes and utter sincerity in her face, and he has to warn her because if he doesn’t then someone’s going to end up dead and they’re going to leave. “B-but I’m broken,” he whispers in protest, staring up at her, at those deep, warm golden eyes. “I--I’m--no one wants me, even when I do e-everything they say. T-they--I---there’s something wrong with m-me, or else they wouldn’t l-leave or die or--” He shakes his head wildly. Unlovable, his mind whispers gleefully, and it’s only when Escanor comes up behind him and crushes him in a hug that Ban realizes he spoke aloud.

“We love you,” Escanor rumbles, and Merlin nods, twining her fingers with his gently. “We love you, Ban, and we’d be so, so lucky, so glad if you decided you wanted to stay with us--to let us adopt you.”

Ban gazes at them both incredulously, and he’s embarrassed to feel his eyes burn as tears threaten again. “You--” he starts, before shaking his head, subconsciously relaxing against Escanor as Merlin strokes her thumb over the back of his hand, reassuring himself in the warm presences of these two people...in his parents? “You won’t--leave?”

“Never,” Merlin says fiercely. “Not in a million years, and when I find the people who hurt you...” The look on her face is one of wild, feral glee, and he almost feels sorry for the people who birthed him. Almost.

“No evil masterminding in the morning, Mer, we talked about this,” Escanor scolds gently, and Merlin rolls her eyes. Ban stifles a giggle--an honest-to-God giggle--as the blue-eyed man grins ruefully and gives him a gentle squeeze. “So, Ban? Your answer?”

He blinks at them, hesitating...but there’s only one answer his heart will let himself give. “Yes. Please,” he amends, but the bright laugh that comes from Escanor and the fierce hug that comes from Merlin startle any hesitance right out of him, and he hugs her back just as fiercely. 

Then, of course, the smell of something burning interrupts them, and Escanor all but shrieks, “The pancakes!” and hurries back to the stove; Merlin cackles, releasing Ban, and he finds himself snickering as well. Diane slides down the stair rail a moment later, her hair wild and her eyes puffy from sleep, but bright and eager and greeting him like he’s always been there. Meliodas staggers down a good five minutes after, clearly not awake yet, and Ban finds himself laughing outright as his--his brother slumps over on the island counter, snoring softly. He snaps awake for food, though, jolting upright as the slightly scorched pancakes are set in front of him and toppling right off the stool, and Ban steals one right off his plate as Diane cheers him on. Merlin winks at him and Escanor gives him a half-hearted scolding as Meliodas shoves him good-naturedly. Like he’s always been there--like he belongs.

And barely a week later, it’s official.

Family.

Ban Ljon has a family.

[twowritingdisasters]

Chapter Two: Diane

Alright, now it’s Matt’s turn! Blade set the bar high from the first chapter and I hope I can get to that level of fucking greatness. It was some GOOD SHIT. Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Chapter One

Chapter Three 

Chapter Four 

Chapter Five

“You can’t do it.”

“You can’t dance.”

“You can’t fight.”

“You can’t.”

“Holy shit. A girl like her? Who’d date that scum!”

“Get out of my way, bitch!”

“Why do you look like that?”

“Why do you talk like that?”

“Why do you think like that?”

“She’s always sitting there just reading a book!”

“Head in your book.”

“Eyes down.”

“Do you even care what others think about you?”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re ugly.”

“Sleep on dirt!”

“Take a shower today?”

“What a freak.”

“You’re nothing.”

“Hey there garbage can!”

Growing up, that was all Diane Artemis heard. From who, it depends. It’s always either kids at school, her parents, or her own sister. She’s tired of feeling she can’t do anything. Tired of fights. Tired of the comments. Tired of feeling like she’s something diseased and unwanted just because she exists. Diane feels she’s been stuffed into a box and left to suffocate. 

If she were to be honest, she’s been thinking of running away for the longest time. All she needs to is pack her bags, pick a destination, and go. Which is easier said than done. She doesn’t even know if she has the guts to run. But here she is, outside her front door, with nothing but her phone, a couple bucks, and a backpack full of food and water and a change of clothes.

Her body feels cold, her guts are twisted steel. Wind is howling, her hair is getting into her face no matter what she does, and her hand is still on the cool metal door knob. She can just go back inside, unpack her things, and pretend nothing ever happened. 

Except, she can’t. She wants to prove to everyone that she can be who she wants to be. Prove she can be on her own. Prove she’s not the garbage can. Diane doesn’t just want to, she needs to. Her hand let go of the door knob, and her feet are moving without her thinking. Its the middle of the night, the sky is clear, and she can see the stars and all they are.

