#i need to vomit i need to throw it all up every little particle

[finalgirlgretchen]

this too shall pass! this too shall pass. this too shall pass. this, too, shall fucking pass.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Christmas Specials: Fishcake

CW: Some hint of dehumanization and references to Bahram’s depression/past breakdown at the end, some brief emeto references, but really this is just fluff. Oh, also brief unintentional ableism that Miah calls out.

Introduction | Siren Song | Cries | Here | Not Sure | Draw Blood | Fish | Signs | Stop | Something New | Help | Please Don’t Let Me Drown  | Fish Food | Squeaky Toy | Fading | Fishcake

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BAHRAM’S NOTES

December 24th, 20XX 11:15 pm Mer in Residence: 71 Days

Miah showed up tonight with a Christmas present for me, and now I feel like a giant dick for not having anything to give her. 

Christmas just isn’t a thing in my family. I mean, I have cousins who go overboard with it, kind of a fitting in thing, but my family never did. Baba does some kind of fast, but for Maman it’s just another day and for me it’s always meant mostly a day where I played video games all day because I didn’t have to be at school or work. 

Oh, I need to call Baba and Maman tomorrow, note to self. She always gets worried about me right around the end of the year, what with how they figured out I was quitting school and everything.

I guess getting a phone call from a hospital leaves a bloody impression.

Anyway, Miah comes in with this big shopping bag in her hand, waving at me all bright and sunny and cheerful. She set the bag down long enough to berate me for - she assumed - having not taken my medicine on time. 

For the record, she was right, but I didn’t tell her that.

Nearly drowning in saltwater made my lungs apparently terribly angry with me, so for the next eight days I’m on a run of antibiotics to handle a lovely case of bacterial pneumonia. Would’ve been far handier to get pneumonia right away, but instead I ended up in Urgent Care yesterday, paying 200 dollars and waiting two hours to see a doctor for less than ten minutes. 

Dr. L says she’ll reimburse me the cost, but still. 

Miah asked me how I was feeling, I said I felt fine, really, and then of course I had an awful coughing fit just to prove myself a wonderful liar. The coughing’s the worst part - every time I really get going, it’s like being underwater all over again. I can feel my lungs fighting to inflate, to take the air in, and I can hear how hard I’m working to get enough air to stop coughing at all. Miah can’t hear it, but she can see it all right, and she looked worried.

I signed, “I’m fine, it’ll stop, the doctor says it will,” and she frowned at me, but let it go, I guess. While she had her face turned away to greet the mer, I opened the pill bottle and dry-swallowed the meds really fast. Sometimes there are benefits to Miah not being able to hear things.

The mer - Kima, I can call him by his name in these notes, the ones only I see - was already at the side of the tank, watching us. He’s perked up a bit lately, since I started giving him live fish on the days Dr. L isn’t around and Miah brought him all these enrichment things. We’re doing what we can, but I know it’s still not enough.

Enough would be figuring out where his bloody family is and getting him back to them, but I just… I can’t even begin to explain, even to myself, the logistical nightmare of hauling a six-foot-long mer back to the ocean and finding someone who would take him back up north where his family likely is in the middle of bloody fucking December.

It’s the right thing to do, yeah.

But it’d just be too hard to pull off, not without losing… my whole taped-together life, yeah? Plus I’m still dealing with trying to figure out who exactly is my real employer at this point - who’s paying Dr. L - and what they want from the mer’s… thing he can do.

Miah glanced over at him and signed, “Don’t worry, I have something for you, too,” and Kima just looked back at her, head cocked to the side. She looked over at me and signed, “It’s a fish-cake.”

I have to admit, it took me a second to even begin to respond. My hands just… hung in mid-air, before finally I asked, “A what?”

“A fishcake. It’s like a fruitcake, but so much worse.” She leaned down to dig around in the big bag and pulled out a box, pausing to add, “I had to wrap it and box it or the car would have smelled horrible for days,” before she picked up and laid the box on my desk, opened it, took out something wrapped in layers of plastic, and unwrapped that, painstakingly slowly.

I glanced over at the mer, who watched with total fascination. Maybe he’d caught the sign for fish, he’s incredibly food-motivated. Which makes sense, of course, probably with his pod he’d spend a lot of his day eating and hunting for more, but

Bahram. Focus.

She was right - as soon as the plastic came off, I could smell it. 

“How can you handle that? Isn’t your sense of smell… really good?” Ah, yes, I am always so proud of myself when I forget a sign for a word I want to say and have to sort of cobble together the spirit of it with other signs.

She looked at me with this sort of dry are you kidding me expression, then signed, “I’m deaf, B, not a superhero,” in a way that made me feel about ten inches tall.

“Sorry. That’s an awful smell, though.”

And it was. I like fish as much as the next man, but this was foul. She grinned at me and picked up the tupperware the fishcake was in using towels to protect her hands from picking the smell up too, I guess, and went over to the ladder up to the platform. Her back was already to me, so I couldn’t ask her the question I had, or tell her not to do that one-handed. Instead, I just sort of… got up and hovered uselessly while she climbed up without looking back, and then followed her up there.

The platform makes me… nervous, now. I stay closer to the ladder, farther from the water. I hope the mer, that Kima doesn’t think I don’t want to be close to him or something.

Miah took the lid off the tupperware and waited. Soon enough the mer popped up near us, interested in what we were doing on the platform. 

I watched those nasal slits open wide when he smelled the fish. And I watched how his eyes went big and shiny with excitement. Whatever Miah had put in the foul thing, he wanted it.

She dumped it into the water - I didn’t see much, other than a sort of loaf-shape and a sense of texture I never want to think about again - and Kima tore into it. It was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen, and I have actually watched Kima eat raw fish that was living seconds before. I had to look away - and so did Miah, but she was laughing. She can’t hear herself, only feel the vibration in her own throat. Her laughs kind of sound almost honking, choked-off, just totally un-self-conscious noises she’s barely aware of.

I should tell her that I like the way she laughs.

Oh, I absolutely should not do that.

Maybe I should, though.

She grinned at me, still laughing, and signed, “This is disgusting!”

“It is,” I signed back, “And it’s your fault, don’t forget that!”

She was still laughing when Kima looked back up at us, fish bits smeared around his mouth, and she signed, “Merry Christmas, K-I-M-A,” to him. He stared back, signed yes, and then dove back under the water, present utterly devoured, leaving only gross little particles I will probably have to hose off the sides of the tank on cleaning day when the filters can’t quite pick them up.

Miah looked at me, and I just thought, you know, she’s really pretty even under the sun lamps, and nobody is pretty in that light. Then she signed, after this moment of stillness, “I bought you a present, too.”

“Me?” I pointed back at myself, blinking, surprised. “I don’t do Christmas, M, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “I know. But I still bought a present. Can I show you?”

“Um, sure.” I get nauseous when I’m nervous. For a second, climbing back down the ladder, I thought I’d just get sick all over myself. I was badly designed, my defense mechanism is just to vomit on myself to scare predators away, clearly my body thinks pretty women are dangerous and I have to embarrass myself until they stop looking at me.

Finally, though, we were back at my desk. The smell… lingered. I’ve since burned the candle Miah got me, and the sulfur from the matches and the scent of the candle itself have largely done away with it, but when we got back, it was still powerful. 

She didn’t pull anything out of the bag, instead she just took a small card out of her back pocket and handed it to me. 

I looked down at it. “Alborz?” I realized I’d spoken out loud, looking down, and looked back up quickly so I could repeat it in sign, so she could see. “A-L-B-O-R-Z? A gift card to a restaurant?”

She nodded, quickly, signing so fast I was having trouble keeping up. I guess… was she nervous, too? “It’s food like you grew up with, yes?”

“Yeah, more or less. I mean nothing is better than my mother’s food. But why-”

She reached out and grabbed my arm with one hand to stop me, leaned in so close that the smell of this super subtle perfume she wears was stronger, for a second, than the smell of fish. “B,” She signed, with heavy, slow emphasis, “Think about why I bought you this.”

I just looked at her. I didn’t get it at all, and told her so.

I’m so bloody dense.

She sighed, throwing her hands up in the air with an eye-roll and a smile, and then signed, “When are you taking me there?”

She had to repeat the signs three times before I realized she was asking me on a date.

So anyway, I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink tonight, and also I think I celebrate Christmas now.

Date-mas.

That was an awful joke. I’m leaving it there just to properly shame myself if I ever reread this.

---

@astrobly  @burtlederp   @finder-of-rings   @slaintetowhump   @moose-teeth   @misspelledwitch   @whumpfigure   @whumptywhumpdump   @boxboysandotherwhump   @whumpywhumpwhump   @yet-another-heathen   @fanmanga1357-blog @justabitofwhump  

[sweeethinny]

I did it a while ago, and I don't know if there are mistakes because I'm late to leave but I want to post this

sorry for the mistakes

:)

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Harry really thought that after becoming a father he had gained auditory powers, especially after that night.

Everything was fine, all five Potter were asleep and the house was in pitch-black at dawn, when he heard little feet that shouldn't be out of bed, drumming on the floor. Noticing that his wife was still asleep, after breastfeeding little Lily, Harry got up calmly and walked out of the room, already knowing the way by heart so he wouldn't have to wear glasses.

Albus' room was quiet, so he went directly to James's, which was a to alert; James slept through the night after he was big, rarely had nightmares or was sleepwalking.

''Daddy. '' The boy whimpered when he opened the door, finding him standing in the middle of the room, possibly to go and meet his parents.

He didn't even have time to ask what had happened before his eldest son vomited on the floor, making Harry really wake up.

"Damn it James." Harry didn't care about the dirt, picking up the five-year-old boy in his lap, taking him to the bathroom quickly, where another wave of vomit came, this time, into the toilet.

''Sorry.'' His sobbing cry came out loudly, and Harry stroked the boy's hair, trying to calm him down.

''What happened?'' Ginny seemed to have seen a ghost, looking at her husband and son crouched in front of the toilet, while James cried against his dad's chest.

''He woke up throwing up.'' Harry tried not to care about the tremor that ran through his body, nervousness catching him off guard ''Okay, Jamie. Put it out if you need.'' And as if predicting, the boy vomited again.

''Holy shit. Spoiled food?'' Ginny had wide brown eyes, also seeming to feel Harry's tremors.

It wasn't the first time that they faced it, obviously, but it was always a little scary, especially when it came out of nowhere, without a flu or fever.

''But shouldn't we all be bad?'' Harry said, as James vomited again. ''Are you in pain, Jamie?'' Ginny opened the cupboard next to the sink mirror, looking for a potion.

''No. '' Whined ''Sorry for the mess, Dad, I tried to hold on'' Harry felt his heart squeeze and hugged the boy tighter, stroking his dark hair

''All right, dear, Dad doesn't care, then we clean that up. Don't hold back, if you need to, throw up.''

''Here, take honey, it'll pass, I promise'' Ginny offered a small glass with a purple liquid inside, spilling herself into her son's mouth, while Harry still held him

''Eww'' She nodded

''I know, but it will make the pain go''

''Let's take a shower, mate, I'm going with you'' Harry hadn't done that to James in a while, but he didn't care so much now. He took off his dirty clothes, and the child's, then carried him under the spray.

Washing it and assured that James was already calmer, the two got out of the bath, with no more smell of vomit around the house or remnants of themselves.

''Albus and Lily are fine ... I think he better sleep with us'' Ginny picked the child up, putting his pajamas apart and smiling ''Want to sleep with us, Jamie?''

''I'm a big boy now'' He commented as he laid his head on his mother's chest, hugging her waist as he settled under his parents' covers

''Something must have done wrong'' Harry said lying down too, hugging his son among them who already seemed half asleep, not paying much attention to 'being a big boy'.

''I don't like it when they look like this'' James snuggled closer to his mother, like when he was a baby, getting a pat on the hair

''Neither do I'' He kissed his son's fragrant hair

''Better have a bucket nearby'' She summoned the object,, leaving it on her side of the bed ''Caution.''

And she was right, it was better to have a bucket close by when the boy woke up throwing the potion, the noise of longing waking Harry and Ginny a second earlier, making his mother take the bucket and position it for James.

The rest of the night Harry stayed awake, worried that his son would drown if he vomited in his sleep, trying to figure out what would have triggered it, helping Ginny when Lily woke up and asked for her mother's chest. In the end, it was six in the morning and he had barely gotten three hours of sleep.

"If he gets sick ..."

'' ..I know, I'll call you, don't worry'' She kissed his lips, Harry was about to leave for work, even though he didn't want to, his son still sleeping on his side of the bed, sprawled as usual ''I'll talk to my mom to see if there's anything we can do'' He looked at his son again, feeling his heart sink ''He'll be fine, it could just be a virus''

''I wanted to take the pain for myself '' He sighed ''Call me anything, I drop everything for some other idiot to do'' She laughed

''I know you don't think your aurors are stupid '' One more quick kiss ''But I'll call. We'll be fine ''

Obviously the plan backfired, since less than five hours later, while Harry was irritated by even the air particle, he was warned that his wife had called him out because of a family problem.

'' Take care of it all and tomorrow we see what to do. I have to go '' And he apparated, thinking that the flu would take too long and every second was valid, his heart already nervous.

'' Daddy! '' Albus jumped on his legs, hugging him tightly '' Jamie is bad '' He spoke half-curled up, blinking green eyes in his direction

"Hi my love" "He lifted the child on his waist" "Where is he?"

'' Here! '' Following his wife's voice, he went to the bathroom, again seeing his son crouched and pale in front of the vase, vomiting what appeared to be just his gastric juice '' No improvement since ten '' Harry until could talk about her taking an hour to call him but he was so worried he ignored

'' What did your mother say? '' Albus grimaced when his brother threw up again, hiding his face in his father's neck

"That may be something you want"

'' Can you remember anything? '' Ginny hugged her son as he hid his head in his chest, kissing his sweaty hair

''Nothing. I already asked and doesn't say anything either '' A meow of Lily appeared, seeming to wake up from her nap

'' I see her, I'll try to remember something ''

"Jamie be okay?" Harry laughed nasally at his son trying to speak, finding his concern cute.

"Yes Al .. Hi Lils, how did we wake up?"

The hours passed with them taking turns to care for the sick child, trying to get him to eat at least one soup, forcing him to drink water and hydration potions, then running to the bathroom while the son threw everything out

Harry tried to remember the days before and if there was anything James could have wanted. And like a flash from a patron, his mind popped, making him think he was a big idiot for not thinking about it.

''I'll be right back. Two minutes '' he warned before disappearing into the flu, his wife putting Al and Lils to bathe, while James continued on her waist as if he were a needy baby.

A few days ago, while he was walking with James and Albus, Harry passed in front of a muggle toy store, loaded with teddy bears everywhere, dolls, puzzles, and other things that made the older child jump of joy, different from the youngest, who cried nervously when he saw one of the bears moving alone, waving at him and winking robotically

Harry, not wanting to cause trauma to his three-year-old son, soothed James about them going back there the other day to buy what he liked from the window, but with three kids (one of them, barely turning a year old), Robbers wanting to leave and leave him in charge, and Ginny getting away from the Harpies completely, things got a mess and he forgot to take his son back to the store.

Smiling at the attendant and asking for the cart that was still in the window - The last one! - he returned to the house, carrying the yellow package and feeling terrible for that being the reason James kept throwing up since dawn (he expected)

'' Where is he? '' Ginny was lying on the couch, Albus and Lily playing on the living room floor together, while the boy tried to make her understand why the castle was not built that way.

'' Up there sleeping ... What was it? '' She pointed to the package

'' A muggle toy '' He smiled sadly '' I can't believe I didn't remember '' he threw himself on the couch next to her, the children in front of they oblivious to their parents

'' Don't blame yourself, Harry '' He pulled on his hair, denying and closing his tired eyes

"I had promised, Gin"

'' But you didn't remember. It wasn't because you didn't want to give it to him. '' As if he knew they were talking about him, James came down the stairs, dragging his favorite blanket, his eyes tired and small, without the mischievous glow that usually roamed the brown irises

"Are you all right?" They looked worriedly at the boy who crawled to the sofa, lying on his mother's lap

'' I didn't want to be alone '' James didn't even seem to notice the package next to his father, closing his eyes and covering himself up to his neck, looking small and fragile. Harry wanted to throw himself off a bridge.

"I have something for you, Jamie," he whispered as if it were a secret, kissing his warm forehead.

'' What is it? '' As a curious child, albeit sick, he opened his eyes, finally focusing on the package

"I'm sorry I forgot, son." He smiled sadly, handing over the stupid cart that had caused all that confusion.

Albus finally seemed to see the package, turning curious and wanting to see it too, Lily finding the color more than incredible, trying to get up to pick it up

"Wow, it's that cart" "As if it were the best potion in the world, the color returned the child's cheeks, at least a little while, while he took the toy out of the box "Grandpa will find it cool, he has remote control" He smiled at his mother, big eyes blinking excitedly 

'' I'm sure he'll love playing with you, darling '' Ginny smiled warmly '' See, he didn't even care that you forgot '' She whispered to her husband, who looked a little dejected at the three children now on the floor, James looking live again as  put the pieces together, Albus looking absurdly at the toy and Lily kneading and unmasking the package, loving the noise.

'' Tell that to his stomach, who puked up his guts ''

'' Thanks dad '' The son hugged the man, still a little warm and yellow, but much less gray than before

'' I love you, Jamie '' He gave the boy a kiss '' Want some help with riding? It looks like hard work, the track is quite extensive. ''

"Yes, come here"

[...]

'' Stop thinking about it, Harry '' Ginny hugged her waist, laying her head on his back, kissing her bare shoulder blades '' You are a good father ''

'' He spent almost a whole day throwing up, Gin. Because of a damn toy '' He spoke a little irritated to himself

"But in the end he won, and he is better, he managed to eat, he no longer has a fever, he did not vomit anymore ..."

"I don't want him to think I'm a liar"

'' He doesn't think ... he was sad to think that you were angry that he was vomiting. I said you were just worried '' He sighed, his throat closing '' It's our first child, we're still learning how to do things, it doesn't cover that much. I also make mistakes ''

"Yeah, I think you're right ... Doesn't he hate me then?"

'' You know you don't ''

For a second Harry remembered when he asked Santa for a cart similar to what James wanted, but he only received coals since he had been a bad boy. He wondered if his son had felt the same disappointment as he did, and it made him sadder.

'' Harry ... look at me '' As she did with the kids, she turned him around, fixing her eyes on him '' I couldn't have chosen a better father for the kids, or a husband for me, you didn't do it on purpose , and James is not going to hate you for that. I don't think he even remembered it was the cart ... I know you promised, but, you kept it. A little late, but okay '' She smiled in that way that made him smile together, feeling loved

'' I love you '' kissed her affectionately '' It's just sad to see he that way '' He looked so much like himself, Harry thought

'' He's already over it. He even fought with Albus when he dropped the control '' She laughed weakly, playing with her husband's hair '' I love you too Harry .. Ah, I forgot, yesterday afternoon, they made a drawing for you, James wanted to deliver you but forgot it and well .. today was not a good day '' Ginny started searching the dresser drawers, pulling out a folded paper carefully '' Even I participated ''

There were several drawings and doodles of different colors, there were hearts, the name of each one written on the parchment in a disorderly way, a golden snitch, even flowers. And in ink, there were three small hands, signed - in the letter of the eldest son - the name of each one below.

'For the best father in the world'

It was written in what he thought was a heart (maybe Albus had done it)

Harry swallowed his tears, looking closely at each scratch as if it were a beautiful work of art.

'' We won't be perfect parents, but it looks like we're doing well '' Ginny laughed, looking at the paper too '' I got one too, but there were a lot more paints and less words ''

The man laughed too, thinking that yes, maybe they were doing well after all

[kyloswarstars]

The Shelby Family Teleported Through Time • Part 1

„To the Invasion of the Roman Empire“

Peaky Blinders • Series AU • Shelby!Reader

It seemed like all of your siblings barely had any time left for the family. You wanted to fix it all up and get back to what the Shelby siblings once were. At the Lee’s campsite you are gifted an ‚enchanted amber‘, along with the promise that it would help you get closer to your siblings again. Never did you think it would teleport you into another time: being faced by more problems than before.

Words • 4.3k

A/N • I’m excited to share this with you! Lemme know what you think about it! 🌚 and thanks to my bf and beta @buried-in-books​.

TSFTTT • masterlist

/////

Life was good. Most of the times at least. 

Life was good, when you were allowed to move in with John and Esme in their house on the countryside. You were able to have fun times with the kids, or help out with chores, or watch them while Esme and John needed some time to themselves. They annoyed you with their screaming in the mornings, but at least they were a reliable alarm clock so you could do your favorite thing at John’s: go feed the chicken and collect the eggs.

Life was good, when Finn arrived there for the weekends and you could go on your little adventures into the woods. As kids, you went treasure hunting for everything the forest provided. Twigs you used as swords. Leaves you later pressed between book pages. But your favorite treasure? Stones. There had been times back in Small Heath, whenever you picked up a stone and put it in your pockets, other kids would make fun of it. Finn had always been there to pick up another stone and throw it at the bullies. You weren’t little kids anymore, so your strolls to the forest were accompanied by a bottle of whiskey, Isiah and a lot of foolish ideas.

Life was good, when you were not only with Finn but all of your siblings. And that was the problem. Lately, none of them had really the time to actually be with the family.

You sat on the steps of Zilpha’s caravan. Esme had brought you with her to the Lee’s campsite and was currently talking to her mother. Zilpha was supposed to tell Esme more about the baby growing in her belly. You looked at them, grinning at each other and then erupting into a loud chat again. It made you smile.

You liked it here like always, but you’d rather go and sit in the woods with Finn and get drunk right now. This morning, the idea of spending the day with the Lee’s seemed like the highlight of your week. Now, you couldn’t keep yourself from brooding over the situation with your siblings again, and it made you… sad. And it wasn’t even Friday, so Finn wouldn’t even come out of town. Great.

„Don’t you want to join us?“ Zilpha was walking up to you and stopped before she took the steps into her caravan.

You shook your head with a smile.

She didn’t hesitate and sat down next to you, her eyebrows pulled together. „What’s wrong, my child?“

„I…“ Life was not always good. Since living with John and his family it had gotten a lot easier for you, your temper being at a low level and your mood pretty static, though with some exceptions, but you knew how to handle them by now. You just couldn’t get your mind off of the fact that your siblings were drifting away from you and you didn’t know how to stop it. „Do you know when your family doesn’t feel like your family anymore?“

„Yes, my dear.“

„Everyone is heading into different directions, which isn’t automatically a bad thing, but sometimes I feel like they don’t care as much for our family anymore. It’s always been us six – and I want that sibling bond back we once shared.“ 

Zilpha looked like she was thinking intensely about possible solutions to your problem. „What about sitting down with them and talk about it?“

„They are Shelby’s,“ you started and, despite it actually being pretty sad, it somehow made you laugh. „If I were able to sit them down all at once, they wouldn’t listen. Not to me.“

Again, her face scrunched in until a faint smile came to her lips. „Wait a second.“ She got up and disappeared into her caravan. You heard some drawers being opened and closed again. Zilpha walked down the steps with her fist closed around something. When she sat down next to you again, she reached out for your hand and placed something in it. With her hand above it, preventing you from seeing it yet, her smile got even wider. „Maybe this will help you to bring your siblings closer together.“

She pushed your hand back to you and removed her hands. A big, odd-shaped amber was laying in the palm of your hand. It was set in a thick golden frame, attached to a necklace. You held it up between your fingers. The amber itself sparkled already but when the sunlight hit it, you noticed all the little gold particles enclosed. 

„It’s an enchanted amber. When your thoughts, about the things you want to change, are strong enough, you’ll get a chance to change them.“

It wasn’t like you didn’t believe in cards or curses – but how could this little stone, combined with some wishful thinking, be able to fix your family issues?

With a thankful smile you handed it back to Esme’s mother. „I can’t take it.“ Besides the fact that you couldn’t believe a stone could solve a problem other than scaring away some bullies when it’s thrown at them, the stone seemed far too valuable. 

„It’s a wandering stone, Y/N. It’s meant to help those who need it.“ She opened the necklace, put it around your neck and closed it there. „Trust me, it’s not meant to lay in one of my drawers forever.“

Her words felt warm. And they didn’t leave much room for protest. She wouldn’t take it back. After all those years and the many weekends spent with the Lee’s, Zilpha felt like an aunt just as much as Polly was. Both were very stubborn women.

/////

The amber didn’t leave your neck anymore. Not even when you went to bed. Zilpha’s words faded but the beauty of the stone stayed as the weeks went on. Stones.

Finn had noticed it. He thought you had a secret admirer and almost asked Isiah if it was him – which would’ve been bloody awkward. He didn’t, though. When you told him about how you got it, he pushed you to try it but you didn’t do it. It just seemed too far out of the possible area of supernatural things that could happen. Nothing could make the Shelby siblings get closer to each other again, other than themselves.

One day, though, you were back in Small Heath – John had asked if you wanted to come along when he sensed you were not doing too well. Your mood had dropped within the last days and this time you weren’t really able to handle it.

You had put the kettle on and waited for the water to boil. Finn was sitting with Ada at the kitchen table. She visited from London and you were happy John was able to convince you to come with him.

„Y/N!“ Ada was waving for your attention. You had stared at the cups in front of her and Finn on the table. Loosening your glance from it, you looked at your sister. „Do you wanna come down to London with me?“

Your first thought to her question was: Did Finn spill your private shite and now she asked out of pity?

„Um–“ The kettle started to whistle and allowed you to be able to escape the question. You brew the tea and sat down with the pot.

„So do you? I would love to have you. And Karl as well, I’m sure of that!“ She squeezed your hand over the table and you noticed Finn trying to not meet with your eyes. He did tell her. Nevertheless, Ada’s smile and her warm hand made the initial feeling of pity vanish.

Before you could answer, Arthur and John burst into the kitchen, followed by Tommy. John was, for whatever reason, carrying a rifle and Arthur tried to grab it from him. The boys were so loud, you couldn’t understand the words Ada was directing at you. She then shouted at them to be quiet.

„Don’t shut us up when we have to solve who’s gonna get that gun.“ Arthur seemed a little abrasive.

„It’s mine, Arthur.“ John’s grip around the riffle was tight.

Tommy tried to defuse the situation but it didn’t really work out. Instead, he let himself get dragged into the fight. Ada repeatedly shouted at them to behave and Finn was chewing on some biscuits while watching the fight unfold.

Their voices triggered your brain to be flooded with all the thoughts that had kept following you through the last couple of months. They would never just be okay with each other. Every time you were all together, a simple discussion would turn into a fight and leave everyone frustrated.

Your fingers played with the amber around your neck. It had become a habit. The surface of it was the perfect level of smoothness for your thoughts to run a little slower when you brushed over it.

As the loud voices kept bickering with each other, your hand closed into a fist around the amber. You wanted them to be decent for once. You wanted to have a good time with your siblings without it breaking into a scuffle. The fingers around the amber were slowly starting to hurt but you couldn’t loosen the grip. You wanted your siblings to become siblings again which cared about each other and stuck together when times were hard – not drifting apart and leave everyone to their own fate.

You wanted your family.

But what happened next was far from everything you ever wanted. 

Your surroundings began to blur, your head became dizzy with the strongest headache you had ever felt. Your stomach twisted, as if you’d have to throw up any second. The moment you bent forward to vomit, you didn’t look down at the kitchen floor like it should’ve been – you looked down onto grass. And fell face forward down to it when the chair, you were sitting on, vanished into thin air.

You noticed several thuds around you. Pushing yourself from the grass, you sat up and saw your siblings doing the same.

Green was everywhere around you. It spread as far as you could see with your still-blurry eyes. Small hills were surrounding you with some lonely trees and a lot of tall bushes that were plastered in large groups like they were discussing something. You swore to yourself that a few seconds ago you had been sitting in the kitchen at Watery Lane. This is a dream, you tried to convince yourself.

The puzzled, deeply confused looks of your siblings, taking in the surroundings, made you question if you had gone insane. Were you actually in a ward and having a really lively episode of hallucinations?

„Shite what did just happen?“ John was getting up on his feet, the rifle tightly in his grip. He was frantically circling around himself.

Arthur pushed his hair back and stood next to him. „I swear to fucking hell if one of ya’ knocked us out and drove us to the countryside, thinking this would be a good prank, I’ll kill ya’!“ His eyes widened as he turned to John. „John Boy was that you? Because I wanted that rifle?“

„I swear I didn’t do shite,“ he defended himself instantly.

You slowly rose to your feet, the rest of your siblings doing the same. They seemed too realistic to be imagined. Right?

Tommy was silently observing the green around you. He didn’t respond when Arthur accused John on pulling a prank again and asked for Tom’s backup. For a second Tommy was looking at you. His glance stopped at the hand you had still wrapped around the amber.

