#but newts took the cake

[porgthespacepenguin]

I wish. It's become kind of a running joke on Discord that whatever word count I announce? You can safely double it.

Well, NEWTS just said, "hold my beer". I genuinely set out to write a long one-shot, which turned into a huge three-parter, which turned into a gigantic 24-chapter monster.

And I have proof of my idiocy. Behold, a penguin tragedy in three acts.

Act 1: Blind Optimism

(QE3 was the working title for NEWTS. Note the flicker of realism buried under all the optimism.)

Act 2: Copium

Yeah, at that point I was starting to realize that three parts weren't going to cut it.

Act 3: Acceptance

No comment.

The “oh I could definitely write this fanfic in under 5000 words and it really wouldn’t take me that long” voice in your head is actually the devil speaking

[xxtc-96xx]

What I find funny about this is this meme was already used where newt was getting grabbed cept now newt is the one grabbing

she took someone's cake

[darkenedreaper]

Pairing: Ellen Ripley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: The newly married couple adjust to some new accessories…

A/N: This is only a short but there are more works in progress

Newly Weds

You and Ellen had recently gotten back off your honeymoon. You’d been married for just over 4 months now. You had a simple but beautiful wedding; just what Ellen wanted. She didn’t like a fuss being made about her, she told you countless times and although you were prepared to go all out for her, you were also prepared to give her the wedding she dreamt of. You’ve been together for 4 years but settling down together back onto earth with Newt took its time, especially after the years you’d spent with Ripley up in space, never thought you’d touch the Earths surface again, especially after the multiple attacks from Xenomorphs, being stranded on a planet, and being right in the middle of a Queen Xenomorphs nest. It was around another 4 year when the three of you were finally settled into your new home, and new lives on planet Earth with Jonesy and Newt.

And so when you both took your first holiday abroad to where Ellen and Newt had chosen to go to for the first time ever, you proposed. You didn’t want to overwhelm Ripley too much, but it felt right to have a photographer or two hidden round the corner. It was a simple but heartfelt proposal; you got down on one knee, took her hand, vowed your life to her, and popped the question. After she said yes a million times over Newt was squealing and jumping up and down in her little summer dress that Ellen had bought her after a girly shopping day. The ring was everything Ellen had wanted. So when Ripley said yes, and you’d embraced each other nearly in tears, you bent down to Newt and promised to love her and protect her forever, when you surprised her with a little silver bracelet with her name engraved on it.

When you got back home you shared the news with all the Marines at a weekly dinner/family time you all had. Safe to say they nearly broke the dining table and chairs they were all that excited.

Your wedding was beautiful. You were both dressed exactly how you wanted. Ellen was stunning that day, you tell her she’s stunning everyday but on the day you married one another she had a glow to her. Throughout your ceremony and vows you never took each others eyes off the other. Of course, the Marines and their families came to the wedding. Newt was the flower girl, Vasquez and Hudson were the bestmen/woman. Drake argued with Hicks because they both wanted to be in charge of decorations. Gorman and Bishop were in charge of food, Bishop was very particular as he wanted to make sure his best friends’ wedding went exactly to plan, as well as pleasing the guests. Ferro and Apone were in charge of everyone and ensuring the cake was military protected.

When your ceremony was over and both wedding rings were on you walked down the aisle having the marines chuck flower petals over you while everyone was their own photographer. Newt was skipping behind her loving parents down the aisle picking up some petals to put behind her teddys ear. When you sat at the table ready for food and cake at the end you and Ripley were hand in hand, only parting now and then see to friends, and see families of the marines… who were up and dancing with Newt before the cake had been cut. Some gave a speech and some felt their eyes water at the speeches, but no matter the emotion or reaction you and Ripley were sat together, souls and hearts interlinked. When it was time to cut the cake you both had your hands covering each others as you pushed the knife down through the 3 tiered cake. When you both got a piece cut, Ripley putting a small bit of cream on her finger, letting you lick it off, because shoving her whole piece of cake in your face. Even though it almost caused a food fight, the venue erupted with laughter and you swear you’d never seen Ellen’s smile so bright.

The night was drawing to an end. Some were clearing off and others were staying slow dancing or finishing off the cake. Vasquez had took Newt home with her partner for the night as she saw the small girly was tired and wanted to give the new brides a chance at focusing on one another. You and Ripley whispered some sweet and soft words to each other, arms wrapped around each other and soft kisses were placed gently. Later that night you went back to the fancy hotel that everyone had booked and went up to your en-suite room, there was some more cake but especially made for yourself and Ellen. And when I tell you that cake was put to use that night, it was. You consummated your marriage, so to speak, for hours that night. It was rough, slow, sensual, rough, slow, and sensual. You experimented and touched each other like you never had before. Kisses lasted longer, lingering fingers lasted a little longer than wanted as some grew impatient, the cake was drawn up each others body’s and the others tongue ran up and licked it all up. And clothes… yeah the clothes were ripped off.

The next morning you woke up admiring one another. Admiring your wife. It was a proud feeling to finally call Ellen your wife which you told her so that morning. And all she did was stare deeply into your eyes telling you softly that she loved you while she did her best to comb down your bedhead hair with her fingers.

And so 4 months on you were driving back from a shopping run with Ripley in the passenger seat and Newt safely and securely buckled up in the back with her teddy, getting through a doughnut you’d bought her, and softly singing along to the music you’d put on that she’d requested.

You had your hand resting in the middle of Ellen’s thigh gently caressing it with one or two fingers when you didn’t have to use two hands while driving. It was one of the small things Ellen majorly appreciated. She feels loved, acknowledged, and seen when you do the little things. Now this, your hand on her thigh whilst you were driving a 4x4, she found extremely hot, but she found it caring aswell. She was playing with your wedding ring, spinning it round on your finger and polishing it with her T-Shirt when she could. She’d gained a habit of these; if you were holding hands she’d play with it, in bed cuddling her arm would be resting over yours and either playing or stroking your ring. She thought she couldn’t already but she finds you even more attractive now that you’re wearing a wedding ring. She likes it because it looks good on your but also because she knows everyone can see you belong to someone. She likes it on you because she knows you like to show it off. Fiddling with your ring caught your attention to which at the next red light you leaned over to kiss her which she highly appreciated. She intertwined her fingers with yours and said, “This is staying on”.

[hikarry]

Post-South Down, Aziraphale and Crowley are invited to a party

Like, a fancy party. With fancy clothes required and fancy food and overall fancy people. That is, excluding Anathema cause she refuses to consent to the norms

It's in America, hosted by Anathema's filthy rich family, and the boys only accepted to go because Anathema really bribed Aziraphale with pictures of the food

At first, the four of them (yes, cause Newt is also there, obviously) stick together, but as soon as the buffet opens, Aziraphale disappears and Crowley with him, following him around with a wine glass in hand and holding a plate with little cakes in the other, all selected by Aziraphale FOR Aziraphale.

They meet again when the speeches begin. The whole place his dark apart from the spotlight on the stage. It begins with Anathema's grandma, then her aunt. When Anathema's mom begins hers, 90% of the people present are utterly bored out of their minds. A certain demon inclusive.

It starts with bumping his leg against Aziraphale's. The angel doesn't react, still looking straight at the stage. Crowley groans and lays his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand and leaning closer to the angel, sliding his leg slowly up Aziraphale's. All he gets is a quick side glance.

Okay. Alright. He can play this game.

Crowley lands his hand on Aziraphale's knee and slowly but surely starts going up his thigh. Aziraphale gets his hand under the table and bats Crowley's away, ever without taking his eyes from Anathema's mom. Crowley pulls his chair closer to the angel's and lays his leg on top of Aziraphale's, his fingertips meeting Aziraphale hand's back, sliding up his arm. He feels Aziraphale shiver on his seat and he smiles, running the back of his cold fingers from Aziraphale's ear down to his neck, right to that sensitive spot Crowley found mere days after they took the next step in his relationship and, honestly, was still his favorite.

The angel clears his throat and throws the napkin he was holding on the table.

"Excuse me for a second, dear girl. I have to go to the restroom." He leans closer to Anathema as he says it, and she only replies with a quick nod.

Aziraphale taps Crowley's leg, so he would pull it away, and gets up, not before holding Crowley's jacket sleeve and subtlety pulling on it.

Crowley counted 18 seconds, before he gets up and follows the angel through the no longer dark corridors. The angel doesn't look back until he finds a random door and reaches for the doorknob, testing it. The door opens and he peers inside, finding what seems to be a dark office, with a large table and a few chairs.

"That doesn't look like a bathroom, angel." Crowley comments playfully, stopping right behind Aziraphale and looking over his shoulder into the dark room.

"Shut up, will you?" He comands, before suddenly turning around and grabbing Crowley by the black tie, pulling him inside and kicking the door close behind them.

[mewtwoandme]

So you are telling me Newt did all this using just Headbutt?!

Holy mother of Mew!

Well, the headbutt pretty much was the icing on the cake

But Mewtwo took previous blows before this...

(A little blast from the past bringing up this old stuff lol)

[ssaeri]

count my blessings

☆ tags: lucifer x gn!reader, finally giving him a factory tour since the anime won't, lucifer is like me—doesn't do well with surprises at first, i like him a lot because he deserves to be happy, referred to as MC (not Y/N) ☆

The door to Lucifer's study is heavy and impressive—nearly as impressive as the demon it houses. The first time you tried to push it open, you were surprised by its weight. Normally one of the brothers would open it and you'd trail in before or after them, depending on who was in trouble. But when you struggled to push it, you realized that it made perfect sense. Nothing less for Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride. A title with as much heft as this slab of mahogany.

You're standing before the door once again, hand poised to knock, and you wonder if you should just turn back and abandon your plan.

"If your intention is to replicate a statue, I suggest you choose another place to settle," an amused voice says from behind you.

Lucifer's glove appears in the corner of your eye, reaching around you for the door knob. He opens it easily, waiting until you step in to the room. In the fireplace, flames lick at the protective mesh screen, cracking and twisting around stacked logs. He takes a seat at his desk and gestures to one of the plush armchairs.

"Should I assume that you wanted to discuss something?"

Suddenly, at the prospect of speaking, your tongue turns to cotton in your mouth.

"I did—do, I mean. I do want to talk about something. Are you almost done your work for the week?"

He glances at the stack of papers by his side. "Just about. I should be done in a few days, but Diavolo likely has more for me to do," he says, a minuscule sigh escaping between his words. "Why?"

.

.

Diavolo is a fair demon, you reminded yourself as you followed Barbatos through the winding halls. You recognized the path to the pavilion after all this time. He's a reasonable one...most of the time.

More importantly, Diavolo had told you to not be shy. He was the Devildom prince, yes, but he was also your acquaintance, ready to help whenever he could. Surely, with this blanket statement of approval, you would be safe from being struck where you stood.

"Oh, MC, what a surprise!" Diavolo greeted you with a tight hug before ushering you into an empty chair. The table already had an extra plate and steaming cup of tea. "Come, come, Barbatos said that the cake is a new flavor. You should try it."

The cake was good, you assumed, as it always was. Something about passion fruit and newt tail worked well, but your tiny bites tasted dull as you waited for Diavolo to ask the reason for your visit. Luckily, you didn't have to wait long. He took a delicate sip from his own cup and settled into his chair with folded hands.

"I'm guessing you didn't come here to have cake," he said gently, taking note of your bouncing knees. You shook your head.

"I'm here for a favor, actually."

"I'm not a genie, but if it's within my power," he said, amber eyes crinkling as he laughed, "I'll do my best to grant it."

"Right," you breathed and scrunched the material of your pants into sweating fists. "My first question is, am I allowed to return to the human world during the break?"

"Of course, MC. You're an exchange student here, not a prisoner." He looked over his shoulder at Barbatos, who nodded. "Taking the portal by yourself might be difficult, but we could arrange something."

"Right, right. The next thing is, can Lucifer accompany me for that weekend? Without having to worry about any work?" You scooted to the edge of your chair. "I know he does a lot of necessary and important work, but I'd like for Lucifer to have a break—a genuine one—for the surprise I'm planning."

.

.

"A surprise?" At the word, Lucifer's expression hardens.

"Yes!" you say, hands coming up to reassure him. "But Diavolo said he wouldn't assign you any work for the next week, so once you're done, you can get ready for the human world—"

"Who put you up to this? Mammon? Satan? Belphegor?" He bites on a gloved thumb, muttering, "Things have been suspiciously quiet lately. I should have suspected something, but I didn't think that they would use you."

Your smile falters, and your mood goes up in smoke. "Excuse me?"

"If they want to set me up, they should've been less obvious," he scoffs. "I'm not going with you, MC."

You expected a variety of reactions. Hesitation, for one. He hasn't had a true break from errands in a long time; at least, not for as long as you've known him. Relief, possibly, at putting distance between himself and his responsibilities. Maybe even excitement at the prospect of having a solo trip with you without interruption. But outright suspicion and refusal? This, you weren't prepared for.

"It's not..." you trail off, tightening your jaw as if the pressure could hold together your disappointed heart. "It's not a plot."

And the change in your tone must finally break through his musing because he looks up and sees your crumpled posture, your furrowed brows. With a murmur of your name, he comes around the desk and kneels in front of your seat, taking both your hands in his.

"I'm really planning a surprise for you," you insist. "In the human world. That's why I made sure to clear your schedule."

"I realize that now," he says, pressing his lips to your fingers. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not—I'm not conspiring or anything."

"I know, love. I apologize for the baseless accusation."

"If you don't want to come with me, that's a different matter, but you can just say no. I'd be less upset if you—"

"No, I was merely quick to assume the worst." He squeezes your hands for the briefest moment. "I'm sorry, dear. It's just that, in my experience, surprises rarely end well. I appreciate the reprieve from work."

A beat of silence passes before you take a deep breath and withdraw from his hold. He returns to his seat.

"So where are we heading?"

"Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, Lucifer," you say with a roll of your eyes. "Just make sure to pack something...casual by your standards."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow. "What's considered casual by your standards, then?"

"A raggedy t-shirt and sweatpants."

.

.

Lucifer does not show up in a raggedy t-shirt and sweatpants, and neither do you, to his obvious relief. He shows up, as you pretty much expected, in a turtleneck sweater and pinstripe pants, whose matching blazer you confiscated. For reasons, you told him vaguely, also removing his various hanging jewelry. Telling him that it was a safety violation would've given it away.

Once you usher him into the waiting taxi, you ask the driver to keep the destination a secret, but it's hard to hide the truth for long as you make your way to the edge of the city where an impressive brick building sits, whirring with all the machines inside.

"Is that..." He nearly presses his face against the window. "Is that an industrial laundry facility?"

His head whips to you when you don't say anything. Your answering smile is enough, and you have to remind him to keep moving. The view from the outside is impressive, but the tour starts at the door, not in the parking lot. You plant your hands on his back and push him along.

"Come on," you say. "If we don't finish this tour in time, we'll be late for our appointment at the local distillery."

The sound that escapes him is indescribable, but from the way he takes your hand and pulls you forward, it's safe to say that he's happy about this trip.

[the-fiction-witch]

You Know You Don't Have To Ask

Media - The Maze Runner Series Character - Newt Couple - Newt X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Adorable +Sad Word Count - 3125

I stood and gazed out at the haunting scene before me. The skeletal remains of buildings jutted out from the barren landscape, surrounded by the decaying hulks of cars left to be swallowed by the shifting sands. The relentless sun beat down, baking the world into a dry, desolate desert.

I watched with a twisting tightness on my chest, at Newt.

He perched precariously on the edge of the rooftop, taking in the desolate panorama that stretched out before him, a stark contrast to the bustling activity of the nearby encampment. His worn boots, caked with layers of dust and grime, barely clung to his feet, the laces frayed and loose. The sun-bleached cargo trousers, once a deep shade of khaki, now bore the marks of countless journeys through harsh terrain, their fabric worn and faded. His once pristine white t-shirt had become a muted shade of grey, a testament to the passage of time and the rigours of his environment. The threadbare green button-down, missing several buttons, offered limited protection against the elements, while the thin red jacket, its collar turned up for added defence, shielded his neck from the unrelenting sun. His skin had tanned somewhat since our escape as if the sun was trying to bake him too. But I suppose we all had a bit of that. His blonde hair in desperate need of a trim seemed to glow gold in the sunlight.

I wanted to give him his space, he clearly wanted to be alone. I couldn't blame him after all, even after all this time together we still need our time alone. And given all we had lost of late... I didn't want to disturb him.

But he spoke up, "Hiding in the dark doesn't mean I don't know you're there love," He chuckled,

I let my smile break and went over sitting beside him, "Hi Newt,"

"Hi Y/n," He forced a smile back,

"Can I?" I asked my Y/e/C eyes peering into his brown ones,

"You know you don't have to ask," he smiled more genuinely and closed the gap between us letting us share a sweet soft kiss. When we pulled back his eyes flicked down at me and back up again, "Excuse me?"

"...What?" I feigned my innocence,

"That's my coat," He complained, "What are you doing with it?"

I looked down at Newt's fluffy aviator coat around me and blushed, "Wearing it,"

"Don't get smart with me," he chuckled kissing my forehead, "Is it keeping you cosy?"

"Mhm," I nodded,

"Alright, then you can wear it," He rolled his eyes, "But I want it back after dinner,"

"Fine," I sighed, "What are you doing out here?" I asked after a few moments of silence,

"...Thinking, Breathing, Existing I suppose,"

"Don't get smart with me,"

"Sorry," he chuckled, "It's complicated Y/n..."

"Do you want to tell me or..."

"I... I need to,"

"You don't have to tell me anything Newt,"

"I do. I really do." He nodded, "I... I can't hide this anymore,"

He sighed and slowly pulled up his sleeve, and there it was. Not a single word needed to be spoken. His forearm had grown pale, the veins below his skin in various stages of darkening, some only a pale grey, others black as night. Some of the more prominent veins had even raised up out of his skin, the infection crawling growing through him like ivy crawling into every crack and crevice. It reached his wrist and I didn't know how high on his arm it went as he only rolled it up to his elbow but it was clear it went beyond that.

"I've been thinking... maybe Wicked just put me in there, so they could tell the difference between immunes like you and people like me."

"Newt... don't say that," I took his hand,"

"But it's true... it has to be, if some of us weren't immune what other reason were we there?" He asked his voice getting choked up, "That's all I ever was. All Winston ever was. The moment we came out we both got infected... We were nothing but controls."

"Newt." I stopped him taking his cheeks in my hands, "You are not a control. You are not an experiment. You're Newt." I remind him, "You're newt. No matter why you were in there, no matter what reasons they might have had you're still you. You still did what you did, became the person you did, made the friends you did... Because you're you." I told him, "And you know I love you,"

"I love you too," A tear slipped from his left eye tumbling down his cheek so I wiped it away with my thumb, "You- You always know how to fix me, Y/n," He smiled, "... But I don't think even you can fix this." He said looking down at his arm, "I'm going to die, Aren't I? Just like Winston, like Ben and Alby. I'll turn into a vicious, mindless crank. I- I won't be able to stop myself from hurting you."

