-Day three entry for Arcane Parenting Week, today's chosen theme being 'Fix it'. Mylo and Vander get into a heated argument, and sharp words are carelessly thrown, leading to a question of what can, and if, be repaired...
"Stop struggling idiot!" Vi grumbled as she tried to dab alcohol on Mylo's cuts.
The boy flinched and pushed her hand away, "Quit it I'll patch myself up jeez! I'm not a baby."
"Then stop acting like one and lemme help you you never do it right!" Vi grabbed his arm and held it down as she slapped some ointment on the dirt-streaked scrapes and he continued to protest.
The four of them had holed up in their 'living room' after a...mishap to lick their wounds and with a first aid kit to actually treat them as well.
Claggor and Powder meanwhile were too busy, and too weary, with treating their own injuries to pay them any mind. Powder held her sleeve up allowing Claggor to carefully douse her scrapes with more alcohol. She winced and he mumbled apologies, to which she grinned and said she could take it. She offered to fix his bent goggles later and he cracked a smile himself, saying that'd be great.
It was in the middle of all this that a quick knock was heard followed by the door immediately flying open. They froze as Vander stood there taking up the entire doorway with his arms crossed over his broad chest, literally and figuratively conveying there was no escape.
Oh shit, came the quartets collective thought.
"First of all, are you guys okay?" he questioned calmly, though they could practically feel his annoyance buzzing just underneath.
"We're...we're alright...yeah." came Claggor's quiet reply, avoiding eye contact; he knew they were in for it.
The large man stepped further in, closing the door behind him and descended the couple steps to drop into an old armchair, it's springs protesting his weight as he leaned forward to stare them down.
"Good. Now," here his tone shifted, "Ya mind tellin' me what's this I'm hearin' 'bout a group of kids pickin' a fight with some Enforcers? Hmm?"
Each of them caught each other's eyes in turn, asking silently who should speak up and what they should say. Lying was out of the question; the way he was looking at them, his calculated words and vocal pitch, he already full well knew. They also knew anything they'd agreed upon on the way over would be useless as they saw the quietly controlled anger in Vander's gaze.
Eventually, with everyone looking at her, Vi rolled her eyes and cleared her throat, "There were three of them beating up one guy. We couldn't just let them so we tried to help and...we at least kicked their asses as best we could before running!"
Groaning, Vander pinched his brow and exhaled loudly, saying nothing for a few moments except to inaudibly curse before speaking back up, "Why would ya get yourselves involved? Three grown and fully armed adults against you four?"
"Hey we were holding our own until they started fighting dirty..." Mylo explained, "And besides how was it fair when it was three against one?"
"That's besides the point...gods what were you lot thinkin'?"
Claggor only stared at the ground, wisely keeping his mouth shut and Powder curled herself into a ball, nervously toying with a ragged blanket in her bruised hands while also staying out of it.
Vi pointed vaguely in the direction they'd fled from, "The point is they're a bunch of overgrown bullies and someone has to let them know they can't just push people around!"
"No!" Vander snapped, slapping the table and causing them to jump, "The point is you can't go around pickin' fights ya got no business startin' or chance of winning! Did you even think there might be a reason for what was going on?!"
Flopping into another chair, Vi crossed her arms and sank into it, running out of steam for this fight and sulking; she knew somewhere he had a point, but was too frustrated and still running on adrenaline to admit it.
Mylo, however, stinging from his wounds and still feeling they were justified, had chosen violence. He stood, and with how Vander was sitting, for once he was slightly taller, giving him a bit of confidence.
"What difference does it make if they had a reason? What would it be anyway?! They keep coming down here thinking they can just do whatever they want and treat us however they want and I'm sick of it! C'mon you gotta hate it too!"
"You're still not gettin' it, are you?" Vander all but growled as he slowly stood, and Mylo's confidence was dashed as the older man towered over him again, "There's a concept called pickin' your battles, and you gotta look at all the factors before ya go in swingin'!"
His voice rising, Mylo kept pushing it even as the others were subtly trying to signal to him to just drop it, "You were fighting when you were our age!"
