unwieldy
I ate and drank and played with legos. Rather satisfying, I must say. Not quiet, god no, because my family is loud and loves to argue and throw insults like jokes, but it was like every other holiday. Some laughs, some biting remarks, some mild fighting, some mischief managed. I half-wished we went to my mum's parents' house to have Thanksgiving with that side of the family because they are like the Weasley's and tell great stories and it would have made my mother happy since we rarely do but maybe next year instead.
Title: The Way They Are
Author: Fey Puck
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz Spawnverse
Disclaimer: I own not Schwarz, just their spawn.
Summary: Just a small holiday drabble.
It was an odd thing for his father to let them all stay home from school for apparently no reason. Being taken on a mission, being given lessons of a different kind, was usually the only reason this occurred. Not that Brett could complain-this has started to become more and more common as he grew older and it meant he got to do more than sit in a grey classroom. Aside from those cases though…
It was just odd.
Brett still woke up at the same time he always did because his body refused to obey his commands and after a minute and a thrown pillow at a resting Kirito, he decided to get up for the day. Shuffling out of his room, he stumbled down the stairs with a lack of finesse and continued his walk of the dead into the kitchen. Milk awaited him. Milk always awaited him. Milk was loyal.
He was dimly aware of a bag of something, perhaps kidneys, on the counter and wondered if Cailin was finally getting that other pet she wanted.
He faintly noticed a couple splatters of blood and sighed. Did they expect the kids to clean up after their work now? Hadn’t Uncle Nagi always preached about the benefits of cleanliness?
“Hey, brat. You’re up early.”
Blinking away his sleep induced daze, Brett’s eyes followed a trail of granite countertops. Farfarello was at the sink, hacking at what seemed to be potatoes with vigor. His father was holding what looked to be some weird sort of sex toy and was squeezing the rubber top of it.
And his Schuldig waved cheerfully at him with one hand. While his other was far and deep within a hunk of dead meat. He decided it was a turkey and his first thought was ‘At least it’s not a baby.’
“You guys joining one of those insane cults that are on the news?”
Crawford stopped squeezing. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
“An American thing,” Schuldig said and twisted his arm a bit. Brett winced. “With turkey and mashed stuff and odd orange-yellow vegetables. And pie. And Indians, I think.”
“Just insane then. Got it.”
Farfarello smiled. “It suites us.”
Title: The Way They Are
Author: Fey Puck
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz Spawnverse
Disclaimer: I own not Schwarz, just their spawn.
Summary: Just a small holiday drabble.
It was an odd thing for his father to let them all stay home from school for apparently no reason. Being taken on a mission, being given lessons of a different kind, was usually the only reason this occurred. Not that Brett could complain-this has started to become more and more common as he grew older and it meant he got to do more than sit in a grey classroom. Aside from those cases though…
It was just odd.
Brett still woke up at the same time he always did because his body refused to obey his commands and after a minute and a thrown pillow at a resting Kirito, he decided to get up for the day. Shuffling out of his room, he stumbled down the stairs with a lack of finesse and continued his walk of the dead into the kitchen. Milk awaited him. Milk always awaited him. Milk was loyal.
He was dimly aware of a bag of something, perhaps kidneys, on the counter and wondered if Cailin was finally getting that other pet she wanted.
He faintly noticed a couple splatters of blood and sighed. Did they expect the kids to clean up after their work now? Hadn’t Uncle Nagi always preached about the benefits of cleanliness?
“Hey, brat. You’re up early.”
Blinking away his sleep induced daze, Brett’s eyes followed a trail of granite countertops. Farfarello was at the sink, hacking at what seemed to be potatoes with vigor. His father was holding what looked to be some weird sort of sex toy and was squeezing the rubber top of it.
And his Schuldig waved cheerfully at him with one hand. While his other was far and deep within a hunk of dead meat. He decided it was a turkey and his first thought was ‘At least it’s not a baby.’
“You guys joining one of those insane cults that are on the news?”
Crawford stopped squeezing. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
“An American thing,” Schuldig said and twisted his arm a bit. Brett winced. “With turkey and mashed stuff and odd orange-yellow vegetables. And pie. And Indians, I think.”
“Just insane then. Got it.”
Farfarello smiled. “It suites us.”