It’s been a month. Diane can’t believe it. She’s been on her own for a month. The first few days were hellish, what with moving a town over by bus. No one has called her to know where she has gone, but Diane has a job as well -- as a waitress in a cafe -- and is sort of living in a house.

Well, sort of would be a lie. She got caught sneaking around a house and sleeping there. For the fifth time. She’s terrible at lying and terrible at sneaking around. She’s found that the street is not a fun place to be and she does not want to live there. Diane has been sexually harassed multiple times, almost mugged, slept on dirt, slept in rain, and even slept with nothing but the clothes on her back. Almost all her food is gone as well, and, essentially, she is fucked.

Diane wonders where she will sleep tonight -- maybe in the alley a few blocks down? No, no, too risky. Perhaps the alley near the restaurant, which will be warm. That place seems like a much better option. 

No one is in the cafe (not even her coworkers, they all went home early), except for a gentleman who sits near the window next to the sign of the cafe’s name. A pen is in his hand with a notebook that has scribbles all over it and messy handwriting. He seems young, maybe in his mid-twenties, with beautiful copper hair and blue eyes as crystal clear as glass. His cup of coffee is long gone by now, and it is getting dark.  

“It’s supposed to rain tonight,” he says, breaking the silence. His voice is a solid baritone, with a warm, welcoming tone to it. Diane’s surprised he is even warning her it’s supposed to rain. 

“And you should be getting home, sir,” she says, getting a rag and a spray bottle. Diane narrows her eyes at him as she starts cleaning the counter. “I have to close up soon and get home.”

“Ah,” His pen clicks as he flips his notebook closed and puts it in a bag and slings it over his shoulder. He grabs his cup and puts it in the trash. “I guess you’re right.” 

A few steps, a few strides. Diane waits for his goodbye and the sound of the door opening and closing. It does not come. She looks up to the direction he spoke, but he issn’t there. Sighing, she looks over to her left and sees him staring at the pastries with a concerned look in his eye,comtemplating. Diane props her chin on her hand. “Anything else you need?”

“One grande latte, one venti espresso.” He takes a breathe as Diane starts putting everything in the cash register. He walks over to the counter, getting his wallet out. “One tall hot chocolate, and how about a glazed doughnut.” 

Diane raises an eyebrow as she gives him the amount of money to pay for, puts it in the cash register, and gives the change to him. He never asked for three drinks, let alone the piece of junk food as well. He must have a third person living in his house, maybe a kid? But why would he have a kid? He seems much too young for one.

She shakes her head and finishes making the drinks. The copper haired man finally says thank you, and Diane hears him open and shut the door. She watches him turn left, then out of sight. Her gaze lingers just a little longer before she starts cleaning up. 

Soon, the lights are off, the door locked, and Diane is walking. Her backpack has a blueberry muffin from the cafe in it, despite her knowledge that she could get in trouble for it.

“That man has a kid, most likely.” Diane whispers, her mind going back to his order. How she wishes for something like that; a life with no parents comparing her to everyone else, a life with no one calling her the garbage can. “I hope he treats that kid well, and not like how I was treated.”

She wanders, letting her feet take her to wherever she could go. Of course, she can’t find another home just yet, or else she’ll get arrested. Eventually, she finds herself at the restaurant she was wondering about earlier. It is warm, and has an aroma of food. sHer stomach grumbles, and she reaches for the pastry in her bag.

Diane brings out the blueberry muffin and begins to eat. No, not eat. Devour. Tears start running down her cheeks. All that pent up sadness, regret, and jealousy start getting to her. She knows no one would take her in, no one will love her. She will forever be known as the garbage can. The freak. The girl who sleeps on dirt.

There’s a clap of thunder, and a strobe of lightning. Diane jumps, tossing the wrapper away. Rain starts tumbling down from the sky, onto Diane’s greasy hair and oily face. She swears, then runs into the alley next to the restaurant door. She is still sobbing, unable to stop her body from trembling. She misses home, despite the comments and the terrible, terrible treatment. Diane wraps her arms around her knees, and continues to cry. The rest of the night consists of sobs, a storm, and mud. 

***

The next morning, Diane wakes up covered in mud and water. A little disoriented, she hears shouting and someone throwing punches. Oh, great, she thinks. An alley fight.

To the left of her, there are two teenage boys fighting. One looks ragged and old, his clothes an oversized winter coat and jeans-- which is weird, it’s the middle of summer--  she doesn’t bother with him. The other is cleaner, with a mop of blonde hair and eyes as green as the grass in the spring. They are shouting at each other and fighting. About what, she doesn’t know.