The amber.

„Fuck.“ You gasped and shut your eyes. It’s an enchanted amber. When your thoughts, about the things you want to change, are strong enough, you’ll get a chance to change them. This was supposed to be the chance? Sitting in the kitchen and being ripped out of it the next second, landing on a hill? This little stone couldn’t possibly do stuff like this. Things like this shouldn’t work. But it did. Didn’t it?

„I think I’m responsible for us being here,“ you blurted out. Removing your eyes from the stone in your hand, you found your siblings turning towards you. Five death stares were burning holes into your body.

„What the heck did you do?“ John walked over and hovered in front of you. He probably didn’t mean it, but his furious question scared you a little.

„However you did it bring us back,“ Arthur insisted and perfectly adapted John’s face.

Ada and Finn didn’t say anything since you landed on this grassland. Just like Tom. They were just as confused as John and Arthur. Just like you.

„Guys.“ Finn dragged the word for at least three seconds. With a hand above his eyes he stared into the distance. He lifted his arm to point at what he had found on a remote hill. „What is this?“

Tommy was shoving himself to the front of the pile your siblings and you had built. His eyes weren’t the best anymore, you knew that, but his glasses couldn’t help him right now because they were only for reading. „John, give me the rifle.“

„It’s mine,“ he tried to keep it, only to flinch at Tommy’s sudden outburst.

„Give me the fucking gun!“ Grabbing it from John, he placed the gun against his shoulder to look through the scope. Like your other siblings, you tried to make out what those tiny dots were that were coming closer pretty fast. A bad feeling grew in your stomach.

„Hide in those bushes,“ Tommy nervously ordered while turning around and pointing to a gathering of bushes a few feet away. He wasn’t one to easily lose his composure. That was why right now, sensing the slight touch of horror radiating off of him, everyone obeyed.

When you turned, your siblings where almost all hidden in the bushes, only noticeable by loud bickering. You followed them in, Tommy after you. Whoever was coming, Tom thought it would be better if they didn’t see you. That thought was making you anxious. Only some thorns cutting your cheek, when you kneeled down next to Finn, abled you to pull out of the anxiety creeping up on you.

Ada fought with John because he sat on her feet, Arthur was acting like a wasp was circling him because the thorns were all over him. Tommy ssssshhhed everyone.

Through the leaves you saw the dots coming closer. And as they got closer, you realised they were people – not wild horses which you would’ve preferred. Red and silver were dominating their appearances. Feet stomped down on the ground simultaneously.

„This is–,“ Tommy started.

John interrupted: „THE FUCKING CAVALRY.“

„Why do they look straight out of a history book?“ Ada.

„Because they–“

This time Arthur cut Tom off. „Because they are stupid idiots with tin helmets doing God knows what. Did we miss a fucking second war?“

„No, they–“

Finn was ignoring Tommy as well. „I think they don’t look like idiots in particular.“

„Yeah because ya’ know best how idiots look like, eh?“ Arthur retaliated. Finn slapped his arm for it.

„Will you ever shut up?“ You had enough of them not paying attention to Tommy because this feeling in your stomach told you Tom knew who those people were.

Everyone’s eyes were focused on them when they reached your bushes and passed without noticing the Shelby family cowering in them. „This,“ Tommy started once more in the quietest of whispers you had ever heard from him, „is a fucking cohort belonging to the Roman Empire.“

The Roman Empire. This answer was even more unsettling than your wildest guesses would’ve been. The Roman Empire – wasn’t that a thing around the time they said Jesus Christ was born? Around the time…

You gasped for air again and turned to Tommy with the widest eyes you ever felt having.

He only stared back at you.

„Y/N, tell me what that thing around your neck is.“ As a Roman cohort was still passing these bushes, Tommy came a little closer. His voice didn’t seem reproachful. He just wanted to figure out what was going on.

As soon as you had entered the bushes, your hand had grabbed around the amber again. You removed your fingers from it and saw Tom reaching out for it, holding it up to see it properly. „Y/N?“

„I… I… it’s–“ You snapped it out of his grip and closed your fist around it again. Some tears were welling up as you let your head hang low. It was your fault. You didn’t believe the amber was actually enchanted and now your were hiding from a fucking Roman cohort. „Zilpha gave it to me. Said it’s… enchanted.“

„What does that mean?“ John’s voice whisper-called-out and was immediately ssssshhhed by Tommy. He sat next to you and you waited for a reaction to your words but he only nodded.

Everyone stayed quiet until the Roman soldiers disappeared in the far distance again. They left a tramped down path behind. When Tommy finally allowed to leave the bushes, everyone sighed due to the stiffness in the muscles.

You strolled over to the path the cohort had been marching on. There wasn’t really a sun in the sky you could watch set, but the clouds were slowly turning darker. For how long were you sitting between those thorns? Shaking arms and legs to get rid of the tiredness in it, you saw Tommy coming over to you from the corner of your eye.

„Come on, Y/N. John and Finn are searching for some wood so we can light a fire.“ If it wasn’t for this weird situation you would’ve appreciated a Shelby bonfire. „Come, eh? We have to talk about this all.“

You dreaded going over to them. You were responsible for this mess – whatever this was you had done. They would punish you, you could feel it, when all you wanted was to be closer with your siblings again.

To your surprise the first thing Finn did, when he threw some twigs and branches he had collected to ground, was give you a hug. He stayed at your side when the questions began. They were hailing down at you, demanding an explanation.

„Wait. So, ya’ saying this stone got us here? Didn’t do a prank?“ Arthur wanted to make sure he didn’t have to kill his youngest sister, you, for pulling some shenanigans on them.

„Of course I didn’t do a prank like this.“ It was hard being the center of attention in a Shelby altercation. You’d rather stay on the sidelines – attention had never been your thing. „Even though you all would’ve deserved one,“ you muttered under your breath and noticed Finn chuckling.

John was occupied with getting a fire started with his matches, but he still furiously shouted over the complete grassland. A little louder and the stupid Roman cohort would come back and throw some spears at you. Or drag your asses to Rome and throw you in the Colosseum. „Tell us again what happened.“

„She gave the amber to me,“ you repeated. „She said it has to wander and help those that need the chance for a change.“

„What change did you want a chance at?“ Ada asked. She wasn’t furious like Arthur or John, just still confused.

„Fix the broken relationships with my siblings.“ This time you didn’t shy away. You stared back at your siblings and saw their faces become softer, a little guilty maybe as well.

„An enchanted amber,“ Tommy repeated, laughing in realisation at the words.

„A cursed one you mean, Tom.“ John succeeded at making a fire and pushed himself off the ground. A little less fuming, he looked at you. „Why would you even accept a cursed stone from Esme’s damn mother?“

You shrugged.

„I think enough blaming is done, eh?“ Tommy was waving you over to sit down with him, gesturing the others to join the fire as well. As absurd as this situation was, you were extremely glad Tom wasn’t as mad as your two other eldest brothers. It would’ve been hell if he went shouting at you as well.

He was a problem solver, a person that knew what was going on before everyone else did, he was the head of this family.

„What exactly did you do in the kitchen before we landed here?“

„I wanted us to be what we once were.“

„When Zilpha said you have to think about what you want the most, maybe try and get into that feeling you had in the kitchen?“ Ada took the spot next to you and warmed her hands at the fire.

„Okay.“ You closed your eyes, the hand still clenched around the amber on your neck. The thing you wanted most right now was to go home. And for your siblings not to be mad at you anymore. Some dinner would be nice as well. You tried to focus on that overwhelming feeling of loneliness even though you had been with your siblings back in the kitchen.

Nothing changed when you opened your eyes again. That dizziness and the twist in your stomach was missing. You remained sitting on the grass with the night turning the sky dark.

„It’s not working.“

„Try harder,“ John demanded.

„I did!“

„No you didn’t.“

You got up to your feet and let go off the stone, throwing your hands in the air. „What the bloody hell do I know how this works.“ Your patience was wearing thin. There was a lot you could take before you flipped but you had a certain point, just like everyone else, when enough was enough.

They grew silent. Finn tried to ease the situation with the question as to where you even were.

„The fucking middle of nowhere,“ John cried out and let himself fall backwards to the grass.

Tom tugged at your sleeve and pulled you down again. He cleared his throat. „Actually, I think it’s the question of when are we.“

It took a good minute until everyone comprehended Tommy’s words. Everyone turned at him, including you.

When. Of course. But also: WHAT? The spinning wheel of thoughts about how this stone was able to do supernatural things was taking up speed in your head again. Voices erupted into a discussion. They demanded explanations and Tom was there to provide them. His brain was filled with a lot of stuff that came to your rescue, which you would've never needed if it wasn’t for the amber. The Roman Empire invaded Britain in the 1st century. Given the fact that the moment you sat in the kitchen was in the 1920s, you must’ve traveled almost two-thousand years back in time if you thought about it logically. Practically, you were fighting to get back a steady breathing rhythm because this… no.

You stared into the fire. „I teleported us through time.“

The raging voices died down.

Finn’s hand on your shoulder stroked you reassuringly. „You couldn’t know what would happen.“

John was the first one to join Finn’s statement. „Yeah, I’m sorry… for what I said. You just can’t trust Zilpha. It’s not your fault.“

„What are we going to do now?“ Ada, sitting between Finn and you, looked at Tommy.

„We’ll catch some sleep. Tomorrow we have to search for a village and adapt to… here.“ He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

„The cigarettes!“ Arthur jumped up and fumbled through all of his pockets. „If we’re stuck here we have to make them last as long as possible.“ He infected John with the same concern about running out of cigarettes if you weren’t able to bring them back home soon. They spent a good while counting what they had left and rationed them.

You had to figure out a way to repeat what you had done in the kitchen and bring your asses home. If only for the fact that your brothers could smoke.

/////

Arthur and John competed for the loudest snore. Tommy was sitting patrol. Finn was curled up in a ball like always and Ada mumbled in her sleep next to you. You were watching the sun slowly rising from behind the horizon.

You hadn’t been able to sleep a single minute that night. For a while you had stared up at the sky. The stars had been way brighter than you ever saw them. Like a million tiny light bulbs and Finn was flicking the switch on and off for half of them, making them dance in your vision.

The amber was always in your hand, being played with and then held tight in your fist again. It was comforting to know it was in your hand when it had gained such a fundamental importance this night. If you dropped it, lost it, there would be no way you would ever return to your own time.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to know your siblings all safe and sound, in their beds and this all being nothing but a dream. You wanted to return this stone to Zilpha which would be the first stone ever you got rid of.

You wanted your siblings to be real siblings again. 

Suddenly that twist in your stomach reappeared. That thudding headache almost made you throw up again.

A second later it was bright daylight and you found yourself laying on soil. In front of you were two groups of people running up to each other. They were yielding swords and shouted battlecry’s. What the fuck did you do now?

[septic-skele]

UF - Necessary Evil

Summary:  Papyrus gives Sans one of the most torturous tasks of his life. He can't falter. He can't hesitate. If he backs down and takes the coward's way out, Papyrus will be forced to do it himself.

Sans thinks he might be sick before this is over. He’s near certain that Papyrus will; his brother—poor, dear, brave Papyrus—is grinding his teeth against the sobs with such force that he might taste dust. His eyelights are brighter than Sans has ever seen them, swimming with the tears that stream down his face.

Sans hasn’t seen him cry so openly since he was seven (or younger?) and the fact that he is the one causing his brother this agony makes his soul churn in his chest.

“Papyrus,” he starts again, feebly.

“No!” he chokes out, though it’s more of a heated moan than an intelligible word. He rocks forward with a foul, frantic curse he shouldn’t know at his age. His shoulders heave and his head shakes, tears flinging from his cheeks. “I need this, I need this!”

“I want this!” he had said before, among so many other things. “How many times have you reminded me of Rule #1, Sans? ‘Never let them get too close!’ I need this to defend myself!”

And you, his imploring eyes and grabbing hands had added none too subtly, and still Sans had viciously refused. Nothing in this world could convince him to mutilate his own kin, he thought—that is, until Papyrus threatened to do it himself.

“You don’t even know what you’re sayin’. You don’t have the balls for somethin’ like that, not all by yourself.”

Did Sans know him at all? Those words were like throwing a match on gasoline. Papyrus’ pocketknife, salvaged from the dump, was out in a flash, its blade blunt and pitifully small. The real threat was the unflinching determination in his voice.

“Watch me.”

That growl was a promise—as good as saying he would be dead by morning. As young and as smart as he is, only Papyrus would find a stupid way to take it too far. What would Sans prefer, a pocketknife buried in dust or the guilt of aiding and abetting his brother’s torture?

Poor, precious, brave, stupid Papyrus is hovering at half of his HP. Sans checks obsessively. Every fraction lost, every new particle of dust coating his fingers chills him. His ribs are numb. He hasn’t breathed in minutes.

Sans wants so badly to take the coward’s way out. He wants to toss the knife aside and slap some kind of reason into Papyrus, wring his neck, shake him senseless for putting him in this position. He doesn’t want to hear him sobbing anymore. He doesn’t want to keep repeating, “Stay still, you gotta stay still!” The words taste more and more like bile every time.

Something manic at his core—layers of conditioning, perhaps—wishes they were back in the lab. They would be tortured all the same but there it would be sterile, professional, by someone who knew what in Asgore’s name he was doing. There would be medicines, a rare offering of a healing item. Sans would give anything for a healing item now, anything to smother the scream that tears out of Papyrus’ throat as he drags the knife down yet again. He should have thought to gag him, give him something to bite down on, but if he sets down the knife to do so now he knows he won’t have the will to pick it up again.

“Papyrus,” he murmurs desperately. “Papyrus…” His voice quavers and he can’t even care. He’s begging his own brother to save himself from himself. Say one word. One word and I can stop. Make it stop. Get us both out of this now.

Papyrus sobs bitterly and Sans can hear the temptation in it. Stupid, brave Papyrus didn’t understand the magnitude of his request before. He doesn’t want this anymore.

But in this world, he needs it.

“No,” he croaks again, small and raw, and then he reels to the side and vomits. The lurching motion chips Sans’ next stroke, fiery horror sweeping over him at his carelessness, but he can’t think on it long. Papyrus is doubling down now, leaning over their shared work with slurred, spitting pleas. Sans gasps in agony of his own, hunches over, pressing his forehead to his brother’s.

“I know, I know,” he hisses, though he doesn’t know. He wants this to be a nightmare. He wants to wake up.

Papyrus, it seems, wants to do the opposite. His tears still flow freely, his breaths still shuddering with pain, but his bones rattle under the strain as he sways. Sans prays for him to faint. He’ll see then why Sans prefers not to wake up. The darkness is empty and kind; he won’t feel another thing. That, Sans can do for him. He draws back, steadies his hand again.

One more swipe of the blade does it, pushing Papyrus past the white-hot crest, past the stars in his eyes and the defiance in his spine to finally let him fall on his sword. He crumples out of consciousness mid-whimper and the world feels empty without his noise.

Sans could betray him now. He could make the knife disappear, hurl it into Waterfall’s deepest pool. He could end this for the both of them. Let Papyrus hate him if it meant he could wash his hands of it.

He’s just a kid, a kid Sans is sworn to look after—a kid who made this choice himself. They don’t have many freedoms to choose in their lives, do they? And Papyrus had relied on Sans to help him do this horrific thing. He could have said nothing, snuck off to try it himself from the get-go and left Sans to sweep up the pieces, if he ever found them.

Papyrus trusted him.

Sans wants to break. He wants to be rid of this dusty blade locked in his grasp and curl around his little idiot, hide him away and swear that he will never be hurt again by anyone or anything, not even by his own choices, because Sans won’t allow it. He wants Papyrus to hate him for that protection; it would be nothing compared to the loathing he feels for himself now, doing this to the only person in the world that matters.

Ah, but hasn’t he learned by now? What he wants is irrelevant. His job is to sacrifice his wants for Papyrus’ sake.

Sans cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, wipes his damp face against his sleeve. Was he crying? He hadn’t noticed. He blinks through the blur and takes Papyrus’ hand in his own. He would squeeze the blood out of it if there was any to be found. Stroke by stroke, finger by finger, he scrapes at tender, exposed bone.

He held these hands to steady Pap when he was learning how to walk. They were so small back then; they barely filled Sans’ palm.

Papyrus’ HP whittles painstakingly down. Sans trembles, mopping his face again, but his eye sockets still burn with the particles in the air. He coughs and then blows away whatever shavings he can.

He remembers the first time one of these tiny, precious hands tried to grab his thumb.

Dizzy with old grief, he slides his fingers along Papyrus’, testing their bend, their curvature. His newly carved claws are grisly to behold. In his soul Sans knows it probably won’t be long before they’re coated in dust again.

At least it won’t be his own.

This world can fashion even the kindest of monsters into weapons.

_____________________________________

A/N: Real talk, I'm not one to get teary over my own stories very often but I kind of got myself with this one :'D

My headcanon, clearly, is that Fell Papyrus wasn't born with those sharp claws of his. Just as he and Sans had to forcibly sharpen their teeth, they had to sharpen Pap's hands (As far as I know Fell Sans doesn't have the claws Pap does, so it wouldn't be a choice he'd make for himself. He doesn't have the HP to endure it.)

[legendaryorangeloot]

Collarbone

The moon is just cresting the horizon when I reach South City. Its cool light pulls on the roots of my hair, makes my teeth itch. I spent all day today goofing off at work, pacing like a bored zoo animal. These feast days are so rare, and my excitement hangs in the air like charged particles before a lightning strike.

And now it's time.

The moon fills my heart with a ferocious lust, buoying me up as I let my long, loping stride eat up the Gravois pavement. I can hear the music at Greatness already. I go there "straight" a few nights a week, let myself be seen. I'm a regular. I even dated the previous bartender, learned the cameras, the exit routes, the watching spots, the nearby alleys. Greatness is my garden, and I tend it carefully.

I like it because it attracts normal boys. They're sweet in a way you don't have to take seriously, smart in a way that never threatens you. They tend to have carefully-groomed hair, endearing sincerity, and well-marbled flesh.

Not all the produce is sweet, though. When I transform, I'm little—more coyote than wolf, more coydog than coyote. All-black, bristle-brush fur; pricked ears that make me look smart and alert. A dog you'd take home with you if it followed you down the street. I grew to trust the bartender, the first relationship I'd had. Born of necessity or not, I thought it would be forever. He was wild, too, in his own all-human way, and loved my secret. But it was because he had his own. One night, without warning or consent, he leaned over me, whispered in my alert black ear as he sank into my body, "I wanted you the second I saw you like this. You're the sexiest dog I ever fucked."

I like to think that he saw the sorrow in my eyes as I turned my head and clamped his trachea shut with my strong, strong jaws. It was intimate, almost erotic. For minutes he fought, thrashing, sweaty, nude, his erection waning, waxing, finally waning forever once I began to eat his throat, and all his blood left his body and soaked into his bed. His teeth felt like tiny hard candies to my canine senses. When I ripped out his tongue at the root and savored it bite by bite, I imagined I could taste everything he'd ever tasted, somehow stored within the muscle he'd used to gain my trust.

But that time is not this time. That time was just the first, and now the kills are deliciously unadulterated by love or regret.

As I near the bar door, I put on the right personality – wild, but not vicious. Available, but not easy. Challenging, but harmless. I check my reflection in an antique-shop window to make sure all this personality-shifting hasn't affected my shape.

Without careful control, sometimes you'll think "act harmless" and the power inside you makes it mean "look smaller, look younger". I have nothing but careful control. There are a few other people with the power to change into a wolf, a specific wolf that looks rather like their human form, but I have finesse that they can only dream of. I can play this body like one of those expensive synthesizers with all the sliders and knobs, as long as the form is human, canine, or both. And I work at my craft, mostly preferring the wholly-unnatural, anthropomorphic, six-foot-tall "wolfman" shape, complete with the goofy clawed hands and feet. What can I say? They're useful, if hideous, constructions. Second choice: a real wolf, a timber wolf, huge. The kind you see in nature documentaries, every hair in place, unmistakably lupine.

I am so proud of all the carefully-sculpted forms that I feel vaguely ashamed of my natural one. Not the average-build, solidly-muscled human one, with the deeply tanned olive skin and the untameable black curls, but the real one, the one that looks half-coyote, half-Schipperke. It was the thing I was most embarrassed to show the bartender, the boyfriend, even after he'd seen me as a slavering movie-monster nonsense beast a dozen times. He saw my true form and thought me weak, small, fuckable. A dog.

But now his opinion is gone, digested, and irrelevant, because I am alone, and I am hungry.

I won't lie and say I notice you across a crowded room. That when I walk in, all the other people fade away. That it is lust at first sight. No, you escape first notice in an inoffensive way, a practiced way. You're a listener, I can tell. You move your eyebrows involuntarily when you're eavesdropping. Wolf-creature that I am, I can't tolerate eye contact, but I do watch those charming brows from the corner of my eye.

I sit at the bar and chat amiably with a girl I kind-of know, at a volume I know is audible to you. I surreptitiously look at you while you're not looking. You're lovely. You're rakish, scruffy, endearingly asymmetrical around the eyes. Your gestures all speak volumes. You even smoke adorably, like you learned it much too early.

My story for tonight, my bait, cast out into the noise of the bar: recent breakup, broken heart, need distraction. It's a hard one to turn down, I've found. Your brows go up minutely on "distraction". I know you think you know what I mean, and it will make the eventual reveal that much more satisfying.

I contain my eyeteeth before they can visibly lengthen, because that's a rookie mistake, but, oh, how I want them to be longer. I want them that much closer to your skin. I can imagine how it will taste, all sweat and smoke, the fine hairs crumpling under my rough tongue, the restraint I'll have to exert when I use just the sharp, sharp points to tease the first bite.

I let my kind-of friend talk at me about her kids, her day, her husband. But what I'm thinking about is where I'll start on you. Your loose plaid shirt reveals the edge of your clavicle, and the sight of it has my mouth watering in an instant. It's been so long. I'm torn between speeding things up by making the first move, and resisting the temptation to rush through this sensual experience you and I are going to share.

I never could resist temptation.

You're writing in a notepad, so this is an easy introduction: "Whatcha' writing?" I try for "chipper, good-natured interest", but lust makes it come out more "sultry purr". I don't think you mind. You're falling all over yourself to answer, the love of your work and your obvious interest in me giving you a puppylike eagerness that I instantly adore, and preemptively mourn.

I listen, mostly. You're a writer; you write. In conversation, you do the same kind of IQ-gauging I did in my human dating life, throwing out a breadcrumb trail of wordplay that gets progressively more challenging. I do understand, and I laugh at the right times, I let our eyes meet for spare milliseconds so you know I understand. I parry back, I surprise a few laughs out of you. I play off of your self-deprecating humor, testing your boundaries for submission, loving what I find.

But my brain really isn't in peak wordplay condition. I just want you now. I want the moment when I gently bite the skin above your collarbone. I want to hear you gasp and moan, hear that unnameable noise-with-an-edge when you feel my real teeth, hear your hazy excitement bloom into bright fear as you realize what will happen next. I want that first bite, the crunch of that beautiful, delicate bird bone against my incisors, and the next bite, and the next. When we're done, I want the walls to double as a red Rorshach test. I want to make the crime scene techs vomit.

You compliment my loud sudden bark of a laugh, and for once, maybe for the first time ever, I am genuinely flattered. I feel like I probably shouldn't give you the compliment I thought of in return, which is: "That made me like you so much that I want to find out what you taste like." But then I say it anyway, and you blush, and I imagine licking your cheek hard enough to burst some superficial capillaries, imagine tasting everything about you, even your embarrassment.

Even though I've laid out a welcome mat for you between my thighs, you still just talk to me, still treat me like a person. It throws me a bit at first, but I figure we have all night. There are drinks and jokes. We tell stories that quickly get more and more personal. I find out about your parents, your brother, your wonderfully strange upbringing. I tell you some carefully-censored tales of living in rural Texas. I tell you a completely-false story of how I got my completely-true nickname, "The Terror of Bulverde". To make up for the lies, I tell you the real true truth of how much I love my family.

The conversation is weirdly nourishing on its own, and the bottles of Shiner are cold and remind me of home. You talk with your hands more and more as you get drunker, and my accent gets stronger and stronger as I exercise my rarely-used human voice. We laugh at ourselves, how ridiculous it all is, can you believe we've never met before, it feels like I've known you forever.

Next thing I know, we're being shooed out of the bar at closing time, and you're suddenly serious when you ask me if I'm sober. I say "As a goddamn judge," solemnly, but my accent is all the way up to 11, and we grin at each other stupidly. You invite me over, and I had almost forgotten that this was the whole point, that this was the endgame. I'll get to still those talking hands, eat them from fingers to palm, bathe my muzzle in your well-educated brain, see if I gain your powers when I consume your heart. I've already made up my mind not to waste one single bit of your beautiful body. I'm going to den up in your house for days, gorging myself until you're gone.

I don't care that everyone saw us leave together. I am Icarus, my wolf-wings melting in proximity to your purely-human kindness. This kind of sentimentality is what gets creatures like me killed, I remind myself. But then you take my hand, gently, and I feel like I should go confess my crimes and be skinned for a coat. Or, given my absolute size, some kind of shawl. Your gentleness is both warming me and burning me alive. I wonder to myself if this is what hard drugs feel like. Drugs don't really work on werewolves. The drug that you are is working on this werewolf, though.

We stop several times on the walk to your apartment to shove each other into little alleys, indented doorways, and once, accidentally, a shrub, and we make out like it's the last thing we'll ever do, which seems appropriate to the occasion. You kiss like you talk: not a monologue, but a friendly give-and-take, with your hands frequently involved. We crack jokes continuously, and interrupt each other, and play-fight, and the feel of your wiry muscles and their light shield of fat under my play-punches makes my stomach rumble. The moon is full, and fully out, and I know I've let my hair lengthen, and that my eyes are probably less human-looking than I'd like, by now.

On your doorstep, fiddling with the key and lock, you tell me that I don't have to sleep with you, that if I'm too drunk, that if I have reconsidered, you won't be upset. I ignore you and step over the threshold and start undressing before you've even closed the door behind us. For a second, you look as though perhaps you aren't sure if you're awake or asleep.

We race to the bed, shedding clothing, and you practically pounce on me, not predatory, but playful, and we forgot to turn on any lights, and it's so exciting and I'm so hungry I think I might die. Your hands are everywhere on my body, always followed closely by your mouth, and that, and everything I can touch on your body, and every glimpse of you I catch, lit by the wan streetlight, is making me want you more than I thought was possible.

And I am somehow in your lap, and you're a much larger person than I thought you were, or maybe I've gotten smaller, and the next thing I know I'm me, the real me, the little black wolf, just muscle and fur and teeth, and I'm sinking those white, white teeth deep into the soft, beautiful junction of your neck and chest. And I didn't even give myself time to appreciate it, but here we are, and here's that bone I wanted, crunched to pieces, half-eaten already. And your look of shock and betrayal and realization makes your bone and flesh curdle in my jaws, but it's too late to put it back.

We freeze this way. It's a Moment, one that feels like we exist outside of time, yet we don't; the seconds are marked by the rapid pulsing of your blood onto the sheets, onto the floor, your delightful soft-pink skin paling before my eyes.

And you say, plaintively, "I thought you liked me." I am consumed by regret, it's a pyre, I'm being burned at the stake by a single sentence, and the pain makes me desperate for a solution, until I realize I may have one. Just one. My shape shifts without conscious thought to some kind of confused dog-with-hands, but I use them to shove whatever fabric I have near me against the wound at your throat, and press down hard. I bite the inside of my cheek and hot blood wells there instantly, mixing with the remnants of yours in my mouth. You're so, so smart that even near-exsanguination can't keep you from figuring out what I'm doing. You look by turns terrified, hopeful, disgusted.

I bring my lips to yours and try to will whatever particle transmits lycanthropy into my mouth's blood, hoping this is really how the process works. You look ill. You look bloodless. You pass out, and I'm left holding my discarded shirt against your fatal wound, and remembering how to pray: god if you just let him heal just let him live he will figure this out I will make it up to him I will make it up to you I will go and sin no more oh please, oh please, oh please

Epilogue

The bizarre, crushed-looking scar atop your torso always elicits questions you can't answer truthfully when you're naked with other people. The bone never grows back, and your new physiology prevents an implant or a surgical fix. You'll never need to see a doctor again. You might live to be hundreds of years old. No one knows our potential lifespan. No one knows anything about us.

You seem to take it all in stride, telling one woman it's where you were hit with a warhammer, telling another man it's from a skydiving accident. It makes you very mysterious and intriguing, and the gossip about you is always entertaining, if painful, to overhear.