"And I got my arse beat until I learned better, and my friends too! I lost some even," Vander raised his own voice in frustration and trying to impress his point on the boy, jabbed a finger toward the others, "Do you want to lose them? Look at them! Look at yourself! You're lucky that's all you got. Next time one of ya could be permanently injured or worse. I do my best to look after ya but-"
"Stop acting like you're our real father!" shouted Mylo, his words echoing painfully loud in the silence that followed.
Everyone froze, gaping at him with varying expressions of shock, confusion, hurtfulness, or in Vi's case, renewed anger and disgust. Per usual she was the first to act and lunged for him, grabbing his shirt in both hands and shaking him.
"What the fuck Mylo?! How dare you, after everything he's done for us?!"
Powder curled herself into a tighter ball, burying her face in her knees and Claggor reached over to rest a hand on her back, shooting Mylo a withering look when he looked to him.
"Vi..." muttered Vander, much quieter now, but the girl didn't hear him as she continued to berate her 'sibling', "-didn't have to take us in but he did, and he's done so much to take care of us you dick! I swear you-"
"VIOLET." Vander barked sharply, and the pink-haired girl stopped, her breath coming in short gasps before she shoved Mylo away and stalked back to her chair, muttering 'asshole' under her breath. In all this, Mylo had only been silent, eyes trained on the floor and all fire in him evaporated, the gravity of what he'd said sinking into his gut like lead. He dared not meet anyone's eyes, and after a few more moments of unbearable quiet, feeling tears threatening to start, he abruptly dashed past Vander, leapt up the steps, threw open the door and made a run for it.
Sighing in exhaustion on a couple levels, Vander sank slowly and heavily into the chair he'd been using, resting his forehead in his hands, taking a brief respite before going to seek Mylo out and making sure he was okay.
A heavy silence hung over the room, unbroken except for someone's occasional sigh or sniffle, no one quite sure what to say and Vander simply tired and hiding his wounded heart; of course he wasn't their father. No one could ever replace the parents they'd lost that horrible, bloody day, but he'd been trying, at least, to give them something better than he'd had.
At length, Powder uncurled herself, gazing at Vander's hunched form and got to her feet, quietly going over to and gingerly tapping his shoulder. He looked up at her, forcing a small smile.
"Hey Powder..."
As she clutched a much-patched pillow she softly and sincerely said to him, "...We're sorry...and I...think you're being a good dad..."
He relaxed a little, that wound healing somewhat at her words and he nodded, "Thank you..."
"Yeah...we...that was kinda dumb. We'll try not to do that again." added Claggor, "And she's right...you do a good job."
Vi wiped a hand across her face and sat up, "What they said...we were being reckless...sorry. You do a lot for us, and I know you care, even when we're being a pain in the butt..."
Straightening himself and gently brushing some of Powder's unruly hair out of her face with another small, genuine smile Vander looked at them, "Just...promise ya won't do that again. You're right, I do care about you, a lot. That's why I'm tough on ya. But you're a good lot, and I know you'll learn," he stood slowly, "And now I have to find Mylo before he does anything else stupid."
Mylo sat curled on a buildings wide ledge that overlooked part of the river, the lights from various businesses across the water reflecting off of it and giving the area a peaceful, if eerie, glow. It was a place he came to when he needed to think, and right now he indeed needed to think; he knew what he'd said was rotten and hurtful, something he couldn't take back and now was wondering if he could fix it. His spot was secluded enough he was generally safe from anyone bothering him, and only a couple people knew of it-
Including the one who's voice and footsteps he heard softly approaching now. Mylo felt his heart drop to his feet as he saw Vander's leg out of the corner of his eye before the large man knelt to sit next to him. They were silent for a time, watching the lights dance across the water below and tendrils of mist snake around buildings as they gathered their thoughts.
Finally, swiping at his face to remove the tear-stained, dirty trails there, Mylo spoke up in a quiet, serious tone, "I know that was shitty of me...and I'm sorry...I didn't mean it."
"Thank you...and I know you didn't." replied Vander sincerely.
Feeling a little more encouraged, the boy kept talking, "You've been taking really good care of us, teaching us and protecting us and I...threw it in your face...gods I was so mad I felt like we had a point and..." he paused, "You were right...we could have gotten really hurt..."