“You can’t steal from others, damnit!” shouts the blonde one. He elbows his opponent, ducking under his swinging arm, and shoves him into the wall. The boy looks over his shoulder, and sees Diane giving him a quizzical look. Near the boy’s feet is her bag, with her stuff almost torn out of it. As she scrambles to her feet, the boy picks up the bag and walks over to her. Tears were forming in her eyes.

“Holy fucking shit,” Diane wipes her face, then grabs her dirt ridden bag. “Thank you so much. I-- I don’t know what I’d do without this--”

“Look, it’s alright,” the boy replies. Up close, Diane saw he has a black eye. Before she can speak, he holds up a hand. “You sort look like the girl Escanor was talking about to Merlin.”

Who? Is Escanor the man from last night? Diane puts down his hand. She has so many questions, everything is happening so fast. Something moved in her peripheral vision. The guy from before-- the one who tried to steal her bag-- runs and punches the blonde boy in the jaw. Diane shrieks, dropping her bag on the ground. The thief locks eyes with her, then lunges to her bag. 

“Oh, fuck no!” Diane lunges to the ground, scraping her knees. The guy has one strap of the bag while she has the other. Knowing he isn’t going to let go to save his life, Diane clenches her fist and throws a punch to his nose. The guy dodges, rolling over and dragging her bag out of her grip. He gets up and bolts towards the end of the door, with Diane hot on his heels. 

The blonde boy from before runs ahead of them, getting in front of the thief. The boy grabs the thief’s arm, and then rounds him around to face Diane. Diane smirks, halts right in front of the thief, then punches him square in the jaw. “That is for stealing my bag.” Her knee raises to knock him on the ground. “And that is for hurting someone who helped me.”

The thief is thrown to the side, knocked out. The boy hands her the bag once more. His jaw has a bruise forming, all black and blue with a little yellow. They’re both panting from running, and Diane is trying to clean the blood on her knees, the pain is excruciating.

“Damn, no one should fuck with you,” says the blonde. They both share a laugh, then he holds out his hand. “My name is Meliodas Ljon. You may call me Mel, if you like.”

“Name’s Diane Artemis,” Diane shakes his hand. “Well, thank you for helping me, Mel. I best be on my way.”

“Where are you going?” Meliodas asks, cocking up an eyebrow. “You’re injured, dirty, and going to get sick in the fall if you stay outside like that. At least come to my house to get cleaned up.”

Diane’s eyes go wide as saucers. Meliodas is the first person to tell her something like this-- to be actually worried about her. Biting her lip, she agrees to follow him. He takes her block after block, shop after shop, people giving them looks; either looks of pity, disgust, or fear-- as if two gross teenagers were going to attack them. 

Soon, they arrive in a neighborhood with nice looking mansions. Diane feels out of place, as they are the fancy houses owned by rich people. She’s also surprised that some rich boy decided to help a dirt poor girl who looks like a human garbage can. 

Meliodas stops at a house at the end of the street. It is big, could maybe have twelve people living in there, with marble stairs leading to two big doors. They towered over the both of them. Diane’s body goes cold, her guts are twisted steel. They walk to the front door, and she can see movement coming from inside. Meliodas unlocks the door, enters the house. Before Diane has a chance to turn around and walk back, he’s grabbed her wrist and dragging her inside.

“I’m back,” says Meliodas. He shuts the door and walks to the living room, his grip still on Diane’s wrist. There are two people, a man and a woman, sitting on a couch with coffee in their hands. They both turn their heads, but stop to stare in shock. The woman, who has raven black hair, goes over to Meliodas, checking the bruise and black eye on his face, and his grip on her wrist loosens. Diane takes one look at the man and immediately recognizes the copper hair and blue eyes; the man from last night. Meliodas is his son? “I found that girl you were talking about, by the way.”

“Where did you find her?” asks the copper haired man. His eyes are wide, and he stands up and walks over to Diane. She steps away from him in fear, getting ready to run. His expression softens a little as the woman and Meliodas watch them. “Hey, hey, I’ve been going to the cafe you work at for a while now. I noticed that you looked dirty and tired and I had gotten worried. I’m Escanor Ljon, and this is my wife, Merlin.”  