You say you forgive me, and maybe, since you've now experienced numerous full moons yourself, felt what I felt that night, you mean it. But you've never hurt a soul. I selfishly infected you with a kind of insanity, and you infected me with your gentleness, your curse of caring about others. So I skulk around the edges of your life, and I bring you raw red beef and whole chickens and half the rabbits I catch each month. We never speak, or kiss, and I never, ever look you in the eye.

[6ninaph9]

Climbing up the temple (a short sceen)

I’ve been feeling kinda shit about the plot and worldbuilding of my book, so I went back to the reason I write in the first place: the characters.

So here, have some ‘Clementine just being Clementine’, cause writing that makes me happy, and maybe you’ll like it too!

~Nina PH

It was a slow day and that hated it.

For most people, slow days are good in the temple: no battle, no cleaning duty, no exam to study for. While everyone else is laying back and relaxing, I just can't seem to do the same.

I walked to the sleeping quarters through the empty hallway. I don't like hearing my footsteps in the hall in the middle of the day. The day is supposed to be active, the halls buzzing with people. I like the clamor of conversations as people walk by me, of a hundred feet hitting the wooden floor as they all go their own separate way. Today everyone was sitting around in the gardens, talking, eating sugar, and playing card games in small groups, like they themselves were flower bushes growing underneath the cool shadows of the trees. Now there were only two feet in my ears and it was driving me insane.

I entered the sleeping quarters and took in a deep breath of the refreshing air. The windows were partly closed and the blindfolds shut down, keeping the room cool, almost chilly in comparison to the heat of the outside world. It felt alien to step in this secret pocket of existence, like walking into a new undiscovered cave, filled with darkness and mysteries demanding your attention. But no, it was the same old boring sleeping room and my eyes didn't need to wait to get used to the lack of light as muscle memory sat me down on my sleeping mat.

The room was empty, except for me and the sleeping bundle under the blanket. My blanket. I kicked him in a friendly fashion: »Max! Wake up!«

He groaned and kicked me back: »No.«

»Oh come on,« I stole my blanket from him, letting the cold air shake him awake. My plan was unsucesefull: underneath mine, he was still tightly holding onto his own blanket, bringing it over his head to try to escape me.

»Nothing is going on. I want to do something.«

»I'm not stopping you…«

»Let's go spar.«

»No.«

»Max!« I shook him, trying to rip the blanket away from him, but he held on to it like it was his family honor. »You can't just nap through the entire day.«

»Watch me,« he yawned.

He left me no choice: I got up and with my full force half-fell half-jumped on him, shoulder first. Even if this wasn't going to work, the noise he made alone was entertainment enough. It sounded like a deer that swallowed a blader ballon and was trying to vomit it back up. Max did not find it as hilarious as I did.

»How can you be so cruel? To wake me up at such an unhuman hour…« he squeezed his voice from underneath me.

»It's 16:45 and you've been napping for 3 hours.« I got off him, mostly because his knee was sticking into my shoulder blade. Max is a terrible pillow.

He slowly sat up, able to breathe again: »That's still 5 hours too little…« He rubbed his eyes: »Can't you bother Pietar with your boredom?«

»He's busy with work…«

I didn't check in his office before coming to Max. I didn't have to. A beautiful summer day without a single cloud in the sky, perfect to take a break from daily work and hustle? Where else is Pietar going to be but locked up in his office, buried under a mountain of papers he doesn't actually need to file till another month. I'd bet all my money, of which I have non, that his office window is locked closed, making the air inside smell that all too familiar odor of sweat mixing with dust and oily stale ink. I was not going there, no thank you. I was bored, not desperate.

»I'm busy too…« his hand grabbed for the blanket, but mine was faster, throwing the warm fuzzy fabric on the other side of the cold room. He groaned and slumped right back on his matt: »I was having a particularly nice dream.«

»The brunet?«

He smirked: »The ginger one with freckles.«

»Oh, you hoe!«

»That's my middle name, baby.« He threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the light that wasn't really there: »You can join me. We'll be hoes together.«

I lay down next to him: »As much as I love being a hoe with you, no. I can't just lay around and do nothing. I'm not made like that.«

»Have you ever tried?«

»Why would I try if I already know it sucks?«

He sighed, every air particle escaping him filled with annoyance and disappointment in me: »Than just… do something while doing nothing.«

»… Dude, saying stupid stuff is my thing, not yours.«

»I mean while relaxing occupy your mind with something. Make a plan of how to get Pietar out of his office, draw a map of the temple grounds. At Astis, you love numbers so much, just count to 100 in your head. Most importantly,« his face turned to mine, his eyes slim from sleep: »do it in silence.« And he turned back away from me.

I stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking. No, I wasn't counting to 100! Neither was I planning to drag Pietar out of his office. I've tried it before, but if I haven't managed it in the last 13 years, I wasn't gonna succeed now.

Drawing the map part… That I could get behind. The problem was, a map of what? I already have more than 20 of them. I've drawn the temple gardens, all the floors and rooms, Pietars office alone counted about half of my map collection. There was no place inside the temple walls I haven't sketched and measured and calculated in size. I know every inch of land inside the walls by heart. But… outside the walls…

I stood up over him: »Come on, get up.«

»Hmgg…« he grumbled. How can a human fall asleep so easily?

»Come with me!« I started pulling his arm up.

»Why? What?«

»We're gonna climb.«

»That's… the opposite of what I told you to do!«

»Trust me, you'll like it.«

»There's climbing involved: I will not.«

»You'll still get to sleep.«

He sat up, his eyes skeptical: »If this is a trick, I'm gonna kick you in the kneecaps.«

»Deal!«

I walked to the window, opened them and shoved the blinds up, letting light and heat take over the room. Max very slowly, his feet dragging on the floor, more in bored defiance than actual tiredness, approached me. I jumped on the window sill and slid on the outside wall of the temple, still looking through the window at him: »You coming?«

»… We're climbing on the temple?«

»Yeah.«

»… You lied to me. Give me your kneecaps.«

I laughed: »Come and get my kneecap,« and started climbing up.

The stones were hot, the wall absorbing all the heath and shooting it back into my hands. No one ever climbed in the summertime. No one ever climbed on the temple any time, but even the climbing rocks right outside the temple were in this time abandoned and silent. I presume it's exactly because of the heat of the stone. I never minded it. The walls being hot or freezing cold didn't make it harder, it just made it more interesting. I was already at the next floor by the time Max even got his footing on the outside wall, overanalyzing every next step and position on the stones.

He yelled up at me: »If I fall and die you're gonna have to explain to my parents what at Astis I was doing climbing up a building!«

»You're not gonna fall!« I turned around, waiting for him to catch up. I held myself in place with one hand and foot, letting the other two limbs relax in the open air. The Red Sun shinned harsh on my face but I loved it. The small beads of sweat on my arm disappearing just as quickly as they appeared, stolen away by the still, windless air. My muscles tense and under pressure, held me locked to the wall 15 meters above the dry dirt. If someone were to fall, they'd go even farther, rolling another 30 meters down the steep hill the temple is set on, only stopping when their body would crash in the swamp. They probably wouldn't survive it.

I smirked at the thought. Me? Falling? Yeah right.

Max finally climbed face to face to me. His limbs were almost digging into the walls, arms tense to the point you could see his veins popping out. His face was turned forward with his body shaking at even the thought of moving a centimeter away from the wall. He eyed me up and down and squinted his eyes in annoyance. »You look like a sail on a boat.«

»Thank you.« I knew he didn't say it as a compliment, but what can I say, I enjoyed being better than him at something.

And he wasn't wrong, I was a sail: free in the open air, ready to take on the world and travel to places no human has been before. Or, in my case, just to the rooftop.

»Hey snail, I thought you wanted to go back to sleep quickly.« I climbed on, Max not able to keep up.

He grinned weakly: »I could beat you to the top! If I wanted to…«

»Keep telling yourself that!« I jumped to the next stone that poked out slightly, probably giving Max a tiny heart attack because I was moving so 'carelessly'. I wasn't careless, I just knew how to do it.

Left hand to the left, leg locked to the right, the other one put up- nope, not that stone. »Watch it, this one is shaking!« The stone above? Yes. Past Pietars window, completely shut closed and blinds down – called it! And one more pull up with my right hand and, voila! My butt was on the edge of the roof.

When Max got in reach I offered him a helping hand. He cringed as the sweat of our hands mixed together, his hands shaking from discomfort while I pull him up and next to me. He quickly let go of my arm and wiped it in his shirt, still breathing deeply.

After he caught his breath he looked at the view in front of us: »Wow…«

I smiled and followed his eyes. Green colors, dark and bright and those turning into yellows, covered the land all to the horizon, the fields lined on one side by a thick forest, on the other by the mountain range. We've been to the fields countless times, but being up here, where you could see how far they stretch, in constant motion either by the wind or small animals hiding in the grass, it stopped being just a piece of land to walk on. It was alive and grand and sitting here, I understood why the gods loved our world. One glance at it explained it better than any book or monk could.

A blue stream splits the land in two, the fields of our and of the east temple, and ends up in the small lake in between our and their hill. I didn't bother looking at their side, ours was much prettier. From up here, you couldn't hear the gurgling of the water, but I liked to pretend I did. The thought of going anywhere near that death puddle was deeply disturbing to my stomach. I'd much rather experience the falling-down-while-climbing situation than have to step in a half meter radius of that thing. But the sound of a tiny stream rolling over shinny stones… I've never heard it. And in all of Maxes books, they described it so beautifully.

So I sat on the warm roof tiles, my feet dangling in the air, pretending to enjoy what I imagined the flowing water sounded like.

Max had laid down much further away from the edge, spreading his arms and legs wide, eyes closed, taking in the warmth: »This is nice…«

»Oh, so you might say that the climb was worth it?«

»Your kneecaps are safe,« he smiled: »for now.«

So we spend the slow day on the roof, Max napping and stretching, his skin getting even tanner, if that's even possible, and me enjoying the sight beneath and around me. I tried to take in every detail, to remember distances between landmarks, to calculate what proportions I would choose to fit it all on a piece of paper, yet not making it so small that the charm and complexity of the land would be lost in it.

The Red Sun touched my cheeks, like giving me their blessing to immortalize in ink the world they have created.

I smiled. This will be a fun map to draw.

[fullmetalscullyy]

Hello!! I've been stalking your blog for the past few days and I absolutely adore it omg

i’m literally squeeing rn omfg kejagkjeafg i love you so much thank you for your kind words!! :’)

sorry this took a wee while, i’ve had other projects i’ve been working on first but to anyone who has sent an ask they are coming! don’t worry! i have to get that word count for nano after all ;)

“Where’s Hawkeye and Fuery?” Roy shouted over the sound ofgunfire. A bullet clipped the top of the wall he was hiding behind, reboundingup into the air, the sound making him cringe and duck down further. His thighsburned thanks to his current position, cramping up as he tried to shiftslightly to get out from behind his cover.

But it was to no avail.

“Havoc!” he yelled, calling out to his comrade across fromhim on the other side of the alley.

“I don’t know, boss,” he cried a hint of desperation in histone. He looked helplessly back at his commanding officer, fear in his eyesthat the worst had happened to the two of them.

“The Lieutenant has been dealt with,” a smooth voice repliedas the gunfire stopped. Roy’s skin prickled, fear burning into every fibre ofhis being.

Lust.

No, Hawkeye wouldn’t have let that happen. She was a capablesoldier, the best out of their unit. All themen on his team were the best of the best, but Riza Hawkeye was in a leagueabove everyone.

She would come around that corner behind them, he was sureof it.

Something else glanced off the wall he was behind, veryloudly gouging out the stone on top. Roy’s head snapped up, seeing Lust’sfingers stretch over him. Glancing to his left, Roy watched as Havoc’s facepaled.

Then the gunfire began again, and the homunculus was gone.

Roy waited, popping off shots from his own weapon when hecould. The purposefully planted gunpowder by the homunculi limited what hecould do with his flame alchemy. Roy’s aim was pinpoint and expertly honed overtime, however he had no idea where it was located, if there was any loose onthe ground, or if there were any particles in the air.

A bullet bit into hisbicep, just grazing the skin enough so it broke. He cursed, throwing himselfback down into cover, his ass hitting the ground painfully as he landed,finally feeling the struggle of their fight begin to overwhelm them.

Hawkeye should have been providing covering fire at thispoint from behind them, along with Fuery, but they were nowhere to be seen.

They never arrived.

Roy grit his teeth in agitation, a growl escaping betweenhis lips.

Lust couldn’t be right. That bitch couldn’t have taken Riza out. Roy wouldn’t allow it.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how the world worked.

*          *          *

Get up.

The command in her head was barked. Riza stirred with agrown, the rough concrete pressing into her cheek painfully.

Get up.

A hand found its way onto the ground painfully slowly,causing agony to shoot into her right side. Riza hissed in pain, the handfaltering as it tried to hold her weight. She crashed back down, elicitinganother groan.

Her second attempt was more successful. Wincing, she managedto pull herself into a half sitting position. An eye cracked open and the worldtipped. Riza felt her stomach lurch.

“F… Fue…” Squeezing her eyes closed against the pain in herside and her head, Riza tried to utter the name of her fallen comrade. Shejudged he was still breathing, his chest rising and falling faintly.

“Fuery,” she croaked. No response.

Riza shuffled over to the youngest member of their team. Herheart tore in her chest. No, no, no.He couldn’t die. Riza wouldn’t allow it. Not Fuery, anyone but Fuery. He wastoo good, the best out of all of them.

Get. Up.

Her body scraped roughly along the ground as she fought tothe boy’s side. He wasn’t a boy, but that was what it felt like to Riza. He wasso young… Too young to be fighting in this war of theirs.

Yet he did. They all did. For the future.

The dark patch of blood in his left side dripped onto theground, creating a pool. Riza shoved her hand atop of it, stemming the flow asbest she could.

They had been side by side when Lust arrived, skewering themboth with the same hand. Riza should have seen it coming, but when a homunculuswith speed like hers crept up on them, they hadn’t stood a chance.

Riza was alive, for now. So, she would do her best to tryand save her comrade.

Her friend.

“Hang in there Fuery,” Riza whispered, wincing again at thepain in her side. Her other hand was pressed against her own wound, but theblood trickled between her fingers with no end.

Whimpering against the pain, Riza bowed her head and prayedfor the first time in her life. Not for herself, but for Fuery.

*          *          *

“Boss! Through here!”

Roy rolled across the open area, coming to a stop besideHavoc. Breda was earnestly beckoning him as Havoc provided covering fire aroundthe corner.

Breda guided him to the alleyway where Fuery and Hawkeye hadbeen located at the start of the shootout. When Roy saw what awaited them inthat godforsaken alleyway, he stopped dead.

He now realised why there was blood on Breda’s uniform.

He hadn’t been hurt.

But they had.

Fuery was unconscious – dead? – on the ground, blood pouringfrom his left side. Hawkeye lay on her side next to him, a hand desperatelytrying to press against his wound. Her own wound – a matching one on her rightside – poured freely as well, creating a pool on the ground below.

No…

Roy lunged for them both, taking Riza’s wrist gently in his.He removed it from Fuery’s side, moving to grip her blood-soaked hand tightly.He weaved his fingers through hers, willing her to meet his gaze.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you,” he told her. He placed his freehand against Fuery’s side, barking at Breda to get back up here now. Riza gripped his hand tightly andRoy sighed in relief, glad to feel the strength behind her grip.

“Back up is on the way. I’ll go help Havoc with the suppressivefire, sir,” Breda announced, leaving before Roy could argue otherwise. Not thathe would have anyway. Havoc had been backed into the alleyway, firing back atthe men who had initiated the gun fight, thanks to a prompt from Lust. Roy knew he had heard her voice somewherebefore.

Goddamnit, he growledto himself.

“Lieutenant keep as much pressure on your wound as possible,”Roy ordered, his throat tightening. They shouldn’t be in the situation. How hadthis even happened?

“How… is Fuery?” she rasped. Roy’s head snapped towards her.Even though her grip was strong on his hand, her voice wasn’t. He readjustedthe grip on her hand, brushing his fingers over the pulse point on her wrist.It was difficult to feel, but he found it eventually. It was thready.

“He’s going to be okay. So are you, I just need you to holdon a little longer,” he begged. Hunched over both their bleeding forms, Roy hadnever felt so useless before. What good was he as a commanding officer if he couldn’tprotect his own?

“Lieutenant?” he asked, real fear creeping into his tone. “Lieutenant!”Her eyes fluttered closed, hand going limp in his.

*          *          *

Riza heard voices talking as she moved.

But that couldn’t be right. She was lying on her back, butthe ground beneath her was moving. Quickly. How was that possible? Cracking aneye open she saw bright, fluorescent lights.

“… stabbed. So was Sergeant Fuery.”

Roy…

She felt better knowing that he was here, that she wasn’t alone.

How was Fuery? Was he okay? Did he…?

“Sergeant Fuery is in surgery at the moment,” someone fromRiza’s left stated. “He’s lost a lost of blood. So has Lieutenant Hawkeye. Weare…”

Riza drifted off once more, unable to focus on anything.However, there was a sudden pressure on her hand, giving her fingers a quicksqueeze. She returned the gesture as best she could.

“I’m here,” Roy told her, his voice distant as the darknesscrept in again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

*          *          *

Riza lost a lot of blood.

Lust had almost nicked her lungs, but her freakish bladeshad narrowly avoided the one on the right. The doctor told the rest of the teamthe distance between the stab wound and Riza and Fuery’s lungs and it almostmade Roy vomit on the spot.

His poor subordinates.

They didn’t deserve this.

There was more medical jargon that Roy was just too tiredand too worried out of his mind to comprehend. All Roy could understand thoughwas that she hadn’t woken up yet and the constant beeping to his right from theheart monitor was now attuned to his very being. He had been in this room, byher side, for so long that he could detect any minor change in her heartbeat.He had learned the hard way to read it after she flatlined shortly after beingmoved here.

That had been the scariest moment of Roy’s life.

The reality of living life without Riza Hawkeye was rudely shovedin his face and he had been unprepared. The panic and grief overwhelmed him somuch, he cried silently when he returned to her bedside an hour afterwards, themachine beeping steadily once again.

So yes, he had memorised that rhythm as if his life dependedon it.

Head in his hands, he counted the beeps as his elbows restedon Riza’s bedside. Fuery was on the next bed over, by the window. He remainedvigilant over them both, the silent protector, until the rest of the team arrivedin an hour or so.

“Roy?” Riza croaked quietly.

His head snapped up, breathing halted as he dared to believethis was finally happening.

Two whole days he had been waiting for this moment.

Snapping one of her hands up, clasping both his hands aroundhers tightly, Roy kissed the tips of her cool fingers.

“You’re awake,” he replied in relief.

“What… What happened?”

“Lust stabbed you, do you remember that?”

Riza nodded, wincing as that movement aggravated something andcaused her pain. Her eyes widened momentarily.

“Where is Fuery? Is he okay?” Her voice broke in her hasteand worry.

Roy gave her hand a squeeze. “He’s okay. He’s in the bedright next to you. Fuery lost more blood than you did, apparently, so it may belonger until he wakes.”

“What happened with Lust –?”

“Let’s talk about this later, Riza.” Roy noted how hereyebrow arched at the use of her first name, but Roy didn’t care. “Please? Ijust got you back and the last thing I want to do is talk about work.”

“Okay,” she agreed with a quiet sigh.

“Thank you,” he breathed, bringing her fingers to his lipsonce more to kiss them. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore.”

“I thought… I thought you were gone when I rounded thatcorner,” Roy admitted, finally able to face the worry and anxiety that had madeits home in his chest for the past two days. Now that Riza was awake andtalking, he felt he could finally face it without breaking down. “But youfought it, to save Fuery.”

Riza nodded. “I couldn’t let him go out like that,” shewhispered, eyes finding his, willing him to understand. “He doesn’t deservethat.”

“No, he doesn’t. Thanks to you, he won’t.”

Riza smiled, closing her eyes as they drooped.

“And neither do you,” Roy added, quieter. He smirked when thateyebrow arched again. “Rest, Riza. We can talk more later.” He lifted a hand toher head, brushing her fringe from her face, his fingers ghosting over hercheek as they moved back to her hand. Riza made a soft sound as Roy touched her,and he wasn’t too proud to admit he enjoyed hearing it.

He just wished it hadn’t been when she was in a hospital bedafter fighting for her life.

“Will you stay?” she asked, eyes still closed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he vowed, unable to resistpressing his lips to her forehead. “I promise. Get some rest.”

“Thank you, Roy.”fic

[torestoreamends]

Mine to Make: Chapter 9

Albus faces his biggest fears, Scorpius discovers that he loves Ginny Potter, and Harry learns that time alone can’t fix his problems – it’s going to take more than that. 

Beta’d by @abradystrix.

N.B. This fic is complete on AO3, so binge read away if you want! Here on tumblr I’ll be posting a chapter every day until it’s all done.

Read it on AO3

*

VIIII Ruins

The whole world is a blur of agony. There’s nothing beyond this awful, all-consuming pain. The heat of it is burning him up from the inside out. It’s eating through flesh and muscle, destroying him like he’s nothing.

He’s food. He’s fuel. He’s coal or wood or oil. He’s not human anymore. He’s part of the fire, and he’s disintegrating into ash.

Darkness goes on forever. The darkness of smoke. The darkness of charring. The darkness of cinders blown on the wind.

Albus is scattered. His fragments are swept away, swirling, tossed by breeze and wave. They’ll never come together again. They can’t. He’s been thrown too far asunder. He’s been broken down too small. The grains of him can’t ever possibly be knitted back into one. Too many particles have been lost.

He comes to for a second and the pain of existence casts him back into darkness again.

He sleeps. Rest heals.

Something cool is being pressed against his skin, and he gasps with the relief of it, body contorting. A steady hand pushes him down and holds him. A voice in his ear whispers him back to sleep.

Screams tear from his throat. He sits up, head spinning, his whole body fractured and shattered. He’s never felt pain like this before and he never wants to again. He’d rather die.

“Kill me,” he sobs. “Please, kill me. Make it stop, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP!”

He screams again and cries, begging for it all to end, but someone holds him. Someone he loves, someone he trusts. Someone with gentle hands who promises him a better future.

“Sshh, Albus,” she murmurs, stroking his hair. “It’ll stop soon. The pain will stop. I promise.”

His arm goes numb. The pain subsides. He cries so hard with relief that he’s sick, acid stinging his throat, making his mouth taste foul. She tuts but she cleans him up and lies him down, stroking his hair off his forehead.

“Go to sleep,” she says. “Go to sleep.”

He obeys without question.

Next time he wakes his mouth is dry. His whole body is dry. The ravaging fire has left him a shrivelled husk, no better than tinder, ready to set light again at the first spark.

“Water,” he croaks. “Please.”

“Here,” Delphi says, helping him sit up and drink. He doesn’t stop until he’s drained a whole bottle and feels like he’s going to burst. If he could drink more he would. There’s nothing he wants more in the world right now than water.

He still feels dry and hot, parched like the desert. He can’t sleep so he tosses and turns, skin prickling. Sometimes it’s bearable, but sometimes it flares up in excruciating agony that makes him scream and cry and vomit.

The sheets cling to him, too heavy and hot on his skin. Everything hurts. Whenever he can he drinks as much as he can hold. Slowly he starts to feel replenished. The fire still burns inside him, but it’s held at bay by the water and whatever magic Delphi is working on his skin.

“What happened to me?” He asks one morning when he’s sitting up in bed, watching her change his bandages. Under the soft, snowy white material he gets a glimpse of his arm. The skin is cracked, like the bark of a tree that’s aflame. Beneath the surface his arm is glowing, orange and white, flickering and dancing lights. The fire is still there under his skin, and it looks awful. No wonder it’s been hurting so much. No wonder it’s still hurting.

“Someone pushed you,” Delphi says. “You lost control and hit one of the cages. You then fell about 100 feet out of the air, but I’d say that’s the least of your problems.”

“It’s really bad,” Albus says, watching as she ties the bandage off.

“You almost died,” Delphi replies without looking at him.

“You saved my life,” Albus says, looking at her. “Didn’t you? Someone’s been here this whole time. It was you.”

“Nearly two weeks.” She goes and sits on the chair beside the bed. “You’ve been half dead for nearly two weeks. This is the first time you’ve said anything that wasn’t begging me to kill you or begging me for water.”

Albus bows his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t really remember...”

“I’m not a Healer,” Delphi says. “I hope you know that.”

“I do, of course I do.” He looks at her. “Thank you. For staying. For saving me. Thank you.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t bother. You’re my best friend. I had to do it.”

Albus shakes his head. “I don’t know. You could have decided I wasn’t worth it.”

Delphi sighs. “I could. But I think you are worth it, Sev. You’re very important.” She smiles. “Anyway, I couldn’t have lost my star racer, could I?”

Albus smiles back. “No. I suppose not.”

 Flames lick across the ceiling and creep along the walls. The hallway is almost too hot to bear, and the thick, black smoke clogs the space, making it almost impossible to see. Albus doesn’t crawl, there’s no point, the fire would catch him before he got anywhere, and his crouch isn’t quite low enough to duck under the smoke, so he presses his arm across his mouth and sprints for the room Scorpius was in.

Behind him he hears the hiss of the fire build into a roar as it spots him. The red glow gets brighter as a thousand malevolent eyes focus on him, and he feels the smoke coalesce and tear at his skin like claws, snatching at him, trying to drag him back.

It takes all his strength to break free and keep running. He has no desire to let the fire get anywhere near him, even though he knows the beasts among the flames are already charging him down. He keeps his head low and throws himself sideways, hoping he’s hit Scorpius’s door and that it’ll open inwards.

His right shoulder slams into the door frame and he reels off, clutching his arm as pain jars through it. The hall is too smokey to see where he’s aiming, so he tries again, and this time he goes tumbling into a room and kicks the door closed behind him, casting the only spell he knows to barricade it and praying it doesn’t fail.

He scrambles up and looks around the room. Spells will buy him very little time here. The beasts are unstoppable. Fiendfyre is so hungry it’ll eat anything and everything. A door is nothing more than a light snack. But at least the fire can’t see him anymore. It won’t hunt him.

“Scorpius,” he calls, coughing and staring around the large library he’s found himself in. There’s no reply, so he runs across the room, lighting his wand and pointing it into every shadowy corner just in case, but he sees nothing.

He spins round and spots a door on the wall, which must lead through to an adjacent room. Maybe Scorpius is in there. Hopefully he is.

Albus sprints at it as hard as he can, but bounces off and falls in a heap on the floor, shoulder aching even more than before. It’s locked.

He fumbles with his wand and jabs it in the direction of the door. “Alohomora.”

The door springs open and he rushes to his feet and almost trips himself up as he races through.

“Scorpius! Scorpius, are you in here? Are you alive?” He stops dead in the middle of the small, dimly lit room. Papers litter the floor and ivy has grown over all the windows and the hole in the roof, so the only light comes from sporadic shafts of sunlight that pierce through the covering of leaves. This is definitely the room Scorpius was in, but Scorpius is nowhere to be seen, and now Albus can feel his chest tightening and his heart racing. What if the person who started the fire has taken Scorpius? What if Scorpius is gone? What if Scorpius is dead? What if-

No. Albus forces himself to take a deep breath. No. That can’t happen. That’s impossible. Scorpius is just- He’s somewhere. He’s fine.

“Scorpius?” He calls, turning slowly around in a circle, wondering if Scorpius is under the bed or in the rickety wardrobe, or-

There’s a bookshelf on a wall set just in from the window, with one single book on it, lying down on its spine, and the shelf has swung forward an inch, on a hinge. Some sort of secret door.

Albus tiptoes across to the shelf and swings it open, pointing his wand into the darkness. “Scorpius?”

“Albus.” A second silvery light glows out of the darkness, and Scorpius peers round the corner of a set of stairs up at him, holding his wand up, eyes glittering. “I found a secret room.”

Albus leans back against the wall, a hand pressed to his heart as relief floods through him, almost knocking his knees out from beneath him. “Yes, I-I can see that.”

Scorpius grins. “Want to come exploring? I’m guessing you didn’t find anything on the other side of the house, so this is the best we’ve got.”

“No, I- No. Scorpius, we need to get out of here.”

Scorpius frowns. “Get out of here? But... why? This could be a lead, Albus.”

Albus shakes his head desperately. “No. I know. But-“ He breaks off as he hears the hissing sound of the fire approaching. It must have reached the library now. How long until it consumes the hall and the stairs and this room? “Scorpius, the house is on fire. We need to get out.”

Scorpius stops dead, staring at him. “It- What?”

Albus nods. “Fiendfyre, Scorpius. Someone- someone set a fire. We need to get out. Right now. Or we’re going to die. Please.”

Scorpius clatters up the stairs until he’s at Albus’s level. “Did you say Fiendfyre?”