Vander gazed out over the city, finally pointing to a small building in the distance, his eyes narrowed, "Ya see there?" and when Mylo nodded he continued, "That's where I got beaten so bad I couldn't walk or lift my arms for days. If it hadn't been for a couple friends I probably wouldt'a made it. I had no one older and wiser to stop me, to teach me the fights I was gettin' into could kill me. I wasn't much older than you."
Mylo's gaped at him as he added, "I'll never replace your dad. I just want you lot to be safer, smarter, to not have to learn everything the hard way like me, for someone to always have your backs. I don't enjoy being a hard-ass, but I do it to give you somethin' I didn't have; structure, and hopefully a better future."
The lump in his throat was affecting his speech, but the boy swallowed it down; he wasn't sure if he felt better or worse now, but he at least knew one thing, which he now voiced, "...If I'm a dad someday I hope I can be good at it like you..."
His eyes widening the slightest and mouth half-open, Vander glanced at him before smiling warmly and nodding, and the two sat in a much more amiable quiet, simply enjoying each other's presence and the knowledge their little patchwork family would be there for each other, no matter what.
Vander’s favourite thing about Vi was her drive to always do what was right.
Even when she hadn’t fully thought everything through, or it ended up blowing up in her face, the young girl always believed that her actions were for the greater good of her family. She always had such a good heart. That’s why Vander is relieved when it was her that wound up becoming the make-shift leader of his little band of misfit kids.
He remembers one time, when they were small, all four of his kids had rushed into a bar with Claggor and Mylo practically carrying Vi. All the others were perfectly fine, not a scrape or bruise in sight. But little Vi had been bloodied black and blue. So, of course, Vander asked what the bloody hell had happened.
Some bigger kids had been giving them trouble, picking on all of them while they were scavenging. Vi had taken them all head-on, taking on kids twice her size when she could barely throw a decent punch.
Thankfully, other than Vi’s injuries (which were easily patchable), the worst to have come out of the whole ordeal was the angry mothers who came storming into the bar the next morning. But the old barman would never forget just how proud he was of his little girl, despite the massive wave of frustration and protective anger. She had been protecting her family, showing the kind of loyalty that he had always wanted to instill in his children, and seeing it all come into fruition assure him. Assured him that, even after he had passed on, the kids were always going to be in good, safe hands.
Vander’s favourite thing about Claggor was his maturity.
When it came to the chaos of the lanes, real clear-headed maturity was often hard to find. After all, most people with more than three working brain cells typically went over to the other side of the bridge. And yet, here was this little bespeckled boy who had more maturity in his pinky finger than most of the lanes had put together. It came in handy when managing his three hot-headed siblings.
The boy almost reminded Vander of Silco in a way, before the rage and the envy when they were still kids. Always having that wisdom beyond one’s years. But unlike with Silco, Vander could always trust Claggor to use his wisdom to show other people kindness and respect. Not being as susceptible to pettiness or arrogance, the boy could take a mental step back when things got heated. Contrasting with Vi’s style of leadership, always being able to brush away his pride and make the right decisions to try and ensure people’s safety.
Vander wonders if this is why the bigger of the boys could be counted on to have Powder’s back. Of course, Vi was always the first one to fight the person to give her sister a hard time (especially Myo), but if Powder ever fell behind in a chase or needed an extra hand, it was normally Claggor who would break away from the action and make sure she was okay.
As much as he’d taken Vi under his wing, Vander often wonders if Claggor will be the one to take on his mantle of leader of the Lanes.
Vander’s favourite thing about Mylo is his ambition to learn.
Mylo’s stubborn nature made him despise failure, but a lot of that was caused by his constant need to better himself. And he knew that the best way to better himself was to learn. Whenever there was a skill to learn, Mylo wanted to learn it. Shooting, explosives, lockpicking, scavenging, fighting; whatever it was, he yeared to be the best at it.
He wouldn’t ever admit this, but that was why Mylo had a bone to pick with Powder; who always seemed to have a one-up on him in matter of the mind.