"... You might, but that's a long way off." I told him, "For now we'll work together trying things to slow it down. Hopefully, we will find something soon that will help."

"I hope so," He nodded, "Y/n..."

"Yes, Newt?"

"You know I love you, so much," he batted his nose against mine, "Since the moment I met you."

"I know Newt, I love you too." I cooed, "You know that don't you?"

"I do, I just... I want to make sure I tell you every day from now on. Just- Just in case I-"

Silence lingered,

"Okay," I nodded, "Come on let's see what the med tent has that might keep you from feeling so sick."

"Okay," he nodded, "Y/n?"

"Yes, Newt?"

"Can I?"

"You know you don't have to ask," I chuckled giving his lips a soft and sweet kiss, this kiss was longer than most of our common kisses, he was savouring it and I suppose I was too. But when we pulled back I kissed his forehead and took his hand to help him up and back towards camp.

I sat in the back of the jeep, my feet up on the seat a blanket over my legs, I hadn't gone to sleep with it but I know Newt must have put it over me while I was sleeping. Newt sat in the back with me too, when I had gone to sleep he was sat with his back against the door and his feet up against the centre console between the front seats, my head had been on his chest while we got some sleep. But he had since moved sitting with his back against the seat back, my head on his shoulder as he tapped the small metal box with his fingertips.

"Medicine time?" I asked sitting up and rubbing my eyes,

"I-" He tried to begin,

"It was medicine time twenty minutes ago," Fry spoke up from the front seat where he was driving, thomas asleep in the passenger seat, "He's avoiding it."

"I'll avoid you in a minute," Newt protested kicking Fry's seat,

I just glared at him,

"Sorry..."

"It's alright, you should have woke me anyway,"

"I didn't want to, you were sleeping too soundly,"

"Doesn't matter," I told him, I took the metal box from him and opened it up revealing everything we had packed for our trip to the city for him. Glass ampules full of what little medication seemed to be helping him, needles, and bandages and anything else we may have needed. I grabbed the ampule and snapped it to open it up, I grabbed a new needle and took up the dose, all while Newt sat and watched me.

He was growing disillusioned with it all, but I can't blame him. The Virus was growing fast, and the cure moved slowly. But We couldn't just do nothing.

I held his hand softly in my own and made him pull back his sleeve to see how it crawled so violently through him. I slowly gave him the injection finding it hard to meet his eyes when I did, I made sure to strike the centre with my needle even if it filled me with rage. The exact spot where Wicked had injected him when we first arrived at the compound, was the centre of his virus. We all wished to believe it was just the only fresh open wound that just happened to be where the virus found its way in... but part of me couldn't avoid thinking they had done this on purpose to him. But the medicine did its job and already had taken some of the smaller grey veins away as it began its work.

"There we go, all better." I smiled as I packed everything away,

"I think I'm a bit far from all better Y/n," he said sadly,

"Better," I told him rubbing his nose with mine which forced him to smile,

"Do you think... as I was a very big brave boy... Can I?"

"You know you don't have to ask," I smiled giving him a soft kiss before we cuddled up on the backseat once more,

"Still as adorable and annoying as in the glade," Fry said as he drove,

"Jealous," Newt kicked his seat again,

"Newt?"

"Yes, Y/n?" He looked down at me,

"Can I?" I asked,

"You know you don't have to ask," he chuckled giving my lips another soft kiss.

I felt the weight of the world as it crumbled around me. Both literally and figuratively. The last city had begun to crumble, fires raging and glass-shattering, buildings tumbling down like sandcastles. The dark shy lit by the light of destruction, of red flame rather than the cold blue light of wicked.

It was over. Wicked was over.

But then... where does that leave us?

Brenda and Fry had gotten out everyone they could from the Wicked labs everyone who could and wanted to be saved. Minho and Gally ran ahead to meet up with them to get us out of the city before it came down on our heads. And ... to fetch the last of the serums.

Thomas and I carried Newt in our arms, the two of us forcing him to walk as he argued and protested every step of the way, screaming and crying at us to leave him behind.

In the city the virus had spread in him faster than anything we could do to contain it, I had been giving him every medication we could find but nothing had worked. Now all that remained was his own willpower to fight against it, but even that was failing him. The pain was too much for him to even walk.

The last serum, the only one we had yet to try was with Brenda across the city, but that was a long walk away.

For a moment we had to stop, putting Newt down on the cold pavement as thomas caught his breath, But I still tried.

"Leave me. The two of you get out just leave me here..." he begged,

Thomas didn't answer for a moment,

"No. I am not leaving you here..." I told him as I tried to carry him and drag him by myself, but I wasn't strong enough on my own. "No. I am. Not. Leaving. Without. you." I said as I tried and failed to drag him a long,

"Y/n." Thomas grabbed me by the shoulders, "... We drag him out and then what." He asked tears in his eyes, "We... we can't keep this up forever," He said but my eyes never left Newt's body as it gasped and cried, "Even if we do... how long will he last? how long would it give him? Where does it end Y/n?"

"Long enough." I snapped kneeling beside him and holding his hand so tightly,

"Please... please... just go, I want you to be safe Y/n..."

"I am not leaving you, not now. Not ever."

"Even if I'd kill you..."

"Even so." I nodded, "I love you too much to let you go,"

"I love you too..." he muttered,

"Alright. Come on Newt lets go." Thomas agreed trying to pick Newt up but the virus took hold once more and he screamed out forcing thomas to the floor,

"No! Take her. And go. Get her out of here Tommy."

"She's not leaving you and neither am I." he nodded, "I'm sorry Newt, but we have to get you out of here."

"Fine..." He screamed out as he grabbed the gun from Thomas' hip,

"No!" I screamed,

I jumped on his back and forced the gun out of his hand tossing it away so he couldn't get it,

He turned and screamed at me but it was so horrifically inhuman, no trace of his voice, only of a crank, his eyes black, and the dark bile dripping from his lips as he came at me trying to bite me, grab me, anything he could to hurt me, I had no choice but to fight him off until thomas forced him away from me, but that only made him attack thomas. I did what I could to separate them, Thomas and I doing our best to keep him off each other in the hope he would calm down and regain some humanity or at least it would give us long enough to get the serum.

But He had enough of us, he grabbed the knife from his ankle holster and went for his own neck but I grabbed his arm, screaming at him in the hope he might listen to us, but he came at me trying to attack me with the knife and he managed to cut the top of my arm, making me hit the floor and scream clutching my bleeding arm.

"Y/n!" Thomas yelled out to me,

"Na-Y/n..." Newt regained some of his mind, his eyes filled with tears as he saw what he had done to me, "no, no no no..." He cried dropping the knife to the pavement, "Y/n... I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay, it's okay." I tried to comfort him, "You didn't mean to,"

"Please Tommy... please," Newt begged, offering him the knife. "I can't hurt her again."

Thomas came and took the knife from him, "I'm not gonna do that Newt. Come on. It's not far from the Berg. You can make it and we can-"

"NO!" Newt screamed as the crank took hold once more, "I. Can't. I won't..." He battled with himself the crank wanting to scream, bite attack, and Newt begging to die before he could hurt me again, but thomas wouldn't do it, and Newt's willpower gave out.

Newt attacked him clawing and trying to bite him like a rabbit animal until ...

it was over.

Newt had run into him forced him to fight, and the blade found its way into Newt's heart.

His body dropped, and his blood flowed onto the cold pavement stone.

For a moment there was nothing but silence.

Until an uncontrollable scream came from my lips, tears flooding down my cheeks, my voice echoing through the city, it wasn't even words, just screams of utter agony.

"I- I didn't mean to... I -" Thomas tried to explain,

But I just moved as close as I could kneeling at the side of Newt's body, taking his hand in mine, watching the life leave his eyes, and in those last few moments he regained the last of himself, he stroked my cheek.

"Y/n... I... I love you,"

"I love you too... I've always loved you, from the moment we met in the maze I love you, never once have I ever stopped or even doubted it. And I swear I will love you for the rest of my life. And beyond if I can."

"Don't." He said, "Please... be happy without me,"

"I can't you know I can't, you know I never will be! not without you!"

"Then say you'll still smile for me sometimes... at least,"

"I promise," I cried,

"Y/n... Can I?" he begged,

"You know you don't have to ask," I whined,

With the last of his strength, he kissed me, our final kiss.

When we pulled away, thomas pulled me back.

"Take care of her tommy..." His last words. and he was gone.

I cried hysterically unable to even stand,

"Brenda..." Thomas gasped,

I looked up and saw her there, serum in hand. Gally and Minho are behind her. It would have only taken another two minutes...

I sat by the sand watching the waves kiss the beach, hugging my arms as I wore Newt's jacket around me.

"Hey Y/n..." Minho came and sat beside me,

"Hey," I wiped my tears,

"You okay?"

"Doing better... slowly," I answered rubbing my scar,

"I didn't mean your arm..."

"Much the same, things are slow."

"I can't imagine how this must be for you,"

"It hurts, but I suppose he's happy. Not trapped as a horrible crank."

"Yeah, he'd have hated it." he chuckled,

"He would," I nodded, "What did you just do?" I asked looking at the dust on his hands,

"Put Ben up on the rock."

I nodded but didn't speak,

"No one's put Newt on there yet." he said, "it should be you. Y/n. He'd have wanted it to be you."

"I know... Just hard to... have it be set in stone that he's gone..."

"Would you rather you forget?"

"No. never."

"Would you rather everyone here forget? Given everything he did for us. For them. None of this would be here without him."

"You're right," I nodded,

"Come on girly, the sunset is beautiful tonight."

I slowly got to my feet, and walked with Minho back into camp, almost like everyone knew what I was doing and where I was going, those who knew Newt followed, thomas, fry, gally, Brenda, and even those from group B and right arms camp who had met him.

When we reached the stone it felt so... large and endless. All the names are written on it.

I took the knife and stepped up on my own, I picked a spot a nice one, where everyone could see it, and letter by letter I carved his name. Each one took time and effort, and I went over each one a few times. To make it deep, and prominent, and to make sure my letters were straight.

When I was done I brushed off the dirt seeing his name in the stone felt so final, I ran my fingers across the letters and found that even his name had a view across the water like he could watch the waves with me forever. I brushed a few tears from my face and whispered that I loved him before I returned the blade and gave everyone a small smile likely the first since his death.

Everyone cheered and Thomas gave me a tight hug, which I returned, Minho and Fry joining in too.

And when I dried the last of my tears we headed to the bonfire to try and enjoy paradise. 

[ofthehands]

Final Girls Just Want to Have Fun

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

Disability Fan Week, Day 5: Victims

A medium, ~12k word fic about Stretch and Sally finding solace with each other after their similar horrific experiences. Also some Sally/Stretch. Warnings for mentions/ discussions of death, a little bit of post-partum depression, and fairly graphic violence, a little above usual for canon.

The fall out of that one night from hell was devastating. Stretch escaped, and took herself to the hospital quick, where of course, police arrived. She told them the whole story, and they acted like she was hopped up on drugs and talking nonsense until they got calls from folks who had seen smoke from that old amusement park. Then the investigation was on. She got snippets of news from the staff of the hospital, and her friends who came by to check on her. They explained someone had fired off a grenade in the belly of that old minecart ride and the whole thing- closed years ago for safety concerns- came tumbling down. She heard there was another survivor. She prayed to God it was Lefty, mad as she was at that man, though she would have sobbed with unmatched joy if somehow it was LG. But it was neither of them. It was the bastard she slashed in the stomach with the chainsaw- the one who cut her to ribbons as she tried to escape. 

Robert Sawyer was his name, apparently. They were the Sawyer family. Three brothers and their Grandpa. She hated that Robert got to live, but at least had the solace of knowing all the rest of his twisted family died. Their crimes were unveiled- a blood trail over two decades long starting back in their hometown of Newt, Texas. Where they had killed Lefty’s nephew and viciously attacked his niece. Just like they did to her and LG.  But now it was over. The most notorious serial killers in Texas killed off or put behind bars. She hoped, wherever he was now, Lefty was happy. Or at least at peace, in some way. She hoped she would find peace too. 

Years passed. She quit her job at the radio station, and went off to find something else, something real. Her experiences propelled her career in journalism, which should have made her happy. But it felt hollow. LG had always talked about when she finally made it- about how he’d go and get her one of those big ice cream cakes from Dairy Queen to celebrate, and she would joke that he’d have to take up as the DJ, and he’d laugh and try to mimic the way she answered calls, pitching up his voice. She’d tell him it didn’t sound like her, and toss something soft at him, and he’d yelp and they’d laugh. 

But she finally made it. And there was no ice cream cake, no lighthearted jabs, no laughter. There was just no more LG. That devastated her more than she realized at first. Of course it hurt, of course it twisted her heart- he was her best friend. But she found herself struggling to get out of bed, struggling to go into public, all twisted up and hurt. 

She needed to get past it. She desperately wanted to get past it. It had been two damn years. But she had no idea how to live like this- how to deal with the crushing weight of what she had seen, and the guilt she made for making it out when LG and Lefty were lying dead at the bottom of that cave. She had to find some way out of it. Some way through it. Some way to survive. 

Which is why she went to Sally. 

She shouldn’t have done it, she really probably shouldn’t have done it and she knew that. But there was no one else in the world who understood the pain in her heart the way that Sally did. Stretch needed that. Closure. Understanding. The guiding hand of someone who’d lived through it all before. She just hoped Sally would be willing to help her with it. She sort of knew she wouldn’t be welcome. Reporters had bothered her before, bothered the whole Enright family, which was how Stretch knew where she lived in the first place. They asked her all sorts of invasive questions, knocked on her door, harassed her daddy about his brother and her momma about her son. She had even seen pictures of Lefty and Franklin’s graves in a news article once. Which was why she was apprehensive. She didn’t want Sally to think she was like that- that she was one of them. But she had become decently well known as a reporter. So there was a chance that was how it would be perceived. 

Which was why Stretch was sitting in her car, clenching the steering wheel, looking out at Sally’s house like some kind of creep. She was scared. Scared of being turned away. And scared of what might happen if she wasn’t. 

“Oh… Fuck it. Brazos,” she said, slapping her hands against the steering wheel. She got out of the car quickly, and headed up to the door while she still had some bullheaded bravery in her. Then she actually got to the door and felt that bravery cower behind her. Oh God. she thought. C’mon. C’mon. I’ve stood toe to toe with actual serial killers, I can knock on this lady’s door. And she did. She didn’t hear anything immediately, and tried to convince herself Sally wasn’t home- got ready to leave right away. Then she heard movement. She froze, unsure of whether to stay or go or what the hell she might say. 

Then Sally opened the door. 

“Hello?” Sally asked. Stretch froze up. Sally was a pretty woman- older than she was sure, and she looked it- but she had a nice face, and pretty blonde hair, and kind, beautiful eyes and Stretch felt like absolute shit turning up on her doorstep with all this. “Who are you?��� 

“I’m- I’m Vanita Brock, or Stretch- you probably heard of me as Stretch, it was my old DJ name when I was a DJ- I’m a reporter now and-” 

“Oh, Lord-” Sally started shutting the door. “Please- I don’t want to-”

“Wait! Please- This isn’t about all that- Well I mean- It sort of is but-”

“Would you give it a rest? Please? I’m so sick to death of being asked about Franklin, and my friends, and my uncle and-”

“Please- I- I knew Lefty-” Stretch said. Sally paused. 

“What?”

“Your uncle he- I- he used me. Me and my friend, LG. As bait for the Sawyers, and they came, and LG died and I… I didn’t. That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. Not as a reporter just- just as another person who understands.” Sally paused for a moment, holding the door. Stretch held her breath. 

“Come in,” she said, finally. “I’ll fix you somethin’ to drink.” 

Sally brought her in, and they settled in a cozy set of plush chairs. Sally brought her a glass of sweet tea. Sally had a nice little house. It was cute, and fairly bright, despite having little natural lighting. It smelled nice, like she had lit a candle recently, and there were lots of little sitting places throughout, though no proper dining room table. That was a relief for Stretch, honestly, dining room tables made her too nauseous to eat after her encounter with the Sawyers. She never really considered that she could just choose not to have one. Sally got situated, sitting where she could see all the entrances to the room. Stretch was comforted by that, in an odd way. Comforted in knowing she wasn’t alone at least. 

“I’m…” Sally began. “I’m sorry he did that to you. My uncle he- he was a good man, all his life but… What happened to me and my brother just drove him crazy. He just… He just couldn’t live with the guilt,” Sally said, her voice wavering. Stretch didn’t know what to say to that. 

“I… The guilt?” she asked. 

“He… He convinced me. To invite my brother along, on our fatal trip. Franklin had been upset about us growin’ apart and talked with him about it and Uncle Lefty told me and… That was that. I never blamed him but… He blamed himself. It took us another day to find an old travel wheelchair for Franklin and… And Uncle Lefty couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t said anything. Couldn’t get it out of his head that if the timing was just a little different we would’ve never bumped into that hitchhiker and… and Franklin and Jerry and Kirk and Pam would all just… be alive,” Sally said. “I’m… I’m sorry for what he did- I- I don’t know how I can make it up to you-”

“No- I- I don’t want that,” Stretch interrupted. “I… I just don’t know how to… How to move on.”

“Move on?”

“After all that happened I… I can’t stop thinking about it. What I’ve seen and… and who I’ve lost and I just… I just miss LG and my old life and my old job and- and I miss Lefty and I miss myself. I- that probably sounds crazy but I just-”

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” Sally said, softly. “Not to me.” They let that sit there, for a moment. “I.. I miss the old Sally too, sometimes,” she said. “But… I can’t get her back. You know? I… I’ve seen too much. Felt too much. I’m just… different.” Stretch looked down at her sweet tea. 

“Do you think… Do you really think there’s no going back to the old Sally?”

“No,” she said firmly. “But… that’s alright.”

“How?” Stretch asked. She didn’t mean it so bluntly- didn’t want to be rude, but she couldn’t fathom how Sally could just move on after that. 

“I like who I am now. You… You can’t go back. You can’t change what’s happened. But the way I see it, you can waste a whole lot of time tryin’ to, or you can put all that effort into making a future you’re happy with.” Stretch sat on that for a moment. 

“I’d… I’d like to. I want to do that but I… I don’t know how the hell to move on. To… Get through all this I just- it’s so much.” 

