Give me prompts; I give you drabbles.

[Misso Pan]

SPOILER: Click to show

It wasn’t uncommon for people to say they want to go out with a bang when it comes their time to die, but not many people imagine it happening quite like this. The entire world saw it. The entire world saw panic, and fear, and the desperate pleas of friends and family for the dying man to simply not die.

They needed him. They all did.

No one wanted their brother to die.

But when Arthur did, it shattered the entire Kirkland family.

They sat there watching, Arthur would become Prime Minister, an ambition he’d had for a long time. His entire family would be watching him achieve his goals and obtain a seat of power no one dared imagine he would ever have.

In one instant, that vanished, and the entire world was watching. Donald begged Arthur to stay with them, utterly terrified of where his little brother was going. Peter would eventually come to know this as the day he saw Iain cry for the first time. Possibly the only time. There was no greater pain than this, and Peter, though not directly related to Arthur or any of the other “main branch” Kirklands, he still felt as if a vital part of his soul had been ripped away from him.

He watched it happen on the television, excitedly waiting for Arthur’s hard work to finally pay off and lead him into glory. He knew this was what Arthur had been working for in all the years he knew him. Peter could only imagine how his favorite cousin must have been feeling at that very moment, before a shot rang through the air and he reeled backwards, clutching at his chest which was suddenly becoming drenched in crimson.

A pregnant silence followed, and then Arthur collapsed, sending the celebration into panic for fear of the shooting striking another unfortunate soul. They tried, but missed, as several more shots exploded in the air, prompting a nearly immediate response from the authorities.

He was loaded up quickly and taken to the nearest hospital, where doctors tried to save him as best they could. His brothers desperately trying to call him back and encourage him, but their efforts were futile.

Arthur wasn’t his brother, but he sure felt like he was.

Peter did all of his crying when Arthur lay in the hospital dying from the assassination he never would have wished on his cousin in a thousand years. He died, and Peter couldn’t hold his tears in at all, and they refused to stop falling long into the night until he managed to fall asleep, when all he did was dream of the scenario happening again. The dream repeated every night.

And now, Peter stood next to Iain, quivering as his hand clung desperately to his older cousin’s. He needed strength, because what resolve he thought he had was wavering.

Arthur was usually the first person Peter went to for everything, defaulting to his other cousins when Arthur either wasn’t in the mood or couldn’t help. He was smart and he knew a lot of useful information. Though Iain was just as smart, his help was very specialized. Arthur’s range of intelligence was a little more broad – and when given a subject he excelled in, Arthur’s passion for explanations and teaching made everything so much easier to learn.

He was (almost) always willing to listen to Peter’s complaints or rants. He tended to end every conversation the same way, telling people that there were plenty of others that had it worse, but he listened until the very end. Peter would always thank him with the tightest, most sincere hug he could conjure.

In return for all of Arthur’s hard work managing his job, his party, and his cousin, Peter tried his best to make sure he always came back to the home and never had to lift a finger. He was no cook, but he quickly learned how to use the phone to organize something easy and delicious. He was lazy, but he pulled his weight too. Arthur probably couldn’t have began to count the times he would come home to a spotless house, courtesy of Peter’s unnatural joy in cleaning.

Arthur wasn’t exactly the most social man on the planet. He attempted to reward Peter and show him affection with gifts and video games. It worked, but what Peter loved most about trips out of the house was just talking to him. Feeling like a part of the family that Arthur wanted having around. He enjoyed more than anything.

There were always days Arthur never wanted him around. He was a busy man, married to his work and if he had the choice he never would have taken Peter in—right? Did he even have a choice, or was it just him doing as he was told? He was – was – Prime Minister… he didn’t need to listen to anyone. Peter was ecstatic to be living with Arthur, but it was only shortly after he got there that he realized life with him wasn’t going to be the carefree lifestyle he was hoping for.

Arthur was a grumpy man, assailed by work, relatives. He was always tried, always in a bad mood. Peter tried his best to lighten his life the best he could, but he’d always end up joining in the detrimental fun and teasing his other cousins forced upon Arthur. It was fun, he couldn’t help it! He wanted to feel as if he was part of the group! And yet for all those times, he never regretted a single one until this very moment, when he realized the last thing he said to Arthur wasn’t affectionate or loving at all.

”Wow, you’re being a jerk today. I hope you trip up on stage and fall on your face.

Arthur did more than just trip.

He was utterly terrified out of his skin, and regretted everything. He felt that he might have guaranteed this happening with his less-than-encouraging fare well. Peter felt that somehow, this was his fault.

The tears began to fall again, Peter’s body convulsing violently as it was wracked with vicious sobs, the salty liquid stinging his already-raw cheeks. He felt Iain’s hand place itself on one of his shoulders, attempting to comfort and encourage him wordlessly. Peter stumbled forward, his hands gripping the steel bars of the casket while his forehead pressed into the edge. His voice hitched and his chest heaved as he attempted, through his crying, to give Arthur the goodbye he deserved earlier.

“You weren’t supposed to die, Arthur. You weren’t supposed to—I love you more than anything, you’re not a jerk at all! You never were.”

‘You shouldn’t be dead…’ Peter continued, refusing to leave his almost-brother behind.

He was really the person he needed in his life, someone that felt the same kind of loneliness – except maybe in Arthur’s case, he had it a lot worse. Peter wasn’t quite able to comprehend it until it was too late, he was always involved in their antics.

Arthur left him behind. He’d be taken somewhere else, but he didn’t want everything to change again. His voice was hoarse as he spoke again, and he coughed harshly as his words caught in his throat.

“I’m going back to my parents, aren’t I?” Or, by that time, mostly likely the singular parent who would moan at the prospect of having him once more. After his time in London he definitely didn’t want to. He barely received any calls from his mother during that time, and his father definitely had no time.

He looked up at Iain, cautiously, eyes reddened deeply. The Scotsman couldn’t take his eyes off the inert form in the casket, but he also seemed as if he was struggling to keep an unemotional face. As if any moment that façade would crack and a flood of tears would burst forth. “No. I don’t have the best means to take care of you, but I don’t think I can let you go back.”

Not yet.

Peter wiped his face on his sleeve, making way for more of his sadness to come out in droves. There was no end to his tears, it took everything Peter was made of to not let his knees buckle under him.

Arthur wasn’t his brother, but he was the closest Peter ever had… and now he was gone.

[Deleted]

SPOILER: Click to show

Crack.

There was a silence, following by a stifled sob that echoed alongside the steady dripping of liquid to the stone floor beneath the feet of two figures. One was tied tightly to a chair, the other standing impatiently before them, gun in hand.

Only the day before had this captive female been free, captured on her way home in board daylight by figures too dangerous to risk reporting. Her face bled, she spat blood, and her tears stained crimson as they flowed down her bruised skin.

“I don’t know…” Squeaked a timid, shaking voice. She sniffed, choked on a sob. “I swear I don’t.”

He didn’t believe her. She was hit again. She cried again, this time freely as she slumped over weakly, frozen and petrified. She couldn’t even shake anymore. Her situation was hopeless.

They had been at this for hours, the interrogation only recently resorting to violence as impatience took over rationality. Slowly, the barrel of the handgun pressed into the top of her head. A click, then his index finger hovered over the trigger. This was stupid, a waste of time. He was done attacking and getting no answers.

Most people would have cracked by then, but she was dedicated and unwavering, and if faithful to the very end that she might be rescued.

“I will ask again.” He intimidated through clenched teeth. “I want names. I want addresses, numbers.”

She lied and whispered her answer. “… I don’t know.”

He pulled the trigger.

[Misso Pan]

SPOILER: Click to show

“When I was trying to put my feelings into words, I spent hours writing them out. I had papers, note cards. I memorized them, so I’d know exactly what I wanted to say when I finally got up here and would be able to speak. It’s funny, then, that despite all of my hard work, I find myself unable to recall a single line I wrote. But I guess that must be a good thing, you know? That means I can speak to you right now, face to face, from my heart. Right off the top of my head, because I just have so much to say.