Vander clearly recalls the night that Mylo decided he had wanted to learn how to lockpick. The father-figure had never been the best at it-his hands were too big-but he knew enough that he wanted to pass down the knowledge to his kids. Little fingers that always found themselves getting into trouble? Seemed fitting enough. But when he had first approached the kids about it, he had been met with bored apathy. Until Mylo came up to him the next day and asked for a lesson, and he managed to pick it up perfectly within a few hours. He wasn’t a natural, but he was willing to put in the work.
Vander knew that Mylo was far better at lockpicking than he had ever been, yet Mylo still came to him from time to time for help in his practicing. Asking about specific locks, or if his distribution of pressure was off. Vander’s pretty sure Mylo already knows all the answers or at least could figure it out himself. But Vander’s just happy to have his son, who always acts so self-assured, come to him with questions about their shared interest. He savours every moment he has with every single one of his children.
Vander’s favourite thing about Powder was her brilliant mind.
Well, if he was being honest, it was between that and those big blue eyes of hers, the ones that could convince Vander to do just about anything with the right amount of pleading. But at the end of the day, it was ultimately her mind that amazed Vander.
Vander hadn’t exactly been the brightest bulb in the shed when he was a kid. Big, tough, and good at handling conflict, sure, but never intensely brilliant. Any wisdom he had nowadays was due to experience and dealing with the consequences of his own actions. But Powder was something different, something special.
When Vander had first taken Powder and her sister in, the younger of the two was just a little ankle-biter. But that didn’t mean that she could be undermined. Year one of Vander being a new father, he remembers trying to get the bar ready for business, specifically trying to fix the old jukebox. For the life of him, Vander couldn’t figure the damn thing out and damn well couldn’t afford to pay someone to do it. Then on came little blue-haired Pow-Pow, who’d barely spoken a word since being carried off that bridge. She had simply said “can I try?” and Vander, at his whits end and in desperate need of a drink, had handed her his toolbox. After all, what’s the worse that could happen?
But in the time between his getting up off the floor, and then returning with a mug of ale, the jukebox had sparked to life and smooth jazz played like the damn thing was straight out of the factory. And there was Powder, standing beside it with the biggest bloody grin Vander had ever seen.
That’s when he knew that she was going to change the world someday. They all were, Vander was certain about that. All he could wish for was that he could be around to see it someday, watching them grow into the great and amazing people they were destined to become.
I wanted to challenge myself with a more detailed scene. I feel like it will take me ages to finish but I am enjoying the process.
I managed to finish the sketch, somewhat, and now I am putting down flat colours but I really don’t like them and it is 2:22 AM right now. So i guess next time I update this post would be with finished outcome I guess? We shall see.
(This is a fanart for Arcane Parenting Week btw, first prompt ~favourite~)
fic: the child is a blade | arcane parenting week: favourite | ambessa medarda
summary: By all rights, Ambessa should’ve despised the squalling wrinkled creature, splotched with blood and amniotic fluid, toothless mouth wide open in annoyed affront, as though she’d been pushed out of the womb against her will and timing.
This is so late, shit happened. But I still wanted to get these stories done.😖
“Grayson! What the hell are you doing?” Marcus’ tone was much more parental thn he knew.
So much so that Grayson froze like she did when her mother and father caught her sneaking back home in the early hours.
“Marcus please I was only trying to get something to entertain myself.” Grayson said, shaking her head at his behavior.
“And the only sources of entertainment are on the top shelf?” He stopped before her, an eyebrow raised quizzically.
Grayson gave a small exasperated huff. Admitting partial defeat she eased herself back into her wheelchair. She turned on herself around, heading back into her living room.
“Well if I’m not allowed to get it myself, then maybe you can get what I want for me.” She called over her shoulder. “It’s everything on that top shelf. It’s not a lot and be careful not to drop any of them.”
Marcus looked back to the display cabinet. On the third shelf was a small collection of games. He gathered them one by one, balancing them carefully as he made his way over to Grayson. He laid them all onto the table and Grayson leaned forward pulling one of wooden pieces towards her. Marcus eyed the games, he’d never really seen any of them before and looked around the dim room.
“Do I need to let some more light in?” He asked, already heading towards one of the windows.