“Yeah,” Sally said. “You can say that again.”  Stretch paused, trying to take it in, trying to find some easy solution or hard but simple truth. “You want an easy way out,” she said, with a bluntness to her statement and steely gaze that reminded Stretch so much of Sally’s uncle she thought she might drop the nice cup Sally gave her. 

“I… I guess so.” 

“Well,” Sally’s expression softened, in a way his never did. She took Stretch’s hand, gently. “I’m sorry, honey, but there’s no way around all this… You’ve just… You’ve got to go through it.” 

Sally and Stretch kept in touch, after that. Stretch kept coming over, and they talked. Not about that. Almost never about that. But about their lives, and what they were up to, and the hundreds of methods of healing Sally had tried. 

Sally liked yoga, and meditation, and running. She tried to gently desensitize herself to the things that she had to in order to get around- hearing men’s voices when she didn’t expect them, gas stations, roadkill. But otherwise, she just avoided the things that tipped her over the edge. She didn’t have a dining room table, she didn’t wear bracelets, or necklaces, she wouldn’t go to a farm house or watch any movie with a pig in it, and she didn’t eat meat. She also avoided alcohol, as Stretch found out from inviting her for margaritas one too many times, though Stretch didn’t think that was exactly because of the Sawyers. 

Stretch often felt like she wasn’t dealing with all of it as well as Sally did. She wasn’t active like Sally. The healthiest thing she did was join Sally for meditation, though she wiggled a fair bit during that, and journaling. Well, if the journaling was helping, like she thought it was, instead of making things harder. She was never really sure. She thought it was helping. Wanted it to be helping. But she didn’t know if it was really just dragging all her pain back up. Her pain still felt raw, just about every day, even three years after the Sawyers were dead and gone. She never felt safe, anymore, kept checking behind her in the reflections on windows, always sitting with her back to the wall, scanning every new person who came into wherever she was. Still panicking when she saw blue trucks. Smelled any kind of fuel. Met somebody with buck teeth. Of course Sally had her things too- even sixteen years after the Sawyers were out of her life. But she had far less of them than Stretch, and handled it all with grace. There was just something graceful about her. And strong too. Admirable. Stretch wished she was more like her. Less scared of every shadow, ever corner, every loud voice. Wished she dealt with her pain- at the loss of a best friend only- more like Sally managed to deal with losing her boyfriend, and her best friends, and her brother, and her uncle, years later. Wished that the day the two of them went to the state fair, feeling a little more comfortable knowing they had each other’s backs, she hadn’t broken down sobbing when she saw a pair of kids making a fry house. 

Sally took her aside, helping her find a bench and a corner to hide in, where they were back away from the crowd, where they didn’t feel like they had to keep scanning the faces for someone horribly familiar. 

“Stretch? Are you okay?” Sally asked. “Just breathe, honey,” Sally said. “Just breathe.” Stretch hiccuped and coughed, snot running down her face. “What happened, honey?” Sally asked, in that soft voice of hers. “Are you okay, Nita?” Stretch tried to control her breathing again. 

“I- I just- I saw- there were some kids- makin’ a- a little house out of french fries,” she said. “It wasn’t- that wasn’t- my friend LG did that. He did that and- and I’ve never seen somebody else do it- and I just- I thought of him- and when I think of him I can’t think of him happy anymore I just- I just hear his voice after they got him, and see his peeled off face- I can feel it- I can feel it on me, Sally-” Sally put a hand to her face. 

“You’re okay, Nita,” she said softly. “You’re here with me right now. There’s nothin’ on your face. See?” She rubbed a gentle circle on her cheek with her soft hand. “You’re here with me.” Stretch nodded. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m here with you.”

“Where are we?” 

“We’re- we’re-” Stretch had done that one before. “We’re in Dallas, Texas, at the big state fair. It’s 1989- September the 14th, 1989. And… And we’re okay. We’re safe. And.. and everything’s under control.” Stretch’s breathing was calming down, but there were still tears in her eyes. Sally nodded. Then she gave Stretch her hand to hold. 

“From the top, Nita. You can squeeze my hand.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you-”

“You’re not gonna.” She squeezed her hand.

“My… My name is Vanita ‘Stretch’ Brock. It’s September the 14th, 1989. And.. I am… I am thirty-two years old. I’m at the big state fair in Dallas, Texas. And I’m.. I’m safe.” Sally nodded. Stretch didn’t feel good by a long shot- she felt like she had roadrash on her soul, and some kind of emotional grime she could just never let go of. But she was oriented, again, in that moment there, could smell the popcorn and funnel cake instead of blood and rot and burning flesh. Sally was watching her face, trying to read her expression, no doubt. She sighed, heavily. “God. Sorry to fuck up such a good day-”

“It’s alright-”

“I’m sure you’re gettin’ tired of me-” 

“No,” Sally said, sharply. “Never.” Stretch couldn’t help but to believe her. 

In another year, Sally was married. Stretch didn’t really know the guy all that well, but he seemed fine- just generic. Stretch had no interest in any of that. She was focused firmly on her career. Though, unfortunately, her career was exactly what got her into trouble. 

She wasn’t even told about it. Just heard through the grapevine that the issues had been resolved with land rights or whatever, and the police department had finally started to excavate Texas Battleland. 

She stayed away from it for the first few days. She heard stories about it, about how the men on the job couldn’t believe how many bodies they were digging up, that the county had to bring in a bunch of new coroners to work just on that case, to keep the official county coroner from getting too backed up. 

Then she heard, from Mrs. McPeters, his mother, that they finally found LG. She was invited to his funeral. It was going to be a small service, just family, done all very quietly so the press wouldn’t show. Mrs. McPeters told her over the phone she was invited because she was as good as family. LG told his Mama all about her, and she always thought she would be her daughter-in-law someday. Stretch was just glad Mrs. McPeters couldn’t see her sobbing through the phone. She agreed to come. Of course she agreed to come. She asked if she could bring her best friend along, just for support, and sweet old Mrs. McPeters said yes. She called Sally up about it, sobbing, and she promised to take the day off of work and come with her. 

The day of LG’s funeral was a hard one. Stretch had gotten better at keeping those thorny memories from catching her and driving her crazy with fear, but it wasn’t the fear that worried her. It was the sadness. At least, at a funeral, it was okay to cry. 

She managed, for most of the funeral- it was a quick service, the McPeters didn’t have much money. The funeral was just the basics, a casket and a headstone paid for by the state, as a quick apology for the deaths their ineptitude caused, and an attempt not to get sued for even more. But when the ceremony leader asked if she was his widow, she broke down and sobbed. She stayed strong, as long as she could, making it through the rest of the funeral through tears, breaking down properly in the bathroom of the funeral home after the service. She felt like she would never stop crying, and as soon as her sobs died down she thought of something else to cry about. She thought about why it was a closed casket. She thought about how likely it was she would’ve died in his stead if he hadn’t come by, just trying to bring her coffees. She thought about how his face over hers, his hat on her head. She thought about how he used his last moments to save her. How he might not have even heard her tell him she loved him. And she cried until finally she just couldn’t cry anymore. 

Sally was there, patient and put together, when Stretch was finally able to leave. She had tissues in her purse, and a little makeup wipe. She drove Stretch home as she whipped her face and cleaned the smudged, wet mascara from her cheeks. Stretch didn’t say much, didn’t have the energy to, but Sally didn’t press her. She just turned on the radio, to a soft jazz station she liked, that didn’t remind Stretch too much of her old radio job, and drove. 

Stretch wondered, for a minute, if she should’ve married LG. If she would’ve married him eventually, like everybody thought. She did love him. And he loved her. Though she wasn’t sure they really loved each other the same way. And she could never imagine being all wifey, or having a bunch of kids. She didn’t hate the idea of kids all together, she just wasn’t so sure about the pregnancy part, or having kids of her own. She was happy just having kids in the family. But maybe LG would’ve been happy with that too. She didn’t know. She just really didn’t know. 

They settled in, in Stretch’s little apartment for a moment. Just trying to decompress, both checking in on each other. Stretch really thought she would be the only one breaking down- thought of herself as the weaker one between the two of them. But when she came back into the living room, after getting up to get herself and Sally some sweet tea, she saw something that surprised her. Sally was quietly drying her tears with one of those tissues. Polite, and somewhat under control, but still it was clear she was crying. Stretch sat close on the loveseat with her. 

“Sal?” she said, softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m fine I just…” She paused a moment. “We… We never got anything to burry, you know?” 

“Huh?”

“Their graves. My brother’s and my uncle’s they’re just… empty. Headstones is all it is. Their bodies are just gone. God only knows where Franklin is and… Uncle Lefty’s down there in that chasm of lost souls somewhere. I just… I… I hope they’re at peace, you know? Just… Wrapped up in God’s heavenly love instead of stuck somewhere down in that hole…” Her lip wobbled, and the tears started to build up heavy in her pretty green eyes. “I just… Don’t know.” Stretch comforted her, hugging her tight, and stayed with her till she was ready to leave. But after that conversation, she had made up her mind. Even if she may have made it up foolishly. 

People were allowed to try and identify loved ones at the excavation site. Every time a new body was drug up with some part of its face intact, dozens of grief stricken people surrounded the body as the crew tried to wheel it away to take it to the coroner, to determine cause of death and to try to confirm the identity. About fifty people had been identified by their loved ones- bodies kept in disturbingly decent shape sometimes, and noting but worm food in other cases. 

For the next three weeks, after work, Stretch joined them. She brought with her a news article- the headline of a cowboy chasing chainsaws she kept all those years. And she fought her way through the crowd, to get a look at those mangled bodies, to see if maybe she could find him there, and give Sally her peace. 

It was gruesome, awful work. She felt bad for the crew who had to dig them up, and worse for the people who didn’t even know if their loved ones were actually among the bodies down in there- who were just praying to finally have closure in a missing person case. 

Stretch worried, all the time, that she wouldn’t be there when they found him. Or that the grenade would have rendered him unrecognizable, to the point even the coroner would never know who he was. But she kept looking, when she could anyways. 

On the fifth day, she thought she saw him. Half a body was drug up- from deep in the ground they said. The corpse was mangled to the point that facial features didn’t help much, but the way it was torn looked like damage from a grenade to Stretch. And etched into her mind forever were the corpse’s bright blue eyes, wide and fearful, and somehow preserved. Most of the bodies didn’t have eyes. She took that as a sign- it had to mean something- it had to be him. But, at the coroner’s office, it was determined to have been a woman, and the eyes were taxidermy marbles. Seems the Sawyers had used her body as some kind of grisly decoration. Stretch wasn’t sure she would ever unsee that woman’s corpse, or overcome her fear of ending up just like her. But regardless, she pressed on. 

The next false positive was in the middle of the second week. When they took up a body from one of the lower levels- the dining room of death, as the excavation crew called it- and the word ‘shrapnel’ echoed through the crowd of mourners like a ripple. Everybody knew the killers died to a grenade- quite likely to shrapnel. But Stretch knew Lefty had too. Or at least, she hoped he had. Nobody jumped forward to see that one as much as Stretch did, as it was carted past. She got a really good look at it. It was a man’s body, that she was fairly certain of- she was getting good at telling bodies apart. The size wasn’t too far off, he was a bit thin, but decomposition could’ve done that. His spine was severed- his torso and hips still attached by some kind of mummified tissue but nothing more. He looked like he was crushed. His skull and ribcage were flattened. It probably would’ve been quick. Maybe even painless. His body still wore the tattered remains of a suit- though it was covered in dirty and rot to the point she couldn’t tell what color it had been. The thing that finally clicked in her head, however, the damndest thing- was the pair of somehow almost perfectly preserved shoes. She stepped back into the crowd, away from her would-be killer, once again disgusted by the visage of Grandpa Sawyer. 

There was nothing of note on the third week. No bodies that seemed more or less Lefty than any of the others. He should’ve been there- he should’ve died somewhere near the dining room, if his death happened how she thought of it. But she hadn’t been there. And she didn’t know. 

Stretch always assumed he went down fighting. That one of the Sawyers pulled the pin on the grenade because of him- and he died to that. Maybe painful, but definitely quick. He didn’t suffer. It was a blaze of glory. 

But she didn’t actually know that. 

She saw a corpse dragged out, a body people sobbed as they tried to compare it to their loved ones, that sent a chill down her spine. It was the naked body of a man, face hard to recognize but contorted in pain nonetheless. His legs were mangled- broken. And there were chunks torn out of his neck, and his torso. Stretch wanted, desperately, to believe it was from decay. But she couldn’t shake the idea in her head that they were bites. 

She started to wonder what really happened. If they overwhelmed him. If the grenade didn’t kill him, if the cave in didn’t kill him, and he died of thirst, trapped down there with his body broken for days. Waiting for help. Thinking, maybe, that help might come. Maybe the blast didn’t kill all the Sawyers immediately either. Maybe it trapped them all together. Maybe they tortured him, while waiting to die. Maybe they ate him. Stretch worried herself so much over it all that she had to run to one of the trash cans around the site and vomit. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone put their hand on her back. She whipped around, nearly slapping the other woman in the face, before realizing it was Sally. 

“Stretch?” she said, softly. 

“Sally? I- I’m sorry- I almost-”

“What are you doin’ out here?” Sally asked. Stretch felt almost guilty. Definitely caught. 

“I was… I’m just…” She bit the bullet and told the truth. “Lookin’ for Lefty.” Sally looked like she was about to cry. “I wanted to bring him home for you- didn’t want him lost-”

“You’re sweet, Nita, but you don’t have to do this-”

“I don’t want him left behind, and I don’t want you to have to do this- You’ve been through so much-”

“So have you!” Sally said. “You went through so much because of that crazy man-” 

“I know but-”

“Stretch- there’s- you don’t-” Sally paused. “I don’t want this makin’ things worse for you. I don’t want you comin’ back here. Promise me you won’t.”

“I-” Stretch paused. “If you promise me you won’t either, then I will.” 

“I promise,” Sally said. Stretch took a deep breath. 

“I promise too, then.” She paused. “I just… How do you know you’ll get him back? Is it just… faith?” Sally smiled, sort of, then. 

“A little bit of faith,” she said. “And a little bit of luck. He blew out his knee real bad when I was a kid, had to have surgery… They’ll know it’s him. He’s got three metal pins in his right knee. I’m sure they’ll know it’s him.” 

Another two years went by. They didn’t find Lefty. But Sally and Stretch both avoided the hunt around the pit. By that point, all the bodies had been excavated. It was just a matter of identifying them. Sally divorced her first, forgettable husband, and remarried, some other man Stretch cared very little about. Though this one, at least, she remembered the name of, if only because Greg gave Sally her very first child. Sally and Stretch and Greg were all over the moon excited. Stretch and Greg were there at her every beck and call, one of them always around to make sure Sally was alright and had rides to doctor’s appointments and whatever food she happened to be craving. Sally was worried she would get fat, from all their attention, but Stretch kept reminding her she was eating for two, and told her if she got fat, nobody had any right to judge her, after everything she had been through. She was older, to be pregnant, so the doctors were diligent, checking in on the new little one constantly, especially with her family history of birth defects. But everything was right as rain. Until they found out the sex of the baby she was having. 

Stretch wasn’t at that appointment with her, it was Greg, but she found out soon afterwards when Greg called her up about Sally, saying she had locked herself in the bathroom, and wouldn’t stop crying. Stretch came over quick, a little pissed at Greg for not helping his own pregnant wife before she got there. She parked like an asshole and ran to the door. 

“Oh! Vanita, I’m so glad to see you-” 

“Where is she?” 

“Guest bathroom,” said Greg. “I just- I tried to help her but she won’t let me in. I think… I think it’s got to have somethin’ to do with the chainsaw killin’s, I just don’t know what.” Oh. That’s why he called me. 

“I’ll talk to her.” Stretch came to the door. She could still hear Sally crying inside. She knocked, softly. “Sal?” she called. “It’s me. It’s Nita.” She heard the sobbing subside, for just a moment. “Are you alright? Can I come in?” She heard the door lock click. She came inside, and closed and locked the door back again. Sally was sitting on the toilet lid, snot and tears running down her face. Stretch got some toilet paper for her to wipe her nose on, which she did, as Stretch sat down across from her on the rim of the tub. “What’s goin’ on, darlin’?” Sally tried to calm herself down. 

“I’m- I’m- the doctors told me I’m havin’ a boy.” Stretch tried to think of why that would be a problem- what about that could catch on those thorny memories of the Sawyers. She supposed they were all brothers. 

“That’s gonna be alright. He’ll be a sweet boy. A kind boy, I’m sure. Like.. Like Uncle Franklin-” That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, as Sally broke down crying harder then. 

“That’s the problem! That’s the problem!” Stretch was confused. 

“Are- are you worried he’ll be sick like Franklin was?” Stretch asked. She had no idea what spinal issue Franklin had exactly, or if it was common in Hardesty men- she also wasn’t sure if whatever made Lefty so unstable was an actual condition, and if it was, if that was genetic too.

“I don’t know what to name him.” Stretch was just getting more questions. 

“You don’t… You don’t know what to name him?” 

“If I was having a little girl, that would be easy- her name would be Pamela, but- but I’ve lost so many men I just- there’s my friend Kirk, and my old boyfriend Jerry, and there’s my own brother, Franklin, who died instead of me, and my uncle, Boude, who died to avenge me and I- I just- I just don’t know-” Stretch felt a sudden flare of genuine, intense anger. 

“Sally Ann, you listen to me,” she said. Sally looked up, a little bit surprised. “Your life is not a mausoleum! You don’t have to name that baby after any of them! Not even your brother, or your uncle.”

“It’s- it’s important- for the family-”

“Do you think Lefty would want you doin’ all this, and cryin’ about this? Do you think Franklin would? I knew Lefty, at least for a little while, and I don’t think he would. And from what you’ve told me of Franklin, I don’t think he would either! I think they would be overjoyed to hold their little nephew, or great-nephew, no matter what you called him. You… You don’t have to do all that. You’re drivin’ yourself crazy over absolutely nothin’,” Stretch said. “You name that baby whatever you want and I’m sure your friends and family will smile down on him just the same.” She didn’t quite smile, but peace returned to Sally’s face, and that was enough. “And if any of your living relatives have somethin’ rude to say about it, tell ‘em they can take it up with me.” 

“And me,” Greg said from the other side of the door. 

“And Greg.” Sally laughed a little then. She stood up, and she and Stretch hugged tight, Sally just holding on to her for a moment, comfortable there in her arms. 