The woman-- Merlin-- waves at her. Diane, still bewildered, looks at Meliodas. They lock eyes for a moment, and she knows she can trust them. She relaxes, her mind away from the thought of running away again. They had obviously wanted to help her, and she couldn't say no. Diane cautiously holds out her hand. “I’m Diane Artemis. Thank you for helping me. Your son, Mel, is very kind.”

Escanor and Merlin shake her hand, even though it was muddy. Merlin wrapped an arm around her, guiding her to the bathroom to shower. She offered to take Diane’s clothes, wash them, and provide new clothing just for her. Diane accepted her offer, then told her that she would explain everything to them once she was cleaned up. Merlin smiled a little, then went to get her clean clothes. 

As Diane is in the shower, Escanor and Merlin are having a conversation with Meliodas. He explains how he found her asleep in the alley, and the older guy who tried to steal her bag, and how they both took him down. Escanor and Merlin look at each other, and they know that Diane is going to live there, no matter what. Not only is Meliodas attached, but they are too. 

Diane walks out in an outfit that’s a bit too big on her, but still fit better than Escanor’s clothes did on Meliodas when he first showed up to their doorstep only five months ago. She sits down next to Meliodas and takes a deep breath. 

“Why don’t we start with how you got here?” suggests Merlin. She reaches over and holds Diane’s hand for just a moment before smiling at her. Diane nods, and explains everything; from her parents and kids telling her she was wrong just because she existed to how she ran away to when she got here and met Meliodas.

A long silence follows. Meliodas and Merlin are staring at her in disbelief, Diane is biting her lip and shaking. Escanor’s hand is clenched in anger, looking like he is about to lose it. “Do you have your family’s number still?” he asks. “I’d like to give them a call.”

Diane nods and gives him their phone number. Escanor punches the number into his phone and walks out of the room. A minute later, his voice is booming throughout the house, shouting profanities and whatnot. Meliodas gets up and quickly leaves the room, up the stairs to what Diane assumes is his room. Merlin rubs Diane’s arm as a comforting sign, then she hears something she’d never thought she’d hear: “I’m suing you for verbal abuse and neglect towards your daughter and you’re all going to go to jail.”

Escanor hangs up. He walks back into the living room, looking somewhat relieved. He sits across from Diane, who is still so shocked at what he said to her own parents. He is going to sue them for what they did? she thinks. Merlin gets up and sits next to Escanor, asking if this is really what they were going to do. And what do I do from there? Stay on the street?

“Diane,” Escanor starts. Diane looks him in the eyes. He takes a deep breath, then faces her completely. “As you’ve heard, I’m-- we’re-- taking your parents to court. You don’t deserve that treatment, and you definitely do not deserve to live on the streets because of it. You’re welcome to stay here; we’d gladly fight to take custody of you.”

Diane’s jaw drops. These people, who have only known her for a day, are willing to take down her parents and take her in as their own. They’re willing to call her their daughter, and their son is willing to call her sister. Her mouth opens and closes several times, but nothing comes out. Merlin and Escanor look at each other, little bits of worry creeping onto their faces. Perhaps they’ve told her too much all at once, perhaps--

“Yes,” says Diane, her voice is shaky. “Please, I’d love to be apart of this family.”

Escanor’s face lights up. At that moment, Merlin knows Diane is going to be in the family. “Meliodas’s room is in the attic, you can have a room below. We’d love to show you around.”

After showing her around the house, Diane chooses the room on the second floor that faces the front yard, where she can see the plants grow during the summer. She still keeps her job, but she now has better parents and a brother who would kick someone’s ass with her. In the following months, Escanor has gone into court twice, fighting for Diane’s freedom from her parents and fighting for custody over her. In the end, the Ljons win. Diane Artemis is now Diane Ljon.

[twowritingdisasters]

It absolutely gets worse; it gets worse to the point of impossibility but it d o e s

Thanks for your art and so glad you’re enjoying it! -Blade

YOU. DO. NOT. ADOPT. BROTHERS. SEPARATELY!!!

Just how I’m picturing Zeldris and Estarossa’s part in ‘Take Me There, Take Me Home’ @twowritingdisasters do check it out!

[twowritingdisasters]

yeah and it gets fuckin' worse

but TYSM for liking the first chapter! - Matt

YOU. DO. NOT. ADOPT. BROTHERS. SEPARATELY!!!

Just how I’m picturing Zeldris and Estarossa’s part in ‘Take Me There, Take Me Home’ @twowritingdisasters do check it out!

[twowritingdisasters]

When will you write another chapter? Loved the first one. Can't stop reading

next monday! chapter two is currently being written by matt. tysm for liking it!! stay tuned for next week!

- Matt