“It’s fine Marcus, you’re starting to over worry.” Grayson said. “Honestly you’re only doing too much as is.”
Marcus scoffed.
“You’re the one who's doing too much.Your injuries are still fresh and you don’t need to worsen the damage Jenson’s done.” Marcus’ lips pulled into a scowl.
Grayson sent him a stern look.
“Marcus, for the last time that was an accident.” She said adopting a more authoritative tone. “Jensen made a mistake, a simple one that any of us could have made. I don’t want you to harass him over this. The poor thing is already panicky about what happened, you don’t need to make it worse.”
What had happened was a supposed disturbance gone wrong. A small holiday in Piltover would always draw out the more devilish nature in people or those who were already planning to cause trouble. The enforcers were in various small groups. Marcus had his own and Grayson had one that included a relatively new officer named Jensen.
Grayson’s group came across a drunken brawl and they worked to separate all the participants. One particular brawler had drawn a knife. A knife that Jensen failed to see. A knife that he did a piss poor job of getting away from leading to Grayson having to pull him out of danger. In the process Grayson had been stabbed.
Despite the wound Grayson took advantage of the attackers range to grapple him. Not as effective as she would wish, but enough to keep him from properly using his arms and enough that assistance in apprehending the man would have been easy. Should have been easy, but Jensen even managed to screw that up. He ended up causing Grayson and the man to stumble not merely into the road but into a car. Grayson sustained a broken leg, broken hip and spattering of bruises and scratches.
To say that Marcus was furious when he learned of the situation was putting it mildly. While Piltover’s officers looked out for one another it wasn’t a secret that Grayson had taken Marcus personally under her wing. It was also obvious at how much Marcus admired Grayson, even through their disagreements and arguments. So it was a challenge for even the larger enforcers to keep their Chief Deputy Sheriff from tearing the fledgling officer apart.
It was about a week before Grayson was discharged from the hospital. She was told to take it easy and received a schedule for physical therapy, but Grayson was more stubborn than any realized. She lived by herself and was rather determined about managing on her own. The decision not only led to unnecessary stress and pain, but also led to Marcus intervening.
Originally Marcus paid her a few visits to check on her well being. One trip however he caught her out of her wheelchair and in obvious pain from doing so. This was when he changed his few visits to practically living in her home. Even with his extra duty of having to be in charge of the police department Marcus still made his way to take care of her.
“He should be.” Marcus said. “He’s damn lucky that he didn’t get you killed.”
“It's not like you haven’t made mistakes before Marcus. You’ve ended up injured and have ended up causing a few injuries for your fellow officers.”
Marcus turned his face from her to avoid eye contact. He was only ever partially aware of it at times, but when faced with the occasional frustration Marcus would unconsciously puff out his cheeks. Accompanied with a blush, such as now, Grayson thought it was one of the cutest things ever.
“Well I wouldn’t have made a mistake that would lead to you getting hurt.” He countered poorly and returned to the kitchen.
“How’s the food coming?” Grayson asked as she took on the task of setting out the little games and debate which would be her entertainment.
“Just a little more.” Marcus shouted. “The meat is still too tough and I’m not sure about this flavor.”
Grayson laughed to herself. When she had first brought Marcus to her home he was so nervous. He wouldn’t move a muscle without her permission and he tried to make himself small so as not to break anything. Even with the following visits the poor boy was still practically petrified. But now he’s here, telling her to sit down and cooking in her kitchen.
“You’re worrying too much Marcus, your cooking is fine.” She assured him.
He had such a poor habit of trying to impress others, her being a high priority.”
“If it has to sit more, why don’t you join me in playing one of these games.” She said.
Marcus peered out of the kitchen and made his way to the small table. He eyed the games quizzically. He’d never seen some of them and at best has small experience with two of them.
“Don’t worry,” Grayson said as he took a seat across from her. “I’ll teach you how.”
They would continue like that until food was ready after which Marcus would head back to the precinct. He made Grayson promise to take it easy and later that night he would return with some dinner that he picked up. The new routine, with small variations, would continue until her recovery. When she returned to the precinct there was a small party for her, where she was glad to see that Jensen was a bit more comfortable being around Marcus.