You have so little good to say about yourself, but I disagree. You may think you’re not perfect, but this is untrue. You’ve… you’ve made such an incredible improvement of yourself. It’s amazing to think about what you went through, to imagine you then, and then see you now. You may say you’re imperfect, that your soul is black, or dank, or worthless. But for all your flaws, there is so much more good. I see no ugliness in you when I look at you. You would not be the man you are today, the man that stands in front of me right now, otherwise. You could say you'd be better, but it wouldn't be you.

I’m happy I met you. I think some of you luck might have rubbed off on me when we first met, because when that day did happen the last thing I expected was this to happen. It seems so far away now, but looking back it almost was like destiny. It managed to survive through Vash’s dedicated efforts, at least. That says a lot!

I love your smile, that was the first thing I noticed about you. It radiated happiness. It was the kind of smile that could cheer anyone upon on the gloomiest days. You have a way with using that smile to brighten anyone’s mood. I can’t even begin to count how many times you’ve made me happy just by letting me see that happy face of yours. It’s hard to resist, it’s so unfair! The way you speak, your inflection… I love listening to you speak, which is good because you always have something to say! You always know just what to say, it’s as if just automatically know how to fix everything. Not to mention you’re funny, and make me laugh with the smallest effort possible.

Oh gosh, the second thing I noticed was your hair. I'm sorry, but I did. Bright, like fire, like torchlight. So when I compare you to a light and imagine a torch, it just ends up being too perfect. Your hair, then your eyes... gorgeous green. Though I admit I have a bit of a thing for green eyes. It's the color of life, of nature. It's a very clean color, and with your hair you have a perfectly meshed mixed of features that compliments all your best qualities.

Don’t even get me started on how you move. Just watching your face is a joy, but then there’s that way to carry yourself that gives off the impression no darkness can touch you. In the presence of such sheer joy, how could anyone possibly feel unhappy? I know I never do.

I can’t help but love you. All of you. And I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to love you as long as I can. Maybe even longer than that.”

This is the lamest thing I have ever written I am so sorry it sucks god crap muffin darnit face. I had this idea hovering around and it didn't turn out like I wanted to

/sobs and rolls off to a corner

[Deleted]

SPOILER: Click to show

The mission was a suicide, and everyone was slaughtered.

They remained missing for weeks, and by the time their bodies were recovered the already mangled forms had deteriorated beyond all recognition. Lili’s worst fears were confirmed by a phone call she dreaded receiving, but her gut told her long before that it was true.

She slid down the wall she clung to for support, tears flowing like rivers, and her composure crumbled as if built on a foundation of sand.

Like sunlight blocked by permanent eclipse, a shadow cast itself over her, dark and abyssal.

Everyone she loved was dead.

[Deleted]

SPOILER: Click to show

He’d been planning this for a while. He hinted at it once, subtly, never mentioned it again. Heracles thus hoped the call was going to be a giant surprise. It wasn’t often he went to places with people but this was special. Very special.

He dialed the number of Nicoleta’s cell phone, held it to his ear, and waited. Chances were high she’d be pretty pissed at him. After all, her daytime was his night. If he knew Nicoleta, she was sleeping by this time, unless by some miracle she was awake. Sure enough she wasn’t, and she groggily answered her phone after glaring at the calling I.D.

“You better have a good reason for this, you ass.”

He laughed into the phone, imagining the sleepy scowl on her face as she lay there, angrily attempting to spirit-glare him into submission. It didn’t work.

“Morning, princess.” He teased lightly as he held the phone up to his ear via shoulder, leaving his hands free to clean his kitchen before the trip. All of the loose ends were being tied, he was meticulously ensuring this. A neighbor would come by and feed his cats, give them water, change their boxes, another neighbor would spy through the window to ensure this happened, he was packed and ready to go. All he needed to do was finish making his home presentable.

“I have a great reason, actually, but before I get started you might want to pack.” A clank of plates was heard through the phone line, snapping Nicoleta a bit more awake. That, and his suggestion to pack. Oh damn it, what was Heracles planning this time?

With a groan, she hopped out of bed and stretched, running her fingers through her tangled, red-brown hair. He was going to pay for this. “And what, may I ask, will I be packing for and why?”

“Well, for one, we have a flight to catch in four hours.”

Wait, what.

“Pardon?” Nicoleta was sure she heard him wrong. What was he doing dragging her onto a plane!?

“Second, you’ll be in Greece for two weeks, so packing would be a smart choice, I think.”

Okay, that was cool. She argued, though, even as she rummaged through her drawers to find herself clothes for the trip. She’d have to call Estelle and—oh boy… Estelle. That would be fun. Anyway, even as she argued, she got herself ready. He sounded excited, and to be honest she’d be waiting for something like this to happen.

“Herc, you sly bastard, you.” Okay, her hoodie. She needed that. Into the suitcase. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before? Do you have any idea how hard it’ll be to get ready? To call people?” Socks next.

“Well, no.” Heracles admitted. Truth be told his spontaneous leave had to coincide with a class vacation. He had to plan this months in advance to make sure he got good, inexpensive seats. Now, imagine how difficult it must have been to keep his mouth shut throughout the entire thing?

“You’re going to make a lot of enemies, you know.” Estelle already hated Herc’s guts, but resisted taking her heel to his balls for the sake of her best friend. Difficult. Herc wasn’t scared, though. In fact, he barely knew Estelle even existed, much less hated him.

“I don’t care, as long as I get two weeks with you, I can take all the hounding I’ll get for this, no matter how long it lasts.” Nicoleta laughed into the mouthpiece as she stuffed more clothed into her suitcase and contemplated grabbing a second.

“You’re going to regret that, Professor.”

[Misso Pan]

SPOILER: Click to show

That usual elation Heracles felt returning to his home country was doubled- no, tripled today. Dragging Nicoleta around was probably going to be difficult. Her sleeping pattern was insane, he’d have to pump her full of coffee just to get her through the day. If they were going to be hanging around Greece for the next couple of weeks (“Why two?!” she continued to ask), she’d have plenty of time to maim her schedule again, enjoy the scenery, and then go back to her nocturnal pattern.

And so, they did.

They went to the Acropolis and he rambled on about history, just as he always did. He told her about Athena Nike, the history of the Parnethon and the Persian Wars, how the Delian League funded the ambitions of Pericles to expand the glory of Athens. Then he went on an almost entirely unrelated tangent.

“It was a little funny the way the other city-states reacted, you know?” Heracles continued, as they abandoned the Parthenon to examine one of the many other temples in the city’s sacred center. “Athens paraded its power over everyone smaller than they were, but it was them attacking and enslaving the islands that...”

Nicoleta only smiled and listened with interest to his lessons, admiring the passion with which he spoke. He knew so much off the top of his head, he spoke with such excitement… she loved that about him. There was never a dull moment with Heracles as long as he had something to say. His eyes sparkled as he spoke, he grinned with pure delight at her interest.

Having someone to listen to him when he rambled was one of the best feelings he knew.

The continued onward. They traveled and saw temples and villages and towns. They visited Delphi, he rambled about that as well. The city-states went to Delphi for all of their decisions, and had to interpret prophecies and instructions to guide them. A message from Delphi saved Athens from destruction during the Persian war. Encouragement from the oracle influenced the Spartans to take on Persia herself. Magic or not, the oracle guided history in one direction instead of the other, as if Apollo himself were truly a real entity.

Mountains, he loved the mountains. Coming home to Greece’s rocky, breathtaking terrain was a welcome change from London. He missed it every time he went back, and this two weeks would go by so quickly, and even quicker with Nicoleta there to make him happier.

But then, it was Nicoleta’s turn to guide them around. With a map, she pointed him to buildings in the cities, to restaurants, to art on corners she found interesting. She grabbed his hand, pulled him along, hazel eyes lit with cheerful mischief. She smirked at him, threw him as many places as she could. Probably as revenge for dragging her here, but that was okay. He didn’t mind.