“Thank you, Nita. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

His name was Andrew. Stretch loved him like he was her own son, and he loved his Auntie Nita too. There was a certain undeniable resemblance, and the boy was left-handed too, so his grandparents often called him by his great-uncle’s nickname, but Stretch just called him Andy. She wasn’t sure she would ever stop looking over her shoulders, or jumping at loud sudden noises, but as he was born she kicked some of the bad habits she had picked up, like drinking to deal with the emotional overwhelm, and her avoidance of places with big crowds and a lot of noises, like grocery stores. When it came to taking care of little Andy, she felt a lot more fearless. And, of course, she found, with repeated exposure to some of those details that triggered her fight or flight response and sent her spiraling, eventually they lost the bite they had- some of them fading out altogether. It was nice, when he was four, or so, to be able to drive little Andy around and play for him the songs that she and LG used to love. It was nice to find the Sawyers hadn’t taken everything away from her. 

Little Andy was four when he found out he was going to be a big brother. He seemed pretty alright with that. Stretch didn’t have any siblings of her own, so she didn’t quite know the feeling, but Andy seemed to just regard the bump in his Momma’s belly as a potential new playmate. Though he was rather impatient, wanting his new little sibling to come out and play right away. 

Sally had some unusual cravings that time around- cravings that made her scared, made her worried about the way that baby in her belly would turn out. After being vegan for over twenty years, Sally had a hankering for red meat. For the first few months, she fought it like hell- refusing to eat even something easier, like chicken, or fish. But eventually Greg convinced her it was alright to give the baby what it wanted- and she agreed to eat one, single steak. She refused to let somebody at a restaurant cook it, but couldn’t stand to cook it herself, so she had Greg make it at home, with Stretch there for moral support. Then, finally, Sally took a bite. And tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Sal? Sally? Are you alright?”

“What’s wrong, Momma?” 

“Honey?” 

“I- I- I just-” Sally began, shaking a little. “I don’t know why my baby wants this. I just… I just don’t know-”

“It’s alright, honey,” Stretch said. “It’s probably just the protein, or the calories.”

“Besides, you know we all eat meat,” Greg said. “And we’re all alright.” Sally nodded, slowly. 

“Maybe it wants meat ‘cause it’s gonna be a velociraptor,” Andy said, softly. 

“Andy, hun, I don’t think that’s it.” 

Sally got excited again when she found out it was the little girl she always wanted. Of course, everybody loved Andy, and Stretch didn’t doubt for a second that her dear friend would still love him just as much as she always had. But there was a different set of expectations and hopes with a girl, and in Stretch’s mind at least, seeing that baby girl and her big brother grow up happy, without a care in the world or a cannibal in the house across the field was kind of like a do over, for Sally. Ever since she found out she was having a girl, Sally was walking on air. 

Until came the day that little Julia was born. 

Stretch was in the waiting room, with little Andy, waiting on some news, when she heard Sally start to wail. And she knew, immediately, something was really wrong. She took little Andy’s hand and barged into that room before anybody could stop her. 

“Sally? Honey? She’s okay- look- she’s okay-” Greg said, holding their newborn daughter. 

“It just don’t end- it just never ends-” Stretch came quick to her side. 

“Sally?”

“I don’t know why this happened- I- I don’t know-” Stretch went quick, to the baby, expecting something wrong with her- expecting, maybe, something wrong with her spine, or maybe something unusual about her face- but little Julia looked absolutely average to Stretch. As much as she would never admit it to Sally, newborns always sort of looked like wet hairless squirrels in her mind, and Julia was much the same. She was born with a little tuft of hair, dark and curly, that would probably be similar to Greg’s, or her Uncle Franklin’s. She had a short button nose. Big green eyes, like Momma, when she opened them. And bright red- healthy cheeks. 

Or at least one of ‘em. 

She turned her little head and Stretch abruptly realized the problem. Sally’s little girl had dark hair, and green eyes, and a big red birthmark right on her little cheek. Which, though Stretch had never even seen pictures of him, sounded a hell of a lot like that goddamn hitchhiker as Sally described him. Stretch looked up at the sky, mad as hell at whoever up there had such a bent sense of humor. She let Greg hold the baby, and went to Sally’s side, pulling up a hospital chair. 

“Sally? Sal?”

“This ain’t fair. This just ain’t fair,” she said softly, shaking her head so slow it was barely perceivable. “He… My uncle died to make sure this was over but.. But it just… It just don’t ever end.” Stretch swallowed, heavily. 

“Sally…” she began. She thought of what she knew of her friend, of how she help her see what she saw- a healthy, cute little baby girl. “I’m sorry this has to be so hard for you,” she said softly. “I… I wish right now you could just be happy, and excited like.. Like before. But… Though it’s a hard one I think… I think this might be a blessin’ in disguise.” Sally paused, looking up at her, with a pained expression, covered in sweat. 

“How?” she asked, softly. “Just… How?” 

“It’s one more little way they’re just… gettin’ removed, you know? Taken right off this Earth. From… From here on out- even somethin’ like that- even somethin’ so… unusual. Ain’t gonna be theirs anymore. There’ll come a day when you look at that mark and don’t even think of him. It’s just gonna be part of somebody that you love… It.. It ain’t easy, but I think… I think this is God’s way of gettin’ rid of him.” Sally relaxed, just enough, still in pain, still teary-eyed, but so much more at peace. 

“I.. I would hug you right now but- I- I don’t wanna get my sweat and snot and who knows what else on you and-” Stretch hugged her then. 

“I don’t care, honey. I promise you I don’t care.” Sally snuggled close to her, getting the crook of her neck wet with tears. Stretch stroked her hair, gently, and just held her close. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Eventually, after a long time, Sally sat up. “Greg, can I… Can I hold her?”

“Of course, darlin’,” he said, sitting on her other side, and gently passing her the baby. Sally held her, grimacing just a little as she looked up at her, curiously, with those big eyes. “She’s got such pretty eyes.” 

“Yeah,” Sally said, softly, but not happily. 

“Like yours,” Stretch said, hoping to help Greg get his point across. Sally’s expression softened, just a little. 

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah… Like mine.” Sally gently rubbed her thumb against the baby’s cheek. 

“She’s so little,” Andy whispered to his father. 

“Yeah, she was just born,” he said. “You used to be that little.” The boy seemed quite surprised by that. Stretch almost laughed. Then, softly, for the first time, little Julia giggled, reaching out to hold her Momma’s finger. Sally broke down then, smiling at her. 

“Hello, Julia,” she said softly. Julia started to fuss then, and Sally fed her new little girl for the first time, and Stretch felt like everything was going to be alright. 

It was. For a time. The kids grew fast. Andy was nine years old, and Julia was five. Sally and Greg’s marriage had gone on a nosedive. But in an odd way. A way that somehow, despite her constant presence, Stretch didn’t quite understand. There was something inbetween them- something stopping them from being all that close to each other. But they were kind, and friendly nonetheless. Stretch was glad for that, of course, too many people she knew had had terrible, rocky divorces. But Sally and Greg just seemed to drift apart. 

Stretch never married. Never even dated. She just didn’t have any interest, and she worked hard all day as a TV reporter. Romance just wasn’t something she looked for in her life. Besides, she already had a family, with Sally, and the kids. And Greg. 

Her life was good. She was really, really happy. 

Until the day that Robert Lambert Sawyer somehow, someway, broke out of prison. Having to report about it on the news, with a straight, calm face, was nerve wracking enough, but she was a professional, and she managed to get by. 

But seeing that letter. That goddamn bloody piece of paper right there at her front door made her feel fit to die. She hoped beyond hope for just a second it wasn’t what she thought it was. But she picked it up. And opened it. And read. 

Hey Radio Girl! 

She closed it again. Looked around, frantically. But saw no signs. She thought about going inside to read it, but then considered he could be in there. So she went to her car. She drove, quickly, to the first place she could think of- the police station- and sat in their parking lot to read it, only feet from what should be help if something happened, if somehow she was there. 

Though, after her run in with the Sawyers, and with Lefty, the presence of cops hardly made her feel better. She opened the letter, slowly, and three little metal rods fell out- in her lap. They were stained with old dry blood, and she flinched, immediately, and threw them across her car, into the passenger’s seat. She shook it out, in case anything else awful was contained down in there, before sighing, heavily, and opening up the letter, slowly starting to read. 

Hey Radio Girl!

Long time no see. It’s me- Chop Top- in case you didn’t know. I saw you became a big shot reporter- saw you on the news! So I thought I would give you a big big story! And It’s one I’m sure you’ve been wunderin’ about. I’m gonna tell you how I survived the big cave in. 

You killed my Great Grandma in front of me, then cut open my belly with her saw. I’m sure you rimember that. Then I fell down that long pipe, and the whole ceiling came down, like Atlas droppin’ the world. Then I had to crawl around in those pipes a minute- ‘cause they were so strong and didn’t get crushed. 

I dug around and found my family. You killed my Grandpa with that cave in. Your little piggy friend killed my baby brother with that saw he brought. Big brother was in so many pieces I couldn’t tell which of you bastards killed him. But that’s okay!! My twin brother lived okay. He’s still livin’ down there, unless y’all brot him up and locked him up in jail too. The two of us found your little piggy friend with his saws all busted up. And his back too. I think when you sabotogued our house, you got him crushed too! But lucky for me he weren’t too bad to eat. 

Stretch closed her eyes tight a moment, and tried to control her breathing. She had wondered, years ago, what happened to Lefty, but she hadn’t thought about it in a long time. They officially determined they had found Franklin a couple years ago, pieces of his skeleton woven into his wheelchair by the cave in, and the flashlight he brought with them still nearby. But they never found Lefty. She tried not to let her mind be overcome by the images of the bodies she saw them dig up. 

He didn’t react much, but when we found him he was still wigglin’. 

Stretch paused again, focusing all her energy on not picturing it, and losing slowly. 

He didn’t squeal like a good little piggy, but I stripped his legs of meat, and then took a few big healthy bites out of him- ripped open his neck and his chest all up. I think I made him cry. Got a few good pictures of him too. Gonna send those to your little friend. Also found these weird things in his knee when I made my snacks out of him. Figured they might help somebody find him. And we can’t have that!! If my family don’t get to be happy, neither does his, and neither does yours!! See you soon :) 

XOXO 

Chop Top 

Stretch processed, for a moment, what was laying in her lap. The horrible truth, there in front of her, the knowledge she never wanted to keep- the pins from Lefty’s knee, undeniable proof that Robert did find him- did tear him apart. Stretch hadn’t realized she was crying until the tears hit the letter. She was tempted to bring it in, walk right into that police station and show them what she had- get those bastards off their asses and shooting holes in that son of a bitch before sundown. But then a little more of that horrible letter processed in her mind. 

Gonna send those to your little friend. 

Sally. 

It’s about Sally. 

He’s gonna go to Sally. 

Stretch whipped out of that parking lot like a bat out of hell, flying down the road to Sally’s house faster than the law would allow. She was lucky no cops tried to stop her, because she wouldn’t’ve stopped, and whatever the result of that was would just have to happen. 

She parked like an asshole and outright ran to the door, slamming on it hard. She didn’t hear anything inside. She slammed on it again. She looked down to her feet, and saw a drop of blood on their doormat. She slammed so hard she could’ve broken a storm door. 

“Sally! Sally! Please-” The door flew open, and she found herself face to face with a gun. 

“Oh- Stretch-” Sally lowered it, tears still in her eyes. “Get in here! Get in here, now-” Stretch did as she was told. 

“Where’s Greg? Where’s the babies-”

“He- he’s got the babies-”

“Robert?”

“Greg- Greg’s got the babies he- they’re- they’re he’s gettin’ ‘em ready to go to his parent’s house-”

“I got a letter-” Stretch began. 

“Oh, God, he sent somethin’ to you too-”

“What did he send you?” Stretch asked. “What-”

“These pictures-” Sally said, tears streaming wildly down her face. “He sent me these awful pictures and- and I just-” She started to sob, harder, never letting go of the gun. “I- I wanted to just get rid of ‘em but- but the police might need ‘em as evidence. They’re just- they’re just so awful- I don’t want my babies to see it- I don’t want my babies to see him, Nita-” Stretch glanced at Sally’s kitchen counter, at the small group of slightly bloody polaroids. 

“I think there’s a fingerprint,” she said, walking towards them- “Or at least a partial- here- He left-” She looked up, just a little too far, and saw what Sally had seen. She felt nauseous, and she started to shake, overwhelmed with the sights and sounds of Texas Battleland- hearing that goddamn dinner bell the cook had rung when they called Grandpa to kill her and the roar of saws and Bringin’ in the Sheaves- smelling gas and cooked up bodies and LG’s cologne, and the whiskey on Lefty’s breath- all of it, just at once, overwhelming her every sense. 

Then, suddenly, she remembered the last body she ever witnessed the excavation crew dig up. The man with the bites along his neck, and his chest. The battered broken legs. The final expression of pain. Stretch couldn’t explain why she did what she did next. She should’ve looked away- God knows she should’ve just looked away. But she didn’t. She picked up those pictures, determined to face the truth, even if it hurt her. 

It was Lefty. The same as he looked the last time she saw him. The last time anybody saw him alive. Though, fairly clearly, he was dead. His clothes were in pieces, framing his bloodied, broken body, the same way they had done to LG. He was cut up, clearly, and had a mess of bruises along his face- maybe from the cave in. Hopefully from the cave in.  And bites- big fleshy chunks, taken out of his throat, and his chest. Toothy imprints on his shoulder. His face was blank- thank God, that of a dead man. Though his eyes were forever wide with surprise. And at least a spark of pain. Stretch had a horrible, horrible feeling he truly had been alive when that started. She put down the pictures. 

“You didn’t have to look at that-” Sally began. 

“I know,” she said. “I just… We should hold onto these, but put them somewhere them babies won’t see. It’s got his fingerprints on it, and… And I think… Seein’... Seein’ the wounds that… That took him. Could help. Could help with the investigation-”

“What do you mean?”

“I think-” Stretch took a breath and calmed herself. “If the coroners can see those pictures they’ll be able to identify his body. I… I think I saw him-” 

“If they were gonna find him those pins in his knee-”

“The same son of a bitch who sent you those photos sent me a letter,” Stretch said. “And he had those pins in it. He took ‘em out, on purpose, said as much in the letter- he didn’t want us to identify Lefty- he wanted Lefty’s family to suffer.” With each word her voice became more strained, until the last word was a hoarse bark- almost a yell. Sally paused, then, struggling to find any response to that. 

“Stretch… Me, Greg, and the kids are goin’ to his parents’ house. ‘Cause while he knows about me, and mine, I.. We don’t think he knows about Greg’s.” Stretch nodded. 

“That’s a good plan. I want y’all safe.”

“And I want you safe,” Sally said. “Come with us.” 

“Is- is Greg okay with that?” 

“Yes-” Greg said, coming into the room with the kids, holding their little suitcases. “He is.” 

They went to Greg’s parents’ house, all together. The kids were confused, and little Andy was old enough to be scared too. They just kept asking questions, all the way, which the adults tried to answer vaguely enough no to scare them, the whole car ride there. Fortunately, the kids loved their grandparents, and when they saw their Nana and Papaw, questions about their sudden departure faded away. 

“Oh, uh, Ma, this is Stretch- Sally’s friend. She.. She got somethin’ in the mail from that guy too.” 

Just like that, Greg’s parents were fine, welcoming Stretch in without another word. Sally asked if she could use their phone, and they agreed. She quickly called her parents, the Hubermans, the Willards, and the Waisains as well- warning them that Robert was at large. Stretch asked if she could do the same, suddenly fearful that the bastard might go after Mrs. McPeters. She called her, quick and desperate, trying to keep her voice steady and her eyes free of tears as she explained the situation. Mrs. McPeters promised to stay safe, and made Stretch promise the same. She hung up the phone and started to shake, uncontrollably. She felt Sally’s hands on her shoulders. 

“Nita?” she asked softly. “Vanita? Are you alright?” She tried to keep herself steady, and images of LG and Lefty clear from her mind. 

“If he does anything to that sweet little old lady I swear to God I’ll kill him,” she said, jaw starting to hurt from how hard she had clenched it. 

“I’ll help you hide the body,” Sally said, softly. 

They had dinner with Greg and his parents. Despite knowing that Sally and Greg were breaking down their marriage on good terms, somehow, she didn’t expect dinner to be so… amiable. There just wasn’t any anger between Sally and Greg- and his parents either didn’t care or didn’t know. There was a little awkwardness, due to the circumstances of their visit, but it was nothing that seemed too severe. The kids, in the very least, didn’t seem to notice. There was a tension, in all the adults, a fear of what may come, the urge to check every window, the slight flinch at every odd noise from outside. But everything seemed alright. 

For a time. 

Eventually, Sally and Greg were doing the dishes, while Stretch looked after the kids, trying to keep their minds off it all. She hoped she was doing a good job and not making them too nervous, as she glanced up at the windows and looked behind her in every reflective surface. Though, generally, they seemed alright. Andy was just a little more reserved than usual. There seemed to be something on his mind. It became more prominent, as the minutes dragged on, and he went from playing with his little cars unusually slowly, to just sitting there, holding them. 

“Hey, you alright?” she asked, lifting his little chin up. 

“Auntie Nita…” He started. “Were… Were those pictures real?” Stretch thought she was going to drop dead right then and there. 

“Pictures? What pictures?” 

“Today, in the mail, Momma got… Momma got some weird pictures.” No. No, God, please no. “She… She went to get Daddy, and Julie, and… And she put them up kind of high but I’m pretty tall so I… I looked at ‘em. A little.” Stretch still had hope, somehow, someway, that he hadn’t seen what she thought he saw. 

“What… What was in the pictures?” she asked. He paused. She figured he knew he saw something he wasn’t supposed to. “It’s okay. Just… I just want to know what was in the pictures.” 

“There….” Andy started to whisper. “There was a man. And he didn’t have any shirt on, and he was all torn up. And bloody.” Stretch closed her eyes tight, and felt a tear roll down her cheek. She hoped to God she never saw Robert Sawyer in person, because if she did she would end up in jail in a heartbeat. “Was it real?” Stretch had no idea what to tell him. What would help him, and what would fill his little head with nightmares, forever. She didn’t think it was her decision to make- she wasn’t his parent- she was just his Momma’s best friend. She held him tight, it was the only thing she could think to do. 

“Thank you for tellin’ me, baby.”

“Was it real?” he asked again. Then, barely a whisper. “Is the guy who took those pictures gonna do that to us?” 

“No, baby,” Stretch said, firmly. “No he’s not.”

“How do you know?” he asked, clearly scared. 

“Because if that guy ever came around you, or your sister I would-” Rip his fucking head off. “Take care of it. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you.” He nodded, and burrowed his little head against her chest. She held him, tight, till she heard Sally and Greg turn off the sink. “I’ll be right back, honey, I- I’ve gotta talk to your Momma a second-”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No- No, baby. You’re not in trouble.” She maneuvered the little boy off her lap, then stood up slowly, trying to keep herself calm. She went into the kitchen, where Sally and Greg were talking. They looked stressed. She was shaking, and it was hard to get a single sound to come out of her throat. 