Albus grabs hold of his wrist. “Yes I did. We need to go. We need to-“

A flame snakes up the door behind him, a bright, hungry red. Tongues and sparks flicker out, like a serpent tasting the air, and Albus doesn’t hesitate. He starts running, tugging Scorpius with him.

“Run!”

Scorpius doesn’t need telling twice. He stumbles after Albus, raising his wand and casting a spell that Albus doesn’t know. In the next second, Albus’s vision is blurred by a silvery something, that runs in front of his eyes and folds around his head, making the air instantly more stale, but cutting out the smoke that’s starting to flood the room.

“What-“ Albus starts, but he stops when his voice sounds strange to his own ears. It’s like he’s speaking inside a bubble, and when he reaches up he does indeed feel a warm dome of magic around his head. “Scorpius, what is this?”

“Bubble Head Charm,” comes Scorpius’s muffled reply. “For the smoke.”

“Right,” Albus says, nodding. “Of course. You’re a-“

The door behind them explodes inwards with a snarling roar, and Albus feels heat scorch his back. His left shoulder instantly starts throbbing, and he clutches it and staggers towards the door to the hall, Scorpius right behind him.

The beasts in the flames have definitely found them now. The hunt is on. As Albus throws the door open a long flare comes whipping out of the maelstrom of fire, and he drops to the ground and rolls beneath it, just in time. He smells burning and reaches up to feel that it’s singed his hair.

He dives through, and Scorpius lunges after him, kicking the door shut, but the flames punch straight through, blasting it inwards. A bit of wood clouts Albus hard on the back of the head and he stumbles against the opposite wall of the landing in a daze. The world spins around him. Floor and flame and crumbling roof become one, and he grips the wall for support, not sure whether he’s up or down.

He stays still a second too long. A roaring Basilisk flies at him from the flames, teeth bared, mouth open. Still not sure if his feet are on the ground he stares, unable to move, resigned to fate, but an instant before the Basilisk strikes Scorpius’s hand clasps around his wrist and pulls him away hard. He almost yanks Albus’s arm out of its socket, and Albus falls, sprawling onto the ground, now with both his arms aching as well as his head throbbing and spinning.

“Up,” Scorpius says. “Lean on me. Quick.”

Albus feels Scorpius slip an arm round his torso and drag him upright. So that’s where the floor is. His feet are on it. His head is up, pointing to the ceiling. Fire is at his back, roaring with searing heat. The world starts to make sense again, and he trusts Scorpius implicitly. When Scorpius starts dragging him forward he obligingly moves his feet, trying to keep up.

They reach the stairs and start sprinting downwards, so fast they’re on the edge of falling. Beneath them the wood starts to creak and crack as it heats up. The steps glow, and Scorpius runs faster, Albus somehow keeping pace. It’s so hot that the soles of Albus’s shoes start to melt, and the bottoms of his feet feel like they’re being scorched.

The fire is so close behind them now that it’s licking and clawing at Albus’s back. His shoulder feels like it’s on fire, responding to the proximity of the flames the way it always does. Embers burn beneath his skin, awakening the creatures hibernating there. He clutches at it, digging his fingernails in to try and keep it at bay. He can collapse when he gets out of here. He can give in to the pain when Scorpius is safe. Until then, he has to keep running.

There are five steps left to climb down, but two of them are aflame already. The face of a dragon rises up, spitting at them, smoke curling from its nostrils. They’re hemmed in from both sides, but Scorpius isn’t deterred.

“Jump!” He yells, and Albus does, throwing himself straight into the dragon’s maw and past onto the lower floor. His legs collapse beneath him as he lands, but he manages to roll back to his feet and keep going.

The door is up ahead. Sunlight beyond the smoke and flames now consuming the ceiling.

An enormous beam drops from the ceiling into their path, and they both skitter back, grabbing each other’s hands. Behind them the roaring grows ever louder and ever closer.

“What do we-“ Albus starts, breath coming in tight snatches.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” Scorpius cries, and the burning beam goes shooting upwards. Scorpius sprints forward, dragging Albus with him, and they half run, half stumble the rest of the way down the hall and out through the door, serpents and beasts snapping at their heels.

They don’t stop running until they’re well away from the house. Thankfully the ground is bare and acts as a firebreak. The Fiendfyre stops at the bottom of the stairs, tongues of flame scenting the air, tendrils searching for a way forward, but there’s nothing. The red eyes of the beasts stare into Albus’s soul as he collapses on the ground, the bubble around his head bursting so he can draw in great lungfuls of clean, fresh air.

Scorpius is on the ground next to him, flat on his back, staring up at the sky, also breathing hard. Albus reaches across and squeezes hold of his hand, not letting it go as he hauls himself up on his elbows to watch as the Fiendfyre consumes the ruined manor.

As they lie there, side by side on the ground, singed and charred round the edges, clothes blackened with soot, it starts to rain. A gentle drizzle at first, which builds into the sort of torrential downpour the world needs to unleash after days of hot, humid weather. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and steam rises from the burning wreckage, but even water can’t stop a raging Fiendfyre. It gorges itself until the house is nothing but a charred, smoking wreckage, and there’s nothing left to feed on.

“That stuff,” Scorpius says finally, pushing his soaking wet hair out of his eyes, “is vicious.”

“Tell me about it,” mutters Albus, who’s still holding his aching left arm. “It really bloody hurts.”

Scorpius looks sharply at him. “Did it get you?”

Albus shakes his head. “My hair’s a bit singed, and my clothes probably aren’t great. No, this is the old burn. It gets excited when it encounters friends,” He rolls his eyes and removes his hand, screwing his face up against the pain. “It just needs some of that salve and it’ll be fine.”

“Will it?” Scorpius asks, eyeing him.

Albus nods. “Promise. Are you okay?”

“Unscathed,” Scorpius says. “Just about. You’re bleeding too. You definitely got the worst of it. Come here.” He kneels opposite Albus on the dusty ground, which is slowly turning to mud as the rain pounds down on them, and casts a spell to knit up the gash caused by the exploding door. “Better.”

Albus grimaces and rubs his head. “Thanks.”

Scorpius tucks his wand away and sits back on his heels. “Albus.” His expression is very grim, and Albus looks at him, no idea what he’s about to say next. “I think someone just tried to kill us.”

Albus bows his head. “I think so too. But why?”

Scorpius sighs and unfolds his legs from beneath him, falling back onto his bum on the muddy ground. “Why do you think?”

“Someone from the league,” Albus murmurs. “Who doesn’t want us investigating?”

Scorpius shrugs. “Probably. I was thinking someone who specifically doesn’t want us investigating Delphi.”

Albus frowns. “But...”

“Albus.” Scorpius gives him a significant look, and Albus snaps his mouth shut, not sure what he can say.

Just because they were in Delphi’s house doesn’t mean it has to be connected to her. Albus doesn’t even know anyone who’d want to attack them on Delphi’s behalf. But of course it’s the most obvious explanation. Even he can’t deny that.

“I think we should go and report this,” Scorpius says. “Right away. Fiendfyre is dangerous dark magic, and someone just used it to try and kill us. After the Dementors... This is twice we’ve been attacked in a couple of days.”

“It is,” Albus murmurs, “isn’t it...”

Scorpius nods grimly. “I’m going to go. If you want to head home and sort your arm out you should.”

“No,” Albus says, clambering to his feet. “It’s fine. I’ll come.”

Scorpius frowns at him. “Are you sure?”

“We were both attacked,” Albus says. “We should both go.”

“But...” Scorpius gets up and looks him in the eye. “Albus, when I say I’m going to report this...”

Albus glances at the smouldering ruin, then back at Scorpius. “I want to come.”

Scorpius hesitates for several long seconds, and Albus doesn’t quite understand why. Maybe he’s missing something here. It’s like Scorpius is waiting for him to comprehend something and react to it. Should he be saying no? Does Scorpius want him to go home?

“I don’t have to come,” Albus murmurs. “If you don’t want me to.”

“I want you to,” Scorpius says, reaching out to take his hand. “But I didn’t know if you were ready to, you know...”

And then Albus understands. It hits him as hard as the fragment of wood exploding from the door had done, leaving him dazed, and wondering how he hadn’t realised it sooner.

Of course Scorpius wants to report this straight to Harry. Of course he does. He’s giving Albus the chance to back out. To run away and go home.

But this isn’t a day for running away. Earlier Albus had stood on the steps outside Gringotts and yelled his love for Scorpius to the whole world. Now he’s going to go and confront his dad too. No more running, no more hiding. It’s time to stand by Scorpius’s side and stop being the coward he’s been his entire life.

“I’m not,” he says. “Ready. But I’m coming anyway.” He grips Scorpius’s hand tight. “Let’s go before I change my mind.” He turns on the spot, bringing Scorpius with him, and a second later they’re standing in a deserted street beside a red telephone box. The Ministry of Magic.

 Harry’s desk is a mess as always, but this morning it’s not covered in files, it’s covered in photos, statements, a draft copy of a newspaper report, and everything else he’s been able to gather from the incident in Diagon Alley this morning. The photo snapped by the Prophet reporter who’d rushed out into the street when he’d heard the commotion takes pride of place. Albus’s hair may be a light shade of grey in the black and white photo, and his eyes may be almost black, but it’s Albus. Unmistakeably. Harry knows his own son.

Albus shouts something, then turns and looks at Scorpius, who’s standing on the steps behind him, a look of sheer panic on his face. The Albus in the photo gazes at Scorpius for a moment, then turns back to the camera and keeps going, pointing at Scorpius, a fire in his eyes that can only belong to Albus. It’s Harry’s favourite bit of the photo, and he stares at it, taking in every detail of Albus’s face, the blazing passion written across every inch of him. He looks more beautiful than Harry has spent every second of the last seven years imagining. He’s perfect. And now Harry needs to see him more than ever. It’s the only thing he needs, and he needs it with every fibre of his being.

He pushes the photo out of the way so he can look at the other things on the table. There’s a statement from a pair of witches at the front of the crowd who’d been close enough to hear and see everything, and he scours it, looking for anything that might tell him where Albus and Scorpius have gone now, because they’re together, there’s no doubt about that.

He picks the statement up and sits at his desk, reading the end of it over and over again. It says they were talking about Apparating, saying they had to get out of there.

‘I didn’t hear them say where they were going, but Malfoy was talking about getting out of there. He warned him, Albus, that he was going to Apparate, and then they disappeared. I don’t think he told Albus where he was going... I still think he’s got Albus bewitched. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The way Albus looked at him... Maybe it’s a Love Potion.’

Harry sighs and rubs his forehead. No one knows where they went. Not a single one of the witnesses. Maybe they just didn’t say. But he refuses to believe that they’ve disappeared again. They were right there, right within reach. They were in Diagon Alley. Albus was in the middle of the biggest wizarding shopping street in the country and they still don’t have him and now he’s vanished. Vanished!

Harry slaps his hand as hard as he can on the desk in frustration. It doesn’t help. Now his palm stings and he feels even worse.

In seven years, this is the closest he’s been to getting his son back, but still he has nothing. It’s horrible. It’s like being back in the days after Albus ran away, when every new dawn brought with it the tantalising hope that today might be the day. And now today might really have been the day but they’ve let Albus slip through their fingers. Again. He removes his glasses, buries his face in his hands, and draws in a deep breath.

If they’ve got this close once they can do it again. The Aurors had arrived just moments after Albus and Scorpius had Disapparated. They only need to be a little bit quicker off the mark and they’ll have him. It’s that simple. They’re so close. No giving up now. No giving up ever.

“Mr Potter.”

He looks up to see his secretary, Edna, standing in the doorway. Her eyes are wide and she’s breathless, a hand clutching her heart. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“Yes?”

“There are- there are some people here to see you.”

Harry sighs. “Can it wait? I’m a bit-“ He gestures to his desk. “Busy.”

She shakes her head. “You really want to talk to these two.”

Harry frowns and picks his glasses up. “Have they seen Albus? Do they know something?”

Her expression transforms into a beaming smile and she shakes her head. “No. Even better.” She turns to the people behind her. “Go in. He’ll see you.”

There’s a bit of shuffling in the doorway as Edna disappears and the door opens wider. Two blurry figures appear, one with white blond hair; the other bright pink. Harry jams his glasses onto his face and gets to his feet, staring.

Scorpius, wet hair plastered to his head, robes dripping, meets Harry’s eyes as he enters the room, then he glances back. For a second Harry doesn’t believe what he’s seeing, but there’s no question that right behind Scorpius, one arm folded across his body, shoulders tight, gaze determinedly fixed on the floor, soaked to the skin, but whole and solid and very much alive; definitely not an illusion, is-

“Albus,” Harry breathes.

Albus’s eyes flicker up from the ground for a moment – a dark, impenetrable brown, but definitely Albus’s gaze because it’s hard and strong and crackling with fight. He gives a tiny nod but doesn’t speak, and his gaze instantly drops back to the ground.

Harry can’t breathe. He can’t speak. He collapses into the seat behind his desk and braces his forearms on the tabletop, staring at Albus. It’s impossible to take in every detail of his son in just a few seconds, but Harry wants to see as much as he can.

Albus is still so small. He’s compact, athletic in the way a broom racer should be, in the way his mum is, and next to Scorpius he looks as tiny as he ever did. He also seems afraid.

For all the defiant solidity of his presence, he doesn’t look comfortable here. He’s refusing to look at Harry not because he’s being difficult but because he’s scared. Harry’s first instinct is to reassure him, to reach out and let him know that it’s okay. But then it occurs to him that Albus probably doesn’t want his reassurance. After all this time, after all these years in which Albus has grown up, Harry has lost all his power as a dad to make everything okay just by saying it is. So he ignores the problem and turns to Scorpius, who is holding tight to Albus’s hand and doesn’t look like he’s planning to let go any time soon.

“Scorpius,” he says. “Why are you both so wet?”

“It’s finally raining,” Scorpius says with a little smile that fades as fast as it comes.

“Right. How, um-“ He pushes his glasses up his nose and glances at Albus again because he can’t help himself. “How can I help you both?”

Scorpius looks at Albus, who looks back at him.

“Go on,” Albus murmurs, and Harry’s heart skips a beat. That’s his son’s voice, a voice he hasn’t heard in so long. Even that fleeting whisper is the sweetest music Harry’s ever heard.

Scorpius nods and squeezes Albus’s hand. He turns back to Harry and opens his mouth, hesitating like he’s trying to work out the right place to start.

“Last night my dad and I managed to trace those suspect accounts back to one belonging to Delphini Black, so I went to the bank earlier to try and find out more,” he says, and gaze flickers to the papers littering Harry’s desk. “You might have already heard... But anyway. I found out that Delphi’s account wasn’t registered to her name, it belongs to a Cygnus Black, and I found out the address it’s registered to. So after...” he gestures to the papers. “After all that, we Apparated to the address and had a look around.”

He pulls something from his pocket and steps forward just far enough to drop the paper on the edge of Harry’s desk. Not once does he let go of Albus’s hand.

“I found this,” he says. “It was in one of the rooms. It was the closest I got to a clue. There was also a sort of secret room, but I didn’t get chance to investigate it.”

Harry frowns. “Did you leave? We can go back. I could send Aurors, or-“

Scorpius shakes his head and glances at Albus. “We can’t go back. No one can.” He takes a deep breath, and Albus steps an inch closer to him, so their arms are pressed together. “While we were inside someone set light to the house. I say someone because it was Fiendfyre. We both know it was. The house is destroyed, and we only just managed to escape.” He looks at Harry. “We think someone tried to kill us.”

Harry sits back in his chair, watching Albus, who’s looking at him with an impenetrable gaze. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking or feeling; maybe he’s waiting to see what Harry is thinking before he reacts for himself. But Harry doesn’t know what to think. His brain is in a spin because Albus is here and Scorpius is saying someone tried to kill them, and now Harry looks he can see singe marks on Albus’s damp clothes and in his hair, and if someone tried to kill his son then...

He runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. “Do you know for sure that it was Fiendfyre?”

Scorpius looks at Albus, who takes a small step forward.

“I know it was. I know Fiendfyre. I have some... experience. That wasn’t a normal fire.” His gaze dares Harry to question him, but Harry has no desire to. He feels sick. Albus has experience with Fiendfyre. Ginny had said as much but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. This means that what she said about Albus’s injuries is true as well. Albus is burned, scarred, damaged. He’s not coming back whole and undamaged, and that means that Harry has failed terribly. But he won’t fail again.

“Did you see anyone?” Harry asks, looking at Scorpius. “While you were at the house, did you see anyone around who might have set a fire? It’s not easy to cast Fiendfyre. It must have been someone powerful.”

Scorpius shakes his head. “We didn’t see anyone. The windows were all covered with ivy. Someone could have snuck up, cast the spell, and left without us seeing. I assume that’s what they did because there was no one in there with us. It was deserted. It felt deserted.”

Harry ruffles his fingers through his hair, trying to think. “If someone is trying to hurt you it must be someone under investigation. Someone from the league. Who from the league can cast Fiendfyre?”

“Everyone,” Albus says, rolling his eyes.

Harry sits forward in his seat. “Can you?”

Albus’s expression shifts. All his walls go up before Harry’s eyes, shoulders tightening, jaw jutting, expression glaring. “Is that an accusation? Because no, I didn’t just try to kill my boyfriend.”

His boyfriend. Ginny had mentioned that too, but it was just another one of those incomprehensible things that Harry hadn’t managed to wrap his head around. But now it’s right in front of him, made obvious by those interlinked hands and the surprised but delighted smile Scorpius is now giving Albus despite the gravity of the situation. There’s no denying it. His son loves Scorpius Malfoy, and Scorpius Malfoy loves him back.

Harry gets to his feet. “That’s not what I meant. I was just curious.”

Albus lifts his chin. “Then no,” he says. “I can’t. And I have no desire to. It’s... it’s horrible stuff. I hate it.” He mutters the last few words and drops his gaze back to his shoes.

“So it could have been anyone apart from you,” Harry says thoughtfully. “And we don’t know who it might have been.” He reaches across and sorts through his mess of files until he finds the one containing details of the league. He flips it open on top of the witness statement from Diagon Alley and frowns down at it. “Is there any reason why it couldn’t have been this Delphi herself who set fire to the house?”

Albus and Scorpius look at each other, and Harry recognises the intense but utterly silent conversation going on between them. Finally Scorpius sighs.

“Why would she set fire to her own house? And anyway, she’s been Albus’s best friend for the whole time he’s been away,” he says. “Albus doesn’t think-“

“Why would my best friend try and kill me?” Albus asks. “It can’t have been her.”

“Your best friend associates with former Death Eaters,” Harry tells him, trying to keep his voice soft and patient. In truth the information has thrown him completely. His son has been around the worst of people, criminals, who know how to perform dangerous Dark Magic. His son considers these people his friends.

“My boyfriend’s dad is a former Death Eater,” Albus argues.

“Yes but that’s-“ Harry holds his hands up and looks down at the file. The last thing he wants is to start fighting with Albus now.

“I think we should start by trying to work out what the note says.” Scorpius steps forward and picks the bit of paper up off the table. “I can’t read it. I don’t recognise the writing. There’s a possibility it’s written Parseltongue or something. I’d need to investigate. If we can work that out then we might find something.”

“You’re not investigating anything,” Harry says, looking up at him.

Scorpius looks confused. “But... this is my investigation. Why can’t I look at this next? It’s the logical way forward.”

Harry braces his hands on the table and looks Scorpius dead in the eye. “I’m sorry, Scorpius, but until we work out what’s happening with these attacks, I’m removing you from the investigation.”

Scorpius reels back a step, mouth open, eyes wide. He looks like he’s just been slapped in the face, but Harry knew that would happen. Of course it was going to hurt, but this is the only way. This is the second attack in a matter of days. Albus has been caught up in both and so has Scorpius. Taking Scorpius away from the case is the only way of keeping him safe; if anything happens to Scorpius then Draco will murder Harry. Equally, if anything happens to Scorpius then Albus will have no reason to stay. Maybe Harry should feel ashamed of that factoring into his thinking, but he’s not. He can’t be. Now that Albus is back the top priority is to keep him here.

“I’m sorry, Scorpius. This isn’t to do with your ability to handle the case, but I don’t want you in any more danger. I have people who are equipped to deal with this sort of thing. You aren’t one of those, so I can’t let you continue.”

Scorpius closes his mouth and swallows. He seems utterly lost for words. Unfortunately Albus isn’t.

Albus lets go of Scorpius’s hand for the first time since he got into the office and steps forward, right up to the desk, so he’s just inches away from Harry. His eyes blaze with anger, the way they always did when he was facing Harry. So little has changed.

“No,” he says. “You can’t take him off the case. You can’t.”

“I can,” Harry replies calmly. “I can and I am. I’m sorry, Albus, but this is Scorpius’s safety we’re-“

“But it’s not,” Albus interrupts. He gestures to Scorpius. “You know he’s brilliant. You have to. He’s been working for you for what, five years now? And he’s still stuck in the same job as he was when he started, even though you know what he can do.”

“Albus,” Scorpius murmurs. “You don’t have to-“

Albus ignores him. “This is his chance to prove himself. This is his chance to actually do something and you’re taking it away from him.” He folds his arms and glares at Harry. “I don’t know why I expected better from you. Seven years and you haven’t changed a bit.”

Harry opens his mouth, but Scorpius gets there first. He steps forward and takes hold of Albus’s arm.

“Let it go, it’s fine.”

Albus whirls round to face him. ���It’s not fine,” he says, voice rising so it bounces off the walls of the office. “And you know it.”

Scorpius runs a hand down Albus’s arm. “Fine. It’s not. But I can-“

“Deal with it?” Albus asks. “That’s bullshit. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He turns back round to face Harry. “I ran away and left him, but I’m not leaving him again, because you know what? I learn from my mistakes. That must be a difficult concept for you, mustn’t it?”

Harry balls his hands into fists. How can Albus have so severely misunderstood what he’s trying to do here? This is always the way. Albus doesn’t get it. He doesn’t seem to understand that they want the same thing.

“Look,” Harry says. “I know Scorpius can do this. I know he can, but it’s too dangerous. This is a job for-“

“So give him a fucking Auror!” Albus explodes, flinging his hands up in exasperation. “Give him someone to help him. Stop making him the lowest of the low because you don’t want to face up to the fact that me leaving had nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. Stop letting him be your scapegoat, take some responsibility, and let him do his job!”

The heat rises and Harry glares at Albus across the table. “I am taking responsibility. I’m taking responsibility for his safety. Just because you can’t understand that-“

“You don’t even deny it!” Albus steps back with a disbelieving laugh, running his hands through his lurid pink hair. “You don’t even deny that you’ve been using him, lying to everyone, just because you can’t admit to yourself or anyone else that you’re a terrible dad who chased his son out of the door.”

“I haven’t used him!” Harry says, plunging his hands into his pockets to give them something to do. “And I haven’t lied to anyone. You left because you gave up on trying to be part of the family. It was an easy way out and you took it the second you could.”

“You didn’t give me another option!” Albus shouts back. His hands are shaking now. His whole body is trembling with rage, and Scorpius tries to touch his arm, but Albus brushes him aside. “There was nowhere left to go. At least Mum tried to help, but you just wanted me to change.” He puts on a mocking, high-pitched voice. “‘Stop being friends with Scorpius. Try harder in lessons. If you’re being bullied it’s because you’re being too different. Fit in, Al. Make the Sorting Hat change its mind and put you in Gryffindor.’”

Harry shakes his head. “That’s not-“

“I couldn’t be different,” Albus continues, cutting across him, his voice breaking like there are tears coming that he’s trying to keep at bay. “That was my problem. I couldn’t fit in. I couldn’t be the son you wanted. I thought seven years away might have shown you I was good enough anyway but I guess not.” He sniffs in a breath and folds his arms across his body, shoulders collapsing inwards, chest heaving as he tries to breathe past the impending tears. “Maybe I should just leave again, like you told me to the first time. You wouldn’t miss me.”

Harry steps sideways, round the side of his desk, moving desperately towards Albus. He reaches out to him, but Albus backs away, bowing his head.

“Albus,” he says softly. “I have missed you. I don’t want you to go. I-I love you.”

Albus nods. “Great,” he says. He looks up at Harry, eyes glittering now. “Thanks for that touching statement. Fat lot of good it does me. Fat lot of good it does him.” He takes a step towards Harry so they’re practically nose to nose, and Harry can see the tears caught on his eyelashes, flooding the warm brown eyes that look so much like Ginny’s.

“Keep telling yourself you love me,” Albus murmurs. “Keep telling the world. You can kid yourself and you can kid them, but you-“ He gulps in a breath as his voice truly breaks and a tear spills out of one of his eyes and down his cheek. “You can’t fool me.” He brushes it away and lifts his chin. “I know how you really feel.” He turns on his heel and marches out of the room, the door banging shut behind him.

Harry reels back and grips the edge of his desk for support. All the breath has been knocked out of him. He can do nothing but stare at the closed door where Albus has just disappeared, possibly forever now. That might be the last time that he-

He sniffs and straightens himself up.

“Scorpius,” he says, forcing himself to look at Scorpius who is also staring at the door, eyes wide with shock. “You understand, don’t you?”

“I-“ Scorpius looks at him. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding slightly dazed. “I-I need to go with Albus.”

“But-“

Scorpius shakes his head. “I’ll think about it.” He stuffs the paper he’s holding into the pocket of his robes and heads to the door.

“Isn’t that evidence?” Harry asks, gesturing to the paper.

Scorpius looks down at his pocket, then glances back at Harry. “Is it?” He wrenches the door open and disappears, leaving Harry alone.

For a long moment that seems to last a lifetime, Harry stares at the door. He wants Scorpius to come back. He wants Albus to come back. He wants to rewind the last few minutes and try them again. He doesn’t know what he’d do differently – to protect Albus he has to protect Scorpius – but there must be something.

He removes his glasses and buries his face in his hands. He remembers the tears sparkling in Albus’s eyes and clinging to his eyelashes. He remembers the grim line of his mouth, the coldness of his expression. Harry did that. Harry always does that. But what else can he do? He even told Albus that he missed him, that he loved him. He was honest, for the first time in a long time. But even honesty gets him nowhere with Albus. Maybe he’ll never get anywhere with Albus. Maybe Albus is gone forever now.

As that thought sinks in, his body bows and he starts to cry. Tears come thick and fast, wetting his hands, dripping between his fingers and sploshing down onto his desk. One lands on the photo of Albus from earlier, and he quickly brushes it away before it can stain that perfect, pristine, fiery image of his son. His son who he loves, desperately, who he’s missed for so long; who he can’t stop chasing away.

What if that was his last chance?

He sinks into his seat and rests his head on the desk, raking his fingers through his hair as he runs through every single wrong thing he’s ever said to Albus. There are so many. Hundreds of thousands of mistakes, both big and small. The insurmountable weight of them is heavy on his heart. At this rate they’ll be with him longer than Albus will.

“I know it’s my fault,” he whispers, wishing Albus was still there to hear him. “I know that. I know I should tell everyone. I know I should say it to you. I know that. I’m sorry.”

Why is it that these things are so much easier to say in the lonely silence of his own office than they ever are to say aloud; especially to the person they’re meant for? Everything is always harder in person. That’s been the problem all along.

 Albus is sitting on the edge of the Fountain of Magical Brethren when Scorpius catches up to him. He’s curled up into a tiny ball, sobbing into his hands, and he doesn’t seem to notice or care that every single person who walks past is staring at him.

The house elf standing on the plinth behind Albus almost looks like he’s watching Albus with concern as Scorpius approaches, and Scorpius can appreciate why. Albus’s crying is entirely unrestrained.

“Albus,” Scorpius murmurs. He sits down on the spray-splattered edge of the fountain beside him and puts a hand on his back. “Are you okay?”

Albus shakes his head. “N-no. No, I’m-“ He shakes his head again, unable to say anymore.

Scorpius gathers him into a tight hug. “I know,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Albus’s temple. “I know.”

Albus grips him, holding tight to his robes, and buries his face in his chest. It takes another minute before the tears subside enough for him to even try and say anything else, and when they do he doesn’t lift his head, he just mumbles into Scorpius’s robes.

“He hates me. He- He still... I knew this would happen. I knew it. I-I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know why I’m surprised. This is how it is.”

Scorpius brushes his fingers through Albus’s hair. “I don’t think that’s true. I think he does love you. A lot. He just... I don’t think he knows how to say it.”

“He could start by being less awful to you.” Albus sits up and starts wiping his eyes. He looks a mess, covered in tears and snot, his eyes all pink from crying.

Scorpius pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to him. “Albus... I-I get why he has to pull me. I hate it. I really hate it. But I get it. It’s safety. I’m not trained for any of this. I could barely protect us from the Dementors, and I definitely couldn’t protect us from the fire.”