He grasped Nicoleta’s hand tightly, heart pounding. It almost wasn’t enough to simply be in her presence, to just be here with her. They were friends, that was all. This was a friendly vacation with a friend. But free from everything, free to his thoughts and away from mindless work, he couldn’t keep his mind off a fact that had been bothering him constantly since the day after they arrived.

He loved her.

That thick feeling in his chest when he thought about her, that sense of happiness when he saw her smile – smile, not smirk – and that feeling of genuine affection. He got to see a side of her here, away from London, from what she did, from his job. Everything seemed so pure and unmasked now. He hoped that wasn’t far from the truth… he wanted something pure.

From two entirely different ends of the spectrum—okay, almost. He wasn’t a police officer or anything, but he was about as normal as they could get. Ordinary, normal.

Here, she could be normal.

Her expression was so utterly normal, as if nothing back home could touch her. Like him.

Heracles watched her, beaming. Watching her enjoying herself (enjoying herself in such a way that didn’t scare the shit out of him) was almost like a high. He couldn’t get enough of listening to her laugh or seeing happiness on her face.

Nicoleta was a hard person for him to read sometimes. He made no secret of his initial attraction to her, expressing interest that she rejected. But she rejected, and continued to hang around. Most people he asked wouldn’t object sleeping with him once or twice, but Nicoleta was different and odd in that respect.

But seeing her now, he finally knew why.

[Deleted]

SPOILER: Click to show

Eighteen hours.

The last day – days, even because she knew it was coming – was a stressful nightmare. She had no idea how she managed to make it to the end. Or, heck… the last few months were a nightmare because honestly, the pregnancy didn’t start getting frustrating until the latter half. Carrying a baby was a lot more painful than she imagined it would be, and it didn’t that she was so petite and slight in structure. She hoped and rationalized that she wasn’t alone, and that other women might as suffered as she did.

She did it all with a smile, though. They were working for this, after all. If she wasn’t going to go through with this with a smile, she would never have planned this family with him.

She lay there in white, weakly, panting heavily and attempting to calm herself and regain her strength. She was out of breath, her body quivered from shock, her skin moist with enough perspiration to make anyone cringe. Her face was stained with tears, her eyes red from crying, grey from lack of sleep.

What Donald didn’t realize until this very moment, was just as strong Lili’s grip was. He wanted to be there beside her, he offered his hand in comfort because it was all he could do. Lili exploited the hand, squeezing hard, nails digging into the flesh as she screamed her voice hoarse from the pain that assaulted her body. It was unlike anything she’d ever been through before, like her entire being was locked in a vise and being compressed to its limits.

By the time it was over, Don’s hand felt as if she had crushed it into dust. It was numb, if she’d made it bleed he couldn’t tell, but he didn’t care. He was paying more attention to what was happening in that private little room, as a team of doctors swerved in between each other to remove the newborn from its mother. Lili had only heard voices, the steady beeping of her heart as told by the monitor, and the sound of her own screaming as the ordeal passed.

But now a new sound was added. When compared to the symphony of pain earlier, this new music was the very embodiment of life. The squealing of a frightened newborn permeated the air, reached her ears, and made her smile. The tears that fell then were different. They were elated and calm, and slowly she allowed her hand to fall away from Donald’s to give him a break from hers. Lili’s eyes her heavy and begged for sleep, but she wouldn’t allow it yet.

“A girl,” they said. She repeated that in her mind, a girl. “Strong set of lungs, from the sound of it.” Chuckled one of the doctors.

Her baby, their child… it was screaming for her. Cold, scared, wet, the world unfamiliar. It needed protection, and Lili finally understood the unconditional love her brother felt for her. Knowing you stand between life and death, knowing the well-being of another rests entirely on you and your capability. Knowing finally that your life had purpose and something to live for.

Finally cord was cut, and the infant was briefly cleaned, just enough to be presentable to the new parents, and then wrapped and handed over. The squealing baby quieted almost instantly in Lili’s secure, loving arms, almost sensing the maternal smile she had on her face. The baby squirmed, tiny hands escaping the confines of the towel to reach out blindly into the world, must too cautious and afraid to open her eyes and greet the light.

Donald seemed almost dumbstruck. He reached out slowly and pressed the tip of his index finger gently into the palm of the baby’s hand. He was almost met with recoil, but the contact was comforting to the wriggling little thing. He breathed a laugh, his characteristic grin reaches its limits. “Well, lookit that… tiny, isn’t she. Hard to believe we all start out like that.”

Her little hand was just barely bigger than his finger, and her feet were just as small. He was right, Lili could hardly believe that she was supposed to be healthy. She’d never seen a newborn before, life freshly breathed into them. They were always so much bigger, so much chubbier and so much more giggly.

Just as beautiful, though.

If this were any other child, she might not have felt this way. But not her, not this tiny little blessing in her arms, this one was perfect. Gingerly Lili held the baby close, allowed herself to sink down into her damp pillow and relax happily. “Hard to believe, yeah. Almost a year, it seemed like it would take forever, didn’t it.”

But they had plenty to keep them busy. There was planning, they spent a good part of the year trying to get a nursery ready, something neutral so they wouldn’t have to flip around trying to redesign anything. It was probably a good thing their child was a girl, because Lili just couldn’t resist adding some of her favorite flowers into the design.

She reminisced quietly on the events of the year. The excitement of finding out she was pregnant and the joyous smiles that followed. She remembered the prospect frightening her. She figured most new mothers worried themselves about how they’d take care of their family, and took solace in the idea that it was only natural to be afraid. It all seemed so silly now, as if everything suddenly clicked in the end and she no longer felt afraid.

She wasn’t alone either.

“We’re going to take her now, okay?”

Lili looked up, almost shocked. Almost. The brief moment with her new child had ended so quickly and now they were going to take her away. She knew they wouldn’t do anything, and she knew she’d see the baby soon, but Lili still found herself oddly defensive.

The nurse that spoke then looked at her, sympathy and understanding plain in her tired face. “We’re going to clean her up, and run a couple of tests, and bring her right back, is that alright?”

Lili took the moment to nuzzle her child again and gave her up to the nurse, herself feeling suddenly incomplete. “We’re going to move you to another environment as well. We need to get you out of those clothes, and into a cleaner bed.”

Right, yes.

What tests that were left were brief. As small as she was, Lili worried her doctor a little bit, but got through the pregnancy with few complications and delivered a perfectly healthy little girl. By noon of the next day, the three of them were on their way home, the past day and the months preceding it fading into memory, while the road ahead looked bright and full of the unexpected and new experiences.

The newest addition to the Kirkland and Zwingli families was lucky enough to be born in a city where a good portion of the family was already residing. Each present for the birth (almost, they sat in the other room but only Donald was actually there), they kept to themselves until the family was sent home, when the lot of them finally began to talk amongst themselves, congratulating them and fawning over the little girl. Aislinn, they named her. It was an Irish Gaelic word that meant “dream,” and how appropriate that name was.

When she finally opened her eyes, they were blue. Not the vivid green anyone expected, but Iain remembered each of his siblings coming home with the same color - except Cerys. “She’ll grow into green eventually.” He assured. It was almost odd for a Kirkland to not have green eyes, but then Peter interjected and asked angrily if he suddenly wasn’t part of the family. He was silenced with a ruffle of his hair from Donald, and replied with an annoyed huff.

Peter always said his eyes made him special anyway. He wasn’t like the rest of his cousins!

Even Vash’s normally hardened face was able to soften for Aislinn. His dislike for Donny and even his relatives was overpowered by his love for his sister. Aislinn was a Kirkland, but she was a Zwingli too. At least with that logic he could love her just as strongly as he did Lili. Thankfully. He hugged his sister tightly and congratulated her, told her he loved her.

“Vash, I used to think you’d beat me to it. You’re older than I am.” She teased. He blushed and stammered, perhaps thinking of some secret lady Lili didn’t yet know about.

“I wouldn’t think too hard about it, Schwester. I’m not quite as personable as you are.” Although he’d hate any man that dare take his sister away from him, he eventually had to accept the fact that Lili would always have people in her life and not all of them could be him.