“Sal?” she said, softly. “Greg- I- there’s somethin’-” she didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want to cry right then and it made her mad at herself, but the tears dripped down anyways. “Somethin’... There’s somethin’ I need to tell you about.”

“What happened?” Sally asked. 

“Are the kids okay?” Stretch took a deep breath. 

“Andy saw the pictures.” 

“What?” Greg asked. 

“No-” Sally began. 

“Which pictures? What-”

“The pictures of Lefty.” Sally looked on the verge of sobbing too, and Greg’s eyes went wide. “He- He seems to be taking it okay he just.. He kept askin’ if they were real and… and if the person who took ‘em was gonna hurt us. I told him he was safe but I- I don’t know what to tell him about those pictures.” It hung heavy, over the three of them, for a moment. 

“I…” Sally began. “I’ve… I’ve read up on this and… and things like this… Kids are… Kids are resilient,” she said. “So long as you support ‘em and… and don’t make ‘em feel scared, or ashamed.” Stretch was so glad, as she had been for years, that Sally was there and knew what to do. “I…” She took a deep breath. “I can talk to him. I’ll… I’ll take ‘em both aside and talk to ‘em for a minute.” 

“I can go with you,” Stretch offered. 

“Me too-” Greg added. 

“That’s alright,” Sally said. “I.. I’ve got this handled.” 

Stretch and Greg sat in the living room, alone. Greg’s parents had gone to sleep, and Sally was busy with the babies, trying to take care of all that mess. It was tense, at first, then Greg got up, and got himself a beer. 

“Do you want one?” he asked, softly. Stretch thought she might should stay sober, in case Sally needed anything, or in case Robert did come and she had to kill him properly this time, but she was also so on edge she could hardly think. 

“Yeah I’ll… I’ll just have one.” 

One became three. Though she still had her wits about her mostly. Greg drank about the same, and the two of them started to feel a little less distant from each other, and got to talking. 

“If I ever see that little pencil-neck son of a bitch I’ll kill him myself,” Greg hissed, waving the bottle around and talking quiet- not wanting the kids to hear. “Sally didn’t do a damn thing to him- I wish they’d just given that bastard the chair.” Stretch nodded, slowly. 

“Yeah I… I almost killed him,” she said, softly. “I wish I had… Wish I’d done it properly.” 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Greg said. “You… You ain’t done nothin’ wrong. You cut his stomach open with a chainsaw and kicked him off a cliff- The fact that he didn’t die that’s just… The devil’s work.” His moment of religious fervor, a bit uncharacteristic for Greg, had Stretch clench the bottle just a little bit harder. 

“Yeah,” she said softly, letting those horrible images pass through her mind without much attention. “By all means he… He should’ve died.” She couldn’t help but think about the letter. The way he survived. Stretch wished that was something she could’ve avoided, something that didn’t have to happen, but she had no other real options in that moment, and no way of knowing what would happen. She thought about Lefty, really thought about him, for the first time in a long time. It was his own damn fault he died like that. And he pulled her and LG down into it. But… No matter how mad she was at him then- how much she wanted to kick his ass too when she first got to the hospital and thought he might have made it- she couldn’t say he deserved the end he got. She couldn’t think of anybody who deserved all that. Well, maybe a few people. A few brothers, to be more precise. But not Lefty. 

Over the years of knowing Sally, and her family, her views on Lefty had become more complicated. The first year, after he died, she was furious with him, blamed him just as much for LG’s death as the Sawyers- was outright glad, sometimes, he was dead. But knowing Sally, and her parents- her father especially- had dimmed that anger some. They had loved that crazy, stubborn man. And she loved them. And a little of that love rubbed off on her. She wished she could’ve known him, really, when he was alive, maybe before he lost his mind completely. He sounded like a good man. 

Stretch realized, then she lost track of what Greg was saying. She looked over, at him, and her confusion sparked up again. He was a plenty nice guy. And he and Sally didn’t seem to have any real problem between them. They seemed happy. But somewhere, somehow, something was wrong. She had never seen anything like it. Well, almost never. 

She had gone on little dates with LG that were like that, she supposed. It was fun- goin’ out with him, to bars to go dancin’ or on late night coffee runs, or out to go hiking. She really enjoyed spending time with him, and she loved that man, she really did. But there was always something not quite right, about their little dates, about the idea of LG being her man. She wondered if that was what it was like for Sally. And she wondered if she had married LG if they would’ve ended up like Sally and Greg. 

Stretch looked over to Greg. He wasn’t unattractive, he looked fine- average. He wasn’t mean, or a drunk, or wrapped up in something bad. He was good with the kids. Had a fine job. Listened to Sally when she wanted to talk. Stretch wasn’t exactly attracted to him herself, but he seemed like a fine man for Sally. Greg seemed to be at the end of whatever tangent he had been going on. 

“I uh-” Stretch began, interrupting him just a little- “I… I wanted to say thank you.”

“Huh?”

“For bringin’ me along. For bringin’ me here. You didn’t have to-”

“Nah,” he said. “It’s nothin’. Sally loves you, and I love Sally. Simple as.” Stretch paused, for just a moment. Then, spurned on by alcohol and unconcerned by the consequences she asked. 

“It’s not my place at all but… I just… What happened with y’all?” she asked. “You just- you’ve always seemed happy, you know and…” Stretch started to think again she shouldn’t have brought it up. “I just don’t understand why you’d wanna split up when.. You love her so much.” Greg laughed, a little, and Stretch found herself rather surprised. 

“That’s why I wanna split up,” Greg said. “Because I love her.” 

“What?” 

“Look I just… I love Sally. I love that woman with all my heart, and I love our kids, and her parents and.. And all of it. But Sally… She don’t love me. She’s just not capable of it.”

“What?” Stretch went quickly to Sally’s defense. “Sally’s capable of love-” 

“Oh, I know that,” Greg said. “That ain’t what I’m sayin’. She loves our kids to death, and… I think she loves me like you love a good friend, but I… I know she don’t love me the way I love her.” Stretch tried to catch up. 

“Do you… Do you think there’s somebody else?” she asked. 

“Oh, I know there is. I’m surprised you don’t.” 

“She’s never told me anything like that-”

“Stretch, it’s you,” he said. 

“What?”

“It’s you, Stretch. It’s… Sally and I have been as happy as we could be, for a long time. But… I don’t think… She’s never… Stretch, I don’t think she’s ever had any real interest in men. At least none she’s mentioned to me. But… Every time you walk in the room she just lights up. You know? When things are goin’ wrong she goes to you- she wanted you around every important moment in our lives- you were there for the birth of both our children I just… I thought you two might already be together.” Stretch was beyond shocked. It was one hell of a day for all that to come out too. 

“And you- you were okay with that?” Stretch asked, in a hushed tone. 

“I already told you, Stretch,” he said. “I love Sally. And I want her to be loved. Even if it ain’t by me.” 

Stretch had a hell of a lot on her mind that night. So, as she tucked in the guest room of Greg’s parents’ house, she expected to have some kind of dream. For years after her run in with the Sawyers she had nightmares. They had lessened over the years, but occasionally, suddenly they got stirred up again. As she laid down, and tried to sleep that night, that was what she feared. 

She was at the radio station again. In her old DJ booth. It was nighttime. And nobody else was there. She was tense. Deathly tense. She thought she knew what would happened next. Was fairly confident she remembered exactly what happened next. She heard chattering, through the walls. Someone was talking in the lobby. She knew someone was talking in the lobby. She didn’t want it to go on longer than it had to. So she stood up, with all the confidence she could muster and walked that way. 

What she saw there still surprised her. 

There was a massive dinner table- laid out there instead of the couch, and around it were about a dozen people she recognized immediately. The Sawyers were there- of course- all of them- even her brain’s best conjuration of that damn hitchhiker- but among them were the Hardestys- Sally and Andy and Julie and Franklin and Lefty- and though Stretch wasn’t sure of the accuracy of their faces, her mind told her the other three at the table were Jerry, and Kirk, and Pam. They were eating, together, talking like nothing was wrong, joking with each other, passing around what looked like normal meat like some kind of macabre Thanksgiving. The old man Sawyer- the cook- Drayton- was the first to notice her. 

“Oh. Well. Look who decided to come out of her room,” he said, in that annoying, jokey way her uncle used to say the same damn line, completely unconcerned by the way his jaw was hanging half off his face or the shrapnel in his chest. 

“What?” she asked, unable to drag her eyes away from it. 

“We were wonderin’ when you were gonna come join us,” Lefty spoke up. “There’s still plenty to go around, of course. I didn’t let the boys finish off the dinner rolls without you.” He looked happy. Sounded happy. But his clothes were wet with blood and his face was bruised to hell. She could see a bite mark peeking out from his shirt collar. 

“This ain’t right. None of this is right,” she said, taking a step towards it all anyways- against her right mind and her will. 

“We saved a seat for you, girl!” said Robert. The son of a bitch was smiling, sitting in the chair next to Sally- like he had any right to be anywhere close to her. 

“You…” She began. “You-” She felt a hand on her shoulder- a big, wet hand. Then she heard a harsh whisper in her ear. 

“Darlin’, I think you need to wake up.” 

Stretch bolted right up, sitting up like she was awake. Then, in the corner of her eye, she saw a man standing by the window of the bedroom she was in. And she screamed. In a heartbeat, everybody else was there, Greg’s father weiling a double barrel shotgun wildly. The man ran- of course- when she screamed. 

“What happened? What was that?”

“There was somebody- I woke up all of a sudden and there was somebody-”

“Do you think you just had a nightmare, dear?” asked Greg’s mother. 

“No-” Stretch said. “I don’t- I-”

“Let’s go look,” Greg said, firmly. Greg and his dad ran outside, while Sally and Stretch stayed in with the kids, and Greg’s mom. Stretch was pretty confident she was the most prepared to beat the shit out of Robert if he ever came back, but she also refused to leave those babies alone for even a minute. She had seen what the Sawyers did to a trained man who brought three damn chainsaws. She wasn’t confident Greg and his father would be able to stop him either. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Andy asked, softly. Stretch wasn’t sure what to say. 

“We’ve gotta stay down right now, and be quiet,” Sally said, softly. 

“Is it him?” Andy asked. “Is it the man who sent the pictures?” Sally held her little boy a little tighter. 

“We don’t know. We’ve just got to be careful right now. Your Daddy, and Papaw are checkin’ it out right now, just to be sure.” 

Suddenly, they heard a scream. Stretch wrapped her arms around Sally and those kids tight, ready for a fight. She heard the blast of the shotgun. Once. Then everything was deathly quiet. There was shuffling, at the front door, someone coming in. She tensed up, and slipped away from them, grabbing Andy’s little aluminum baseball bat and holding it tight in her hands, standing at the door, ready to bash the fucker’s head in if he came through. 

“Sally-” Greg said, opening the door and almost getting hit in his already bleeding face for it. “We- we got him!” 

Stretch found out what happened that night in pieces, as the cops finally showed up. 

It was him. Robert Sawyer. Chop Top. He had broken out of prison, left behind the letters, and the pictures, and gone on a killing spree. They weren’t his first targets. His first kills were completely random, strangers he met along the way whose things he wanted, or someone he just thought might taste good. Then, he went after a couple of cops, and their families. Determined to have himself a ‘pig roast’ it seemed. And finally, he came knocking at the wrong door. He had cased the house, with few problems. Sneaky as he was capable of being. But then, for some reason, Stretch woke up. 

She was never as spiritual as some people- not even close to as spiritual as Sally had become, as she aged. But it was hard to find any other explanation for what happened that night. And besides, it wasn’t the first time LG had saved her. She thanked him, for watching out for her again, and hoped wherever he was up there he could hear it. 

Then, of course, Greg and his father went out looking. Just to check. Chop Top slashed Greg across the face, and Greg’s father shot him with a double barrel shotgun. It didn’t kill him, though it should’ve- that fucker was like a roach. But he couldn’t come after them when he couldn’t walk from the pain, and he was stuck in the yard until the cops finally arrived. 

He went back to prison, and they went back to their lives. Things were different. But in many ways, things were the same. 

It was the summer of 1999. Thirteen years after Stretch’s run in with the Sawyers. Twice that for Sally. Things were looking up. Sally and Greg did divorce. Stretch thought about what Greg told her, a few days after that night, and for years proceeding that. But nothing came of it. Stretch stayed single. She had a career to focus on, of course. And, admittedly, she was utterly uninterested in men. 

She was around throughout the kids’ childhood. They called her Auntie Nita, or Auntie Stretch. She was there for Sally throughout the divorce. And she was there when the Hardestys had a small, informal funeral for Lefty when his body was finally, actually laid to rest- identified by those nasty photos left on Sally’s doorstep. And she was there when Sally’s father was laid to rest with his brother and his son. She was just always there. That was where she wanted to be. 

Sally and Stretch sat outside, watching the kids kick a ball around, drinking sweet tea on the porch. Sally paused, thoughtfully. 

“Did you ever want kids of your own, Nita?” she asked. 

“Huh?” Stretch nearly spat out her tea. “What’s got you askin’ that?” 

“You just… You’ve always been so good with Andy and Julie. But… You never had kids of your own. Or a husband, either. I mean, you’ve still got time, you’re only, what, forty-two?” 

“Well, I guess-”

“And you’re very beautiful,” Sally said. Stretch felt her cheeks warm up, just a little. “Anybody’d be lucky to have you.” 

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Of course,” Sally said. “You’re… I’ve… I’ve always admired you. You’re strong, and clever, and… Gorgeous.” Sally glanced just a split second at her lips- Stretch knew damn well she did. “Sorry- I- uh, I don’t mean it like that, of course,” Sally said, looking away. 

“That’s too bad,” Stretch said softly. 

“Huh?” 

“I wish you did,” she said. Sally was looking at her like she was seeing her for the first time. “Mean it.. Like that.” They leaned towards each other, almost subconsciously, almost like magnets. And briefly, but warmly, they kissed. 

In that moment it felt like everything just clicked right into place. It was a good feeling. A really, truly good feeling. They both smiled, enjoying just a moment of being in each other’s warmth. Then, leaning against one another, they looked back to their kids. 

The day she met the Sawyers had changed her life forever. In a lot of ways, for the worse. But as she sat there on that porch, sipping her sweet tea, subtly holding’ Sally’s hand, she found she could breath easy, knowing she had finally made a life that she was happy with.

[freedomforthewin]

Newt’s Birthday

Newt heard a knock at the door. He got up and went to answer the door. He opened it and saw his brother there, a small box of chocolate cake in his hands, and a big smile on his face.

“Hello, Newt,” Theseus said happily.

“Hello, Theseus.”

“Happy birthday!”

“Thank you.” Newt smiled, stepping aside to let Theseus in.

Theseus set the cake on the dining table and took out a candle and his wand.

“How’s your day going so far?” he asked as he prepared the cake.

“Good! I took care of my creatures, and I also got word of a new creature in Sri Lanka. I’m going to set out for there in a few days.”

“Ah, that’s great. Must be excited,” Theseus said warmly.

“I am,” Newt said.

“Well, I’m especially glad I’m here then. I get to see you before you go for…who knows how long.”

“It’ll be a month.”

“A month, then.”

Newt smiled at him. “I’ll miss you, too.”

Theseus gave him a small smile.

Then, Theseus lit the candle with his wand.

“Alright. Ready?” Theseus asked, grinning.

Newt took a deep breath. Oh boy, Theseus was really going to do this.

“Happy birthday to you,” Theseus began to sing.

Newt smiled sheepishly as Theseus continued singing. When it was time, Newt closed his eyes, made a wish, and blew out the candle.

“Yaaaay!” Theseus cheered. Newt chuckled.

Newt cut the cake and they both ate, chatting happily as they did so.

It had been some time since they had spent time together. It was nice to finally catch up.

Before long, it was time for Theseus to go. To Theseus’s surprise, Newt hugged him.

“Thank you for coming,” Newt mumbled into his older brother’s shoulder.

Theseus tightened his hold on Newt.

“Of course.” He smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They held each other a little longer. Then, they pulled out of the hug.

“Happy birthday,” Theseus farewelled.

“Thank you.”

[kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon]

Sins of Knowledge Chapter 4 is up!

Chaptered fic (4/12?), WIP, posting every other week

More Than an Animal, Less Than a Man

Rated Explicit

CW/TW and tags: sex pollen/dubcon, ethical concerns, coercion, blackmail, human AU, university AU, more tags and notes at AO3, ****Tags have been updated for this chapter, and can also be found in the chapter 4 beginning notes under a spoiler tag -- please read one of those! Link to full work here.

Beta thanks once again to @cheeseplants and @gaiaseyes451! You two are amazing ❤️ also thanks to the @goodomensafterdark community as usual for being a talented, fabulous, and feral place!

Chapter Summary:

Aziraphale and Crowley mess around with a second potion, but the effects are somewhat delayed. Dinner, drinks, and regrets ensue, with a measure of fluff and pound cake (not that kind) to round things off.

Excerpt:

Aziraphale waited impatiently for Crowley to settle up, and as they stepped out into the street his whole face came alight again. “Oh, there’s so much to do in Soho. I live here, you know, and yet it feels like I’ve only been inside a few of these mysterious doorways.”

He stumbled toward one such urine-stained mystery, and Crowley took his arm. Aziraphale immediately leaned into him, oblivious to Crowley’s stiffening. He was so expansive like this! It was like a glimpse into a secret room, one filled with warm light and soft furniture, good smells like tea and bread and greenery. Crowley wanted to sidle inside, stay awhile.

“With Ana and Newt, they’re at a lecture tonight, though. Hopefully it’ll turn onto a date night, or at least Ana hopes so.” Aziraphale led him to a side door alongside a shabby-looking bookshop. “It’s lovely here. So many first editions! Not to mention the erotica in the basement. They let you sit and read all day if you like, and there was a nice large three bedroom flat to let above and we’ve managed to keep it for two years now.”

“Do you need to go up?” Crowley would’ve welcomed the chance to slow things down a bit. Also he may have been a bit stuck on the image of Aziraphale reading from a stack of dusty smutty books. He wouldn’t mind watching that in real time. He wouldn’t mind watching Aziraphale watch paint dry in real time. Ugh. Why. He bit his lower lip.

“Oh, no no! Perfectly fine. I just – ah, wanted to show you.” Aziraphale frowned, and then lit up again. “Let’s go be wild and free in London, shall we? What about karaoke? I’ve never done karaoke.”

Crowley had to straight-up laugh at that. “What, never? That’s actually a beautiful thing, Aziraphale, you want to keep that streak going.” 

“Well then, dancing.”