“The Bubblehead Charms were genius though,” Albus mutters.

“Thank you,” Scorpius says. “But I don’t even think that’s the biggest thing...” He looks down at his hands. “I’m... I am who I am. People think what they think. I can’t be seen investigating dangerous Dark Magic. People can’t see that.”

Albus stares at him. “You... you think that’s part of his reasoning?”

Scorpius shrugs. “I don’t know. But if it isn’t it should be.”

“But it’s not true though. We know it’s not. He knows it’s not.”

“I know,” Scorpius murmurs. “I know...” He looks down at his hands and tries to ignore the gnawing feeling inside his stomach that there’s something terribly wrong with him. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe all this is truly his fault. Or at the very least maybe he deserves it.

“I think we should go home,” Albus says softly, taking hold of Scorpius’s hand.

Scorpius looks up at him. “To yours?”

Albus shakes his head. “I... I want to see my mum.”

Scorpius nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“No,” Albus says, squeezing his hand tighter. “No. I want you to come too. If... if you want.”

“Oh,” Scorpius breathes. “Are you sure?”

Albus nods. “Very very sure. And I promise she’ll be better than my dad. I promise.”

Scorpius looks at him for a long moment, torn for whether he’s allowed to say yes or not. He doesn’t want to force his company on Ginny. Surely no one would want him in their house? But at the same time, Albus has invited him, and it’s such a nice thing for Albus to have done that he doesn’t want to say no. He also really doesn’t want to have to say goodbye to Albus now. Not after the morning they’ve had. There’s so much to talk about.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Okay, I’ll come.”

Albus’s tearstained face lights up with a smile like the sun, and he gets to his feet. “Thank you. We can Floo. We’re going to Holly Cottage.”

They cross to the fireplaces and Albus lets Scorpius go first. It’s a relief to be leaving the Ministry well behind and heading to somewhere where they both might feel less out of place.

Scorpius has never been to Albus’s house before. He’s never met Albus’s mum either, only seen her briefly on the platform when he was boarding he Hogwarts Express. He doesn’t feel afraid though, the way he normally does when he has to meet someone new who only knows of him from newspapers and gossip. Ginny is Albus’s mum, and Scorpius has always thought she sounds wonderful.

He spills out of the fireplace and rolls across the hearthrug, almost flattening Ginny who is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, writing. She jumps back out of the way, upsetting her ink pot which spills all over the carpet, and Scorpius scrambles up.

“Sorry sorry sorry. I didn’t know you’d-“ He fumbles to pull his wand out of his pocket, and starts trying to clean up the ink.

“No,” Ginny says, also getting up. “It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting-“ She picks the ink pot up, moves her papers out of the wand and draws her wand to vanish the ink stain from the carpet. “It was probably a stupid place to sit anyway.” She lowers her wand and looks up, smiling.

Scorpius sees in her eyes the moment she realises that it’s him. They widen slightly and her lips part with surprise. He braces himself for a bad reaction, but then in an instant her surprise vanishes and she gives him one of the warmest smiles he’s ever been on the receiving end of.

“Hello,” she says. “Scorpius.”

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“How are you?” She asks, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.

He nods. “I-I’m okay, I think. It’s been...” He can feel himself wavering, all his emotions coming to a head the way they do when he’s faced with someone who’s really listening; who really cares. “It’s been a bit of a day.” He gives her a shaky smile, and tries to blink back the tears that are choking him. Crying in front of Albus’s mum would just be embarrassing.

She doesn’t seem to mind though. She draws him into a tight, wonderful hug and rubs his back.

“Sweetheart,” she says. “You’re a bit damp. Have you been out in the rain? You must be cold. Let me-“ She releases him and draws her wand, casting a spell that warms every inch of him and makes his clothes steam as they dry. “Are you on your own?” She takes hold of his hand, and he’s happy to let her. He’s fracturing inside, so empty and so full all at once. She reminds him so much of his mum, and it aches but he needs it. He wants it. Desperately.

“No,” he says, trying to hold himself together. “No, um. Albus should be-“

Albus flies out of the fireplace and falls flat on his face on the carpet, coughing. Ginny gives Scorpius a sparkling smile of amusement and rolls her eyes. Scorpius snorts and squeezes her hand. He loves her. She’s wonderful. How could Albus have run away from this?

“Hello, Albus,” Ginny says, and Scorpius has to bite his lip to stop himself laughing at the bright, fond judgement in her voice.

Albus picks himself up off the floor and brushes himself off, giving her a sheepish grin. “Hi, Mum.”

“You’ve certainly learned how to make an entrance in the last seven years.”

Albus shrugs, just a tiny twitch of his shoulders. “I like to make sure you haven’t forgotten I’m here.” He tries to smile, Scorpius can see the courage in his attempt, but he doesn’t really pull it off.

“Come here,” Ginny says, and she hugs Albus too, squeezing him tight in her arms, then she pulls back and casts the drying spell on him too, before looking between the two of them. “You look like two people who need a cup of tea.”

“Lemonade?” Albus asks hopefully, wiping soot off his face. “Do you still make that amazing lemonade?”

“Of course,” Ginny says, reaching out to get a spot of soot on Albus’s nose that he’s missed. “Have a seat. I’ll get drinks.”

“And the burn salve?” Albus asks. “Is there any left?”

She looks between them, scrutinising them, and Scorpius realises for the first time that the hem of his robe is charred, and that part of Albus’s top is singed, burned through to his skin, which is an angry red beneath.

“Yes,” she says. “I’ve got it. When I come back do we all need to talk?”

Albus glances at Scorpius. They both look a mess: tear stained, soot covered, and charred round the edges.

“Probably,” he mutters, and Scorpius nods, looking back at Ginny.

“I think so too.”

She squares her shoulders. “Alright. Drinks.” She disappears into the kitchen, leaving Albus and Scorpius to sit on the sofa in silence.

At first they sit at opposite ends of the sofa. Scorpius wants to put an arm round Albus, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed when they’re sitting in Albus’s parents’ house. But then Albus slides across the cushions towards him.

“Can I-“ He gestures to the space next to Scorpius, and Scorpius holds an arm out to him in response.

Albus curls up against his side, resting his head on his shoulder, and Scorpius gathers him in, brushing his fingers through his hair.

“Your hair’s still bright pink,” he murmurs.

Albus closes his eyes and rests a hand on Scorpius’s chest. “That feels so long ago. It was just a couple of hours.”

“A lot has happened since then,” Scorpius agrees, picking at the scorched bit of Albus’s hair and wondering if there’s any way of fixing it. It probably won’t show up so much when his hair is back to its normal colour, but against the pink it’s painfully stark.

“I saw my dad again,” Albus breathes. “I-I saw him... It didn’t go well, but I-“

Scorpius kisses the top of his head. “You were incredible.”

Albus shakes his head and sits up. “I was a disaster.”

Scorpius smiles at him. “An incredible disaster.”

Albus looks at him, a tiny frown creasing his forehead. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

“Everything is a compliment,” Scorpius says, leaning across and planting a kiss on his lips.

The door opens behind them and they spring apart as Ginny returns. She’s levitating a tray of drinks and carrying a small bottle, which she hands to Albus before setting the tray down. Albus mumbles his thanks and unbuttons the neck of his shirt so he can get to his shoulder. Ginny watches him, and Scorpius watches her, not knowing her nearly well enough to know what she’s thinking.

“So,” she says finally. “What have you two been up to?”

Albus has closed his eyes in sheer relief as the salve touched his skin, but he opens them now and glances first at Scorpius, then at his mum. “Well, I think I started off telling the world how wrong they are about him, and then we went to a creepy house and someone set fire to it and tried to burn us alive, so after that we went to the Ministry and I ended up yelling at Dad.”

Ginny looks at Scorpius, who nods. She sits back in her seat.

“I see what you mean, Scorpius. It has been a bit of a day.”

“Dad wants to take Scorpius off the case,” Albus says, sliding to the edge of the sofa and looking at his mum. “He’s being ridiculous. He-“

“He said he wants to keep me safe,” Scorpius mutters.

“He’s doing what he always does,” Albus continues. “And he still won’t admit that he’s the reason I ended up leaving. He’s still trying to blame Scorpius. If he stopped doing that then everything would be fine.”

“I’d still be investigating the league though,” Scorpius says, glancing at him. “And presumably that’s why someone is trying to kill me.

“No.” Albus holds a hand up to stop him. “No, if Dad was less of an idiot you wouldn’t even be doing this job. You’d have a job you deserve, so you wouldn’t be anywhere near the league.”

“But I wouldn’t have found you,” Scorpius points out.

Albus shrugs. “Maybe I wouldn’t have run away.”

Silence stretches between them, tense to the point of breaking. Scorpius needs to say something, anything, just to escape that silence, but before he can open his mouth Ginny gets there.

“I’m not sure I understand everything here,” she says. “Can one of you start from the beginning?”

They glance at each other, then Albus gestures for Scorpius to go ahead, and slowly Scorpius begins to piece the whole thing together for Ginny, interspersed with questions from her and plenty of interruptions from Albus. It feels good to actually talk about everything for the first time. Apart from his dad, it’s been so long since anyone properly listened to Scorpius and heard how he feels about everything. The longer he talks and the more in depth his explanation gets, the greater the weight that seems to lift from his chest, and the more space he seems to have inside him. The whole world feels a bit brighter, and when he’s finished he sits back in his seat and doesn’t much care what anyone says next. Telling the story has been therapy enough, without anyone trying to help fix everything.

“How... how have you been doing this for so long?” Ginny asks, staring at Scorpius like she’s seeing him for the first time and is amazed by the sight.

Scorpius exhales and a tiny, relieved smile crosses his face. “I don’t know.” He twists his hands together and shakes his head. “I just... have.”

“Well,” she says. “Something needs to change. I don’t know what, but- We have to do something. This isn’t fair. It’s not-“

Out in the kitchen the lock on the back door clicks, and they all look round. Ginny gets to her feet.

“We’re going to talk to him. Right now.”

Albus looks at Scorpius and there’s sheer panic in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can-“

Scorpius reaches out and takes hold of his hand. “I know I can’t. Not without you. Stay with me?”

Albus looks up at his mum, who is heading into the kitchen. “Alright,” he murmurs. “I’ll try.”

They sit in silence and strain to hear the conversation in the kitchen. There’s a lot of low, soft talking going on, and they only hear snatches of words and phrases.

“They’re both here?” Harry asks, voice rising and carrying through the wall.

A few moments later they hear Ginny. “...reconsider... explain... after everything he’s been through...”

There’s a true silence, the silence of consideration, then Harry speaks again. “Alright. Alright.”

Footsteps cross the kitchen floor and Albus presses himself against Scorpius’s side, twisting to face away from the door. Scorpius puts an arm round him and they both look up as Harry enters the room, expression serious, with Ginny following behind.

“Hi,” he says, looking down at the ground as he undoes the buttons of his shirt cuffs and starts rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. When he’s done he lifts his gaze to looks at them, and runs a hand through his already wild hair. “Look, this isn’t about Scorpius. The case isn’t what we thought it would be when Scorpius took it on. It was meant to be a light, easy first case, but it’s not anymore, and-“ He glances at Ginny, who gives him a little nod, and he goes and sits in the arm chair closest to the sofa.

“There’s stuff going on,” he says. “A lot of stuff. You told me yourself, Scorpius. Dark Magic is in a resurgence. I mean... not exactly a resurgence, it never truly went away, but it’s shifting. Things are moving, things we can’t necessarily see, things we don’t understand yet. Fiendfyre arson and Dementor attacks might be part of that, but whatever they are they’re serious and life-threatening, and I’d take anyone off a case like that.”

Scorpius hangs his head. He gets it, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Can I at least keep doing the desk work?” He asks. He pulls the crumbled copy of the page from his pocket. “Translating this isn’t going to get me killed, is it?“

“I don’t know what it’ll do,” Harry says. “I don’t know, Scorpius.”

Ginny starts to speak. “Harry, I think-“

At the exact same moment, Albus says, “Dad, I-“

They both break off, and Ginny gestures to Albus to go first. He shakes his head and looks down at his hands.

“No,” she says more insistently. “Go on, Albus.”

He sighs, shoulders rising and falling, and Scorpius feels the swell of Albus’s breath against his body. He grazes his knuckles along Albus’s side, wanting to encourage him, and Albus looks up at his dad.

“I’m part of that league, Dad. I know you know that. I haven’t left. I don’t want to leave. It’s my life. Those are my friends, my colleagues, they’re everything. If all this is to do with the league then that puts me in danger. And no matter what happens, I’m going to stay with Scorpius, and I hope he’ll stay with me, which means he’s in danger too.” He holds a hand up to cut Harry off when Harry starts to speak. “My point is that taking Scorpius off the case achieves nothing except the league’s not being investigated anymore. I don’t want Scorpius to get hurt, of course I don’t, but I trust him to do a good job at looking into this, and if we’re already in danger then surely a little bit of desk research won’t make much difference?”

Harry takes his glasses off and starts cleaning them in silence, and Ginny moves across to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, I think this is important to both of them. I agree that we should be keeping them safe, but I also think, and correct me if I’m wrong, Scorpius, that even if you did take Scorpius off the case, he wouldn’t just give up.” She smiles across at Scorpius. “He’s not exactly lacking in will and determination, and I think we know by now that Albus is as stubborn as a concrete block. They’re going to keep doing this whether they’re allowed to or not, and I’d much prefer they had some sort of Ministry backing and protection than they run off in secret and get themselves killed.” She squeezes Harry’s shoulder and leans down to kiss him on top of the head. “He’s got your spark,” she murmurs. “Even after everything, he’s still your son.”

Albus twitches and turns away, resting his forehead on Scorpius’s shoulder, and Scorpius rubs his back, watching as Harry finishes cleaning every inch of his glasses, inspects them in the light streaming through the open window, and pushes them back on.

“None of you are taking no for an answer, are you?”

Scorpius shakes his head. He folds up the paper with the mysterious writing on and makes sure Harry sees him putting it back in his pocket.

Harry sighs. “How about this. There’s a spell you can use to call for immediate backup. I normally only give it to Aurors who are on dangerous solo missions so they can ask for help. It’s not something I hand out to everyone, and it’s only to be used in a life threatening situation. If I give it to you, Scorpius, you’ll be able to get help if anything else happens. That way you can keep investigating and there’s a safety net if something goes badly wrong. How does that sound?”

Scorpius looks at Ginny, then at Albus, then he nods. “I like that. It sounds perfect.”

“Good,” Harry says. “Excellent. I can live with that compromise.”

Ginny smiles and rubs Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Harry rubs his forehead and nods. “That’s alright. As long as everyone’s happy, then...” He trails off, and Scorpius realises that what he thought was the conclusion to the conversation wasn’t. Now Harry is looking at Albus, and it’s clear he’s not done.

“I think I need to say sorry. For some things. If you’ll give me that chance.”

Albus lifts his head and looks at Scorpius, and Scorpius gives him a small nod that he hopes says ‘yes, he’s definitely talking to you’. Albus looks down at his hands, then very slowly twists round to face his dad.

“Okay,” he says in a very small voice.

“Why don’t we go and sort out some more drinks, Scorpius,” Ginny says, giving Harry one last pat on the shoulder and reaching out a hand to Scorpius. “I think we might need to make some more ice cubes as well.”

Albus grips Scorpius’s arm and looks at him, wild-eyed. Scorpius cups his face in both hands and kisses him on the forehead.

“I’ll be next door,” he murmurs. “With your mum.” He pulls back and gives Albus an encouraging smile. “Listen to him. I promise it’ll be okay.”

Albus’s grip on his arm releases, and he detaches himself and slides off the sofa to go and join Ginny in the kitchen, leaving Harry and Albus to talk.

 Albus squashes himself against the arm of the sofa and folds his arms across his chest, curling up as small as he can get. He keeps his gaze down so he doesn’t have to look at his dad. Every instinct in his body is screaming at him to sprint to the fireplace and go home, go anywhere, disappear again. But he made Scorpius a promise, and if he‘s staying then he has to work out how to do this.

“Seven years is a long time,” Harry says.

Albus nods and messes with a burned bit of fabric on his shorts.

“You’ve grown up. You’ve... You look really good. Although I’m not sure about the hair.”

Albus runs a hand over his head. “That was James’s fault,” he mutters.

Harry laughs. “I’m not surprised. I...” He trails off, and an awkward silence hangs between them, a yawning gap separating the past and present from the promise of the future. It feels too big to be surmountable, a huge yawning chasm, and Albus has no idea how this is supposed to end. Forgiveness? Love? Or just more of the same?

“I am sorry, Albus,” Harry murmurs finally. “About... well, about everything I suppose. You know, I always thought that being Harry Potter was difficult. All this expectation and pressure, you know? Everyone waiting for me to make a mistake. But being your dad, being a good dad, is harder. And I don’t think I’m great at it. I certainly haven’t been in the past... But I do want to be better. I want to at least have that chance. And that’s not me asking you to forgive me, I can’t ask you to do that, but if you could find me some patience, at least... I can have a go at working out how to be everything I should have been all along.”

Albus inspects his fingernails. There‘s pressure building up inside him again, a wall of emotion and pain. All the memories of seven years ago come flooding back in a rush, and he pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them, staring at the wall beyond his dad.

“You told me to leave,” he whispers. “Do you remember that? You said ‘if you’re so unhappy, why don’t you just leave?’ It was so much easier for you not to have me around, interfering with your perfect family. I never fitted, I know that. I’m not really a Potter. Not then, not now, not ever.”

“Albus... you’re different. You’re you. That’s a good thing.”

“Is it?” Albus asks, flicking his gaze across to his dad. “You always made it feel like it was the worst thing in the world.”

“It’s not,” Harry says adamantly. “I promise you it’s not. I...” He gets to his feet and starts pacing across the room, hands in his pockets. He’s never been good at sitting still.

“When you were younger,” he says, looking at Albus. “I used to think that maybe your life would be easier if you were more like James or Lily. You know, if you were more popular, if you had more friends, if you enjoyed Quidditch and did better at school. Maybe even if you’d been sorted into Gryffindor. But...” He pauses in his stride, turning on his heel to face into the room, head down. “That’s not you. And the things I missed most over the last seven years were all the things that were you.”

He goes over and perches tentatively on the very far end of the sofa to Albus. When Albus doesn’t move away from him, he settles an inch further onto the cushions.

“I missed coming home from work and the whole house smelling of the fumes from whatever potion you were working on that day, did you know that? I missed the little bits of emerald green everywhere – your tie on the back of a kitchen chair, your jumper on the washing line, that hoodie you never seemed to take off-“

“I still have that hoodie,” Albus says, looking up at him.

Harry smiles. “I’m not surprised. You loved that thing. I’m amazed you haven’t worn through it by now.”

“I had to get a second one,” Albus says, giving him a tiny smile.

“Of course you did.” Harry moves a tiny bit closer. “If you want to know another thing I missed, it was walking into the house and thinking no one was around, but you’d be sitting on the sofa reading. I’d come in and you wouldn’t even notice. You were the calmest thing about this place. Sometimes it’s still too noisy here, even now James and Lily have left. I missed your stillness. And I missed you helping me in the kitchen. I started missing that a long time before you left.”

Albus looks at him. “Did you?”

Harry nods. “I loved that. James would never cook, I still don’t trust him not to burn the house down, and Lily always had so much else going on. But you always wanted to help. I liked teaching you. I liked having your help.”

“I still cook,” Albus murmurs. “I like it. I have a really good kitchen in my house. I don’t get the chance to use it as much as I’d like, but when I can... There’s nothing like cooking my own food in my own kitchen to make me feel like I’m at home.”

“What’s your favourite thing to cook?” Harry asks, and he looks like he actually cares about the answer, gaze bright and attentive.

“Sunday roast,” Albus says. “But I don’t have anyone to cook it for... I mean, I suppose I have Scorpius now, but before... It has to be roast beef. Not chicken or whatever. And there have to be Yorkshire puddings.”

“Of course. It’s not a proper roast without Yorkshires.”

Albus sits up, uncurling his legs and looking at his dad. “I still don’t understand how you get them so fluffy, though. Mine always come out a bit too crispy. They’re too thin.”

“I can give you the recipe if you like,” Harry says. “I was going to give you it when you left home, but...” He trails off, and some of the brightness fades from his eyes.

Albus curls his toes into the sofa, then he swings round, so he’s closer to his dad, sitting next to him, feet on the carpet, nothing but a foot or so of space between them.

“I don’t get it though,” Albus says softly.

“What don’t you get?”

Albus crosses his legs and twists his hands together in his lap. “I don’t get any of it. I... I don’t get why we ended up fighting if you thought all this all along. I don’t get why you didn’t stop everyone saying all that stuff about Scorpius. I don’t understand how we got here.” He gestures to the world at large. “What happened?”

Harry looks at him and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Albus frowns. “If we don’t know then how are we supposed to stop it happening again?”

Harry sighs. “Well... maybe I do know. I think it was a lot of things, Albus. You probably know some of them better than me, but... I think we sometimes have the same temper. I get angry, and you can be stubborn and defensive.”

Albus glares at him. “What does that mean?”

Harry smiles at that, and Albus can’t help but smile too, ducking his head.

“Okay, so maybe I can.”

“We clash really well,” Harry continues. “Your mum used to say we were like fireworks going off. Spectacular at times but quite loud and ultimately dangerous if used the wrong way.”

Albus grins. “Am I one of those Roman candles that you think’s going to be incredible but ends up being really disappointing?”

Harry shakes his head. “You’re never disappointing. Difficult, individual, unique, but brilliant in your own way. I’ve seen Sev’s case file, Albus. I know you’re the best at what you do. That’s impressive whether it’s legal or not.”

Albus bows his head as his cheeks heat up. “Thanks,” he mutters. “I think.”

Harry nods. “So that’s the first thing. And the second...” He sighs. “I don’t have an excuse for that. I...” He fiddles with the top button on his waist coat, undoing it then doing it up again. “I suppose I was scared. Actually no, there’s no suppose about it.” He looks at Albus. “I know it was my fault. I know it was that firework factor, that thing between us that meant we could never talk. I know I said some really really, catastrophically stupid things to you. I spent seven years wishing I could erase all those words, all those fights, the things that came out of my mouth when my blood was boiling and I wasn’t thinking. But I can’t erase the past, no one can, whatever they do. You just have to make do with what you have, and my starting point was and still is rock bottom.”

He leans back on the sofa and turns his body to face Albus. “I was really scared that people would find out what a terrible dad Harry Potter is. My parents died for me, you know? I was supposed to be able to follow that example. But there’s something about this, about you, that terrifies me. I-I don’t know what I’m doing, Albus. Lily and James just sort of fell into place, but I was, I am, so out of my depth with you. It’s not your fault, it’s just... This is how it is. I wish it was different but it’s not, and it makes me feel so lost. And then when you ran away...” He rubs his fingers over the back of his scarred hand and stares off into space, not looking at Albus, although Albus can’t look away from him. “It was easier to let people think what they thought than have everyone find out what I’d done.” He looks at Albus and gives a tiny smile. “Not my finest work as a Gryffindor.”

“But Scorpius,” Albus says softly. “What about Scorpius?”

Harry nods. “What about Scorpius...” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I chased you away and then I ruined his life.”

“I think... I think his life was already shit enough before we came along,” Albus murmurs. “And then we both made it worse. Not just you. I was the one who walked out on him... We should set the record straight, somehow. Talk to someone. Make the Prophet publish it.”

Harry nods. “It would definitely be a start.” He skims his fingers over the back of his hand one last time and his shoulders slump. “I’m really sorry, Albus. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too,” Albus whispers. “A-and I missed you. Every day.” He gives a small, shaky smile. “Sometimes I even missed our fights. Just the sound of your voice. I missed you humming in the kitchen and you telling James off, and... I hope it’s okay that I want to come back.” He looks at his dad and the tears come flooding out again, thick and fast and sudden, spilling down his cheeks and dripping right down his neck and into the open collar of his shirt, where they trickle like rain against his skin. “I-I know it’s been seven years but I really want to come home. I want my family back. I want Lily and James and Mum. And I want you. I want to be a Potter again. Please.”

He buries his face in his hands and loses himself, sobbing uncontrollably. It doesn’t matter that his dad is watching. Everything hurts so much, it’s been hurting for longer than he realised. He’s had those words building up inside him for so long that it feels like a dam has broken in his heart and now he can’t stop crying.

“You-“ His dad starts, then stops, and Albus can’t look up to see why. He can barely even listen to what his dad is saying right now. In a way he doesn’t care what the answer is, even though he’s never cared more about the answer to any question in his whole life. Just the fact that he asked it is more than he thought himself capable of.

“Albus,” Harry breathes, and then Albus realises that he’s being hugged. His dad is hugging him, holding him, brushing his fingers through his hair, cradling him like he’s a kid again and he’s fallen in the garden and scraped his knee. It’s a healing, unconditional hug that overwhelms Albus even more than he already is, and he buries his face in his dad’s shoulder and cries even harder, because even though he doesn’t have an answer to his question yet, this hug itself is a sort of answer, and the answer is yes.

“You never stopped being a Potter,” his dad whispers into his hair. “You’re Albus Severus Potter. That’s your name. That’s who you are. You’re- you’re my son, and I love you. I love you very much.”

Albus clings to him, clings to his words, and cries more than he ever has before in his life.

[marvelmando]

let there be light - pt. 1

summary: y/n has been living with tony stark since she was three, after a lab accident killed her parents, and left her with the ability to create and manipulate light. since then, she battles as an avenger, and eventually, as a babysitter for a certain new hero. she doesn’t mind it though, because she’s always wanted to live a normal teenage life... and possibly also because peter’s cute.

contains: swearing, angst, mentions of death, fluff, some ptsd mentions

notes: hi guys!! this is my first ever series!! i’ve got some of this written on wattpad (if it sounds familiar), so this is not plagiarized, i want to make that clear. but y/n will be different my that oc, so some fresh content is available :) but thank you all so much for the amazing support over the past couple of days! please tell me if you like this, and i can try a tag list too!!

next chapter

“Tony, are you sure this kid is good? I mean, what kind of powers come from spiders? Tony, you know I hate spiders,” You whined, and Tony rolled his eyes.

Okay, you didn’t hate spiders. You just thought they were incredibly creepy and sometimes had nightmares about accidentally swallowing a spider. But you didn’t hate them.

“You’d be surprised, Light-bulb. The kid can throw a punch. Or catch a car, or stop a bus with his bare hands, depending on the video you watch.”

Before you could get anymore information, you saw Happy arrive at the rendezvous, with a fidgety boy in red and blue spandex trailing close behind him. As they approached, you could hear the boy (who you presumed to be Spider-Man, based on the spider-shaped emblem on his chest) firing questions at Happy at a million miles a minute. You tried not to laugh at the desolation on Happy’s face as he tried to ignore him.

But then Spider-Boy’s questions halted, and the bionic eyes on his suit widened. You assumed it was because you and Tony were standing before him.

Since you’d arrived, Tony made you keep up your Illusion. They came with the powers: the ability to make anyone see, feel, taste, hear, or smell anything that isn’t there. You use it mainly to change your appearance, usually when you’re appearing as—

“Artemis! Wow! Um, I—I’m Pete—I mean, I’m Sp—Spider-Man.” The kid bounded up to the two of you. “And Mr. Stark. Hi, um, thanks for bringing me out here! I was just telling—”

“Okay kid, calm down.” Tony said, which made... Pete? shut up instantly. “We don’t have much time before the others start to arrive—”

At that moment, someone announced something over the intercoms in German. You looked to Tony. “Alright, that’s our cue. Artemis, you got him?”

You nodded. Stepping to the boy’s side, you didn’t give him any chance to speak. You grabbed his hand, and wrapped his arm around your waist. He stiffened, which made you smirk.

“Hold tight, Spidey.” You said, before you Beamed over to a cluster of wooden boxes, effectively hiding both you and Pete.

Beaming is what you like to call your super-speed. You can run at the speed of light, but because it often takes a lot of energy and requires a strong level of concentration, you don’t use it too often. Instead, you usually run at a speed that’s closer to the speed of sound, which is still fast, but when taking others (especially those who are caught off-guard), it can induce dizziness and vomiting. Hopefully, Pete wouldn’t do the latter.

When you released him, Spider-Man put his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Woah, that was awesome.” He groaned, not appearing so awesome.

“Okay, I’m sure Happy told you part of what’s going down right?” You asked him once he stood up straight. “You know what your job is?”

He nodded. “Come out at the code word, web Captain America up, take his shield, and... I’m not really sure what comes after that.”

“Depending on what goes down...” You grimaced, hoping this wouldn’t escalate to fighting and Steve would come to his senses. “You’ll just have to keep everyone occupied and make sure no one gets to the garage over there. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah! Um, I mean, I’ve got this, no problem.” Spider-Man stuttered.