And then there was the little one, the reason the family was gathered.

It was hard for anyone else to give any attention to little Aislinn. She wasn’t quite ready to leave her mother, even threatening whimpers when Donny wanted a shot at holding her, so it wasn’t any surprise when the rest of the family tried to get in on the action, instead receiving a loud cry.

It took a lot of coaxing to get her to remain quiet for her father. Lili always had to be in view, always touching her, always encouraging her with a smile.

When Donald was finally able to hold her, this time with help and assurance from Lili, he felt his heart utterly melt at the sight of his daughter. The word daughter felt so unfamiliar on his tongue, but at the same time it was the most correct thing he could say. He always imagined having a daughter first, and he name properly and perfectly expressed everything he felt.

A dream.

A dream come true, something he never expected he’d be able to have and deserve. That curious look on her face, darting between parents as if asking if this man holding her was part of the family. She couldn’t smile yet, and wiggled her arms as if trying to experiment with her brand-new nervous system. His smile was one of contentment, of comfort. He laughed to express his gratitude to everyone and everything that blessed him with this opportunity and this family of his, a laugh which grew even more jubilant when he felt Lili press her lips into his hair.

”Who do you think she’ll end up looking like?”

“As long as she doesn’t look like Donny. We need more variety! And less of him.”

“I don’t think we could handle a clone, that’s for sure.

It was late when the home finally emptied itself of Kirklands and Zwingli, leaving the three together and alone at last. It was the first time the little family had time to themselves over the last couple of days, usually being assailed by nurses, family, or just not being together.

They spoke to her, laughed with her, and very gently played. This new addition to their tiny family would be loved and spoiled, if not by her parents, then by her relatives. Her day-old mind couldn’t comprehend their strange speech, but their tones were already soothing.

She cried, though. How she cried. The doctor wasn’t lying when he said her lungs were powerful, no doubt a gift from her over-talkative father who seemed to have no end of breath when he spoke.

“Oh goodness, she’s going to be like you. What have we done.” Lili joked, finally quieting Aislinn with a bottle, also hoping a full belly might encourage her to fall asleep. “She’s going to talk the ears off everyone she meets.”

And anyone that knew either of them would say that they both doomed her to one of the most blossoming social lives anyone could ever have. They were going to have their hands full with this child, Lili and Donald could agree on that already.

Aislinn yawned and fussed again, foreshadowing the ensuing cries if she didn’t get what she wanted. Lili hadn’t slept decently over the last three days. The last of rest had been taking its toll on her through the reunion, showing in her eyes and her movements as they slowed and dulled.

Donald offered to take Aislinn and set her down for the night, refusing to relent when Lili objected, knowing the baby would only cry. She needed her sleep, and he already knew that chances were high they’d be up and about only a couple of hours later. This was only going to get more difficult.

“I’ll be fine.” He assured, taking Aislinn securely into his arms. She fussed, mewled and called back for her mother, but before she could begin her cries fully she was laid down in her crib, which until that moment had been vacant for months. It was soft, comfortable, and warm, as if it were some form emulating the arms of her parents.

She couldn’t cry when she was sat down, and looked up with infantile bewilderment at Donald.

“You don’t like me yet,” Donald whispered, brushing the back of a finger cross her pristine cheek with a smile of admiration on his face. The first night home. Having taken so many lives in the past, it was the most glorious, inspirational feeling to know that he had the capability of giving life as well. It was poetic, in a way. This child was his. His. His little Aislinn. “but I have the feeling you will. I’ll try my hardest to give you the best life I can. Make you laugh, be there when you need me, and never, ever leave.”

You learn from your mistakes. You learn, and you do better.

He was going to do more than that, he was going to be the best. If he had any doubts before, there was a sudden burst of fire in his chest. A new determination.

This was something he wasn’t going to mess up. He wouldn’t let it happen.

Aislinn yawned, squeaking as she did so. Her eyes fluttered shut, obviously too disinterested in what Donald had to say. It wasn’t as if she could understand him anyway. Donald quickly made sure she was completely covered and entirely secure, and then flipped the on-switch of the monitor that hung to the side. Just in case.

He smiled, quietly murmured a prayer in thanks as he stood to say his goodnight.

“I love you.”

[Asunara Wisdom]

TOO ADORABLE FFFF

[Deleted]

Heehee. ;w;

[Deleted]

SPOILER: Click to show

Have you ever been subjected to dreams in which you feel everything? Every pain, every movement, every step. You feel the wind in your hair, the wetness of blood as it seeps out of wounds inflicted by some evil that chases you into the woods that seem to forever populate the interior of your personal dreamland.

The terrifying pain that assaulted my body as I slept blinded me to the terror that was taking place outside what should have been my getaway from reality. Indeed, I was trapped – a slave to whatever horrific beast was holding me captive within the recesses of myself. I struggled; I screamed. I clawed out for aid to a figure in the distance, it dark and anonymous, but he shook his head and turned his back to me. I could feel my eyes widen in fear as I cried out more desperately than before, reaching out for my salvation as it stepped further and further from me.

Clawed hands that dripped red with blood wrapped around my waist and neck and pulled me back into the throng of dark creatures that squirmed around me. The feeling was utterly disgusting, as if my body was soaking up the liquid darkness that pooled underneath me. I couldn’t break free. I couldn’t soak my body further to slide out of their slimy grasps. I was helpless.

A creature, this one even bleaker and blacker than all that came before it, crawled up to the top of the pile and stared at my with red eyes that visibly illuminated the squirming shadows. It grinned at me, showing off its sharp, jagged teeth that, like its eyes, seemed to glow just as vibrantly, and oozed liquid that, in the light, was uncanny to the look of blood.

My face drained itself of blood as I stared at the demon that had made a perch of its brethren. I wanted to scream, and I tried to do so just as a mass of wet, colorless flesh forced its way across my mouth, seeming to suck the breath of life from my body and render me voiceless.

My body restrained and voice utterly silenced, I was powerless and spiritless to repel the beast as it slowly climbed over to me, as if every movement was a statement to taunt me. I fought viciously for my freedom, feeling the sweat bead up on my skin and mesh with ooze splashed upon me from the flopping figures that moved ceaselessly about my body.

It reached out and touched me, and immediately a searing pain shot through the body from the spot its claw had grazed. The finger trailed across my leg, cursing and corrupting the flesh and visibly blackening every inch that was being touched.

I was dying. I was being killed. I could feel a sense of impending doom come over me as panic stuck my heart. Even muffled by the mass of demon flesh that wrapped over my mouth I tried to yell for help out of pain and fear. A poke at my chest shut my body down and I fell limp into the pool of black ooze, but I was still conscious of myself. Brown eyes darting through the pitch-colored air, I fought to close my eyes to the beast that threatened me, but to no avail. My eyes were locked with the monster, widening as it towered over me with a toothy, blood-soaked grin. It leaned down slowly, its descent feeling as if it took ages to complete.

In an instant my body went entirely cold save the scorch of burning pain that shot from my neck as jagged teeth dug harshly into the fragile flesh. I still couldn’t scream aloud, voicing instead powerful, fearful cries that, despite the arm that silenced it seemed to echo off every wall in my wall-less, dark world. My body quivered and tried to break free, but to no avail; I was trapped, meal to a tortuous pain and a hungry beast that drained me of my life. I felt every drop of blood leave my body through the horrible punctures through my neck.

When the beast pulled away, I stared weakly and fearfully up at the un-sky, drifting numbly in the throng of creatures that gave way to my weight like quicksand.

I sank into the darkness, eyes closing forever as I fell into nothing.

[Deleted]

SPOILER: Click to show

I really don't know where to start, friend-in-dreams.

The entire story is like a blur to me; not because it went by so quickly, though, as I'm quite confident that the turning of the moons indicated a period of time equivalent to at least three months. But alas, in my questing I failed to keep time for myself, so I'm not actually sure, to be honest.