Oh. Crowley had a brief moment to imagine being in a sticky Soho club with Aziraphale, all dark with a feeble laser show, on a dance floor packed with bumping, writhing bodies, forced closer and closer until they were sweating against each other, that glowing fluff of white hair his only guide in the dark — fuck, his mouth went dry at the image — and then Aziraphale hurried on, completely oblivious, “Oh, no, that won’t do. Ana would never forgive me. She’s made me promise to go dancing with her at the end of term. In celebration, she said.”

Crowley swallowed, but then Aziraphale took a hard left into another tiny doorway, and sighed in happiness. “Ah. Here we are.”

Read the rest at the AO3!

Or start from the beginning here

[spooky-all-year-round]

Trapped

Seventh year!Garreth x seventh year Mc!Reader

My first Weasley Wednesday! The Room of Requirements knows you and Garreth need to make up. So it gives you everyone's favorite situation, be locked in a closed space to sort it out both characters are 18+!!! Side note, it's a little rushed, I found out the theme last night and wrote it today.

TW: angst-ish with a happy ending, swearing, fluff, a little hair pulling

You were so fucking tired of Garreth Weasley's shenanigans. You loved his experiments and how goofy he was, but this is the third time this month that he blew up his potion near yours and ruined it in one way or another. The first time it exploded and some got into your potion contaminating it. The next one sent your whole table's potions flying before spilling over the floor. This last one though took the entire cake, his potion ate through the bottom of his couldron and somehow also sent a few drops flying around. Fortunately it didn't get on anyone, unfortunately the few drops got on your couldron and ate holes in it too making your potion spill outall over the table, and his potion that spilled completely destroyed some of your ingredients. You had no damn idea why he was still willing to fuck around when NEWTS were only months away.

Each time you needed to stay back or come after classes so you could re-do your potion. Thankfully Sharp would allow you to do this so your grades didn't drop because of Garreth. But that didn't mean it didn't put you behind in your other school work or take from time you could be studying or hanging out with your friends. This time caused you to curse in frustration at the red head which Sharp took points from your house over.

Frustrated you stormed out of the classroom, bag left behind and the whole class watching. It was only a minute later before you heard Garreth calling after you, you could hear his foot steps trying to catch up. You got to the floo network before angrily spitting out "Seventh floor astronomy tower." You continued stomping away only to hear the tell-tale sound of him having used the floo network to follow you. He was pleading for you to slow down so he could talk to you.

Without thinking you swung the door to the Room of Requirements open and stopped in your tracks before you could slam the door closed. Your normal room was replaced by a small but comfy looking room. The only things that were there were two couches that were against the walls facing each other with a table between them. It was only big enough to fit that and a bit of leg room between the couches and the table. You let out a sound of frustration, now the room had to mess with you too?! You turned around just to run head first into Garreth.

He let the door shut behind him, still panting from changing after you. "Finally! I thought I would never catch up with you. Now please let me-" You backed up before side stepping to push past him, knocking your shoulder into him as you went. But as you tried to leave you found the door locked. You can't believe it. The room thinks that what you need on TODAY of all days, is to be locked in a small room with Garreth fricken Weasley. You tried pushing all your weight against the door and tried pulling with all your weight but the door didn't budge.

You groaned loudly in frustration before turning back to him. Garreth watched silently with the biggest sad pout you had ever seen. You could now see why he had a hard time keeping up with you, he had brought not only his school bag but yours as well. That was sweet of him, not letting you leave behind your bag so you didn't have to go all the way back to get it. No! You are angry at him. You wouldn't have left your bag in the first place if it wasn't for him.

You brushed past him, making sure to not knock into him before flopping onto the couch. "Go on Weasley. It seems the room won't let us out until I've heard what you want to say." You covered both of your eyes with your hands as you grumbled your frustration with the room doing this to you.

You heard him step towards you while asking,"What do you mean 'won't let us out? Also would you please move your feet so I can sit down?" You heard him place both your bags down on the table. He was being far more polite than normal, trying to keep from upsetting you further.

"Why not just sit over there?!" You used one of your hands to gesture to were the other couch was, but out of the corner of your eye you could see it had disappeared. The room seemed to not take your grumbles too well and has now forced you two to be even closer. You let out a huff as you sat up and scooched over to make room for him before explaining. "This is the Room of Requirements. It turned into whatever the user needs or wants. Sometimes it will do things and you won't even realize you needed it. It seems to have a mind of it's own because now it thinks we need to be locked in here together!"

Garreth slid onto the couch his focus completely on you. "Maybe it's going off of what I need. Because I really need to talk to you, I want to apologize." He reached for your hand that was rested on the couch, but you pulled it away to cross your arms. He sighed before continuing, "Look I'm extremely sorry about your potion-"

"Potion-S. You've ruined more than one." You reminded him as you gave him a pointed look. But that look would be your downfall. He looked so sad and sincere it hurt you a little that you were being so blatantly rude. He had started this though, you just wanted to be next to your crush in class. But of course you had to have a crush on what had to be the most destructive guy in your year.

His eyes widened remembering that you were correct, he hadn't meant to of course but it still obviously affected you. He looked down unable to meet your gaze. "You're right, potions. I didn't mean to mess with any of them especially yours. It just sorta happened. You know I love experimenting, but I didn't mean to upset you with them. I thought it was all okay because Sharp was letting you redo them so your grades wouldn't be affected." Merlin, how were you supposed to stay mad at him? His fluffy red hair covered his face but you could still hear how sad this whole situation made him feel, and there was one phrase that stuck out to you.

"What do you mean especially mine?" You had let down your crossed arms and your gaze had softened. He froze as if you had caught him doing something he shouldn't be. You reached over and tilted his head up so you could see it. His face had a cute blush across it making his forest green eyes stand out even more, you could barely see his freckles under the blush. It made heat rise to your face, Merlin you knew he was attractive but you didn't know he could look cute as well.

He gently placed his hand over the one you had on his face as if any sudden movements might make you pull away. "I mean, I think you're wonderful. You're brilliant and I would never want to ruin your chances to show it off. I just wanted to catch your attention by being just as brilliant. But my brilliance is more... explosive rather than academic." He was looking directly into your eyes and you were now trapped not only by the room but by his eyes and words. He placed his other hand on your knee slowly leaning closer.

You bite your lip, surely you could forgive him? He obviously really means his apology. His eyes glace down at your lips quickly licking his own. Damn it. Who gave him such plush lips? "I guess I accepted your apology. As long as you don't destroy anymore of my work." You didn't realize you were leaning in too but now you were both so close.

"I'll make sure I'm extra careful. Just for you." It was a whisper against your lips. He leaned in the rest of the way finally kissing you. The hand on your knee moved to your hip and your free hand moved to his hair. His lips were softer than you imagined, your fingers gently tugged at his hair. He let out a low whine his grip tightened on your hip. He pulled you closer as his tongue glided across your bottom lip. Just as you opened your mouth the door slammed open.

You both jumped away from each other. He infact jumped so hard that he landed on the floor. You both jerked your heads towards the door to find no one there. The room had decided that you both were good to go. Garreth let out a nervous laugh before standing up. He grabbed both of your bags before reaching his hand out to you. You took it and he pulled you from your seat, holding your hand as he led you out of the room.

"Well, at least the room's door didn't hit us on the way out. But I am really sorry about your couldron. We can go to Hogsmeade and I will get you a new one. Then maybe we can go get a butterbeer together?" He looked hopefully at you, still holding your hand with that cute blush across his face.

You leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "It's a date."

[buttered-baguette-writes]

Accidental Love (Fated)

Newt just wanted to free Thestrals from MACUSA and their cruel ways of keeping them in line. He didn't expect to have a Dark Lord come over to his house for tea every afternoon, nor that the same man would be exactly what he needed. Soulmates: a Dark Lord completely smitten with a magizoologist. Surely, that's not how the story goes?

6.9k Also on ao3!

Nobody could say they’ve run into a Dark Lord twice by complete accident.

Well, except Newt Scamander.

The first time had been a very long day ending in the subway of New York late into the night. Newt had been running about, doing this and that, before being dragged into a high-stakes situation by the Dark Lord. He hoped that would be the only time he would meet the Dark Lord. And yet, the second time was also in America.

Newt had been keeping tabs on MACUSA. They had a small handful of magical creatures in their care. They had Thestrals for their carriages and Newt was horrified to find out that they still used whips and harmful spells on the poor creatures. With solid evidence, Newt was set on freeing those creatures from MACUSA and the abusive conditions. So, when he saw that a carriage test run was scheduled, he made his move.

He was so focused on his goal that he didn’t think about the fact it was the middle of the night. And by the time he realized why, it was too late to stop. There was no way MACUSA would let him go after that stunt.

And that was how Newt came to have a herd of Thestrals in his basement and a Dark Lord on his couch.

The blonde draped himself over the couch as he sipped tea. He wore a shockingly open expression. His wand was tucked away neatly.

Newt didn’t know if that made him relieved or offended.

“You didn’t even care about the carriage, just the creatures,” Grindelwald said, amused.

“I didn’t think there’d be a criminal in there.”

“And yet you carried on. Even now you’ve done nothing expect get me tea.” The tips of Grindelwald’s lips tipped up and his eyes brightened for a second. “So many potential consequences and you haven’t tried to run, fight, alert someone.”

Newt looked away. He had too much to lose; he couldn’t go running to anyone. “What do you want Grindelwald?”

“Nothing,” the blonde said. But when Newt gave him such an expectant look, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Call me Gellert.”

Newt bristled. That wasn’t a thing people just did, and a man like Grindelwald enjoyed his status. By merlin’s beard, why would he ask Newt of all people to call him by his first name? Newt frowned, slightly annoyed to still see the open expression on the other man’s face.

Hastily, he rose from his seat and left for his kitchen.

Grindelwald watched him go. He shouldn’t have been there; he didn’t know why he hadn’t left yet. There was just something about the red head that had him curious – something his visions enticed him with that he wasn’t allowed to see clearly. Whatever it was, he knew he had to wait and find out lest he lose it.

Finishing his tea, he set the cup on a coaster. He didn’t miss the pleased look Newt had made when he noticed.

“I’ve run out of biscuits,” Newt said. He stayed standing, unsure of what to do. His eyes kept wandering to his basement door worriedly. The Thestrals had been left in an enclosure to calm down, but he was anxious to go down and begin his work with them.

Grindelwald hummed as he stood. He supposed he shouldn’t keep the magizoologist away from his creatures for too long.

“That’s alright. I prefer cakes anyways.” Grindelwald wore a small, soft smile as he spoke. “I shall see you tomorrow night.”

Newt was lost, unable to recall if the man used the door or apparated.

He had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

Somehow dressed casual and luxurious, Grindelwald appeared the following night as he said. He took his spot on the couch again, waiting patiently as Newt prepared some tea for them. When the younger man returned, he could not help but be delighted by the small plate of cake slices brought with.

Newt, with all his strength, told himself that he didn’t see the way the Dark Lord lit up.

He was a Dark Lord for Circe’s sake. There should not be a pleasant smile on his face, and Newt most certainly shouldn’t find it pleasant.

Newt stared at the cakes, unsure why he bothered to buy them. He didn’t need to follow orders from the blonde, and yet he went out specifically to find cake. A little voice in his head told him it had to do with the smile he saw earlier, but he decided to block it out. It was a ridiculous thought.

“I apologize for my actions in America,” Grindelwald said into the silence. His voice was earnest, his eyes hidden as he focused on pouring two cups of tea.

Newt tilted his head. A completely unprompted apology from a ruthless Dark Lord. “What do you want, Grindelwald?”

“Gellert,” the blonde corrected. He said nothing else.

Newt rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Gellert?” He asked. It felt strange to call him by such name, but it was the shorter choice.

“You’re a curiosity. A beautiful one. Am I not allowed to wonder? Everyone, even many of my followers, fear me. You don’t. It’s in my nature to want to know why.”

Newt fought against a blush. He had never been called beautiful before, but he had to focus. “And the best way for you to do that is over tea and cake in my house?”

Grindelwald smirked. “Is that an offer to have tea in your bedroom?”

Newt’s cheeks turned a furious pink. He scolded himself and tried to clear his mind. “No,” he said sternly. “Why aren’t you in hiding?”

Grindelwald almost mentioned the blatant change of topic. “I don’t need to.”

“Surely everyone would already be searching for an escaped criminal? Even you shouldn’t be this calm about it.”

“As far as MACUSA is concerned, I am still sitting silently in their little cell. Last night was simply an unfortunate accident for one of their workers now lost to the sea,” Grindelwald explained. He had been able to easily convince a lost fool to switch places with him in exchange for a better position in life. He supposed he would follow through with his promise and not make the man a simple acolyte.

He stood up before seeming to promptly forget what he was going to do. “Bathroom?”

Newt directed him to the downstairs bathroom but otherwise stayed seated. He used the silence to wonder what he did to get stuck with a curious Dark Lord until he felt magic settle over everything.

Arms crossed against his chest and a frown on his face, Newt waited until the other man returned to his seat. “Did you put wards on my house?” Newt stared right into those mismatched eyes, catching a flash of mischief.

“Sensational. It would have taken others hours to realize,” Grindelwald replied. He was honestly impressed and even more interested in finding out what the magizoologist could do. It seemed like he was weak and not in touch with his magic entirely, but it took little time for Grindelwald to figure out it was most likely a mask. That the red head didn’t want people to know about everything he knew.

“Of course, I’d know, it’s my house.” Newt felt his cheeks unwillingly heat again and promptly looked away. “Is it too reasonable to ask you to take them down?”

“For both our sakes, yes. We don’t need someone to come barging in now do we?”

Newt internally cursed the other man. However, it was a good idea. He really didn’t need his brother barging in and finding him lounging about with the most wanted man in Britain. There was no way he could spin a lie that grand.

Besides, Grindelwald’s work was anything but mediocre.

Newt let out a sigh. “Fine.”

Grindelwald relaxed back into his seat. “How are the Thestrals?”

Newt stopped himself from diving into a rant about the creatures, instead settling for giving the man a skeptical look. “Why?” For all he knew, the blonde could want to take them and use them for his plans.

“I’m not a monster, darling. I do care about others, creatures included,” Grindelwald said truthfully. He wore that open expression again; one he couldn’t seem to get rid of even if he tried. Nor could he control his thoughts as he kept using endearing terms and complements on the red head.

Newt, predictably, blushed at the word ‘darling’. There was no way the other actually meant it.

“Well then…” Newt plunged into a rant about Thestrals and why he had been so determined of getting them away from MACUSA.

Grindelwald listened closely.

It continued like that for a week. Grindelwald coming over at night to simply talk with Newt over tea and cake. It was… surprisingly pleasant.

One morning, Newt was woken by the sensation of magic urgently rushing through his being. It didn’t harm him in any way, but it certainly made him jump out of bed. Only to find out it was the wards on his house alerting him to his brothers’ presence.

Gellert keyed me in? Newt thought, momentarily thrown off. Then he realized it was a combination of his own magic and Gellert’s that was setting off the alarm and an unwilling thrill ran up his back.

He hastily shook that thought away. He didn’t want it or need it.

Rushing downstairs, Newt let his brother in.

“Why on Earth do you have wards up?!” Theseus yelled, way too frustrated for that early in the morning.

“For my creatures?”

Theseus eyed him but let it go. He let himself into the kitchen.

Newt followed behind quietly.

“What?” Theseus started rummaging through all the cabinets and draws, making a bit of a mess. “Where are the biscuits? Why do you have cake? You know I don’t like cake.”

Newt’s shoulders slumped. “I ran out…” he replied, voice low. He hated when his brother did this. He still acted like Newt was the baby brother even though they were both grown men. But Newt never had the energy to say anything. The one time he did caused him a headache that was more irritating than accidently splinching during apparation.

Theseus didn’t always get his way at home or at work, so he had decided he’d get his way at Newt’s house.

What will Gellert say? Newt wondered. He had accidently taken to ranting about his brother to the Dark Lord. All it took was Grindelwald actually listening and asking questions to get Newt to open up – at least about his brother. It was a strange sort of comfort he knew he shouldn’t have.

And yet…

“Don’t you have work?” Newt asked.

Theseus pulled on the ends his suit jacket, raising a brow. “I came by to tell you something, but yes. I do have work.” Theseus sounded annoyed, but it was for more than one reason. He was always in a cranky mood. He waited until Newt asked him what the news was. “The Ministry rejected your appeal.”

“Oh,” was all Newt could muster. That had been his latest and last attempt at getting his travel ban eased or cancelled. He had no other options. If he needed to leave, he would have to do it illegally. Not that it phased him, but he didn’t think I’d be the best thing for his record.

Newt leant his hip against the counter. He had nothing else to say to his brother that morning, especially after he was being so rude.

It seemed Theses didn’t have the time that day to angrily stare and he left within a few minutes.

The rest of Newts day was split between the basement and his library upstairs. The library was where he kept his more ‘controversial’ or prized documents. A lot of it related to creatures while the rest was random knowledge or things like how to escape a country unnoticed. It was attached to his bedroom, a simple portion of the wall enchanted with a password. It didn’t creak or groan when opening.

Newt was about to head back up when the front door opened.

“Gellert?”

The Dark Lord was earlier than usual. And looked deflated. He seemed tired and a little bit out of it. He perked up slightly when he saw Newt, however. “Afternoon, darling,” he said with warmth. He had given up on trying to stop himself from using pet names for the red head as they just flew out of his mouth despite his best efforts.

And why would he stop if he got to see those freckled cheeks flushed?

Newt looked between the book in his hands and the man in his living room.

“Can I have a tour?” Gellert asked. He was curious to find out how the magizoologist lived from something other than his living room and kitchen.

“Uh…” Newt saw excitement in those mismatched eyes, and something compelled him to agree. “Sure, follow me,” he said.

He showed the blonde to the tiny, spare bedroom downstairs. Then up the narrow steps to his bedroom – the only thing on the second level. It was full of blankets and pillows and looked cosy and well lived in despite the fact he often fell asleep in the basement. There was an attached bathroom – nothing special. Grindelwald pointed to an inconspicuous part of the wall and asked about it, somehow just knowing that there was a room hidden behind it.

Knowing the other man would find a way in there one way or another, Newt opened the door to his library.

“Magnificent. You are gifted.”

Newt faltered as he put a book away. “Pardon?”

Gellert didn’t repeat himself. Instead, he took the time to glance over the names of the books and the intricate detailing on the wooden shelves. “Can I see the basement?” He asked. If it were anyone else, he would have simply waltzed around the house like he owned it. He would have already known what was in every cranny.

Newt was silent. He contemplated the pros and cons before deciding that it was okay. He would protect those creatures with his life and his creatures were surprisingly protective of him.

He led the way, feeling as if the blonde was watching him intently.