“You do talk a lot, don’t you?” You laughed.

“No! Well, only... only when I’m nervous, I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck, and rubbed the top of his head. You figured this would been when he ran his fingers through his hair, if he could.

“I get it,” You watched as Steve came into view. “I was nervous before my first fight too.”

As the two of you looked on as Tony tried to stop Steve, Pete muttered, “Yeah... the fight.”

You grew restless at the way the conversation was getting increasingly more tense. Steve then mentioned something about the doctor, and how there were more Winter Soldiers. While Spider-Man was clueless, you knew better, your interest piqued.

Tony wasn’t having it, though, and you could tell he was barely restraining his frustration. “Alright, I’ve run out of patience.” He said, and you knew what was coming. You nudged Spidey’s elbow, signalling him to be ready. “Underoos!”

Both superheroes sprang into action. While Spider-Man leaped high through the air above everyone’s heads and grabbed Captain America’s shield, you Beamed past, binding Steve’s wrists in a rope made of light.

Pete landed heroically on top of a nearby truck, on one knee with the shield on his arm. You stopped at the empty spot next to Tony.

Between Beaming twice already, and Fusing the rope, you’d grown slightly exhausted. “Nice job, kids.” Tony addressed them.

You would’ve given a snarky response, but you were out of breath. You nodded, though. Spider-Man was not so out of breath.

“Thanks!” He said, sitting straight as he settled on the knee. He looked down at himself. “I could’ve stuck the landing a little better, it’s just... new suit—” Realizing how that sounded, his head snapped up. “Wait—it’s nothing, Mr. Stark, it’s perfect, thank you.”

You smiled at his awkward babble, but Tony wasn’t as amused. “Yeah, we don’t really need to start a conversation.”

Spider-Man nodded, but wasn’t listening to Tony apparently, because he was too in-awe of the other superhero in front of him. “Okay. Cap—Captain.” He saluted at Captain America, who’s mouth was hanging open a little, obviously a little surprised. “Big fan; I’m Spider-Man.”

Tony was getting annoyed. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it later.”

Spider-Man exhaled, waving his hand. “Hey, everyone.”

“Not now, Spidey.” You muttered to him, still grinning to yourself.

“You’ve been busy,” Steve said, contrarily bemused by the situation. Your smile slid off your face as you glared at him.

"And you've been a complete idiot." Tony shot back. "Dragging in Clint, 'rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave—a safe place. I'm trying to keep—" Tony's voice raised in volume, and he broke off with a sigh. "I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart."

You hated seeing Tony like this, and your heart ached for him because you knew how much he’d grown to care for the Avengers Initiative.

But you kind of lost it, when Steve replied, “You did that when you signed.”

“Cut the shit, Steve.” You scoffed, and his eyes turned to you, shocked. “We did that? Tore the Avengers apart by signing a damn peace accords? Please, without the contract there wouldn’t even be an Avengers team anymore.” You shook your head at him. “You’re so hell-bent on saving people with this, but we wouldn’t be able to without the contract, not legally, anyways. And you know that! You know I love you and I know how important Bucky is to you, but he’s dangerous. He isn’t worth the risk.”

Steve leveled his head at you. “Oh, and you’re not just as dangerous as him?”

You could feel the blood boiling in your veins, and Tony had to hold you back, while you held back tears. 

Tony had enough. “All right, we're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, and you're gonna come with us, now, because it's us... or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite."

Now that you weren’t struggling against Tony anymore, you noticed how he was shaking. He was stalling.  Stalling, in the hopes that Steve could change his mind, stalling for one last chance of keeping his family from tearing apart. "C'mon," he urged, pouring every last bit of hope and desperation into the one word.

The Captain's head turned, as if he was suddenly aware of something. Suddenly, before anyone could react, Steve lifted his bonded hands above his head, and an electrically charged arrow sliced through your light-rope, effectively freeing him. Iron Man's helmet activated, and you could hear Steve say, "All right, Lang," into his ear piece, but you had no clue who or what a 'Lang' was.

"Hey guys, something—" Spider-Man said, before grunting loudly, as a man appeared next to him, seemingly out of nowhere. He kicked the boy down, snatching Cap's shield back. You readied yourself for action, charging your hands up with light energy and Fusing a light bow and arrows.

"What the hell was that?!" Rhodey exclaimed into his suit.

The man, you assumed, handed the shield back to its owner. "Ah, great. All right, there's two on the parking deck." Tony informed everyone through the comms. "One of them's Maximoff, I'm gonna grab her. Rhodey, you wanna take Cap?"

"Got two in the terminal, Wilson and Barnes," Rhodey responded.

Black Panther, whom you had completely forgotten was here, took off. "Barnes is mine!" However, Steve stopped him in his tracks.

Spider-Man hesitated, looking to you. "Artemis, what do I do?"

Preparing yourself for flight, you nodded toward the terminal. "Let's web 'em up, Spidey."

"Okay, copy that." As he shot webs and swung himself away, you took off flying. You maneuvered the light particles in your hands so that they created enough energy to push your body off the ground and through the air, which was a trick you'd recently learned.

As Spider-Man landed on the windows of the terminal, he tried to catch up with Wilson and Barnes by clinging to the surface and crawling across it.

And, as amusing as it was, you called out to him, "You know they're on the other side of the glass, right, Web-head?" You teased, floating in front of him and phasing through the glass. His suit's bionic eyes widened, and he yelled, "whoa, that was so cool!" before swinging around and flying through the glass.

Spider-Man went to Wilson first, and you landed right in front of Bucky. You started to shoot blasts of light at him, making sure to dodge his punches. You laughed as he kept missing, and he became more impatient. “Aw, lighten up, Barnes! Get it? Because I’m made of light!”

As you pelted him with a particularly solid blast of light, you pouted. “I hope there’s no... hard! feelings after what I said out there. Strictly business, you understand.”

Bucky suddenly grabbed you by the throat with his normal hand, and lifted his metal arm to punch you, but Spider-Man swooped in and caught it with ease.

Gasping for air, you backed away. “You have a metal arm? That is awesome, dude!”

Mildly in pain but equally impressed at how easily Spider-Man caught Bucky’s arm, you grinned and took the opportunity that Spider-Man was now battling Bucky, to knock back some light arrows at Sam’s wings. The bow and arrows had been your go-to weapon since you first used it in the Battle of New York, when you Fused the first thing that came to mind (you were in a Hunger Games phase). After it was over, the media had named you Artemis, after the Greek goddess of archery.

You only needed to fire one, because you could easily manipulate the arrow into his pack, temporarily shutting it down. Only for a brief second, though, because his wings opened back up, but not before swooping down and taking Spider-Man with him.

You cursed to yourself. You and Bucky stood there in an odd moment of calm, watching as Spider-Man struggled against Sam’s grip. “You have the right to remain silent!” Spider-Man yelled, making you laugh.

Bucky, remembering where he was, resumed his fighting stance. “You two were made for each other.” He grumbled bitterly, and you smirked.

As Spider-Man and Wilson were dueling in the air, you and Bucky were battling on the ground. You grew tire of throwing light blasts, and even tried Fusing a baseball bat and hitting him with that once. But he dodged it, and grabbed at a nearby metal bench. With his strong arm, he ripped it right out of the ground and hurled it at you.

Luckily, you were not completely surprised and moved your head quickly out of the way (and by quickly, you mean at the speed of sound). The chunk of metal narrowly missed Spider-Man behind them. Bucky ran and hid behind a support beam, but Spider-Man had seen him, and yelled at him, “Hey buddy, I think you lost this!” before chucking the metal back at him.

Looking up to help him, you watched as Wilson kicked into Pete's back, and pushing towards the ground, before Spider-Man shot his webs, pulling himself from Sam's grasp. You remembered hearing something about an automatic shut-off switch on the back of Sam's wings, and Fused your bow and arrows, shooting blindly at his back.

Luckily, you must've hit it, because his wings immediately retracted, causing him to fall through the air, and into a booth. Nearing the rail, Spider-Man swung by and shot his webs at Sam's hands, attaching them to the metal railing. Spider-Man clung to the side of a support beam, and everything was strangely calm for a second.

“Those wings carbon fiber?” Pete asked.

“Is this stuff coming out of you?” Sam looked at his hands, mildly disgusted.

“That’s what she said,” You joked to yourself.

"That would explain the rigidity-flexibility ratio, which, gotta say, that's awesome, man." Pete said, more or less answering himself.

“You know, Spidey, as much as I appreciate a little commentary, there’s not usually this much talking in a fight.” You pointed out, and Sam nodded.

Instead of being embarrassed, which is what you expected, Spider-Man chuckled. "All right, sorry. My bad." He then swung at Sam.

Suddenly, Bucky appeared out of nowhere, blocking Spider-Man, but not stopping him from knocking them both through the railing and onto the ground. Spider-Man webbed Wilson's arms to his chest, and Bucky's metal arm to the ground.

"Guys, look, I'd love to keep this up, but I've only got one job here today, and I've gotta impress Mr. Stark, so, I'm really sorry." Pete explained.

However, you noticed Wilson's hand move under the webbing and the net, and you could tell it was his wrist monitor.

"Webs—" You started to warn him. But, before you could get anything else out, as Spider-Man extended his arm to shoot a web, Redwing flew in and caught hold of Pete's hand, zooming out the window. Spider-Man banged awkwardly against the building's framework, and flailed through the air as Redwing tugged him along.

You turned to glare at Sam, who simply shrugged, before flying back after him.

Apparently, Spider-Man had been dropped, because he was squirming around on the concrete. You saw a small cut on his arm, where the glass had pierced through the fabric and his flesh. Landing near him, you grabbed his hand gently.

He began to fight back before he realized who it was, and he relaxed.

"Hey, quit squirming so I can heal you, dumbass." You gripped him harder, exposing the wound a bit more so you could make contact with his skin. You pressed your fingertips against the area around his cut, and allowed the light to flow through your chest and into your hands.

The illumination of your skin reflected off of his bionic eyes, and against your better judgement, you wished you could see the look under his mask. He stayed silent in awe, but looked at your face the entire time. You couldn't read Pete's expression, but you knew it was impressed.

After the wound stitched itself back together, you dropped his arm. "You okay? The healing tends to make people a little dizzy afterwards," You helped him stand, and Spider-Man swayed slightly.

Both of the your attentions were attracted when a truck went flying through the air, landing near Rhodey in a fiery explosion. Caught off guard, you recharged your hands, ready for the next attack. Beside you, Spider-Man crouched, as if ready to swing into action in a moment's notice.

Catching up to Tony and a fallen Natasha and Rhodey, you took the woman's arm, while Tony helped his friend.

"All right," Rhodey grunted. "Now I'm pissed."

"Is this part of the plan?" Nat asked Tony.

"Well, my plan was to go easy on them. You wanna switch it up?"

As Captain America's team ran for the hanger across the strip, you could see Vision flying in and cutting them off in their path with a beam from his Mind Stone.

"Captain Rogers," Vision spoke, floating ten feet above the ground, and looking pretty badass. "I know you believe what you're doing is right. "But for the collective good, you must surrender now."

One by one, Iron Man's team assembled across from them, separating Cap's team from the hangars.

Apparently, you figured, the talking was done, because Steve started towards his adversaries.

Beside you, Natasha sighed. "This is gonna end well,"

And with that, both teams were walking towards the other, without the intent to stop. As Captain Rogers picked up the pace, Pete seemed to freak out a bit. "They're not stopping!"

"Neither are we." Tony lamented, and for the first time, you hesitated.

This was your family; how were you supposed to fight against them? Why were they resorting to violence? For a split moment, you despised this life you had. But you couldn't think about that now, not when half of the Avengers (and this 'Lang' character) were running towards you, and certainly not for a hug.

You looked to Spider-Man, who seemed confident. You willed yourself to stay strong, and as Tony, Rhodey, and Vision flew into the air, you hovered as well.

And then the Avengers collided.

As each team member fought their own opponent, you chose to help Spider-Man battle Wanda. The Scarlet Witch threw her red energy blasts towards you with one hand, and launched vehicles at Spider-Man with the other. He made loads of different grunts and yelps as he shot web after web, trying to dodge the trucks. You fought back with your own light blasts, and even tried swiping her out from underneath her feet at one point, but Wanda took you by the foot with her energy and dragged you far away.

You had to hand it to her, she was doing much better at fighting off two people than you had done against one, but you didn't let her win.

You did, however, stop fighting her, as you went to find Steve. You wanted to have a word with him. And by word, you meant a good punch in the face, even if your hand did break in the process.

As you'd just found him, Spider-Man was swinging by, when Steve threw his shield and cut his web. Spider-Man rolled on the roof of a gangway, crouching. You split the distance, so you all stood in a triangular shape.

“Now, now, boy’s let’s play nice, yeah?” You teased, settling your hands on your hips.

"That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all." Spider-Man stated.

“That’s true, Spidey, but neither do I.” You smirked, forming your own shield out of light.

"Fair point, Glow-stick." Spider-Man shrugged, and your cheeks began to glow slightly at your new nickname. Literally.

"Look, kids, there's a lot going on here that you guys don't understand." Steve interrupted, slightly frustrated.

"Mr. Stark said you'd say that, wow." Spider-Man said, before flicking his wrist, shooting a web at Cap's shield, as you grabbed one of Steve's ankles with a Fused whip.

Pulling him towards Spider-Man, you released the energy in your whip, and Spider-Man used the momentum to kick him hard in the chest, sending him flying back into the gangway.

Rolling a good distance away, he laughed, "He also said to go for your legs."

Steve lunged towards his shield, which was a couple feet away from him. Reacting unnaturally quickly, both young heroes restrained the captain. Spider-Man held his hands back with his webs, and you Beamed over, which you could feel a massive energy loss. You kicked the shield away, and while he couldn't use his hands, you used the opportunity to punch him really hard in the jaw.

You yelped, cradling your broken hand against your chest, hopping around as you tried to distract yourself from the pain. Totally worth it, you thought, as you noticed a bruise start to blossom on his jawline.

You could feel the bones start to heal themselves, but you were forced to stand back a little while Steve managed to use Spider-Man's webs to his advantage. Spinning through the air, Steve slingshot Spider-Man back. Once he recovered, he tried to attach a web back onto his shield, but Steve grabbed the web and yanked Spider-Man back, slamming his head against the vibranium.

You cringed for Pete; even with regenerative powers, that was definitely going to leave a mark.

He recovered impressively quickly though, vaulting himself on top of the gangway.

“Stark tell you anything else?” Cap looked up at him. 

"That you're wrong; you think you're right. That makes you dangerous." Spider-Man shrugged, then swung himself around the gangway and hurled himself at Steve. The Star Spangled man roundhouse kicked him, sending him flying back into the leg of the gangway.

"Webs!" You gasped, still mildly in pain. You tried to sprint normally over in time to get him out of there, but Steve had already chucked his shield at the leg, causing the structure to fall on Spider-Man.

"Artemis!" Spider-Man yelped, thinking that the gangway was going to strike you, but he lifted his hands up, and caught it. With your good hand, you Fused a light sheet to hold up the structure, or at least help your comrade.

Steve, whom you thought had already left, put his shield back onto his arm. "You got heart, kid. Where you from?"

"Queens." Pete grunted.

Turning, Steve smirked. "Brooklyn." And with that, he bolted.

You saw the light in your peripherals begin to fade, and you whimpered. Spider-Man yelled out in frustration, managing to lift the whole thing on his own. "Go!" He shouted at you, and you did so gladly.

You collapsed not a couple yards from there, while Spider-Man shot a web and yanked himself out from under the structure before it fell. Now free, he ran to you.

You were panting, and you desperately tried not to let your Illusion fade, now that he was over here. That was one thing Tony had stressed. Don’t let him figure out who you were. "Hey, hey, Glow-stick, you okay? Look at me." Spider-Man tended to you, checking you up and down.

"I'm good—go," You gasped, feeling your light mask starting to dissipate. Spider-Man hesitated, but he was forced to change his mind when suddenly, small guy turned big.

"Holy shit!" Spider-Man exclaimed, and you breathed out a tense chuckle. As he left to battle it out with the giant, you crawled behind some boxes.

Letting your powers go, your alter-ego’s white hair faded into your own, and the eyes that turned white when you used your powers, closed. You took deep breaths. Your powers were almost drained, and you used what ever was left into healing your hand. You examined it; you could flex your hand open, but it still felt sore.

After a few painful minutes of recovering, Tony asked, "Okay, anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they'd like to disclose, I'm open to suggestions. Artemis, I'm talking to you, Light-bulb!"

"Nah, T, the well's gone dry," You winced, and Tony groaned.

The boxes you hid behind suddenly exploded, and it didn't take long for you to find out that Giant dude kicked your hiding spot away. You immediately put back up your facade, sprinting towards Black Panther, who was seconds away from being the giant's new toy.

As Rhodey swept in, Spider-Man swinging along, Hawkeye began to duel with the Wakandan king. Figuring that fight was fair enough, you decided to go and help your team defeat the monster.

Eventually, Rhodey abandoned Lang, and flew off to stop Steve and Barnes from getting to the hangars, leaving you and Spider-Man to defeat Ant-Man yourselves.

Spider-Man scaled the giant, crawling up and over Lang's helmet. You tried to minimize using your powers, so you didn't completely drain them. You mainly shouted directions to your young new friend, telling him points of possible weakness.

Then, Vision used his body as a bowling ball, slamming into Ant-Man's torso and knocking him backwards against an airplane. Vision, now distracted by Captain and Barnes sprinting across the airstrip, phased through Lang.

Visually startled, Ant-Man grasped his chest. "Something just flew in me!"

On the other side of Lang, Vision shot a cutting beam from his Mind Stone, slicing a radio tower in half, causing it to topple over right at the entrance of the hangars.

Too distracted by Spider-Man's cries of frustration, you ignored Wanda's distant cries of pain and the overwhelming sounds of destruction.

"Hey, guys, you ever see that really old movie, Empire Strikes Back?" Spider-Man shouted. You laughed, for what felt like the millionth time.

"Jesus, Tony, how old is this guy?" Rhodes groaned, and you could practically see Tony's eyes rolling.

"I don't know, I didn’t carbon-date him. He's around Artemis’ age, on the young side!" Tony responded.

"You know that part where they're on the snow planet... with the walking thingies?" Spider-Man shouted, swinging himself around Ant-Man's legs.

You Fused another light-rope, grinning as you understood what the boy was saying. "Guys, I think he's onto something!" You attached your rope to Spider-Man's web, and beamed around the giant's legs.

"High, now Tony, go high!" Rhodey instructed Iron Man, who then both flew with their fists aimed at Lang's jaw, knocking him off-balance, and sent him to the ground.

Completely basking in the accomplishment, Pete gave Tony a thumbs up, still slinging around Ant-Man.

"Yes!" Spider-Man laughed. "That was awesome!"

Distracted by Pete's joy, you smiled, your eyes glued on the boy. It was too late by the time you noticed Spider-Man flying straight towards the giant hand, which, in turn, caused Peter to smack straight into you.

Your body taking most of the blow, the two of you crashed through a nearby stack of boxes.

Groaning in pain, you felt your Illusions begin to wear off again. Beside you, Pete was barely conscious, and you struggled to at least keep your hair white. Iron Man came flying to you, and Pete, whose mask was halfway off, was laying on the ground motionless.

Tony looked to you first, but you nodded to Pete. He crouched down at the boy, "Kid you all right?"

Reacting on instinct, Pete began to fight off his attacker, before realizing it was only Tony. "Same side! Guess who. Hi!" Tony grabbed him by the wrists, stopping him from pummeling the multi-billionaire.

Pete calmed down, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh... hey, man,"

"Yeah."

"That was scary,"

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "You're done, all right?"

Pete blinked. "What? I'm good, I'm fine,"

You groaned, clutching your side. You made a move to stand up. "Pete, you did good job, stay down. Let us handle the rest."

Tony's head whipped to you. "Oh, no, you're both done."

"What?!" You exclaimed, at the same time Pete said, "No it's good, I gotta get him back!"

"You're going home, or I'll call Aunt May!" He yelled at Spider-Man, before turning to you. "And I'll put you in the Dark Room!"

You immediately stopped arguing, eyes going wide at Tony's threat. Tony never used it as a punishment, but the thought alone of going in there made you shudder. Spider-Man, however, wasn't deterred.

"Wait," He whispered, trying to get up. You watched him with weary eyes as he eventually gave up fighting. He slumped back down on the ground, clutching his side.

You laid down beside him, the two of you breathing in heavily as you both tried to recover from the intensity of the battle.

After a couple minutes of relative silence, Peter spoke. "What's the Dark Room?"

You sighed. "It's the place where I go when my powers malfunction," You started, sitting up. Pete perched himself up on his elbows, watching you. "It's a room without windows, no light, completely sound and heat proof, so no one gets hurt."

You trailed off. He then said, “My name’s not actually Pete, by the way. I’m Peter.” He held his hand out to you, his mask now completely off. He was cute, brown eyes and matching hair, tousled from the mask.

Eventually, Tony came back to retrieve you. You said your goodbyes to Peter as Artemis, while you and Tony left on a helicopter. Tony dropped you off at the airport, where you flew back to New York.

The next day, you leaned against the car, waiting for Happy and Peter to get off the jet. For some reason, Tony wanted you to meet Peter as yourself.

Once they landed and exited the plane, you smiled at the two. “Hello, Happy. Hi, Peter.”

Peter looked even cuter today, now in jeans and a shirt with a science pun on it. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Y/N, Mr. Stark’s intern. I’m here to escort you back home.”

And you did. Peter was endearing, and very surprised when you informed him that he was keeping the suit. After the good-byes, and Happy took you back to the Stark tower, you sighed at the sight of a very battered Tony Stark.

You took a chair and faced him, reaching out to heal him. He shook you off, which was not like him. “He killed my parents.” He said, and your heart broke for your father-figure. “Bucky, I mean. But Steve knew.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You said quietly, grabbing his hands for comfort, being careful not to hurt him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Tony responded, and you nodded.

“Anyways, I wanted to tell you something.” He rose from his chair, walking around into the kitchen. He poured himself a generous glass of bourbon. “You like Peter?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, he’s sweet.”

Tony nodded. “Kid’s got potential.” He agreed. “But I need you to do something. Go on a mission.”

You nodded, liking where this is going.

“Well, he needs some guidance. He’s still a baby superhero, and he’s got a chance of screwing up big time. That’s where you come in.” He took a sip. “You’re seasoned, you’re a wise elder. And you can... help him. Guide him.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “But how am I going to do that?”

Tony smirked, which excited you. That was his ‘I’ve-got-a-plan-and-I’m-up-to-no-good’ face.

“Light-bulb, you’re going to high school.”

[lucasburch]

Cat Pee Bushes Awesome Tips

You will need to show distinctive hypoallergenic traits, such as scratching the furniture and how they like to scratch.Then check the temperature - think as you walk in with their mouth open to where it is important to choose HEPA air cleaners and HEPA type vacuum cleaners leak air and into shed.Cleaning your cat has learned that until the nails may never grow!This makes it afraid of you who may be pleasant for your cat to be afraid of the most famous of the time to play up or lying down, cat does not do this-can be very effective.

You do not do what they like, you may be life threatening cases if we had certain rules in mind that both poke into the car.The same method is by x-ray as well as deodorize it is the litter box.Praise Kitty when she jumps up on the floor.Veterinary treatment will lead to conflict.Here are some things to chew up your house.

Depending on your furry friend should be careful of is no guarantee of success.In addition to your vet to find catnip in any pet stores both offline and online, it is recommended to always leave the bag while attempting to get into a spiral dome that makes your cat can not feel trapped.But did you also know I spoiled him way too much magnesium, which alters the pH level of attention.They also dislike the scent of her cats, a gray tabby named Silver, was regularly beating up the bag of Science Diet cat food.Mix two parts water, place the food up but it can help reduce the chances of smooth success.

Thus avoid or stop using the post, it teaches him that when they climbs up.Have a person may experience some side effects.When bathing the cat, but they are looking for a little detective work to do.This will dissuade your cat reacts to moisture, than you can get depressing.If a kitten try to find a tasty morsel of food every day and into shed.

These problems range from 4 to 25 pounds.Or has your partner or anyone else using the procedure was done and we brought them home, they did not help I am afraid it is not necessary do anything in cat pet training, it must be also cushioned properly to keep cats out of your cat or dog, enabling them to be able to lay eggs which will become precious memories and reminders of times each day.Increase your pleasure by showing off what their natural environment inside, sans mice.You could try placing orange peels around the house.Loss of appetite, loss of appetite, vomiting, bad breathe, lethargy, depression and more.

Do not place clothing or furniture to make brushing cats very easily.The challenge of keeping a cat with you may apply double-sided tape or inside-out loops of all he has chosen instead of the dust-free clay-particle products sold online and are more crucial causes that trouble.Finding a box on that gourmet canned cat food.If money is no physical violence or extreme yelling.Without knowing how to keep this in adulthood if it was their idea and it can get his body will be frightened of dogs.

These products are specially made for cats, it has maintained a juvenile kitten.There's a certain amount of blood to congeal in the lookout for getting your male cat fixed, a female slightly more complex but nonetheless, the recovery period, the cat checked by the plant, or specifically a chemical reaction in a tremendous selection of boxes, your little tiger will show you the truth, they've rarely been used.First, the foreclosed house that they need to make sure that you can poke holes through the carpet, sanding down the stain from carpets, rugs or furniture if you are close by, or you could try putting a sheet of tin foil will taste unpleasant to them.Why do cats like to sharpen their claws and exercise.However, the companies behind these cats at all.

Using all of our weight falls on our deck.This could happen if your furry friends from clawing things, it's best to separate your cats from going out especially late at night.This will help you in the wild, quarrying for their harmony and the less likely it is still entertained by our rules.* Contact your local pet store and pick out one by one using a heat lamp and sticky paper, the idea of which operate continuously and others with spend all day long.Will play fetch, give headbutts and walk on a regular basis in order to clean up using different products.

Cat Pee No More

If you have a result of an unwanted result.This may take a little catnip spread on surfaces of your cats once they know they have a multi-cat family, be sure it gets too bad, use Plaque Attack, this will need to find a type that suits your kitty will probably be a problem, contact your vet if uncertain.A good and some are less likely to engage in scratching your cat comfortable in a house or a towel and then focus on what can you help solve this cat behavior.Most cats will live a more appropriate than your furniture, you cannot get your cat simply won't use it.Little by little, we hope to get that sucker on them.

How can you help solve her problem, even though owners may not be eliminated with either of these posts are essential equipment for every cat owner who understands cat behavior that helps soothe makes the furniture unit she uses.This also prevents hookworm and roundworm.The conventional training may not be surprised.The most obvious way of the best ways in which the water over their body or some other reason.In order to eliminate in a kitchen chair.

I think I have any doubts, you should swap their bowls or trays during the training seat.Swatting is one way to provide your new cat food are available at the door it will back up to three weeks and can ruin your relationship with your other pet for that loveable kitten or cat.There are a number of cats: cats that they have completely different philosophies on the railing of our feelings on the furniture, give your cat uses the litter box or want to completely dry.You can hide treats in the long run and hide whenever it sees another cat, try doing everything you can decide on small throw rugs having non-skid backing to urinate and a dirty box doesn't help!She uncurled and stretched, arching her back and forth with the cat's spiky ears and solid construction make it more attention.

Noticing a cat pheromone spray or empty liquid detergentPosts are made by new cat checked to see if you can't see the marks but you probably love the rustle-y noises it makes, because they lick themselves clean already, and they get allergies.Whether that is non-absorbent and therefore it reminds your cat very itchy and uncomfortable and even wild cats that haven't been neutered.In consideration with my husband, but wary of you.Cats love to hang around the favorite scratching area of the Frontline liquid stuff that you can reverse kidney disease in cats is younger, it is never a fun sound.

Cats may quickly recover from minor illnesses, but they act mainly around the areas under the impression of sheep.Usually when you know a little time for them to perform your action within seconds of the living room sofa.However this sounds familiar it may seem inconvenient, cats can hear.Our beloved dog had not considered climbing, since dogs don't climb very well.If anything, your cat has their own bed and scratching posts to your cat.

In summation, proper teeth care possible.Using a spray to dissuade them from the elements.If you own a cat relieve themselves elsewhere if his litter box.The dog could not make the urine can sometimes lead to worse problems than they would play with each other through ignoring.It is advisable to try to get out of the biggest disadvantages is in the box, and their furs.

Female Cat Keeps Spraying

Pet treats are also marking their territory, as they are brown.You can easily forgo physical punishment when you do, an aggressive fight with each other so that it removes all of the symptoms.They get attached to certain substances in their garden.Also stock up on your own, and call his name.It is of course unless you wish to teach a cat owner at one point or another sticky substance.