Ah, but where was I? I needn't go on such tangents. That is not why you are here, nor is it an integral part of the story I wish to tell you. Well, perhaps that is a lie, as the weight of time was heavy indeed, and Nirn almost crumbled underneath it when it faced near-descruction at the hands of a creature more deadly than Mehrunes Dagon.

The Oblivion crisis that took place 200 years prior was stopped by a common man, one whom happened to stumble upon glory, a man who took a chance that happened to be thrown at him. I was destined for greatness the moment I was born.

But yes, time. Time was short. But time was also long, as you will realize soon enough.


~****~


I woke with a shiver.

My fur bristled under a chilled wind, and with some difficulty my eyes opened, taking in with confusion the bright, frozen sand that fell from the sky. I could not brush away this sand as it collected on my ragged clothing, as my hands were bound in chains that I was unable to break. Unable to reach my face, I instead shook my head, attempting to rid myself of the pain in my head that throbbed as I moved. Moving, however, was an action I could not stop myself from doing, for I noticed in moments that the ground beneath me was moving along a jagged path that bounced and threw the wagon upon which I rode.

"Well, friend," said a voice from in front of me. I lifted my head, eyes lazily scanning my companion. "It looks like you're awake."

I could tell from his accent and scent that he was a native of these lands. A Nord. But then it dawned on me, and I realized there I was. This sand was a rarity in Elsweyr, but it was possible if one knew where to go - mostly the tall mountains. But then people would argue that the mountains were not Elsweyr and were in fact Valenwood. I would call those people stupid.

I recognized it as snow - a foul, terrible substance that froze my bones and fur and caused me to quiver uncontrollably. My suffering seemed to amuse my half-naked Nordic neighbor, for he laughed and chuckled and did not cease when I sent him an angry glare.

"How can you sit so comfortably in such thin rags?" My feline voice erupted shakily from my throat. It hurt, and felt dry, as if I hadn't had a drink in days. Eyes lidded, I squirmed lightly and proceeded to use my inbornflexibility to groom my fur free of snow. It was cold, and it was barely equivalent to gulps, but it was water. At my question the Nord laughed again.

"I've been used to it my entire life. But you? Very unlucky." He pointed out the obvious as if I were not intelligent. Yes, I was unlucky to be here, and if the blow to my head told me anything, my inability to remember what happened was probably inflicted by the filth that carried me to what I could sense was my doom.

"You were caught in an Imperial ambush while crossing the border." The Nord clarified. Ah, yes. Imperials. I thought something smelled off. "With us, and that thief." Flicking his head, the Nord gestured to two others by the edge of the wagon. With a slight turn of my head I turned to glance at them.

"Dirty Stormcloaks. It's your fault I was caught." Grumbled the man whom I assumed was their thief. "If it hadn't been for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

I didn't even remember why I was crossing the border in the first place.

"What about you, huh?" The horse-thief snapped at the silent figure in front of him. He was a peculiar looking man, staring forward past his companion with his mouth tied shut with a cloth.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak!" The reverence and insult with which the first Nord spoke was almost startling, given he had such a quiet personality beforehand. This was conveyed by the jump of the second man, who looked back at the strange character in disbelief. "Ulfric Stormcloak? The Jarl of Windhelm? Y... you're the leader of the rebellion."

I could sense in him a sudden feeling of dread and fear, and my own fur bristled in anticipation. He expected something. "Gods, where are they taking us...?"

No one had an answer for him, and instead we rode along in silence. From the tension in the cold air, my instincts told me that wherever we were going would spell death for me. I was but a poor, confused cat in a strange land against my will, and was I to be imprisoned for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

"What village are you from, horse-thief?" The red-haired nord asked of his neighbor, and his question was returned with a nervous, irritated snap.

"What's it to you? Why do you care?"

"A nord's last thoughts should be of home." Indeed, confirmation of where we were headed. He seemed to know exactly what was in store for us, and that Stormcloak fellow was all the reasoning he needed. I was unaware of what sort of political turmoil must be taking place to demand a rebellion, but if the leader was being held by the Imperials, there was probably no escape for the handful of us that were chained and bound.

"Rorikstead." Replied the thief, head held down as if reluctant to accept that he was going to his death. "I'm... I'm from Rorikstead."

Nearing a town, the four of us sat once again wordlessly, with the exception of our gagged Stormcloak, whom was wordless to begin with save a grunt or two from being tossed in his seat. My companion to the front mentioned the name - Helgen - and proceeded to despondently speak of times when he was seeing a girl from there, and spoke of a particular mead brewed by a local.

I listened with disinterest, paying attention only because I had nothing else to listen to.

We finally came to the end of the line, and that's when our horse-thief began to have a breakdown, shouting injustices and begging me to help him convince the guards that we were innocent. But, my friend, I am Khajiit. Since when do Khajiit beg for mercy? We take our deaths with honor, as should this frightened Nord.

He would have no such death, though, for this frightened idiot took off in a run down the road, only to be impaled upon several arrows and left sitting in the road, his face perpetually frozen in a state of utter terror. I heard one of my fellow prisoners shake his head and tsk at the sight, muttering about him disappointing his ancestors. I suppose it was fortunate for me to have learned his name before he died - Lokir, I believe - though it was thanks to a rather stiff Imperial dog calling his name through a list.

Ralof, my red-haired companion, was next. He was braver, though. Much braver than the thief. He stood tall and rigid, even as he moved closer to the chopping block at the command of the captain. I felt my eyes blur suddenly with panic as I spotted the block, and noted that each prisoner would be lining up up as their name was recited.

My name was called. "You...." Well, not really my name. It was apparent I wouldn't be on their list of prisoners. I stepped forward, quivering with anticipation. I could only hope that my presence here would be looked over. If these men were being executed for being rebels, perhaps my obvious Khajiiti physique would grant me some immunity from this label.

"... who are you?" The second-in-command questioned me. I mumbled my name - Elthara - and he checked his list. He checked again. After checking a third time, he turned to his captain and requested an order.

"What do we do? She isn't on the list." And thus, I would be freed--

"It doesn't matter, she goes to the block."

My ears flattened against my head, and a hissed at her as I was pushed into the uneven lines around the block. The captain didn't seem to care. She was so set on impressing some nameless superior that must have been in our midst - she would make an example out of everyone, even innocents.

I decided then that I hated all Imperials. Even those in Cyrodiil tended to smell a little off.
Another man, nameless to me, was first in line to die. He spat trash at his captors, even as the axe came down upon him. His companions smiled at him, proud that he remained so stalwart even in dying and death. I had constantly been checking out the guards around us, eager to take the chance to flee should it visit me. I was no chunky, clunky Nord. Khajiit are known for the quickness and guile, yes? Yes, that was my plan, to outwit and out dodge the flying arrows, you see.

The captain had other ideas. Clever cat that she was, she read my mind and told me to step up to the block and face the axe myself, despite my obvious being last called. I wasn't even called so much as mulled over and befuddled over. But again, tangents and nitpicks!

A foot against my back pressed me down into the stone. My last thoughts were of warmer places - of home! My glorious, beautiful Elsweyr! My mind drifted to soft sands, but the reminiscing was crushed as if glass under the foot of a large, mighty cry in the distance. The executioner stopped, and glanced at his captain. He appeared quite confused, but the captain waved his concerns away and commanded we proceed.

There was another cry, and more murmurs from the crowd. What was it I was hearing, I wondered to myself. My ears twitched eagerly as it searched for the source of the sound, hoping it would come to save me!

Whatever happened next must have been a stroke of luck. That, or fate, for the entire journey it seemed as if I was guided by the twin moons themselves. I could see out of the corner of my eye a large, winged, reptilian figure gracefully twirling across the sky. The executioner didn’t notice this beast until it landed on the tower that loomed over us, shaking the ground with such a thunder that if it had been overcast, the clouds would have been inclined to drench us with water in the wake of the noise.