There were about fifty enclosures in the basement. Some were empty, but most had at least one magical creature residing in it. There was even one that had a pack of muggle wolves. Newt had found them as their natural habitat was being destroyed for housing. He knew that muggles hunted them for fun and couldn’t bare the idea of letting them fall to that fate. They were very much still wild creatures, but like everything else, they were fond of Newt.

Grindelwald was shocked silent. His lips morphed into a smile when he saw the wolves. A smile not for magical creatures, but the muggle canines.

“You are greatly underestimated,” Gellert stated. The basement had been much larger than he was expecting, with different sections and levels. “To create and maintain all of this is truly magnificent.”

Newt flushed. No one ever complimented him, so he could not understand why a Dark Lord was the first person to praise him for everything. “Thank you?”

“Truly exceptional, my dear. You should be encouraged more often.”

“The Ministry would say the exact opposite,” Newt replied. He knew that they would put him on a watch list if he let them know he could do more magic than just the basics.

Gellert’s mood dropped instantly. “What have they done now?”

“Refuse to lift my travel ban. Nothing serious.”

“Would you like my assistance?”

Newt snorted. He wasn’t an amateur. He stared directly into those mismatched eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I have my own ways against the rules, Gellert.”

Mischief and a challenge. Grindelwald was overwhelmed with a sense of giddy excitement that he had to force himself not to reply. He didn’t know what nonsense would blurt out and he wasn’t up for embarrassing himself that day. But there was something so inviting – enticing – about the way Newt all but lit up when rejecting his offer that he wanted to know more.

“Right,” he finally murmured out.

They headed to the living room after that for their daily tea get-togethers. Their fingers brushed as Newt handed Gellert a teacup and they both acted like they didn’t feel the light tingle in their fingers.

But Gellert was beginning to figure out why he was there.

Gellert spent the next two weeks discussing things with the only person he fully trusted – Vinda Rosier. She had been delighted to help, amused by her boss.

Gellert had been making great progress with Newt. The magizoologist trusted him more. There was no diabolic scheme, and the other man knew that, because Gellert was unreasonably honest with him.

He couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t lie, physically or verbally. He wondered what things would have been like that if they had met earlier. Then again, Gellert wouldn’t have any damage to make up for.

A few months into the whole daily tea thing, and Newt realized he was friends with the Dark Lord. He enjoyed their conversations and was actually excited when the wards let him know the other had showed up. It was a more subtle (and pleasant) feeling compared to the alarm magic that was sent through his body when other people showed up.

Newt had accidently bought too many apples. He gave some to the creatures but still had lots left over. He wasn’t going to sit around and let them go bad. So, he looked up a recipe and made an apple cake.

It turned out surprisingly well.

“That smells delicious. And here I was thinking we should dine out,” Gellert said as he made his way into the kitchen just as Newt was slicing the cake.

Newt let out a laugh. “We can still ‘dine out’ if you want,” he said. There was just something about that expression paired with the blonde’s tone that made him feel giggly. He picked up two slices of cake. When he turned around, Grindelwald was much closer than he was expecting.

Gellert accepted a slice with a smile, quickly eating the fluffy sponge. He licked his lips, holding eye contact with Newt. He leaned in slightly, keeping track of every reaction the red head made. “Perhaps we should do something different today?”

Newt didn’t freeze or hold his breath. He took in every feature on the other man’s face and smiled. He could feel something in the space between them and his being beckoned him to close the distance, to touch the other man and see if those strange tingles would happen again. “What would that be?” Newt asked, voice a honey-like whisper. There was no hesitation or fear.

And Gellert saw that. He put his hands on the counter on either side of Newt, bringing them slightly closer together. But not enough to touch. Not yet. He felt like he needed to savour it before he drowned in it, because he knew he would get addicted to Newt.

He licked his lips and watched as Newt’s eyes followed the motion. So, he started to close the small distance between them, putting his hands on Newt’s waist. One of Newt’s hands came to rest on his neck.

And then, the wards went off. Followed by obnoxious knocking on the front door.

“Newt? Artemis, I know you’re in there!”

Newt’s head fell to Gellert’s shoulder with a loud sigh. “By Circe…” he mumbled as he started to pull away and towards the door. For a second, he forgot just who he was with before promptly springing into a small panic. He spun around only to find the other man with a calm expression.

“Go before he breaks your door. He won’t see me.” Gellert saw the hesitation. “Trust me, darling.”

Newt finally turned back to the door. With a deep breathe, he opened it. “Hi, Thee.”

The elder Scamander frowned. He pushed his way past, hanging his overcoat and scarf on the rack near the door. “I told you to take down these wards. What were you doing anyway?”

Newt closed the door and had to take a few breaths before replying. “I was in the kitchen.”

Theseus rolled his eyes. Whatever he had planned on saying left his mind as he saw a wolf snarling at him from the couch. It had an almost blonde coat and brown eyes that seemed angry about his mere existence. “Why?!”

“Why not?” Newt retorted as he saw the wolf. He sat down next to it, running his fingers through the fur to calm it down. Of course, it worked like a charm.

Theseus shook his head. “Your affinity for wild things is ridiculous. How you earn their trust and make a relationship with them is beyond me.”

“Maybe because you call them things or beasts. I know what you say to other people.”

“Merlin Newt! I think you’re getting a bit —”

“What did you want, Theseus?” Newt was done. He had finally reached his limit. How he hadn’t already reached it was a mystery – or maybe he was already beyond his limit.

Theseus recoiled at the harshness. “We’re planning on brining Grindelwald to Britain in the next few months. I figured I would tell you…”

“Thanks.”

Theseus sighed long and hard, bracing himself to ask his next question. He wasn’t used to having to deal with his brother like this. “Leta kicked me out again. Can I stay the night?”

“No.” Newt left no room for debate. Firstly, his brother had been rude for the past few months – more than usual. And secondly, he had things he wanted to do. “Sleep on your couch.”

Theseus didn’t know what to do. Sure, he had had his little brother mad at him, but this was different. He didn’t know how to handle it. So, he left. He showed himself out.

Newt ran a hand through his hair roughly as the door clicked shut. He got up before the wolf turned back to a man, heading straight for the kitchen to fetch tea and cake. He and Gellert had things to talk about and he had been putting it off for too long.

Newt didn’t see Gellert for a week and a half after that night.

When the blonde did show up, it was with flowers, an empty notebook, and a hopeful smile.

Newt opened the door to let him in with haste only to find a woman standing on his steps, waiting for something.

“Newt, this is Vinda Rosier.” Grindelwad introduced them. It was somewhat of a relief having the person he cared about and the one person from his organization that he trusted meet.

“Is this him?” Vinda asked Grindelwald. When she got a nod, she turned to Newt. Her expression was polite but there was no trace of a smile. “Tu es son âme sœur? Le zoologiste magique ?”

Newt raised a brow at Gellert and then at her. “Oui, et tu l’es?” He swore he saw Gellert swoon out the corner of his eye. He’d have to check that.

“Son commandant en second.”

“Vous devez être très habile,” Newt said with a small smile.

Vinda’s lips quirked upwards. “I like him.”

Newt opened the door slightly wider and stepped to the side. “Would you like to come in?”

“No. I was simply escorting him here. Very nice to meet you, my Lord.”

Newt watched her go. He was sure he was going to be seeing more of her. Which was fine. What did baffle him, however, was that she was talking to him when she said Lord.

Turning to face the man in his house, Newt made a face.

Gellert held out the flowers with an almost hesitant smile. “I’ll explain.”

Turns out, Grindelwald had been sulking quite a lot over the last week. He had felt terrible after their little fight and couldn’t stop thinking about it. After Rosier scolded him, he started thinking about what he could do to fix things. And thus came the genius idea of reorganizing his entire ‘greater good scheme’ with Newt.

Hence the notebook. He wanted to write everything down. Keep note of the changes, of the integration of creature rescue and protection, and the major point: not eradicating muggles.

By the time they had talked about everything concerning Gellert’s work, night had fallen. But that didn’t mean they were done.

In fact, Gellert stayed the night. They didn’t do anything except cuddle and talk as Gellert didn’t want to rush anything. Besides, the bed was extremely comfortable that he fell asleep near instantly.

When Newt awoke the next morning, it was to an empty bed. Stretching out, he thought nothing of it. Gellert was a busy man that had a revolution to enact; surely, he couldn’t waste away his mornings as well as afternoons.

However, he was proved wrong. He found Gellert in his kitchen bustling about, humming to himself. The blonde smiled when he noticed Newt was up.

“Good morning,” Gellert said warmly. He spun around holding two plates of egg and something else, cups and tea pot floating behind him. He set everything down on the small dining table, pulling out a seat for Newt.

The red head smiled brightly, settling down into the chair. The food smelt and looked amazing. When he bit into it, it was a fluffy heaven. The only other people he knew that cooked that well were Queenie and Jacob.

Grindelwald made small talk as they ate and refused to let Newt do the dishes, settling for drying what the red head washed. Everything was so utterly soft and domestic. Their hands brushed as they squeezed into the small counterspace around the sink. The space between them crackled and energy ran through their entire bodies. Newt quickly understood that it was Gellert’s magic mingling with his and that unfamiliar, yet excited rush washed over him.

“Hey,” Newt said softly. He dried his hands with a quick spell as he waited for the blonde to turn and face him. He cupped one of Gellert’s cheeks, not surprised when he all but nuzzled into the hand. “Thank you.” Newt’s voice was quiet, the smile on his face soft.

Gellert melted. He had no idea what he did to have the pleasure of meeting Newt, but he was glad he did. He lightly gripped Newt’s wrist, turning his face so he could place a kiss to the palm. “Anything for you, Schatz,” he said. It was the truth, after all. He was already completely gone, his entire heart Newt’s to claim. He would do anything for the other man – even sit in a cell if that was what he really wanted.

He didn’t know how else he could show Newt that he was his to have. He didn’t think he could hide it. Everyone would know the second they saw him looking at Newt.

A lovesick man.

Newt felt a shiver run up and down his spine because of the kiss on his palm. He raised his other hand to rest on Gellert’s shoulder, applying just a little pressure. It was enough to get the other man to come closer, hands resting on Newt’s hips. Exactly what he wanted.

Gellert’s head fell to rest on Newt’s shoulder as he murmured words onto the skin. Newt didn’t catch all of it, but he could make out a few words. “…devoted… forever… eternity… yours…”

Newt tilted his head down slightly, voice a whisper as he said, “I’m yours.” He giggled as feather-light kisses were trailed up his neck until Gellert was gazing into his eyes once more. It seemed that the little fight they had had the other week had made Gellert doubt that Newt would want something, even after patching things up the night prior. “Truly,” Newt added.

Newt couldn’t tell you who leant in first. He could tell you that it wasn’t what he was expecting.

The kiss was sweet and slow and full of emotions. There was a dull thrum of magic shifting between them, a combination of both their magic. It didn’t intensify the moment by making it hotter, messier, more sensual, but by amplifying their emotions. They pressed impossibly closer to each other and held on for dear life, like the other was a lifeline.

Maybe, in some way, they were.

Theseus had avoided his brothers house like the plague for a month. He was waiting for Newt to calm down fully and was working up nerves of steel just in case he hadn’t.

Only, when he visited, he found an empty house. Most of the furniture and everything impersonal were left in the house covered in a thin layer of dust. The kitchen was empty of cups and tea pots, all general appliances unplugged and sitting neatly on the counter. There were no clothes in the bedroom or books on shelves. And the basement, normally full of life, was stripped down bare. Even the expansion charms had been taken away, leaving only a small, tiny, cold, room.

And Theseus lost it.

There was no trace of his baby brother ever living there. And he didn’t know what to do about it.

He wasn’t allowed time to dwell on it as his workload was increased. He filed a notice about his brother but was forced to ignore it. Four months on and he was constantly having to push the thought of his baby brother to the back of his mind. He just didn’t have time with all his work and an escaped Dark Lord plotting evil in every shadowy nook and cranny.

Theseus had been sent to France in order to scope out an establishment that had been marked as suspicious. They lost the Auror that found it – they couldn’t blend in with the scene and was sniffed out quickly.

Theseus was sat on the skirts of the establishments largest room. He observed everyone as he nursed a glass of fire whiskey, feeling odd without his usual attire. The place had a fancy-dress code and was a place to make good connections for an array of businesses.

His eyes zoned in on a woman with dark hair, a purple dress, and a hair piece to match. There was something about her that put his senses on high alert.

She was at the bar, standing in front of the man she was talking to, obscuring Theseus’ view. Her posture screamed importance and elegance. She excused herself from the bar, heading towards the entrance of one of the smaller rooms.

Theseus started to watch her, but his eyes caught sight of a familiar head of copper curls that made his heart drop to his stomach. No. Please, no, he thought. But that did nothing for him.

Newt was sat in one of the tall bar stools, talking animatedly to the bartender who smiled along with him. They were clearly familiar with one another as the bartender immediately began to mix a drink for the red head. There was no exchange of money which made Theseus’ stomach lurch. Either his brother was getting by in unseemly ways, or he visited often to have himself a tab.

Neither option seemed better.

Downing the rest of his drink, Theseus slinked his way over to the bar. To his luck, the bartender went to serve another customer, and the seats on either side of his brother were left empty.

“Newt?” He asked hesitantly.

Newt spun to face him, almost spilling his drink with the speed he put it down.

“What are you doing here Newt? And where have you been for the past months?!” Theseus couldn’t help but raise his voice. There was no way he could be calm after accidently stumbling upon his own brother that disappeared with no warning nor a note.

Newt’s eyes flicked away for a moment. “Dealing with business is all,” he said, nonchalant.

Theseus’ left eye twitched. “Business doesn’t mean you leave the country for four months! Which, you are in big trouble for,” he exclaimed.

Newt told himself to not roll his eyes. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, lifting it in a cheer to the bartender. It was made well after all. “There was no way around it. You were never going to lift it.”

“They would have given you chances after the first year was up. Like finding that boy from the subway in New York," Theseus said. He was certain that the mention of that boy would get his brothers attention, but he acted like he hadn’t heard.

“Think of all the creatures I could lose in a year, let alone three!” Newt roared. He made a hand gesture when he noticed the bartender watching their conversation. She was gone the next second. “And I would not help the Ministry hunt down and hurt that boy. Credence doesn’t deserve that.”

“You know?” Theseus asked.

“Of course.”

Theseus stood there dumbfounded. What was he supposed to do. It seemed that no matter what he said, his brother would say something to battle it. Clearly, there was no way to simply coerce him to going home. “Listen, let’s just go home and —”

“Is everything alright here?” The woman in the purple dress asked, appearing out of thin air. She had a heavy French accent which made Theseus fill with dread.

All Newt had to say was, “He’s my brother.” and she backed off. Sighing, Newt gave his brother a sympathetic smile. “I’m not going back. Not yet.”

“You leave me no choice,” Theseus said as he reached into his jacket pocket, retrieving a pair of gold bangles.

Newt eyed the magic restraining cuffs wearily, leaning away. “That’s not a good idea,” he warned.

Yet Theseus wasn’t listening. He was going to take his baby brother home. He reached out with one hand towards Newt. Within a breath, he had someone physically restraining him, holding his arms behind his back. The bangles hit the floor with a clank. Three quarters of the establishment turned their wands on him, the lady wearing purple with hers pressed directly against his neck. Everything was silent, waiting for him to move or to be given directions.

“My Lord?” A random voice urged. The title made Theseus’ blood run cold. He would be in big trouble if Grindelwald had decided to make and appearance.

Newt let out another sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Vinda, the cuffs.”

Vinda – who looked lovely in purple – slowly removed her wand from the elder Scamander’s throat in favour of picking up the cuffs. She made a motion and the ones holding Theseus back brought his arms out in front of him. She worked silently and within seconds Theseus’ wrists donned those gold bangle-cuffs.

Defenseless. Confused. Hurt. Worried.

“Shall we take him with?” Vinda asked, turning to Newt now that the threat was neutralized. She was the only one to relax, the rest waiting for a cue.

Newt shook his head. “Sweet thought, but no one will be able to handle his whingeing,” he stated. A huff from his brother made his statement all the more believable. With a wave of his hand, everyone dispersed. Only the two holding Theseus and Vinda stayed with him, keeping watch over the situation. Before Theseus could start ranting to him, Newt spotted a woman and the bartender making their way up the bar to him. “Odette, Jacqueline,” he started before diving into fluent French.

He apologized for the disruption and promised that he would deal with the unwanted guest. It wasn’t the establishments’ fault that the elder Scamander got in.

Theseus watched the exchange silently. He accidentally made eye contact with Vinda, the woman glaring at him harshly. If looks could kill, she would have already stabbed him three hundred times.

“You work for Grindelwald,” Theseus said blandly. Vinda squinted her eyes in return, not wanting to converse with him. “Why are you with Newt?”

Vinda let out a small cackle. “I thought you were supposed to be smart, British boy,” she mocked. “I have two lords – what of it?”

Theseus’ mind must have overloaded from stress and worry that he couldn’t come up with an answer. Nor could he remember being dragged to a private room.

“Send him to America. Have one of the ministry acolytes pick him up. A few bruises here and there and they should hold him in MACUSA for a while. They’re not taking any risks right now.”

Theseus refused to believe Newt said that. That he so casually and quickly put together a plan to get Theseus out of the way. There was no way his brother would ever be in any form of relationship with the vile man Gellert Grindelwald. No way…

Almost a year after the first night Grindelwald had tea with Newt, a massive herd of wixen were scrambling into a tomb in Paris. Grindelwald had spent countless hours restructuring his agenda and enforcing it, successfully rerouting his plans. ‘The Greater Good’ now also called a revolution.

Newt sat in the front row of the coliseum like tomb. He had heard the speech hundreds of times, having helped the blonde practice. He blended in with the crowd enough to not be spotted as he smiled at Vinda who stood in the centre as well. He had Credence seated beside him, the boy holding his arm for comfort. He was still nervous around wixen but had latched onto Newt quite quickly.

They all knew there were Aurors in there with them. They had snuck in but had taken no other precautions of fitting in, so, they stuck out like a sore thumb. It was just a matter of waiting to find out who exactly had decided to crash their gathering.

“Go forth. Let everyone know that the next stage of the revolution is upon us!” With the speech over, all the followers started poofing away one by one.

All that was left was Grindelwald’s inner circle and the swarm of Aurors that thought they stood a chance.

Always one for the dramatics, Gellert made a ring of raging blue flames encircle the most inner circle of the tomb. He scowled as his eyes glazed over all the Aurors in the tomb. He recognized the eldest Scamander, that annoying Lestrange woman, and the sister of Newt’s dear American friend. He was amused when they all noticed his red head, even more so when they were told to hold fire.

Gellert watched as Newt escorted Credence to the platform, promising him that he was going to be okay. Then they had a whole conversation with Vinda before finally Credence left with her, leaving Newt to stand by Gellert against the Aurors.

