#in truth hes probably seen twenty or so books about child care but probably the title was something (the joy of children)

[grim-faux]

3 _ 21 _ Half the World

First - An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

 The water from the faucet was always icy, but sitting under it a bit made it feel normal. Somehow he managed to get the trickle right, he didn’t like when it felt too much like rain or rushing water from a gutter. This was perfect for soaking mud and whatever else congealed to his coat and pants; all the gunk built up and made his clothing stiff, and weighed him down. It always felt good to scrape off the layers and start fresh.

  He poked his head out of the sink again, ever vigilant and searching beyond the steady gurgle of the water. The room was larger than his preference, but the kitchen was in good condition. He thought about where he would flee to if something appeared, and also eyed the cabinets on the other wall. Soon, he would be searching through those. There might be something good, and plenty of rations that he could browse through and not risk the ones that could make him ill.

  But first, chip off the grunge.

  And a fresh bandage!

  Piles of cloth huddled across the counter, partially buried with plaster and tile clumps from the small section of wall beneath the upper cupboards. Mono crouched beside a cylinder sort of canister and peeled his soggy coat off. He was particularly careful of the arm and the bandage, in case something stuck. It had been a while since he last checked the wound, and for the ache it gave him, he thought it was best to ignore it. He had taken extra care to give it a solid soaking before attempting any foolishness.

  During the ripping of cloth and some excessive noise making, Mono turned his head to the room and paused for a listen. The walls kept hushed, while a window in the next room moaned with rain and the dramatic gale. Nothing else picked at his attention, prompting him to return and work with the pile of pieces he was forming. He was not… great with ripping cloth. It was heavy and durable, his stripes always became triangle shreds. It’d work and hold with a good tuck, and a tug there. The dry was always a nice change too.

  A crackle and squeal ignited, along with the radiance of the room draining out briefly. He glanced up as the illumination restored, and the tall thin man stood near center of the room. The figure gave him a short glimpse before shifting over.

  “W̸̫͒h̵̯̐ȃ̷̼ṫ̸͓ ̵̘͝A̴͍͒r̷̭̈é̶̮ ̸͉̈́W̴͉̒e̸̬̋ ̵̢̉D̵̢̈o̷͍̚i̴̦͝ń̵ͅğ̶̭ ̸̮̀H̶̺͂ê̷̜ṟ̸̌e̵͈͊?̷͇̑”

  Mono raised his mostly bandaged arm. The Thin Man pinched his wrist and bent low, turning his arm this way or that, while kneading at the dry fabric. Mono adjusted his legs and looped his free arm under his knee, pulling one leg close to his chest.

  “Does this hurt?”

  Mono shook his head. Once more, he gave the room another check. He tilted his head back and watched the rim of the Thin Man’s hat. It was so close that Mono could reach up and grab it.

  “What A̵̝̋r̵̥̾ě̵͜ ̵̪͒ you D̵̠̓ó̸̲i̵̪̊ń̶͇g̶̾͜?̸͎̆”

  He snapped his hand down and brought his focus back to the Thin Man, and those so same eyes. That was his favorite same about the Thin Man. While they had same powers, and could go through television, and wore hats… the eye same was not ambiguous. He could look at the Thin Man and the Thin Man looked right back, with those eyes. It also made him queasy and frightened – the eyes that were same. It was wonderful to have the same, but it could be unsettling. Only one time could Mono ever really recall seeing his own eyes in a mirror, but knowing they were same as the man in the hat meant... something important. It was sort of like looking at himself, even if their faces were so different. Looking at the Thin Man made him remember how....

  “Do dry off proper." The Thin Man released his arm and straightened, so much and tol. He patted Mono on his head. "And eat something. That is your job right now." In a dazzle of light and shadows, the silhouette vanished.

  The whole ‘dry off’ thing didn’t make sense to Mono. He finished adjusting and doublechecking over his bandage, before slipping into his coat. Good and snug. He also went back to the sink side and collected his treasures – his hats, a good picture, and that weird speek of the face. Why he kept it, who knows? It fascinated him.

  Before going at the cabinets, he made certain to get the preliminary scout of the rooms done. Check where the Thin Man was (if he was around), and get some ideas about hide and flee places. The rooms overall held up and had some furniture, and he found a small hole between two rooms that gave him a route. The floor was creaky, but he had a couple windows to take stock of and explore later – if they went anywhere. Nothing lurked in the deep corners, he could navigate the dim spaces and get around without tripping. An extra bathroom connected two rooms, and he could go between them and later check if the faucet and sink worked. 