When the dragon screeched at me, an odd feeling of overwhelming and understanding rushed over me like a massive wave of water. I knew what this beast was saying, and yet I couldn't understand it. Perhaps that makes sense? I think it does, it works for me. It roared, and it stared, and it then it roared again, speaking words as it spewed fire on my hated Imperial foes. Suddenly I wished to ask the dragon if I could fight for it.

The town was suddenly flung into a panic! Fire and brimstone stained the crisp winter air, and tendrils of smoke danced to the melody of a hundred Nordic screams. One scream stood above the rest as it was calling my name. Ralof, the man from the cart, signaled for me to follow. “You, khajiit! I have no idea what’s going on, but we have to get out of here! Follow me before they catch us again!”

Though a grand idea, I couldn’t help but wonder to myself how we were going to escape still bound at the hands. The iron shackles that debilitated me would certainly prove to incriminate me, yes? I could not go out into the world like an escaped convict! Alas, my thinkings were interrupted by Ralof roughly punching me in the shoulder. I grinned at him, but my sheepishness wore away quickly as the dragon flew overhead and seared a building with its fiery breath. As fire leapt from its maw like an eager and hungry animal, I noted again the certain, silent sound of foreign words I knew, yet did not know.

Yol.

I heard it. In my being, I knew what it was. And yet, my mind could not fathom a definition. It’s similar to having the answer to a question on the tip of one’s tongue, only to be unable to speak or remember it, even though one knows the answer is it. It was frustrating to not be able to place this word in my vocabulary, and I seemed to be the only one to notice such a word, as Ralof took off ahead of me instead of pausing to ask, “Woah, did you hear that?”

I had precious little time to stop and ponder these odd circumstances. Ralof turned to to face me again, face contorted into a hastening expression as he gestured for me to follow. A thunderous shake struck at the ground below me, and I followed as quickly as my paws could fly.

[Misso Pan]

SPOILER: Click to show

Her hair was wet from a bath, smelled of raspberries, and fall limply through the teeth of Lili’s comb. This was little Aislinn, bright-eyed, red-haired, watching herself in the mirror as her mother fondly braided her hair. She was so much like both of them it was almost overwhelming, like every quality she held in common with Donald was increased tenfold.

Aislinn would excitedly chat about her time at school the day before, chat about what she planned to do the day coming.

“I had a good day!” She’d exclaim, jumping up into the arms of whichever parent picked her up that day, them laughing right along with them.

Lili added the finishing touch to her baby’s hair, in the form of a familiar blue ribbon.

SPOILER: Click to show

Estelle was the very embodiment of romance itself. Equipped with charm, wit, and a terrible knack for mysteriously liberating men of their belongings and their pride, she crushed London under the force of her sharpened heel and draped the ruins in style. Then she met her match. Literally, her match: Iain.

Her opposite in all; rugged, robust, utterly ungraceful in all but his speech, which smoothly poured Scotland itself into the air she breathed. Her opposite and her compliment, the final 180 to her unfinished circle. She was taken aback by tactless words, for no one had spoken to her so roughly (and lived long enough to prove her did.)

Taken aback and taken completely. Estelle had fallen in love… someone loved her back. God help us all.

SPOILER: Click to show

A shot was taken, blazing through the air like a Snitch until penetrating Arthur’s chest. He reeled backward and clutched at the wound, and struggled to stay on his feet as the pain surged through his chest like burning venom.

Never before had Peter been so scared. He was watching the celebration on TV, equipped with enough popcorn, sweets, and handheld consoles to get him through the boring speeches. Now, none of that mattered. Nothing could take his eyes away from the screen, as he tried to comprehend the unimaginable. Someone tried to kill his cousin. Mouth agape, he stared as he moved closer to the screen, yelling at the figures as if his voice could somehow make the unthinkable become unreal.

But Arthur waved off the men and women trying to help him. He shrugged off the wound, muttered something about losing his place, and simply continued. Peter’s brow was still furrowed with worry, but there was a slight dash of relief and happiness when he saw Arthur walk back to that podium. “Arthur, you jerk…”

4 - Fake
5 – Pencil
6 – Squint
7 – Misplaced
8 – Joy
9 - Party
10 – Cough
11 – Hot/Cold
12 – Sin
13 – Care
14 – Frail
15 – The End
16 – Three
17 – Never
18 – Midnight
19 – Promise
20 – Fight
21 – Pollen
22 – Embarrassment

SPOILER: Click to show

"All right, that's three!"

It took only a split second for Lili to down the burning liquid, face contorting painfully as she consumed the bitter alcohol. She couldn't spare any more time than that. The drink was like acid, one never wanted it to actually touch flesh. Why was she even doing this in the first place!?

Glasses were slammed down onto the table by the more enthusiastic participants, but not Lili. She set hers down gently, exhaling to relieve the heat in her mouth. Round four was coming up. She rubbed her temples in anticipation, staring down at the striped wood of the table.

"Hey, how you hanging up there?" Donald leaned himself down slightly, eyes angled upward to look into her face while he grinned cheekily at her expression.

"Vash is going to murder you. You know that, right?" Lili peeked out at him from behind her hands, smirking at him.

Donald merely chuckled and sat himself upright, that grin suddenly turning fearless, on top of the mirth he had no end of. He spoke, dramatically, receiving laughs from his brothers (among others) as he did so. "Ah, dearie! Your fears are all entirely unfounded! After all, when has Vash ever actually followed up on his threats."

He bent back down as if divulging a secret to her. "I think he's scared of you."

Naturally, Lili had a slight predisposition to holding her alcohol. Even then, what she had consumed already was loosening her up visibly. She laughed at his accusation, taking the small glass into her fingers once more as it was filled for a fourth time. "Scared, of me? Honestly, he acts as if the window incident marked the end of our relationship. He brought it on himself when he punched you in the gut."

"You picked sides." Donald returned, smirking.

"I did not! I merely made a persuasive argument against treating you as if you aren't family. Besides, it was just the living room window. He had bushes to cushion his fall." Her mouth gaped slightly, incredulous he would even accuse her of such a thing!

"I would have done the same to you if it were you punching Vash." She quickly added.

More laughs from the extended family at the table, a 'Watch yourself, Donny! Look what you got yourself into!'

His grin grew, betraying those dimples in his cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind! Can't anger the little dragon, now can I?"

24 – Mask
25 – Mistake
26 – Suspicion
27 – Disagreement
28 – Assignment
29 – Purple
30 – June
31 – Calculating
32 – Fall
33 – Cry
34 – Relief
35 – Breath
36 – Miserable
37 – Chocolate
38 – Violent
39 – Muffle
40 – Swift
41 – Run
42 – Poison
43 – Contagion
44 – Tissue
45 – Sore
46 – Enraptured
47 – Wary
48 – Pathetic
49 – Sweat
50 – Gentle
51 – Milk
52 – Ravenous
53 – Blanket

SPOILER: Click to show

Vash was nowhere near as talented with any sort of needle as Lili was. In fact, one could dare say that anything he bothered to touch, if indeed touching the needles were somehow important to him, he might somehow destroy whatever project lay attached at the hooked ends.

Regardless, he always managed to track down the most beautiful of objects for his sister - cheaply, of course, but he spared no amount of quality if he felt like a gift would make her happy. And honestly, the guilt he had to work with day by day made such gifts far from a rarity. If Lili's talent was making things from scratch, then one could say Vash had a true talent for commerce.

Creating or buying for Vash, however, was a little more difficult than creating or buying for Lili. Not because he would be displeased, but because Lili only ever wanted to give Vash things she was sure would be useful for him. As a man, he wasn't exactly keen on the kind of things she liked.

So... practicality over beauty, she decided. It was a scarf, the colors muted into a light pastel, hopefully fitting Vash's taste. Certainly, anything overly colorful would not fit well with anything he wore, so she attempted to create an item with a neutral color as its main - in this case, a somewhat darkened grey to contrast with the green vines embroidered in to compliment his eyes. No flowers or animals save the single rabbit hiding among the blades of grass at one end.

He rarely complained about the cold, but Lili took it upon herself to take care of him even still. His reaction, though flustered and seemingly at a loss for words, spoke endless amounts to Lili, who could read his reactions and the meaning of his words better than anyone else.