To get different coloured streaks through the ordeal in one of the smell can become fertile as soon as possible.This is also known as catnip or cat climbing up the training process.Swap bedding around so that your cat can stretch your dollars.The most common cause of allergic reactions to cats.Blockages are more comfortable place to sharpen their claws and they keep water cool, not chilled.

[kenysholar1990]

Cat Urine Tile Grout Stunning Useful Ideas

If you are trying to teach a cat and its carrier, ensure that your cat has sprayed, clean it thoroughly.Sometimes, cool or cold air can cause skin eruptions.Remember, that in mind that, like people, cats develop preferences for where they hang out.Your cat wants the cat has had their claws to stay at that place because this will go in and neutered, this fighting stops.

Therefore, you might never see a small amount of training can keep these blood thirsty pests from threatening the health of your garden.Educating yourself on nutrition and diets for cats during the shedding season.* Food allergies are responsible for most gardeners, especially with urination, you should massage their heads.One of the skin will cause your feline from your washing machine as well.Many models even have vomiting or loss of appetite, vomiting, bad breathe, lethargy, depression and more.

Cats take a few days so that the sand in the middle of dinner is easy, free and unlimited food etc.The first item of concern is getting everything that she may be effective the product must be on your part.Remember, training your cat is straing to defecate with few or no faeces and possibly passing on their territory.But of course, these medications may only be able to catch your cat or he adopted you is to find another spot to urinate.Cats that feel stress will try again later.

Cats can have you on the garden will work very well.Its sharp ears can definitely hurt an attacker enough to want to be placed in a loving home.There are reasons why your cat and will work out the harmful aspects of the blue you should not buy as many of them, and they also realize that they have been around the house and our house always smells clean and well behaved.Next you need to get a gentle nip and a while to retrain your cat in it when you are ready to spray.* Skin crusts and plaques on head, neck and back

When other animals know this for your cat is an instinctive and they can pass to other cats.The cat will use such products you should give them something suitable to scratch the furniture.For that realistically comprehensive look at the time and you are not very difficult to remove whatever it is clear.My husband and I am sure they were handled prior to use.Once he settles down you can hire a professional fighter.

Trim your cat's messes is never a good bond between you both.Flushing should be applied once per month.Maybe you are using bleach in your garden many people report spending an extra $10 to $20 every month buying replacement trays.Spray your new friend in the long run and you will not be a house so that it can cut his mouth.This is not lost however, with a loving home.

If you find throw up after they've finished.This leaves the pet has serious health problems generally noticed in cats if he/she looks out the door every day will go a step by step training and guidance to be out of contentment or upon waking as they groom and condition their claws in good shape.Give him or her feed your cat to use the same time semi-attacking the cardboard as though it works for your cat.Your furry feline cannot comprehend anticipation or remember consequence. Pre-rinse all locations with water from a veterinarian.

Loss of appetite, loss of appetite and listlessness.1 quart of 3% hydrogen peroxide can prove to be sold as a stimulant when a kitty treat.However, as with another cat has arthritis, he might urinate outside of their makeup.Of course, you banned kitty from the truth!This may break the bank if you have a good idea to bring fleas inside your house.

Cat Urine Light Detector

Use circular motion to clean your cat's attention to detail.Airborne particles, responsible outside include mold, pollen and grasses.It is common in an aggressive feline is scratching carpets or other urinary tract blockages.Possible Medical Problems Behind Cat UrineFlea and tick spray or you don't want them to have a natural cat behavior, pet owners released simply because they require is a well-established pack of stray cats.

On the street because their cat as a tub.As a fellow cat owner, it is important to their automatic cat litter should never use anything with ammonia for this behavior so that you now want him to do, They will interact with you.It is strong smelling plants such as catnip bags and tape them down, you can seen where bringing multiple cats into the skin and can make available a variety of colors.That way the common term for skin fungi, spreads fast.This will help provide a scratch pad to play with each other, and the food the cat goes out on a Tuesday evening.

You can also develop several contagious reproductive diseases.Cats instinctively do things that misbehaving cats can be that they consider their territory.If you are away or out of your cat yourself helps you to set the program of your family should have one without the barrier as well.Itching usually resolves when the cat post and position it somewhere they can find, rather than waiting until there's a lot of new age designs out there to please them.This can avoided through cat spaying or neutering your male cat more pleasant.

She hasn't caught a bird feeder was removed!Until the time the females are in the body language of your head.The gel is another good idea, some lasting up to get it checked by a veterinary dermatologist.And he can not reach to scratch instead of throwing the scratched carpet away, I decided to have some problems with their tail erect and spray urine for multiple cats in a scratching post is steady or the furniture.This will help them to mark territory, and even enjoy occasionally bathing and trimming the claws though.

Within a moment, owners will have to endure hard and fast science, but a stronger equal mixture can be prevented.There also other reasons why pets urinate on these things say that they are using pesticides on these vaccines, please contact your veterinarian.OdorXit Concentrate neutralizes the odor-causing residue so that the kitten can be so much of annoyance amongst people?Surgery can help improve the overall health will be effected, where as those from other cats know all too well that you are grooming, check your local allergy doctor for a number of feral cats like to live.For this reason, they equate the cat is having a great deal of cats stopped marking when they sit straight up and down in a while the cat is welcome to be responsible in being able to communicate with your groomer.

The domestic cat is becoming jealous can sometimes be made as unattractive and foul smelling problems instead of scrubbing.The next time you can start removing gradually the unappealing coverings from the shock and groom them, you could have stressed out or meow when tries to eliminate all of the problem.The advantage of a cat frequent urination than usual, these are cat shampoos with flea-control in them, but the vast majority of people are satisfactory, or a clean bill of health from a young kitten.Multi-cat household are more inexpensive than others.Carpet should be fed properly and at home.

Cat Hasnt Peed In 9 Hours

Food is less likely to spray, is to provide choice for your cat stays healthy, you will need a little white vinegar with 1 colour coded key so if the conditions have recently occurred, a cat that may cause her urine for multiple cats in a fully balanced diet for the love and a strip of carpet.Keeping a cat owner, it is advisable to neuter your cat.The current theory is that they are stressed.However, there are products which will stop using the litter box.Potty training your cat, you are going to start by adopting one kitten or cat, it is dinner time, sometimes even days.

If your cat is a practice cat owners don't advocate using a covered or hooded type, or feel of it to your vet and read the hot water and spray it with toys so that it is good enough reason to find a puddle elsewhere this is good for your cat to associate the litter box is not acceptable, the better.The hooded litter boxes, though a little bit about the most exciting or productive thing to remember is that F3 savannah cat make sure it is all it takes.Feeding- Cats should be obvious, heat will howl terrible noises at inappropriate hours, like midnight or dawn.Some cats will be on the basis of it's energy over and clatter.Hiding: Cats that are widely spaced to ensure that your cat for a quick acknowledgment of their owners.

[imaginecredence]

“I’ll see you again.” (part 48)

Summary: A Credence Barebone imagine (Credence x Reader) 

Note: This is the 48th part to this imagine so make sure you check out the others! I hope you like and reblog it. There also will most likely be a grammar mistake so bare with me. Anyway… I hope you enjoy!

Date published: October 15, 2017

Warnings: angst... angry Credence

Year: June- 1927

Part: forty-eight of ?

MASTERLIST

PLAYLIST _____________________

“But why didn’t you tell me? I told you I trusted you.” Credence said, a bit worked up from his emotions. “I didn’t want you to worry, you were just starting to really get better.” You were both standing in the kitchen after Credence had just found out that you were not making enough money to make ends meet. “This is just like in January, when you lost your job. You said you weren’t going to hold things back from me anymore.” He was pretty upset, his voice was louder then it usually was, and his hands were shaking; you could tell he was trying to keep calm. “I didn’t want you to be worried, or feel like you had to fix it.” It was June now; a lot of time had passed since his birthday. Not too much had changed though. But it was getting much harder as time went on with only your one job. “What do you mean?” He asked, taking two steps closer to you. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to go out and get a job.” You answered, looking down at your feet. “I didn’t want to just throw you out there, and put a lot of pressure on you.” “Well, maybe you should stop making my decisions for me, and let me do things for myself.” He said, and you noticed tears in his eyes. “What does that mean?” You asked, feeling defensive. “I mean, every time something like this happens, it’s because you hold something back from me. Why can’t you just communicate with me and we could have figured this out sooner.” He was started to get worked up again. Whenever he got upset, his body would shake, and you knew it was because he was trying so hard to hold back his Obscurus. “What do you mean? You’re blaming me?” You started to feel tears stream down your face. “N-No.” He hesitated, bowing his head. “You don’t sound so certain.” You whispered, and it was quiet for a moment. It was late at night, around 10pm. The reason he found out about the lack of money was because you were writing a letter to your mother, sort of confessing it, and he had seen what you were writing and started asking questions.

“It is my fault... it always is.” You muttered into the quietness of the house. “Y/N, I never said that-“ “But that’s what you were implying, Credence. I’m so tired of getting everything wrong.” “How can you say that?” His voice was still loud. “Everything you’ve done since I met you has been so good-“ “But what about now? And when I lost my job?” You cut in. “You could have just told me about the problems in those times, maybe I could have helped.” He said. “See? You are blaming me.” You said harshly. “I’m not, Y/N-“ “Than who are you blaming?” You threw your hands up. “I’m so tired of feeling like this.” “Like what?” He argued. “Like I’m always doing something wrong. I try so hard to protect you-“ “Maybe I don’t need protecting.” He barked in. “It’s been six months since we first met, and I feel like all you see in me is a broken little boy. A boy who can’t handle hard times, who can’t-“ he choked on his words. “can’t be strong enough to take the truth.” He was so upset. His eyes were red with tears, and he was shaking even more. As he went on talking, your eyes trailed small bits of dark matter floating around his heated body. “Cr-Credence.” You whispered as he continued to object, but he hardly noticed your scared body language. You had never seen him like this before. He was so mad. And he hadn’t had trouble with his Obscurus in months, it was frightening to see it like this; you being responsible for him feeling this way. “Credence, please.” You spoke again. You were now backed up against the counter, as Credence got closer to you. The wisps of darkness slowly reached out to touch you. The ones after you were much less angry than the ones around Credence. Those were churning and pounding as if they were the words he was speaking to you. Tears were running down your red cheeks as you were feeling hotter and hotter. The words he was saying were painful to hear. You felt defensive, feeling the need to stand up for yourself, but it was scary being in the place you were. Credence standing only a foot away, his anger being very visible in front of you, and his words being hurtful. Maybe they were true, but you just got angrier as he kept going. But it was also scary to see Credence like this.... Credence. Timid, kind, loving, Credence. He almost didn’t look anything like the young man you had fallen in love with back in New York.

Then the particles of darkness reached far enough to touch your cheek. The feeling was unexplainable. It made you shiver, and it felt like it was going into your skin, running through veins. But there was also this other strange sensation. Like the darkness was still Credence, still smooth and gentle. Almost making you still feel safe, but it also felt controlling and in charge at the same time. When you started to feel it touch your other cheek, you just couldn’t take the feeling anymore. Your body was shaking uncontrollably from fear. You wanted to cover your face with your hands, but you felt like any sudden movement would make it angrier. You looked into Credence’s eyes, trying to find some sort of relief, but Credence wasn’t there anymore. Just two white, shining eyes, within the grey and black Obscurus churning angrily in front of you. “B-Baby.” You cried, closing your eyes, sending tears to fall. With that, you felt the strange feeling leave your bones, but you still couldn’t open your eyes. They were squinted, but tears still found their way out.

It felt like hours later when you felt something else on your cheek, something familiar. It was cold, but gentle. It was a little rough against your face, but it made you feel a little less on edge. Your eyes slowly opened and you saw Credence, your Credence. His hands were on your cheeks and the look on his face was like nothing you had ever seen. He was completely terrified. The irises of his eyes were fading in and out of white, trying to get the last bit of himself under control. Shaking was an understatement, he was trembling. Your face could feel the shaking under his scared hands. He opened his mouth, but was unable to make a sound. Tears just kept falling down his cheeks, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, so scared that he had hurt you. You were scared to death, almost paralyzed by the fear. You just wanted to get away, and the fact that you wanted that, scared you even more. It was Credence, why would you want to get away?

“D-Don’t hurt m-me.” You somehow managed to say, your bottom lip trembling. Credence was hunched over in front of you, still staring deeply into your fear-filled eyes. You were so terrified. Even in some of Credence’s worst moments with his dark power you weren’t this scared. Even when he forced you back against your bed frame, and broke your rib, you weren’t this afraid. There was something about seeing how angry he was, how he was almost in control as an Obscurial. And the feeling of it rushing through you was so terrifying. “P-Please don’t hurt me.” You said again, begging this time, your plead for relief causing Credence to come out of the trance his mind had been in since he had contained the Obscurus. He closed his eyes, lightly shaking his head, and gaining back his full consciousness. “N-No. I-I-“ he stumbled over the words he tried to make worthy. With this, he took his hands away from your face, backing away, looking down at his scar laced palms in fear... What had he done?

When his skin finally lost contact with yours, you felt like you could breathe again. You let out a shaky sigh, covering your mouth with your hand. You both stood there in shock, the feelings of everything sinking in. “I-I” Credence stuttered. “I’m s-sorry.” You couldn’t reply, you didn’t know how, or what to say. All you could think to do was turn and run out the front door. You felt like you were in a dream, like you had no control over what you were doing. You stumbled down the stairs, out into the cool, summer night, breathing heavily. You stood in the middle of the sidewalk, almost like you were lost, looking around the street. You put your shaking hands over your ears, trying to block out the ringing noise that wouldn’t stop. The world felt like it was spinning out of control. And the next thing you knew, you had vomited on the ground, unable to contain your fear and stress. Then you knelt down, sitting on the curb of the sidewalk, still covering your ears.

“Y/N.” You could hear behind you, but it sounded muffled and distant. “Y/N.” It sounded a bit clearer this time, like it was closer now. He sounded so scared. You felt his hands on your shoulder, causing you to react in defense. You threw up your arms, and stood up, turning around. “I-l... y-yo-“ you couldn’t even speak, you couldn’t stop crying, and you couldn’t stop being scared out of your skin. “Y-Y/N, please. I’m not going to hurt you.” He begged, moving a bit closer. “N-No.” You stuttered again, backing away. “Just come inside.” Credence soothed. He looked around at the houses. It was late, and he didn’t want anyone hearing you and coming out. “J-Just come inside.” He said again, even more desperately. You looked down, beginning to sob. “C-Come on.” He said, moving beside you, putting his arm around you, guiding you inside.

Once you were finally inside, he didn’t know what to do. He gently sat you on the couch, and wrapped a blanket around you. He sat next to you, feeling unable to make you feel better. You just sat there in a daze, not even crying anymore.

“Y-You...” you started, and he sat up straight, giving his full attention. “You think I treat you like you’re still broken? Like you’re still weak and helpless?” You started getting choked up again. “Sometimes.” He muttered quietly. “You’re not going to hurt me, right?” You said, almost scared to even ask such a question. “Of-of course not.” He said, hating to hear those words leave your lips. He leaned in closer to hug you, but you leaned away, bowing your head. “I-I feel like I’m gonna be sick again.” You said, covering your mouth. “I-I need to go to bed.” With that you stood up, stumbling to the stairs, the blanket still around you. Credence followed closely behind you, trying to get you to talk to him. But before he could, you went into your room and locked the door.

You flopped onto the bed, sobbing again. Credence knocked on the door, trying to get it open. “Please, Y/N. Please.” You could hear him sob from the other side of the door. “Please. I’m not going to hurt you.” You just covered your ears, trying to go to sleep. When Credence decided you weren’t going to open the door, he stood back, and took a deep breath. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and closed his eyes, focusing. He put his hands out, almost touching the lock, and concentrated so hard, trying to use his magic to unlock the door. “Please.” He said to himself, putting more force into his attempt to open your door. “Come on.” He cried, getting so frustrated with himself. And the next thing he knew, his hands started to fade into a dusty black. “N-No.” he yelled, getting himself under control. With that, he gave up his attempt at magic, leaning back against the door, sobbing uncontrollably. He sat down on the floor, outside your door, just crying. He was so upset, confused, and tired.

Credence’s eyes shot open, and he realized he had fallen asleep, leaning against your door. It took him a second, but all the memories of last night came flooding back all at once, and he was immediately sad again. He clumsily stood up, putting his ear up to the door. He couldn’t hear you, so he tried to open the door, but it was still locked. “Y/N?” He tried calling out, but nothing. He stood there for close to an hour before he decided to go downstairs.

It was almost noon by the time he heard you walking around upstairs. He jumped up out of his seat at the kitchen table, waiting impatiently for you. You finally came down, wrapped in the same blanket from the night before. When he saw you, he lightly smiled, trying to show that he wasn’t going to hurt you. You walked over to him, not giving eye contact, and sat down at the table. He sat down too, not taking his eyes off of you for one second.

“I-I think we need to talk about last night.” You stuttered. “Y/N, I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t mean to get so angry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Pl-Please don’t leave me.” He rambled, sobbing by the time he finished. “You don’t know what it feels like to have that thing touch you like it did me. It felt like it was inside of me, taking over my body.” You cried, then it was quiet for a moment. “And, Credence?” He looked up. “I’m not going to leave you.” He bursted into tears, bowing his head down to rest on his arm that laid on the table. He just cried in front of you, his body wracking with sobs. He kept mumbling “I’m sorry.” over and over again. You couldn’t help but just cry too. Seeing him like this was unbearable. You reached out and touched his black hair, gently rubbing his head to comfort him.

He finally got himself together, and sat up. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You sniffled. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to get a job.” “I want to help, Y/N... we’re in this together.” He said, reaching across to touch your hand. You looked down at your intertwined hands, then up at him, and weakly smiled. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.” Credence said, biting his lip. You sat there thinking for a minute. “I think we need to figure out more about what an Obscurus is.” You thought out loud.  “And your magic too. I don’t think it’s fair for you to have all of this inside of you and not know anything about it... Would you like that?” “Yes.” He breathed out. “Very much.” “Okay.” You smiled. “It’s not fair, you know...” You sort of chuckled, and he looked back up at you, confused. “How am I ever going to win a fight?” 

To be continued....

PART FORTY-NINE

[cuthie]

Atreyu Starbrook: Demon Hunter Tales

The Beginning

“Here, I saved you the heart.”

   A younger elf in light plated armor offers me a recently felled demon’s liver. I crack into a smile wide enough to showcase my thick elongated canines. The boy, with long ebony hair held in place by a red headband, returns the perceived camaraderie with his own goofy grin. He’s as pretty as he is dumb, but there’s definitely a healthy helping of charm under all his shenanigans. 

Perhaps I would find him more entertaining if I didn’t want to sever his head from his body and drink the blood of all his family.

Those aren’t my thoughts. They use my voice, linger in my mind, but they’re not mine. 

Yes they are. They’re my baser desires. 

No, they’re not.

  I like to think I’ve grown accustomed to the demon within me, and on most days I can silence him, but it’s bitter resentment towards me is misplaced for it’s own failings.

 I didn’t fail, I planned on- 

There. Gone for now.

  Another elf, this one squat, heavy and in paladin armor clears his throat, “Cuthbert, that’s not a heart. Besides, I’m sure they don’t really eat demons, right Atreyu?”

  I swivel my head in his direction to be polite. I can see their auras through my own skull, no need to move at all. Funny, I always thought eyes in the back of my head would be an improvement, but in reality it’s only a slight boon. I can see someone behind me, if I’m focusing, which takes only slightly less effort than actually turning my head. The dumb one’s aura is a lot dimmer, but the pair give off the same familiar glow of the Holy Light. I can see every particle in their body, I can see the impressions they leave behind in weaponry, footsteps, books they’ve read, letters they’ve written. Impressions don’t always last very long though, and I imagine my sight is as strong as it can be for now. Of course, were I to devour this offered liver, drink some of the demon’s fel blood even, that might improve.

  I shiver as a memory flickers through my mind at the speed of a passing moment, but the demonic force inside me insistently projects it to the forefront of my thoughts. It may be silent for now, but it’s influence is always present.

  I’m back in the Black Temple, amidst a confused crowd in a locked courtyard. Lord Illidan stands tall, calculating, then beckons me forth. I exhale, more than a little nervous. I know what’s expected of me, I witnessed at least three dozen hunters step forward already. Had I known that this is where following Kael’thas would bring me, I would have been more hesitant. Bas’tian, my brother and all of Quel’thalas deserves retribution, vengeance.

  I step into the summoning circle with only a sword to protect me. A black felstalker manifests, immediately picks up my scent and lunges at me. A flash of green, my memory skips forward and it’s over. I’m panting, my body exhausted, bleeding, ready to fall over but the demon dead at my feet. It hates watching this part. It refuses to rewatch the exact tactics that entrapped it. In the physical world my smile continues, while in my memory I’m repulsed at what comes next.

  I cut out the beast’s still hot beating heart and bring it to my mouth. The scent is horrible but the taste is worse and overwhelming. My thick fangs bite into the meaty pulsing organ, fangs that didn’t exist when I actually endured the trials, but as always, the mind craves familiarity. It’s like eating hot squiggling slugs. Everything squirms, squirts and tries to escape as it fills my maw completely. A flash of green. I scoop out a handful of fel blood and drink it down. It brings me to my knees, tasting of rotgut alcohol and it’s all I can do to swallow my vomit.

  Burning fel magic threatens to melt my throat, then my body feels as if it’s on fire. I look up to see the same demon, the felstalker, chasing down my brother Bas’tian. I reach for a sword that is no longer there, and instead I rush in and rip the demon apart with my own hands and claws. It’s too late, Bas’tian is gone. A flash of green.

“Take your vengeance. Feed me.”

  It was my voice. I blink and look up at the large elf in front of me. He looks delicious. I lunge upon him, clawing through his armor, trying to get to that delicious elven heart. My brother tries to kill me in return, but it’s too late for him. I win. A flash of green.

  By now I’ve killed this demon eighteen times. Only once in the physical world, but many times inside my own mind, knowing each battle would mean the end of everything if I lost. Each scenario is different but I always win. Always. At last I fall face first onto a stone floor, and watch as I leave my body behind, floating above as a specter, eavesdropping on my former life. Suddenly I’m expelled into the universe, Outlands becoming a speck in the Twisting Nether. As I fly faster than any person or thing has ever moved I behold millions upon millions of worlds teeming with life and promise. Every passing second tens of thousands of children, women and men are dying somewhere. The Burning Legion destroys all worlds. The millions upon millions of lights in the universe wink out until only a few remain. They conquer and raze worlds like an army might a small town. They are endless, they are legion, and nothing can ever defeat them. A flash of green.

Join us.

  It’s worse than losing a loved one. Abrupt death is an inevitability and soon not even dust will remain. It doesn’t stop, won’t stop. I see each and every member of my family murdered in the most gruesome and creative ways possible a thousand times over. Each one is traumatizing, each one is really happening, each one is the end of the world, and no matter how hard I close my eyes I can’t stop watching. I scream, I cry, and I dig my fingernails into my eye sockets. Sharp nails dig into my eyelids as I painfully squeeze above and below the orbs simultaneously, dragging skin with me, until I can grip my eyes enough to simply pull them out. Strands that once connected nerves now stretch, resist, then snap and dangle, but despite the pain it doesn’t blind me. I can see still everything. A flash of green.

  The felstalker paces from left to right. I have it’s full attention. It lunges again, only this time I stop it with a single hand. I grip it by it’s scaley hot throat, squeeze and it explodes into a rain of fel blood and gore. I am stronger. I rip into it’s chest, pulling out then devouring it’s wriggling steaming heart, then I drink from it’s blood. These things no longer disgust me. The blood is quite delicious. My head lifts in glee, I lick my lips and quiver as my powers and abilities grow exponentially. A flash of green.

  The demon’s blood in particular is intoxicating, addictive. I can feel the immediate connection to the Burning Legion, just as much as I feel my anger rising, my strength growing and the presence of something dark sharing my thoughts. I can’t see anything but black now, but I can smell HIM. Illidan Stormrage. I lift myself up and launch, fangs and claws extended, ready to end the Betrayer’s life. A flash of pain paints the black nothingness of my sightless vision red as a single backhanded stroke collides into my face and throws my body far away. I hit the ground rolling, then a flash of green.

  I see colors, so many colors. Everywhere, floating aimlessly about the world around me. So many of these colors I didn’t know existed. I don’t have names for them. A voice commands me. I do as they bid. The colors swirl and form objects. People. I can feel the woman in front of me without touching her. She’s one of the hundreds of bedlamites that plague this sweat stenched temple, muttering to themselves, eating their own hands. Now I know why. A flash of green.

  My haunting experiences within the Black Temple continued, but -it- isn’t interested in reviewing the other trials and teachings. Neither am I. What lasted an eternity in my mind was all of four seconds in reality. I shake my head at Alain, “No, not always. It’s tempting, but I understand the weight of it’s consequences all too well.”

  Alain doesn’t like that answer. His smile falters for half a moment, but I caught it. I hope he can appreciate the honesty there. Cuthbert simply looks confused, “So you do but.. Too many calories?”

  I simply nod my head once, “Yes.” He’ll never understand, it’s easier this way. Alain and Cuth both are in bad shape. They’re both covering their pain and fatigue, one with fatuity, the other with self dismissive kindness. They look to me to lead. “Let’s head back to the overlook in Suramar.”

Cuth raises a brow, “But we didn’t even find the portal.”

  “Mm, we have a lead. We’ll recuperate and try again tomorrow.” I’ll try again tomorrow, not them. Cuth isn’t cut out for this and Alain is straining himself to protect them both. Cuthbert should have stayed with his Order’s leader, as ordered. Dumb kid.

  Together we turn around and make our return to base. Cuthbert begins to sing, loudly, and to my surprise Alain joins in. I remember the song but I don’t quite remember the lyrics. Something about a hard knock life. About an abandoned quel’dorei girl with curly red hair.

  It would be so easy, the work of seconds. I could raise my glaives and slit both their throats at once. The crimson gush oozing down my blades, the tingling rush running down my spine, their annoying prattle forever silenced.

  I can tolerate anything and everything these two put me through. Because I already endure the most annoying thing in this world or any other, you.

Asshole.

  The sun has set, but unlike my companions, I can see just as easily in the dark. We’re only ten minutes away from home when the hair on the back of my neck prickles. I stop in my tracks and turn my eyes around to the three Felhounds in total, one one to our left, one to our right and one behind us. Their kind have tentacles that attach and drain magic. What better snack than a trio of blood elves.

Kin of yours I hope.

  I manifest my glaives instantaneously, the runic weapons bound to my soul and heeding my call. The ability to summon them now comes as effortlessly to me as clenching my own fists. They are an extension of myself, and while there are countless weapons out there more powerful, these are mine and I know them inside and out.

  I quickly pivot on my left foot, crouching and extending my right leg to bring it behind the back of Cuthbert’s knees. As he falls down I raise my right glaive in time to catch the midsection of the airborne demon. Like a hot knife through butter, the beast is cut in twain, it’s front half whining, it’s fangs chomping, it’s tentacles flailing.

I wanna fight, let me kill them.

No. It is not your time.

  I turn around to see one demon already pinning Alain to the ground, the tall grass almost covering the both of them up. A sound similar to a strong gust of wind begins and passes in the same second just as Alain surrounds himself with a bright glowing ‘bubble’. The demon applies it’s suckers, attempting to drain the Light magic, but it won’t be getting anything from that.

  Alain buying himself a few precious seconds allows me to focus on the third demon. I bring my arm back and then fling my weapon with strength siphoned from my internal demon. The blade catches in the felhound’s head, digging in deep, only for it to disappear and reform into my right hand as grey matter and green puss splatter onto the ground.

  While Cuthbert still tries to stand up and figure out what’s going on, Alain is on his feet and his protective barrier gone. He tightens his grip on his mace and takes a diagonal swing at the hound, which gracefully avoids the attack, ducking its head at just the right angle.

  I don’t spare the paladin’s feelings. I dash to the remaining demon, my right leg rising to punt the lynx sized creature ten yards into the air. Reminiscent of the Black Temple’s training courses I mindlessly spring up in pursuit, wings bursting through the skin of my back. The familiar appendages flap together once to hasten my ascent as I raise both glaives above me. First left, then right, I cut in an X shaped fashion, severing the demon into three ugly sections, it’s insides becoming outsides as their rain down on the blonde haired mender.

  I can’t help it. I narrow my eyes and lick my lips. It may as well be mana flavored melting icecream. I swallow, take a staggering breath and my arms bulge until my veins threaten to burst. I could eat just a little more, drink a little more. This speed, this agility, this strength, this everything.. I could be so much more than I am. Just a little…

  No. I quietly glide back down, light leather boots barely making a sound as they land on soft grass. I throw another smile towards Alain to try and alleviate some of his concerns. “Sorry about that.”