  The cabinets in the kitchen held some dingy boxes that he took immediate interest in. He huddled in a cabinet chewing up packaging and digging out the clumps of food. The flavor was bland, but that was best. He dragged a wad of the food stuff in his arms and wandered more around the halls, giving the spaces a better scrutiny. Some of the walls had corroded pictures with faded speek, or only a frame hanging by a wire. Some rooms lay cluttered with bags, other spaces carried a blinding radiance, one section of the hall broke into a Y shape. Exploring was good when nothing lunged out with a shriek. And no other kids.

  Most of the windows had boards nailed tight, or the glass was webbed and distorted. He slipped into one room and found the Thin Man, bowed with his back facing him.

  “Broke,” he hissed. “S’danger of room.” Mono dumped the wrapper and crumbs on the ground and rushed over to the tall man and his hat. “Not go.” He orbited the feet planted to the floor and stared up, trying to see the tallest creature in all the city. The edge of the sill was in the way.

  He scurried away and searched the dingy fringes of the rooms, poking at lumps and whatever had some shape. A cylinder container could be moved off a heap of clothing, and he could push and scoot the ends until it rolled the correct way to the sill side. It was harder flipping the thing onto its end, but after he managed to get it situated, he was at last dangling from the corner of the sill.

  The rain hit the glass and made the dulled prattle hum, mingling with that dusty rattle the Thin Man had. The man in the hat has a smoke to his lip and breathed a thick plume, while he watched through the window and its blotched surface.

  Mono scooted to one elbow braced to the sill and leaned on his arm. Company. And quiet. He watched the blurred squiggles run down the glass, fading of crashing into their friends. The city beyond didn’t exist, but he could make out the lines through the haze of rainfall. Sometimes tiny light glittered, looking something like… stars. Did he ever see those blinking lights before? He could think about the embers swirling from the grate of the furnace, and the hacking bellows from behind the anchored door.

  The door held fast. They were safe. For a while, they were warm.

  Sometimes his eyes slid shut, but only for a splint moment before he snapped back. He tucked his knees up under his coat and tried to use the Thin Man’s arm to keep his head raised. The rain streaked into shapes on the marred glass, he tried to pay attention to the curves and lines. None of that made anything, but it did remind him of the mark speek. Could the Thin Man read the marks, like the ones frozen in the many books? So much mystery. It was not unlike a television screen, except it didn’t make his head hurt or his nose bleed. The streaks were pretty. This sound and the Thin Man always made his head fuzzy, but in a good way. He didn't feel the jittery panic with each odd creak threading through the back of his mind. 

  The Thin Man raised the hand with the smoke stick and took a deep, rustling breath. When he exhaled smoke, it fogged the glass like a gray sheet. Mono watched, as the man in the hat took a finger and drew a face with an upside down mouth. Mono watched, spellbound.

  Speek! He can make speek!

  “Damore?”

  “Hmm.”

  Mono tugged on his jacket sleeve. “Ugh? Y’speek.” He yanked harder. “More?” Unlatching from the arm, Mono scooted to the glass and breathed on the surface. “Speek? S’do. Hmm?” He made a box and a cup with a handle. And a handprint. “Eeh. For show?”

  With a grating sigh, the hand with the smoke stick returned to the window. After refreshing the canvas, the Thin Man marked in something tol – Mono thought it was the man in the hat – but it had crooked arms, and A LOT of arms. A Sinnapede? No. The thing sat on a line, so a tree? The limbs raised high above, knotted and stretching.

  “Mm. See?” Mono gave the glass a puff and fixed his position. He showed the Thin Man the boy in the paper bag. “Am Mono. See him?” He looked at the Thin Man and pointed to his self. “S’Mono here.”

  He returned to the glass, breathing and marking in a shape. “Then chair. And television. When—” He didn’t finish, because fingers looped around his middle and raised him off the sill ledge.