"It's...-- it's great." Compliments were never Vash's strong point.

Lili smiled and wrapped the scarf around his neck comfortably. It only embarrassed him more, but hidden away from the eyes of the public it wasn't quite so demeaning.

"I'm glad you like it."

55 – Sports
55 – Ruin
56 – Lovely
57 – Hospital
58 – Annoying
59 – Mother
60 – Bike
61 – Idiot
62 – Puppy
63 – Control
64 – Unfair
65 – Similarities
66 – Raincoat
67 – Worship
68 – Attitude

SPOILER: Click to show

Lions.

Fat, lazy, social. They sleep for what… eighteen hours every day? Hell, in the zoo about 99% of what they do is simply lounging around doing nothing, though in a zoo that probably isn’t all that surprising since it’s about all they can do.

Peter himself had climbed up onto the railing to look over the edge into the lion pit, with Iain securely grasping the back of the younger boy’s hoodie just in case he fell. He’d given up pulling the brat back down to the ground. If there was a railing, Peter would climb it. He seemed to be used to it by now.

“Hey, hey Iain.” Peter addressed, glancing over at the older man. He was met with a terse, “Aye?” in response. “Iain, have you ever considered throwing people down into the pit?”

As the oldest brother surrounded by a plethora of siblings, at least one of whom was a nightmare to be in the same room with… well, who didn’t?

“A few times—not you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Iain raised an amused brow, somewhat befuddled but entirely unsurprised. “Why?”

“I was just thinking about how you’d just fight off all the lions if I threw you in.” Because Peter really believed that.

70 – Confession
71 – Floor
72 – Remedy
73 – Don’t
74 – Ego
75 – Heartless

SPOILER: Click to show

"Weißt du, wieviel Sternlein stehen
an dem blauen Himmelszelt?"

Lili sang this softly, attempting to comfort the infant in her arms as he squirmed about and fussed, obviously tired but much too stubborn to fall asleep. Oliver, he was named. Third in a small brood.

"Weißt du, wieviel Wolken ziehen
weithin über alle Welt?"

She continued, moving gracefully about the room, the motion befitting the context on the lullaby she sang. Oliver rubbed at his eyes, burbling protest. He refused to let himself sleep. There was still so much to do in the day, despite the hours creeping quickly into night.

"Gott der Herr hat sie gezählet,
daß ihm auch nicht eines fehlet
an der ganzen großen Zahl..."

Slowly, inevitably, Oliver's struggling ceased. He quieted, his eyes fluttered shut and he curled up in Lili's arms, eagerly cuddling into the safe, maternal warmth she radiated.

Ah... she didn't even get to finish her song. Exhaling a content sigh, she secured the baby in his bed. "...an der ganzen großen Zahl."

("Weißt du, wieviel Sternlein stehen")

77 – Secret

SPOILER: Click to show

Entitled, "10 Ways to Tell Don to Shut Up." By the Misstwins.

#1:
"Donald. Shut. Up." Aoife ordered as she constructed a railway path for the baked potato from the plate to down her twin's oesophagus.

#2:
"Donald, shut up." screamed every Kirkland, including those unborn and still residing in the loins of the merry men, and those not actually present within earshot of his impressively irritating oration.

#3
"Donald, SHUT UP." Screamed Vash as he stopped an incomplete flirt with the barrel of his precious Betty shoved down into the ginger's windpipe.

#4
"东哪，你给我闭嘴!" screamed Yao in angry Chinese as he forced a row of hot ching chong balls down his throat.

#5
"Donald, shut up." Threatened Anya while breaking his hand, after he carelessly knocked over a vial of experimental fluid.

#6
"Donald, if you don't shut up, I'm going to air your porn history over the prime time news AND send it to Vash and Lili." Clara typed as her Skype window rapidly shifted upwards with endless messages from said ginger.

#7
"..." Said Mi-Yun as she thrust the blade of her scalpel desperately into his throat in an attempt to make him just stop talking.

#8
"Donald, less talky time, more sexy time." instructed Estelle as she gestured for Nicoleta to place the tape over his mouth.

#9
"Donny, shut up." said Joachim never ever whenever the two buddies started conversing. God, don't they need to breathe?

#10
"Donald, shut up..." Said Lili, placing a kiss on his lips to silence him. "You're ruining the moment." Ah, well... this one he could deal with.

79 – Music
80 – Grudge
81 – Solitude
82 – Magic
83 – Dirty
84 – City
85 – Teacher
86 – Sky
87 – Hypocrite
88 – Tattoo
89 – Money
90 – Childhood
91 – Goodbye
92 – Victory
93 – Weather
94 – Photo
95 – Rage
96 – Internet
97 – Fashion
98 – Favor

SPOILER: Click to show

Sunday. Quiet. Tired.

The day before the week began and everything was slow. Lucian in particular, though, as he had just woken from a late night sleeping in, and made his way across the house not unlike a zombie. Equally lazy was his mother, Nicoleta, who lay sprawled across the sofa with a magazine over her face. Still noctunal, but expecially sleepy on this day.

She looked comfy, though.

With an undead groan, Lucian flopped himself onto the sofa and snuggled himself in comfortable. Nicoleta screeched and tried to sit up, but the dead weight that lay across her body.

"Brat, what are you doing?" Her tone was playful, and a smirk lit across her face as she amused her fingers with the untamed locks of her son's hair.

"Being lazy." Lucian smirked back.

Hah, be lazy on her will he? Nicoleta took a firm grip of his pajama shirt and pulled him down off the sofa as she rolled down the cushions onto the floor. "Oh really, now?"

"No, wait-- no! Mom, stop!" Nicoleta nuzzled the hell out of his hair with her cheek. One of her favorite features he had, how cute and curly it was...

"Shut up, you. Let me love you." Nicoleta demanded as Lucian dramatically went ragdoll in her arms.

SPOILER: Click to show

One of many trips back home Heracles was taking today. Strapped securely into the seat, he sat himself back lazily, reading the in-flight magazine even though there was nothing in it that could possibly interest him.

These trips always bored him. There was nothing to do up in the air except read and listen in on conversations he had no business being a part of. On the bright side, however, he wasn’t alone. Not this time.

Curled up at the wall, head covered by the blanket she was wrapped in, was Nicoleta, sleeping the hours peacefully away until landing… unfortunately much too asleep to hold a conversation.

[Misso Pan]

“I see the best of me inside your eyes.”

SPOILER: Click to show

Take a look back at your life. Mull over it. Pick out the parts you like and put them in a pile somewhere. How tall is it now? Do you have any regrets? Things you wished you could change? People you could prove wrong?

Was there really anything in life that Arthur could look back on? It seemed like every action, one after another, was some fruitless quest for recognition that, even at the height of his career, he seemed to get very little of. He was adored by his party, by faceless people that supported him for his ideals and not for his accomplishments. People he needed to impress, but succeeding at that almost seemed worthless.

What changed, exactly?

He was still the butt of jokes. He was still the one dreading any sort of family contact. He was still the one they teased and made fun of despite the fact he was the leader of the fucking Labour Party. He felt less like family and more like a clown they kept around for their amusement.

Nothing changed.

Snapping Arthur out of this deconstruction of his life was an inquiry from the side, made by a man whose eyes lidded casually, smiling fervently with an empty wine glass hanging lazily from his deceptively secure fingers.

There was no restraint of emotion in his voice, no comments made off-hand in an attempt to demean or irritate. Complete honesty, in fact, especially in his eyes. Blue like ocean or sky, emotive and ingenuous, perfect mirrors that reflected Arthur’s image in them.

Francis elicited a small chuckle from Arthur. In that one moment, Arthur got all he needed simply from the Frenchman’s expressive face.

[Deleted]

OKAY I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS IN A LONG TIME SO I'M REALLY RUSTY UM OKAY.

I'M GOING TO REGRET THIS.

GOD FREAKING CRAP MUFFIN PIE DAMN CRAP.