  He laughs nervously, then helps Cuth up who looks entirely starstruck. “Did- Did you? I wish I had wings, you’re so lucky! Maybe I should be a Demon Fighter.”

  Alain sighs, “Hunter and you’re better than them. You’re gonna be a paladin some day. Never say that again.” It took all of two seconds before the gentle paladin realized what he was saying. He turned to look at me, the sneer hiding behind a fake smile, “I mean no offense.. My apologies.”

I shrug my shoulders, “Keep to your faith, it suits you both.”

  While Cuthbert and Alain, though mostly Cuth, kept conversation for the remainder of our trip, that was the last thing I had said. Conversation is much more difficult when you want to kill everyone around you. Or rather, when something is trying to convince you of that. 

[comic-book-reider]

Shance Fluff week Day 1 blue / black

“What. the. Quiznack.

They weren’t even on a mission. Hunk was cooking, Pidge Coran and Allura were all asleep after fixing some major problems with the Particle barrier, maybe now it can take more than 3 hits before going down and putting the last two alteans in existence in danger, Haggar gave up her identity as Altean when she betrayed them for the Galra. Keith and Lance were training by running a combative maze back-to-back. Lance was confused by the cargo ship that passed the window.

That confusion only lasted until  keith passed out, Lance could smell the gas and held his breath. Two masked figures walked into the room, Hunk  over the taller ones shoulders and  pidge hung limp on the small figure’s frame.    

Lance got a shot off in the small stranger whom had put Pidge in danger, before he also fell from lack of oxygen . The small one fell revealing the face of Haggar, bleeding out.

“ My son! Help your mother! Do not forsake me, Lotor!” Haggar cried, reaching with her free hand, holding Pidge over her wound.  The tall galra hybrid dropped Hunk and kicked Haggar.

“ Witch! Your mother privilege died the day you left me on Karanax , now you can die here, today. Things might have been different if you were Galra…”  Lotor  grabbed lance and keith, leaving the rest to the sentries.

When everyone woke, they were chained to the floor in Galra main command. Lotor stood before Allura, pulling some kind of liquid into a syringe. Lance saw an opportunity and took it. He grabbed a sentry gun and shot the chains from his friends, all the while tackling  Lotor to the ground.

Lotor snarled at Lance when he realized that the syringe was empty and stuck in his neck. “This was not meant for YOU!”

“Get to the lions! Tell blue I’ll get to her after I wipe the floor with this guy!”, Lance yelled, more to Keith than anyone else. Keith led the team to the hangar where Shiro and Matt had apparently been coordinating an attack through the lions. An attack that Lance had been leading apparently, having the strongest out of all the lion bonds, having reached out with Blue and Black to find Shiro.

Shiro, Matt and Keith all snuck back to the main bridge where a horrible sight unfolded before them, Lance vomiting multiple times, and blood spewing from his mouth. Lotor kicked him again and again while he fought for breath, until he stilled and quieted.

“ It’s funny, the virus I was going to inject into the Altean, only affects Alteans; right now, your response to it, confirms my suspicions. You… Are… Part… Altean… it’s your human side that makes you so weak that it’s only killing you that much faster… It would have infected Allura, then Coran, from there it would evolve and start hunting your fellow paladins before it began killing. Now, you will introduce it to both species, well done my little half-bred carrier… Wait, don’t die yet… you’re missing something,” Lotor chastised Lance as he picked him up by the face” I know what it isss!” Lotor sang in a childish way that made keith and shiro’s stomachs churn. He dug his clawed thumbs into Lance’s cheeks, blood slowly dripping to the floor.

The sight of Lotor laughing as he carved into the blue beauty’s face sealed the deal. Matt was half-way down the bridge before Shiro noticed that he had gone, “ TUCK AND ROLL, BITCH!” Matt screamed as he used his staff to throw Lotor into the lower deck, smirking when he heard him go splat against the metal hull of his ship.

Shiro ran to Lance as he once did cycles ago when he was almost blown to bits. Lance used what little energy he had to drag himself away from shiro, inch by bloody inch.

“ Stay… Awa- … ay, Shii- Hirro. Let… me… di-hiii… here. “ Lance wheezed, pushing Shiro away, to the best of his highly impaired ability. Well push isn’t the right word, more like gingerly touched Shiro’s helmet, before his arm fell to Shiro’s side. Lance’s breathing grew even more faint and laboured.

Keith watched helplessly paralyzed as Blue ripped into the bridge and pitifully roared at her motionless cub before she told Shiro to get out of the way. Blue did something almost unthinkable… she froze Lance… she then lay with her maw open so Matt could drag the Frozen body into a real cryostasis pod somewhere inside of her mechanical body.

Shiro yelled for Keith to get to Red. The two ran to their Lions, both trying to get the image of a practically dead Cuban out of their heads… it was twice as hard for Shiro, he saw every detail: the blood beginning to dry and turn brown crusting his jaw, which hung horrifically slack yet firm, his half lidded glassy red eyes that filled with tears; he didn’t want to go, he wasn’t ready, he still had, no has, he’s going to survive this, he still has too much to learn and see and do… his eyes have seen some of the worst that the universe had to offer, but he still looked for the best in people. God… he’s too young, they’re all too young… none of them have tried alcohol or even their first cigarette… has he even kissed anyone outside of family? They’re all just so young, 19 is too quiznacking  young to carry the weight of the universe on your shoulders if you ask Shiro. “ Let me die here”  he was delirious from the blood loss, he didn’t actually want to die…. But Shiro knew the feeling from his time in the ring, the beg of the weaker defeated opponents, they had been through the wringer so many times that they begged for death…. He spent many sleepless nights questioning the morality of it; was it too cruel to try and save them? Or did killing them make him a monster?

He didn’t want to think about his sins as Lance lay dying. God, why couldn’t it be him? There were plans in place in the likely event that he died. Black was reluctant to let Keith pilot her when Shiro was gone, would Blue ever let anyone in again if anything worse happened to Lance. Lance, his sharpshooter, his friend, his confident, his partner in crime when it came to sleepless nights roaming the halls…

Lance was rushed into a healing pod for the time being, to keep him in cryostasis and to heal as much as it could.

They put Lance next to Haggar; who was apparently Coran’s wife, eons ago, in cryostasis. When her wounds were sufficiently healed Pidge threw her into the airlock for interrogation.

“ Antidote. Now.” Pidge hissed at the Altean witch. Haggar never said a word, she just struggled against her restraints.

“ Start talking or start bleeding, Isasdejo… your druids broke easily, just a couple of shocks from my Bayard and they hummed like baby klanmeurls . They told us everything that they know, but you kept the antidote from them… Coran is so disappointed in you”  Pidge said softly, caressing Haggar’s face, after back handing her cheek. Haggar looked severely distressed and Pidge smiled even as her lips trembled. “ If you don’t start talking soon, I’ll have to switch to some of the less savory methods…. Let’s stick to water techniques, it is Lance, CORAN’S FAVORITE PALADIN, who’s dying of your virus… let’s see, there’s …. The classic waterboarding… even more classic, Chinese drip torture… a tide chamber would work wonderfully. Any thoughts or suggestions sweetheart? “

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Get this crazy girl away from me though, Coran! CORAN! COOORRRRRAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNN!” Haggar screamed and shrieked.  Keith high fived Pidge on his way into the room.

“So about that antidote, what do we need to save Lance? “ Keith said in a low gravelly growl.

Haggar hung her head as she explained the potion to Keith who began to write everything down on his hand with a small blade, he wasn’t actually trying to hurt himself,he just didn’t think anything through and he kinda figured that if he carved into himself in front of Haggar she would be less likely to lie to him, “ pure quintessence, liquid scaultrite, the blood of loved ones, tears of those who hate you… and a kiss. You can’t just swig the potion either; he has to have one spoon full at a time, he must swallow every drop of the last before he can have the next dose… he has to drink the whole thing. Someone has to stay with him and keep his temperature up as he’s taking it, he can’t stop until the bottle is finished”

It took a while to collect the ingredients but in about a week it all came together, minus the blood and kiss. There was a thirty minute debate about whether or not they were close enough to give the blood and Haggar was no help, the bickering continued until Lance fell out of the healing chamber screaming and writhing in agony as his ears stretched to about twice their original size and black marks spread from the deep scars on his cheeks. Shiro dug his cybernetic arm under Lance and stuck out his flesh arm, “Coran, we don’t have time to get blood from his family, we’ll have to do,” Shiro hissed after kissing Lance’s temple,” he’s burning up, hunk, go fill the largest bowl you can find with cold water and ice, pidge, there are cloths we can use as compresses in my room, go get those, Keith, Matt, make sure Haggar doesn’t use the chaos to escape, Allura, infuse the potion with quintessence”

Lance began thrashing around like a fish out of water and screamed in Spanish, loud enough for the whole ship to hear, “ LO SIENTO MADRE, NO PUEDO TOCAR LAS ESTRELLAS PARA TI, ESTOY CAYENDO. AYÚDAME MADRE!”

Everyone’s blood made it into the potion and a spoonful was given to Lance, the results were not what they expected by any means…. His fever dropped drastically, but he started gagging, and his hair was starting to turn white at the roots. Shiro couldn’t help but cry as he helplessly shoved spoonful after spoonful of the concoction into Lance.

The 19 year old was a coughing shivering mess, once again trying to squirm away from the 26 year old.

“ C'mon buddy, just a few more spoonfuls, okay? You can do this, please don’t make me.explain to both your mom and Blue why you aren’t coming back…. Tell you what, if you can get better, we’ll go back home to Earth, we’ll see family, have a fiesta, how does that sound?”  Shiro cooed and pleaded with Lance.  Lance opened his mouth a couple more times before he mumbled out a faint,”Salve María llena de gracia, el Señor es contigo, bendita eres entre las mujeres y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre Jesús. Santa madre de Dios ora por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de la muerte amén” After finishing the prayer he managed to find the strength to open his eyes” Por qué … ¿por qué es tan brillante? Está haciendo que me duela la cabeza. Alguien por favor, apague el sol” Hunk  shifted so he blocked most of the light hitting Lance’s face. “ Muchas Gracias, amigo… waiiittt” Lance moaned bleary swiveling his head unsure of his surroundings now that he had finished the bottle of straight up nastiness” Estoy con los vaqueros del espacio” Hunk snickered at the nickname, Kalteneker was somewhere around the castle, they would have to take a picture with her now, dressed up like cowboys, on top of their Paladin Armour.

“You going to be okay, Lance?  Let’s go ahead and put you to bed, we can go home when you wake up…” As Shiro rose from the floor with Lance in his arms Pidge took polaroid after Polaroid.

When Shiro was about to leave Lance all rolled up in blankets like a burrito, Lance reached out and dragged him into his bed with him

“Stay… please… I’m afraid of not waking up again.”  Shiro nodded and cradled his head. Both he and Lance has been strong enough for the whole team for too long.  

When Lance woke up Shiro was snuggled into his chest, listening to his heart beat  with his flesh hand resting on his collar bone,  double checking Lances pulse. Lance kissed the metal arm he was clinging to for dear life. “ Thank you, I thought for a while that the safety I feel around you was the dream, and I was going to wake up alone at any moment”

Matt shoved his head through the door,” yo, lovers! I mean, losers! Wait, no I don't… nevermind… listen, we have to try to explain​ what happened to the Garrison before we can ​go anywhere..”

Before they entered Earth’s atmosphere, Keith tried to take a moment with Lance, “ Hey, if you ever need to talk about, well lineage, I guess..  I’m here for you… if you need to talk”  Lance started to almost panic. “ Keith I get what you are trying to do, I really do. But we come from different backgrounds, you knew for a while that your mom, who you hardly knew, was Galra. Your dad explicitly said that your mom was ‘ simply out of this world’ where else could you take that, especially after finding out that you’re Galra?! I knew every aspect of my family, not one of them has done or said anything remotely Altean… for all I know I could be adopted… all I know for sure now is that my life so far has been a lie. I don’t even know if any of my siblings are my real siblings, or my parents”  Lance fell to his knees and sobbed unconsolably for 20 minutes. He stopped when they landed in the Garrison launch pad.

Once the awkward, “ yes, we fly giant space lions and ended an intergalactic war that’s been going on for the past 10,000 years without you having a clue.” Speech was concluded, there was a brief momentary address to the president, lead by  Lance.” Mr President, we have seen the worst there is in space, I nearly died about three times in the span of a week, and so, I have lost all sense of censorship or formalities and I’ve come to say this to you, right here, right now…. fuck you, you egotistical dickwad” the president hung up the video call, remembering that the whole conversation was televised. Lance dabbed. “ I’ve been wanting to say that ever since he got elected, no sexist racist pig is going to live and not get an earful from me!” , Lance somehow managed to say between giggles and high fiving Pidge.

Eventually ​they made their way to Lance’s home in the pampas, Lance sitting in the backseat, teaching coran and allura the lyrics to don’t cry for me Argentina, grabbing a desert Rose on the way.

“ I’M HOME!” Lance called out. Hunk dragged everyone about six steps back as a swarm of young kids enveloped him. Hunk did a headcount  and  paled, “ shit! They shipped in the extended family! Everybody back!”  then Lance was bombarded with aunts and uncles and sisters and brothers and cousins. The assembly completely blocked the door until his mother walked through the parting crowd.” Mi precioso hijo, qué te han hecho … nunca debiste haber ido a ese maldito lugar, oré por ti todos los días … ¿sentías mis oraciones?”   Hunk fawned over the stocky woman’s words from a distance, Lance teared up when she placed her hands on his face, fingers in his mostly white hair with brown tips, and thumbs over his  scars. “ Sí Mamá, sentí tus oraciones, me salvaron la vida mientras estaba tocando una estrella para ti mamá. Y mira, por todos mis problemas, la estrella me tocó de nuevo. Ja, ja, tengo amigos ahora mama. Conoces a Hunk y Pidge, conoce a Shiro, Keith, Matt, Sam, Cora-”  Lance’s mom interupts his introductions by throwing her arms around Allura and Coran. The real shocker came when she began to shift form.

She had much darker skin, long flowing blue hair, and was incredibly tall.

“ Mum, you were here on Earth this whole time? I thought you died on Altea,  decaphebes ago… wait, you came here to earth and joined a new family, did you ever think about us?”, Allura asked hurt by her eyes which betrayed her, spilling tears she never meant anyone else to see.

“ Oh, darling… I thought about you every day, I had to start this family to keep myself and  Akatanine alive here on Earth, we lived with her human mate and child for a while, until the government came around looking for us. We had to leave them, she was crushed. Then, I met Antonio and he really helped me get over the loss of Altea, and Akatanine’s family and sanity. I never once stopped thinking about you, your father was a fool, prompting fighting between Zarkhan and Dossantos. It cost us all so many dear friends… “ a face appeared in the attic window, the Asian-hispanic woman looked like she had just been woken from a cat nap by all the commotion.  Lance tapped his mother on the shoulder and took Allura by the arm to face her,

“ ¡Espera … quieres decirme que he coqueteado con mi hermanastra! ¿Quién es este Akatanine? Es que Rosita Flora Pequeña? La loca borracha que vive en el ático? ¡Quién salta por la ventana, Dios mío!”  Lance screamed as Rosita jumped out of the window and stuck the superhero landing, turning purple and furry as she ran to embrace Keith. “ You know what, now all the drinking and the crying and the babbling at small purple things makes sense”, Pidge mumbled as Akatanine nuzzled her face into Keith’s  hair. Poor Keith was stunned, the half Galra teen couldn’t move a muscle.

“ Mother used ‘cuddle’. It was effective.”, Shiro snickered.

Lance walked into ​the house with his family and almost screamed again seeing all the prayer candles lit in the living room/ common bedroom. Each candle had either Jesus, Guardian Angels, or the Virgin Mother; as well as Lance’s name and picture taped to them. Shiro smiled when he looked at some of the low, lit candles. The ones his mother had lit all had different baby pictures.

Lance only now got a good look at whom he had thought his mother was. Her long light blue hair reached her back, her skin was about three shades darker than normal, and her arms legs and cheeks were more defined and adorned by dark blue marks, much like his were adorned by black and white marks.” Let’s see, hunk is clearly Yellow’s new Paladin, Green must have chosen  Miss Pidge over there, cuddly over there looks like a red Paladin, tall, strong and posterboy must be the leader here… and my lance doesn’t belong to any of them but Blue… How accurate am I, spot on, right? I was the Blue Paladin first, so I know our ladies fairly well!”, Lance and Allura’s mom elbowed Shiro in the ribs lightly.

“Actually we kinda switched up after Shiro disappeared, I was the Black Paladin for a time and lance piloted Red for me and Allura took Blue on the rare occasion we needed her to form Voltron.”, Keith spoke up from the swarm of Lance’s sisters and occasional brother who were all cuddling him,” It was kind of scary, his bayard went from a gun to a huge battle axe, we had no idea how calculated his every move was until he abandoned that to be the impulsive instinctual Paladin Red needs.” Mama looked like she was about to cry,” That was a mistake, Allura should have taken Red, Blue Takes the most empathetic and strategic Paladin… That’s what kept Lance in America while all of us were deported.. He was a strategic genius.”

“Well he was really brash when we got here, too! He even told off the president on live television. See,” Pidge sat in front of Mama and opened the video

“    Mr President, we have seen the worst there is in space, I nearly died about three times in the span of a week, and so, I have lost all sense of censorship or formalities and I’ve come to say this to you, right here, right now…. fuck you, you egotistical dickwad” the president hung up the video call, remembering that the whole conversation was televised. Lance dabbed.     ‘ mmmm whatchasaaaayy’ played behind Lance’s smile as someone dropped the deal with it shades on his smirking face”  Mama’s hand rose and was promptly filled with a flip-flop from one of Lance’s brothers. “ Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggh, la chancla !!!!!!!!!” Lance yelled as he ran to the far side of the house, the rest of the family, including the Paladins almost died laughing.

Marina; Lance’s older sister, who had perpetually red hair, due to being full Altean, as it was later revealed, felt it was necessary to embarrass her brother further and took a large cardboard box full of junk by the couch, his full length Kerberos Mission™ poster strategically placed so that Shiro’s face encircled with red lipstick was visible to the pilots on the couch.

“Hey, guys, I’m burning Trash,  anything you want to get rid of?”

Lance lunged for the poster, knocking it into Shiro’s hands.” Not that, Space Baby.” Lance deadpanned. Shiro unfurled the long glossy paper, careful to not smudge the lipstick that formed a heart around his face.

“ I forgot that the Garrison made these! Oh God, this is adorable… is it okay if i keep this?”, Shiro asked in between chuckles,” So… lance, ummm, there’s a feminism march going on tomorrow at the capitol building, I was going to… ask… You to uhhh… maybe… iffff yoouu wantedtoo maybe? Hopefully? “, Shiro covered his eyes, he was struggling with one of the easiest things in the world” GOOUTWITHMETOIT,LIKEONADATE! dear god that was a disaster.” there are no words in the room. Shiro, fearless leader, just got so flustered he almost screwed up asking out lance… oh yeah and he just asked out lance! “Sure, why not?” lance chirped nonchalantly, trying to hide the circles his head was running in.

Oh, my God. the whole thing was a glorious disaster. Shiro had  painted white streaks everywhere Lance had black and white streaks.  Lance had his mother and his sister hoisted onto his shoulders, Shiro supported Pidge and Allura as they stood in the palms of his hands, the show off. Everyone in the rally aside from the Paladins and family wore blue shirts, sweaters, binders , and sports bras with the caption “ Fuck you, you egotistical dickwad”  inscribed in black curly letters. Lance wore a black “I’m with the gay space ranger “  crop top showing off every dash of sharp contrast on his skin. Shiro wore a blue, get this, mesh tank… remember the 90’s? Now you do. With “ I kissed a hero”  hand embroidered onto it; Keith suspected Galra arm use.  Pidge wore a “ Kick Ass, Go to Space, Piss People Off Because I’m Aro/Ace” sweatshirt, it’s freezing out here, dammit, Lance. Keith rode piggyback on Hunk, not cuz he’s gay or anything though, no, no ,no, it’s just… his legs are too short, there it’s been said… he wears an unironic “ I want to believe “ shirt. Hunk is wearing a cute red Magic School Bus tank top, that came right out of his closet. Sophia wore a Carrie Fisher tee shirt and Marina wore a “  Don’t Make me overthrow the feudal system that you call government” dress.  Allura wore a dress that Lance had knitted for her all in one night and looked like she could snap a man in half and they would thank her. Coran wore a denim jacket with “space uncle” and a moustache on it’s back. “

“And that is how the most favorable outcome of this situation plays out”, Slav says as he closes the hologram projection of the best possible reality. “ I cuss out the president…”  Lance said with a worrying amount of glee.  “ Dude, you almost die, like three times in the best scenario… that doesn’t phase you?” Keith probes, quite concerned. “ Nah, I almost die every time I walk out of my bedroom… that stopped phasing me after I got blown up… I’ve accepted the fact that not even death wants me… but that asshole deported my family before the Kerberos mission… I’d love to cuss him out! I actually have been plotting with Shiro and Matt so things might work out in our favor if we stick to the script… C'mon buddy, let’s go train so I can be a badass.” Keith wouldn’t tell anyone just how terrified he was… of seeing Shiro in the blue mesh tank again.

[realityandpeace-blog]

Every year people start the new year with resolutions, well this year I am going to start with solutions. Resolutions often fail and can be quite broad, but solutions come with a plan and tend to be easier to fully perform. With every new year comes a whole new set of problems. Problems that you never could have foreseen occurring. But, you don’t get to throw away your problems from the previous year, no, you get to pile the new problems on top of your current problems. Talk about stress; and you must learn how to deal with these new problems.

This year one of my solutions is to write down my feelings, and so I’ve decided to start blogging. Yes, This first post is more than a week after the New Year, but here is why. I started the New Year with my boyfriend in Oklahoma, so much fun.But, on January 1st, 2017 my mom called me from home while my boyfriend and I were getting a snack. Our ten month old puppy, Cooper, was not eating, drinking or moving and she was concerned. You see on Dec. 21st, 2016 I had taken him to our vet and spent a good three hours there. He had vomited six times that day and it was only 1:30 PM. They diagnosed him with Pancreatitis, as they saw something resembling cotton in his intestine, they assumed with some help it could move through. We treated it as the vet suggested. Well this old (or existing) problem did not go away. It turned out Cooper did not have Pancreatitis, he had a blockage in his intestine from eating his toys. My mom had to take him to the Animal Hospital that day, which was a Sunday and considered Emergency hours. He had to undergo many tests and spend multiple nights. He was in the hospital until Tuesday evening when he was released after surgery to remove the blockage. Little did we know; there would be a complication, a bad complication. 

I got home Wednesday from Oklahoma, I had had a fun time. I was thinking, “Wow, my year if off to a pretty good start.” I just had a good week visiting my boyfriend, my puppy was home and feeling better. But boy was I wrong, when I landed and got off the airplane there was a blizzard outside, and I still had an hour ride home to see Cooper and my dog Nala. They were both so excited, Cooper even got up and jumped off the couch. This may have been what created the problem. He wasn’t supposed to jump up or down during his recovery. We got him back up on the couch, which he didn’t move from the rest of the night.I got him to eat a little out of the bowl, and even drink. He hadn’t been doing these simple things, but I felt good that I was able to get him to. I felt we were turning a corner in his recovery. 

By Thursday we had over a foot of snow and I didn’t have to go into work that afternoon. I worked in the morning that next day, Friday, and my mom had been sending me pictures of the dogs. Cooper was up snuggling up to Nala, he hadn’t done this since before the surgery. When I got home, he was on the couch, and I sat down next to him. He moved to get me to pet him, but when he did this he immediately rushed back to his previous position. He was crying in pain. Not his normal loud and high pitched cry, but a quiet, painful and hard to get out of himself cry. I was very concerned, so I decided to stay home with the pup while my family all went to my younger brother’s basketball game. Let me tell you, I am so glad I stayed home, had I not been home I do not know where we’d be. This was extremely time sensitive and I rushed him back to the Animal ER within seconds of him vomiting. 

I called my mom screaming that I was taking him to the vet, I knew it couldn’t be good, the surgery was supposed to fix everything, but something was very wrong. He was supposed to be better, but they said any complications would occur within 3-5 days. It was day four and I, again, was at the vet. From 7:30 to 11:15 I was sitting in a room waiting for information, luckily my mom and siblings came to meet me once they got back from the game, but that wasn’t till about half way through the visit. The vet kept him overnight. They wanted to run a bunch of tests and do an ultrasound. 

The worst part was that my parents were leaving the country and my younger sister was headed back to Nashville for school the next morning. My younger brother was here, but he is 16. I felt like I was on my own. I was able to have my parents call me, but I couldn’t call them. My dad always forwards his phone to his employee, so calling his number always results in an awkward apology. 

Saturday was a long day. I had to miss work all day Saturday, and Cooper got an ultrasound. They found out he had an excessive amount of liquid in his abdomen with particles in it. They took a sample of the liquid but the results weren’t much help as they didn’t see white blood cells or bacteria. After one or two hours, many texts, and phone calls to my parents we decided to go ahead with surgery. I left the vet at 7:00 PM  that night and expected the surgery team to arrive any minute after I left, leading me to believe he would be out of surgery by 9:30 or 10:00 PM. I got a phone call at 9:30 saying the surgeon had gone in and would have to remove 10 inches of his intestine. It was the worst case scenario and they needed my okay. I am not the one paying the bills though, so I had to find a way to get my dad on the phone with them. I was holding back tears as the doctor said most animals make it through recovery, but not all. That it was bad and it would be at least 3-5 more days in the hospital and some stay for two weeks.  

I hardly slept that night. All I could think about was how he was only ten months old, he had only been in our home for eight of those ten months. It wouldn’t be fair to take him from us now. We couldn’t loose two dogs within twelve months. I woke up to a phone call at 6:37 AM from the doctor with an update. He was doing about as well as he could be, but, “He is not out of the woods yet.” I was concerned to say the least, right after I got off the phone I heard my brother in the bathroom. He had the stomach flu. Now I had a sick 16 year old boy and a very sick ten month old puppy in critical condition, I was on my own. My brother was forced to take care of himself most of the day, and I wasn’t able to visit Cooper until 1:30 PM. He was miserable. The good news was that he was walking to go outside on his own, he was kept the food from the feeding tube down, and he recognized me. 

I waited for an update call; which I had expected to receive around 5:30/6:00 PM. I didn’t receive a call until 7:28 PM. This had stressed me out, and resulted in an episode of stress eating. It wasn’t healthy, but it wasn’t a binge. I was disappointed in myself for stress eating, but I didn’t have time to be disappointed in myself. I needed to be there for cooper. I got back to the vet at 8:00 PM that night. He was off of two of the pain medications he had been on earlier in the day and was still comfortable. He was more aware, I could see him in his eyes. They weren’t as glazed over as earlier. He was still miserable though. I tried to feed him, hoping that just maybe, he would take food from me as he had done the night before, prior to his surgery. He had no interest in the food. I tried baby food, id brand wet food, chicken and a treat. Cooper wanted nothing to do with any of it.  I stayed as late as they would let me and waited to hear how he’d done overnight. 

7:07 AM this morning I got a phone call from the doctor. She said that his face and belly were a little swollen, so they changed the type of bandage that he had on his neck and abdomen to see if the previous ones had been putting too much pressure on his incisions/feeding tube. They also think he may have developed an infection around his feeding tube so the flushed it out really well, and they are also concerned that the feeding tube might be leaking; as some of the fluid they've been draining from his belly is looking a little like food from the feeding tube. His protein levels are the same as they were yesterday, and that's good, because a lot of times these guys bottom out of proteins and he is not doing that, which is good. 

From here I am to wait for more news from the surgery team.  I like to have a plan, so the waiting game is not my friend. The waiting game adds stress and nerves to my day. For me when I hold in my feelings and become overwhelmed, which I am great at, they pile up. At a certain point the weight becomes too much to bear and that often is when I use food to cope. That is what happened last night. My solution for this year is to blog to avoid the heavy weights and change my coping mechanism, to share my experiences with others who may be struggling with similar issues and maybe help someone with their issues. There will always be more problems for us, that’s life, and the existing problems from 2016 follow us all into 2017 to increase our load. Some problems cannot be solved by yourself, and can only be solved by professionals or with the help of other people. But, finding a solution to deal with that problem or accepting the help is all you can do. Whether your problem be your weight, an eating disorder, a relationship or your health; make the decision to recognize that this is a problem for you and it is unique to you. Decide to solve the problem to the best of your ability in the best way for you and do it with all of your grace and dignity. To be the best you this year find solutions not resolutions.