Theseus, Leta, and Tina all started talking at once, their words almost incomprehensible.

Newt scowled; expression similar to Gellert’s.

“You all said it,” he said, voice loud, carrying throughout the entire tomb. “I have an affinity for dangerous creatures. I learn, get to know them, earn their trust. Develop a relationship. You all call him a monster, so, why is Gellert not the same?”

Everyone cringed at the use of the Dark Lords first name.

Theseus was the first to open his mouth, to complain. But Newt wasn’t having it.

“Just because you and Leta have issues doesn’t mean others need to have bad relationships,” Newt said hotly. He felt Gellert snake his arm around his waist, their magic mingling and instantly making him feel slightly better about the situation.

Theseus took a few frustrated steps forward before being stopped by the flames racing their way up the stairs towards him. They stopped just short, just enough to make him fearful of them. “Love has ups and downs. It can’t be fireworks all the time.”

“Oh contrary,” Gellert spoke up, a smirk on his lips. “Touching a soulmate always feels like fireworks.” Sure, he was stretching the truth a little, but it was for a good cause. Getting the elder Scamander to break again.

Theseus spluttered. “No. Those are fairytales.”

Multiple people around him muttered their opposing opinions, Leta included. She looked so pained by it, like the fact her and Theseus weren’t soulmates physically pained her.

An impatient Auror suddenly fired a blast of magic towards Newt and Gellert. The latter easily deflected it, instantly sending a spell of his own that had the man on the ground, writhing in pain.

As much as Newt enjoyed watching his partner, he had things to attend to at the castle. “Remember, Tina and Theseus are exceptions. Queenie will hate us if not.” Newt turned to his side slightly to find those mismatched eyes already on him. He pressed a quick peck to the blonde’s cheek before stepping away with a smile. “Au revoir!”

Any form of happiness or non-murderous intent left Gellert’s body. A sadistic smile overtook his features as he readjusted his grip on the elder wand. It was his time to play and let out a bit of steam.

All the Aurors gulped.

[sophia-tuttle]

BASICS:

Name: Sophia Fluer Tuttle Age & Birthday: Twenty Two. October 31st Gender & Pronouns: Female. She/Her Sexuality: Heterosexual Occupation: Bakery Assistant at the Little Tart, Diagon Alley. Blood Status: Pureblood House: Gryffindor Affiliation: Neutral Family: Rose Tuttle (Mother, diseased.) Heath Tuttle (father. diseased.) Languages: English Residence: London Former Residence: None

MAGICAL:

Boggart: Death of Friends Patronus: Hare Amortenia: Crisp Autumn air, cookie dough, cauldron cake, the aroma of her perfume. OWLs: Astronomy - A Care of magical Creatures - E Charms -E Defence against the dark arts - A Divination - P Herbology - A History of magic - P Potions - E Transfiguration - A NEWTs: Did not take

PERSONALITY:

Honest, caring and outgoing.

Outspoken, Stubborn and Naïve.

BIOGRAPHY:

Sophia was only six years old when her parents died in a housefire, at the time Sophia was at the local muggle school.

Her mother, a Slytherin was disowned by her parents when she chose to Marry Sophia's father, a Gryffindor. Her fathers parents had passed before she was born. Her mothers parents where both Slytherin and where fully supportive of Dark Magic and ranks highly within Death Eaters. Their daughter marrying someone who didn't see the same values as them, was the ultimate betrayal.

The cause for the fire that took her parents life was unknown. Sophia doesn't know this yet, but those around them at the time had questioned if there was something more going on. Many, think there was no accident at all. After all, there had been rumours that the death eaters where furious that Rose had turned her back and betrayed her family, at least that is has they saw it to be.

After the death of her parents, and no living family willing to take her. She was placed into a magic based foster system, moved from home to home due to her lack of ability to settle in with new families. Some where loving, kind and cared for Sophia but simply could not deal with a child that barely spoke or showed love back, others had not been so kind. She attended Hogwarts at 11 years old. At first the transition was rocky, Sophia was often in trouble for speaking out for term and giving those around her attitude. However, overtime she began to realise Hogwarts was nothing like the foster homes she had been placed in, and she seen began to settle. Hogwarts was Sophia's saving grace, overtime she began to come out of her shell more, she opened herself up to friendships and truly felt like the teachers and staff cared for it's pupils. For the first time, she felt like she belonged somewhere.

When she turned 18 she was provided with a small flat in London, it was then she had to truly learn how to fend for herself, she got herself a job as a Bakery assistant and has worked their ever since. Not having true parents raise her, Sophia can often come across as naïve. She can often end up trusting those she shouldn't, and her general knowledge of the war is lacking. She has heard the both good and bad regarding both sides, and it has honestly left her conflicted on what to think or even believe. Sophia is honest and caring, yet she also isn't afraid to speak her mind or stand up for those in need. She can be outspoken, which at times can come across as rude but for her it was a way to survive the fostering world, if you didn't speak up or stand up for yourself no one was going too. It also caused her to do a lot for herself, and not rely on those around her, Sophia rarely asks for help, thinking she can handle everything on her own - this can often come across as her being stubborn.

Those close to her will describe her as creative and unique, she absolutely loves design and fashion. Often she is seen creating her own style and customising clothes to suit her taste, she isn't afraid to be different. She designs, draws and loves a good book in the evenings, her goes to genre tends to be thrillers. She loves a good scare - perhaps it all to do with being born on Halloween.

Sophia always has, and still does struggle with not remembering much about her parents. She has photos, and very mild memories of their times together, but other than that she often draws a blank. She has reached out to her mother parents in the past, but they refused to have anything to do with her.

She will always be thankful for Hogwarts, how they helped her, saved her and brought her up to be the person she is today. Hogwarts for many years had been the only true home she knew. However, she is now ready to create her own world, her own home and her own life.

Let's just hope she just get caught into the crossfire.

[h0estar]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

Hi! Yes absolutely! I am so sorry it took so long. I haven't opened Tumblr in forever. I'm not sure if I can list down 2 characters from the same media platform once but just in case I'm not, I'll just list down one. This is based on the order I remember them by since I have really shit memory and there might've been a few fave characters I missed 🥲

I'll list down what comes to mind first haha

1. Yukine (Noragami)

-I love him SO MUCH. The first time I watched Noragami back in 2016, I knew I would love this boy with all my heart. Something about troubled and misunderstood anime kids with fucked up backstories just make me want to take care of them man. He's my adopted baby period. His character development is also very beautiful.

He's a very complex character. Idk why people shit on him for acting like a child when he is quite literally a child 😭 let him be a kid man, let him be immature, I was also immature at 14 and I'm happy for him bc he's got someone understanding by his side at all times.

I wish the ending would do justice to his character fr.

2. Kagura (Gintama)

She's funny asf. Also, strong asf. I love good female rep in anime and Kagura takes the cake for me. She has no filter, she's really cool, really funny, and just a fun and enjoyable character overall. (You should watch Gintama btw, it's my favorite anime).

3. Usopp (One Piece)

People shit on him a lot and I'm sick of it. I love him because he is SO REAL. He represents ordinary human beings in the One Piece world and I admire his bravery so much. His goal isn't even something grand, he just wants to be the bravest man who crossed the sea and I love that for him. He's a coward fr but seeing him break out of his shell and take courage to face his fears make me so emotional and proud. He inspires me to face my fears too :')

4. Izaya (Durarara!!)

He was lowkey the reason why I majored in Psychology. I love this cunning man. Watching everything go into flames bc of the shit he pulls excites me so much. I love watching him work. Totally not bc of his VA.

5. Newt (The Maze Runner Series)

Okay, this person was also real as shit. The way he's depicted in the books? Perfection. He's just so kind and caring and gentle to the gladers and to people they met during the scorch trials and ugh he deserved sm better :(

the way i have a whole 'nother blog dedicated to the maze runner series and it's always just abt him 💀 i was obsessed w him man. something abt broken/complex characters who are just so kind and tragic always have my heart.

6. Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)

After I read stormbringer, I was never the same again. He is actually super sweet and super down to earth. I love him so much because he is so genuine with his intentions? Also, the shit has been through man... Yet, he still chose to live and fight. I admire that so much from him.

he is also a very complex and tragic character. i love him sm bc of that... i'm sensing a pattern here.

7. Armin (Attack on Titan)

His smartass made me fall in love with him. My boy just wanted to see the sea man. I admire his bravery so much and he gets shit ton of hate too for not kissing Eren's ass but I love him so much for standing his ground and having faith in his best friend. He was lowkey psycho too tbh. Smart men>>

8. Yuuta (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Okay, something about timid guys who are lowkey psychotic always get me going. He's a cool character and he's sexy. Period.

9. Killua (Hunter x Hunter)

ALSO MY BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!! He deserves the world 😭 He went through so much at 12 bro and I just want to take care of him so much bc he deserves to be a kid!!!!! Big brother Killua also has my heart. He's so sweet and caring and kind and genuine and UGH I LOVE HIM.

the way he just wanted a friend 😭 i'd gladly be his friend man if i were in the hxh universe. he's too sweet 😔 and he deserves sm better!!!

10. Jo March (Little Women)

I SEE MYSELF IN HER SO MUCH. The way she just wanted everything to stay the same even when change was inevitable and the people in her life ended up growing up. I love how as I watched her grow up, the traits that she had as a kid were still there yet she was slowly opening to change. I just relate to her so much and we are so alike in so many ways.

---

That's it, I think! Those were the only characters I could think of. I am so sorry if I didn't word it correctly. I suck at writing and english isn't my first language but I hope you got a gist of why I love the characters 😭 Most of the times I don't really have a deep reason for liking a certain character, they just appeal to me and I get that gut feeling that oh I think I will obsess over this little shit for the rest of my life and it's usually always correct lmao. This was fun! Thank you!

[follyglass]

Follyglass : Library

At the age of six, her friend Elzebet found a strange little stone with a curious little hole in it. When Elzebet peered inside, she found a library - her own personal library - full of things that started with the letter S. Elzebet kept the little rock in her pocket and when Claude needed a sandwich or even a serpent, Elzebet could help.

Because of a deal between a witch and a mayor, everyone in Greenapple had access to a library. Due to a misunderstanding between the witch and the mayor, the witch cast the spell to mean that everyone got their own personal library instead of the one great hall full of books that everyone shared. As such, there were libraries everywhere waiting to be discovered.

Elzebet found hers when she was six.

Claude’s brother found his when he was eight. It was all cats that spoke in iambic pentameter.

Then there were libraries of cousins and schoolmates and neighbors and strangers, each more interesting and strange than the last. Claude eagerly read about libraries of keys and cakes and pears and inks and otters and ferns and string and kaleidoscopes and newts and glass and cheeses made only during the new moon. Each of these was found in equally interesting places: envelopes, and between the fine barbs of a goose feather, or on the opposite side of a button.

With each new discovery, it would set Claude to searching for her own personal library. It could be hiding anywhere. During a math lesson, she watched the clock, confident that maybe her library was hiding behind the second hand and only available at fourteen after.

It wasn’t.

And so in her twenties she hiked the green mountains with Elzebet and checked under the slick leaves of spring ramps. And in February, she sifted through fresh lake snow at midnight. Claude tried everything she could think of. Sometimes after a bit much caramel fizz, she found herself asking others to look in their own libraries - ‘perhaps my library is in your library’ she would slur - to no avail. When she was sad, her father brought her a cup of sun tea and assured Claude that he hadn’t found his library until he was twenty-six. “These things take time.”

Time took. And turned. The libraries, though, turned her friends into experts on fish and keys and cake, and they sailed through the world confident in the directions they were pointed in.

It was rare, but sometimes Claude would find another like her; without a library. They became an informal club and commiserated over thick slices of molasses bread and listened to someone playing the fiddle two lanes over. They came up with schemes to help uncover libraries, most of which failed at finding but succeeded at entertainment. Every once in a while, someone would just stop appearing to the gatherings. Those remaining guessed wistfully that a library had been found. Others thought the meetings were too depressing and what was the point?

Forty-nine had found Claude… who had long given up looking. And going to the gatherings. Instead, she focused her efforts into learning how to play the oboe and had begun reading about the art of glove-making. Upon finishing the stitches for the left glove -her first glove- a curious warm light shone from the glove itself. She squinted and peeked within. It was her library.

She had unintentionally built her own library.

Claude put the glove down and clenched her jaw. “Why now?” she asked herself. “What use is a library for me now? Isn’t it too late? What can possibly be useful for me now?”

She set the glove aside like it was a bill that she could not yet pay. Or like a house spider that she grudgingly let live in the corner of her bathroom. And for too many days her glove, even her glove-making tools that had brought her joy, sat undisturbed.

When Claude finally ran out of prickly anger and sourness, when numbness shielded her from feeling anything at all, she looked. The library itself grew and surrounded her, just like she had heard about so many times, and wished for even more, and Claude found herself in a building with grand columns that held up an arch of sky.

Each table, each shelf, even the banners that hung from the sky contained maps.

At first, the maps were things like ‘towns that have seven letters in their names’ and ‘rivers that flow north,’ but the maps became more curious the further she went into the library. Her library. Here was a book of those who had heartache. That banner riffling pearly was a map of the milky way… from Saturn. There were maps of missing socks and pennies, there were maps of all of the songs in the world, there were even maps of the library itself. These volumes, Claude decided, would probably be a good place to start.

In it, she found reference to a volume that was two days’ travel away. Without thinking, Claude immediately set out for it.

The book was made of brass and wound in green string to keep it shut. Inside were maps of lost libraries and to whom each belonged. She slid her finger down the first pages and read quietly. There were libraries that had never been claimed, and never would be, as their owners were gone. Sadness bloomed in her like ink in water. To think that so many had never had the opportunity to shine!

It was then that she knew what her library was for; Claude was going to help others find their libraries. She would start with the old man down the street who didn’t yet know that his library of quilts had been waiting for him all this time at the park gazebo.

[suzyq31]

Question 30

I was meaning to ask that after you'll finish found, can you make an one shot of iris as a 15 to 17 year old girl with moments with both harry and teddy

I mean in this story unlike iris, we've mostly seen the relationship between both of them as a teacher student even though harry would like to scream in joy when iris performs well or iris would often wonder what it would be if he had known from the start

Maybe in this one shot, we can see their relationship as father daughter and with teddy, you said that it would be like having sibling so them bickering but also being protective of each other, you had already developed victoire and Teddy's relationship with each other and harry so well , it will be an icing on cake to see it

Because with only 10 chapters left, I think it will only cover the reunion between three of them and we haven't even reached to Halloween in the story or an end to her first year so we won't be able to see her quidditch tryouts, owls and newts preparation because as much as we love a 4 year old iris and dad harry, I would also like to see harry and a rebel iris or just a teen iris with harry getting taste of his own medicine and her getting a crush with harry and teddy being protective and all that fluff

I know, I'm asking a lot but your writing and story is so good, I would love to see those moments of that family together

Hope you have a nice trip ❤❤

I'm really glad you enjoy the story! Not sure if I'll end up writing a one shot...but never say never. I am likely adding at least another chapter or two to Found, since some of the other plot stuff got away from me. So while it's a slow burn in many ways with the reveals etc. There will be several chapters of them as a family of 3. Also we will see more of the dynamic between her and Teddy. Plus Teddy meeting Hermione etc. My hope is to one day have all three stories in this universe complete...even if it takes me a few years 😅

I searched through my draft for anything that didn't have too many spoilers. So here's a snippet from later in Found if that helps showing the three of them together! (Haven't written the Teddy scenes yet!)

===

Soon enough they were at the same oak door from yesterday. Harry paused, a hand raking through his hair. She tilted her head towards him, it was still surreal to be able to look directly at him like this. Emerald eyes held hers and Hermione couldn’t move, mesmerised at the sight. 

“What are you doing?”

The new, but familiar voice made her jump, knocking into Harry who grabbed hold of her arms. She spun to her right to see Iris emerge from under the invisibility cloak, half her body still hidden.

“What’s the matter?” Iris asked this time, brow furrowed as she looked between them.

“Nothing,” she managed to reply, suddenly out of breath, Iris’s frown deepened. 

“You just scared us,” Harry added, releasing her arms. 

“Sorry,” Iris mumbled sheepishly, eyes moving to her trainers. She rubbed the cloak between her fingers, falling silent.

Now it was her turn to frown, sensing the tension in her daughter. “What is it sweetheart?” 

Iris chewed on her lips “Everyone is staring,” she replied quietly, eyes flicking up to them. “More than with the vomit.”

Guilt flashed across Harry’s face. “Come on,” he said finally. “Let’s have a butterbeer.”

Iris brightened at this offer. Hermione followed her daughter and Harry into his quarters. Iris draped the invisibility cloak over the armrest of the sofa before flinging herself onto its cushy surface. 

“What do I say? When people ask me things?” she asked.

Hermione glanced over at Harry who nodded thoughtfully as he fetched three butterbeers from a cabinet under his desk. 

“Tell them you can’t talk about it. Auror orders,” he replied as he handed Iris her drink.

Hermione took the one offered to her, his fingers brushing against hers, making her heart jump. She ignored this and sat next to Iris who continued to watch them with her carefully held expression.

“We do need to talk,” Hermione said, placing her hand on Iris’s leg. “There’s a good chance this will end up in the paper.”

Her eyes widened, head whipping towards her father. Harry took a long sip of his butterbeer. 

“There’s been rumours of a leak. About your mum. That she’s alive.”

“How did they find out?” Iris asked.

“The less you know the better,” Harry replied. 

Iris crossed her arms. “I’m almost twelve!”

Harry stood, crouching in front of Iris, a hand on her shoulder. “Some things are too heavy for twelve year olds.” His eyes moved to Hermione and back to Iris. “I wish we hadn’t had to take on half the things we did by the time we were your age.”

Iris sunk further into the cushion. “You know I’ll just find out anyway.”

His lip twitched upwards. “Of course you will. Still, can you trust us that we’ll tell you what you need to know as it comes up?”

Her face twisted into a sceptical frown, gaze piercing. Hermione sighed, reading the expression all too well.  “I know. My track record isn’t…great.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. She shook her head, pleading silently with him to speak about it later. He nodded and she released a relieved breath. 

“Stop talking with your eyes!” Iris said, voice rising. Both of them stared shocked at her outburst. 

Harry’s expression was just as incredulous as hers likely was. Suddenly she was laughing, unable to stop as she covered her mouth. Harry’s joining hers instantaneously. Iris glared at both of them. 

“It’s not funny,” she muttered. 

That only made them laugh harder and eventually her frown cracked, revealing a partial smile. 

Harry stood from where he’d been laughing on the rug, wiping his face with his sleeve and offering Iris his hand.

“How about we get some fresh air?”