SPOILER: Click to show

Where did this come from?

What kind of conversation did that have to lead up to this point, Lili pinned against the wall, her frame wrapped tightly around his, hands balled up in his hair and shirt as his on hands held her secure, sneaking curious touches while they were distracted.

Their lips were locked, the kiss overflowing with passion, interspersed with the smallest breaks for breath or sound, and punctuated by smaller kisses in between. Whatever had happened in the moments prior no longer mattered. They were a memory they couldn’t even recall. The world around them had vanished and they were all that was left, and Lili gripped him firmly as if she’d fall into nothing otherwise.

Oh God, to be closer. To close even the most miniscule gaps between their bodies, blocked only by the thin fabric of clothing.

His hand, previously pressed into her waist, moved, prompting Lili’s legs to wrap tighter around him in quick reaction as she felt herself fall slightly.

With the most gentle of touches Donald pulled the fabric of her shirt down, and he placed a kiss up into the curve of her neck. His lips were like heaven against her skin, drawing forth a sharp breath from the unexpected contact. His kisses trailed downward to the collar of her torso, his body pressed up into her, brimming with desire for her as that hand on her found itself suddenly frantic to get her shorts off of her—but damn it, she wasn’t letting him!

Almost tempted – almost - to take her elsewhere, where he might have an easier time than here in the hall, where she had effectively attached herself to him like velcro. He instead bit his lip, something that was actually a little difficult given the harsh force of his breathing and the burning state of his body.

“I—“ God, this was… This wasn’t right. No mistake, he wanted her. Badly, but that was just the problem. All the problem. This wasn’t right at all. This was a moment sprung on the two of them, randomly. He knew all the right places to touch a woman to melt her, all the right things to say. Lessons he learned from the past.

This wasn’t consensual enough for him to feel right. Not with her. Not Lili of all people.

All of his restraint and self-control were needed to let her go. “… I’m so sorry.”

Her breath quickened and her face flustered when he let her go. Donald let her back to her feet and pressed a small kiss to her lips before excusing himself, very obviously disappointed in his behavior. Lili found herself pressing back into the wall, which felt cold against the searing warmth of her skin. This… this was unfamiliar.

Not new, but something she hadn’t felt in a long time, like an old acquaintance she’d just had the pleasure of meeting once more after a long period of silence.

She chest was heavy, her body wracked with such discomfort that she fidgeted in clothes that now seemed much too bothersome to stay on her body. The sudden need she felt was absolutely unbearable, a returning emotion that she had never quite been able to satisfy.

And he left her there, unwilling to fulfill any similar need he might have felt—and Gott, he must have. He wouldn’t have disappeared so quickly if not! … right?

They were so close to doing what before she might have considered unthinkable. That moment, she felt she absolutely needed to just follow him and insist they finish what they started, but shining through all that was a small semblance of coherence and morality that warned her against it.

But if Donald had not said anything… would she have?

[Misso Pan]

I broke my promise.

SPOILER: Click to show

“This could kill you.”

The words resounded painfully in her mind, and suddenly all of her functions ceased trying to comprehend the gravity of the sentence. The judgment was… indescribably painful, as if a part of her was collapsing in on itself. Her body shook.

“Did you hear me, Mrs. O’Neill…?”

Lili swallowed dryly and nodded, fidgeting uncomfortably in the cold, hard seat of her doctor’s office. The revelation of her pregnancy had initially left her elated. Twins, who would have ever thought? Donald was utterly ecstatic! But the joy was cut short – very short. It was difficult trying to hold back her tears, but one managed to escape. Masking her emotions was an ability she never mastered.

“You’re much to small to carry both of them. It was hard enough watching you struggle with Aislinn, but two…?” Her doctor rubbed at his forehead, visibly frustrated. After Lili had given birth to Aislinn, the man advised that she avoid later pregnancies due to the risks. “It’s suicide. Even forcing yourself to rest and be bedridden for the next 7 months won’t really help.” He was being terribly blunt, but it was clear that attempting the gentle route did nothing to dissuade them.

“If you attempt to carry this through to the end, you might be able to have one live, but the strain will likely kill all three of you instead.” His eyes were grim. The chances were absolutely not in her favor. It would take a miracle for them to come through unscathed, and in a matter of days the blessing they were given became an utter nightmare.

What was she going to do…?

“Feasibly, you could… terminate one of the twins.” His word choice was hesitant. The last thing he wanted was to sound unsympathetic, but his eyes and facial features were contorted in such a way that she was entirely conscious of how painful this must be for him to deal with as well. But, he wasn’t their mother. The extent of his understanding was rather minimal, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

Lili’s eyes averted themselves elsewhere, and stared despondently at the wall. Donald sat silent beside her, for once speechless and afraid to disturb her mangled thoughts. The small room was quiet for several moments before finally being broken by a sharp inhalation from the blonde, precipitating a bout of tears.

’You have all the time in the world to figure this out, Lili.’ she told herself, ’But if you don’t decide soon, you might get… attached. Too attached.’ She wouldn’t be able to handle it if she did. She was barely handling this right now, and she hadn’t even made any sort of decision. But what choice did she have?

One life, or three?

Don’t make me do this… please.

I can’t do this, Donald. Not to them…

Lili silently wondered if other women suffered and agonized over this the way she was at that moment – or was it a different feeling because she wanted them both? She wanted them both. She wanted to see them grow up like she had watched Aislinn, who was little more than a toddler then, thankfully far away from the dreadful office in the hands of Auntie Cerys.

“Mrs. O’Neill…” It’s a hard decision, I know. But the reality is that you have no choice. Can you risk miscarrying both and killing yourself in the process? The answer was simple. She considered trying. Her life for theirs, she’d give it gladly, but she’d be leaving a broken family behind. Three children with no mother, and a father who likely would have a hard time holding himself together after the fact.

Oh yes, she considered her life for theirs, but in the end what kind of life could she give them, if not speculative idealized visions of them growing up well? She knew Donald too well. She had to think of him too, and the toll it would take on him would shatter him. The doctor’s brow furrowed sympathetically. He was surprised how uneventful her first pregnancy went. Her physique worried him for than anything. A woman of her size and weight risked complications unless everything went perfectly – and luckily, they did. But he couldn’t expect that from this. This pregnancy was entirely different and God, he hated having to watch women in this state…

“I’ll leave you two alone… talk it over.” He excused himself quickly, hoping that his leaving would dilute the depressed atmosphere and give the grieving parents much-needed air. But even then she was quiet.

Donald quietly asked her what she wanted to do, and what kind of answer could she give him? He knew what she wanted, but also knew she couldn’t have it. Her wish was hopeless and heartbreaking and the mere thought of it made her feel like the worst mother on the planet.

One of her children had to die.

It was unfair – not only did she have to kill one of her children, but she had to pick and choose between the two of them to figure out who would never see life.

How could he even ask that?

Lili dropped her face into her hands and slumped over, sobbing harshly, her body convulsing upward as she was utterly wracked with indescribable sorrow. Should couldn't help but blame herself for this. This wouldn't be an issue if... if she were just a little stronger. Strong enough to hold them, protect them! Keep them alive! Just a little more.

"Oh no-- no no no..." Donald's attempted reassurance fell on deaf ears. He needed to be the pillar that kept her standing, but whatever facade he was holding up was steadily breaking at its foundation. He pulled her close and protectively, trying to ease her pain with his words, and trying to calm the torrent of tears. "Lili-- Oh God, we'll make it through this, alright? It'll be okay..."

No, it won't. It'll never be okay.

And any number of selfish, heartless, despicable things she could imagine to ease the aching in her chest were quickly throw away.

A least one will live-- no. That isn't fair. They should both live.

The family was waiting for their news. In some cases, eagerly, for those who couldn't help but love Aislinn and awaiting even more nieces and nephews to spoil. They waited for good news, for happy faces, for yet another member of the family to add to the massive tree.

It's... it's one. We don't know what it is yet, of course. But it's there.

Just one.

They should never have tried again.