  “Go F̴͈̄i̷̯̔ñ̴͕ḏ̴̈́ ̴̻͗ some F̴̦̾ö̴̖́ö̶̲́d̵̬̈́.̵̮̆” The hand scooted him along the floor. “T̶̖̚h̷̡̑a̴̘͌t̷̗̽ ̵̬͋Ḭ̵̆s̵̟̆ ̵͖̐I̵̦͋m̴̟͐p̶̯̂ȍ̸̤r̵̺̎t̴̠̎a̵͙̍n̷̹͗t̴̥͝.̸̣͆”

  Mono skittered from the Thin Man, skipping around heaps of whatever in the blotted hue of the room. He glanced back over his shoulder before creeping out.

  The rooms received another search through. Nothing out of place, and very few bugs or whatever to entertain him. He broke a leg off a small chair and dragged that around with him, and practiced swinging the weapon across fast crawling critters. He threw the chair leg, and went to lift it as before, and repeated this throw and fetch several times.

  It was important to keep sharp with his reflexes and have a feel for the length of his weapon, to the whatever 'imaginary' danger might be hounding him, and how much it took to heft and cleave. When he was in the Hospital, the scuttling hands gave him a few close calls. One time when after he missed a swing, the hand cracked its fingernails on the tile floor and made a sporadic lunge. It missed his body, but grazed his knee – that force could have knocked him down, and then the hand would have him at it’s mercy. It gave him a start and the force made him stumble, but he managed to stay upright and heft the bar high once more.

  Another close call happened with one hand that got tangled in the tail of his coat. The stupid hand went ballistic with thrashing and clawing, and Mono panicked in a jumbled process of unraveling from his coat, along with keeping as far from the nasty creature as he could. He was afraid it would crawl up his spine and snare the back of his head. Then break his neck!

  If She wasn’t there! Somewhere in all the thrashing, She manage to come out of nowhere and kicked the hand across the room. Of course, the stupid hand came scrambling back – a little beaten and one digit flopping worthlessly on the ground – by then Mono had the pipe back in his palms, and S̷̛͚M̵̱̊Á̵̝S̸̻̊H̴̫͠Ë̴͉D̷͕͆ the hand again and again and Ä̸̘Ĝ̷̦Ḁ̷̀I̸͚̕N̵̤̆ ̸̲̾Ǎ̸̫N̸̡͠D̸̎ͅ ̴̙̏Ȧ̵̱Ǧ̴͚A̵̪̓I̴̲͊N̷̪̕.̸̬͗.̵̜͝... it was a pulpy, stringy mess of sinew and bone by the time She pulled him away. Okay, it was more like dragged him away.

  It was horrific. He barely slept the whole time they were there (even before he crossed the Patients). It felt like something was always crawling up his arms, or fingers kept tugging at his coat. Him and Her got into snarly fights so many times from trying to dip into half sleeps, but any shift or snag on their coats sent them into mindless ballistics. The Hospital made them go more nutty. In the dark and the smells, and the deafening silence that filled their ears to the brim with a suffocating cotton where their breathing became thunderous. He hated the Hospital. The place was full of terrible sensations and smells.

  The refrigerator had a latch he could jump and reach. The inside was chilled, but maybe that was his clothing being damp through. Inside, some of the low shelves had packages that looked clean. No black blotches or fuzzy, the coloring was fine. He pulled out a wad of vegetable stuff and chewed through that. He found a bundle of meat, but it was more a jerky from sitting and forgotten. Still edible. He wasn’t that hungry, but eating at small increments helped get him from the famished feeling. He did okay without ducking all his food stuff in water, so solids was a big treat.

  In the door shelf he found eggs. He pulled one out and set it on the floor, to chase around and around. Like a ball, only don’t break it.

  He did break it. But managed to save the yolk stuff. Still not a fan. Egg was slimy and goopy, it put a funny taste in his mouth. He shouldn't crinkle his nose at them, though.

  The Thin Man was not in the room with the window. Mono adjusted the egg in his arms and relinquished to the idea of rechecking the rooms, and try finding that bristle static. He preferred rolling the egg, but he didn’t want to risk another accident of it hitting a snag in the floor panels or smacking the wall.

  After getting lost a few times, he got himself turned back right and stumbled upon the Thin Man in a secluded room, a ways in the back of the dwelling. The tall man found a recliner with a short table, where he propped his legs. The hat was down and the Thin Man wasn’t smoking anymore.

  Mono went over to the chair and heaved the egg up onto the seat, beside the Thin Man. He winced when the man in the hat jolted, the faraway gaze took in the surroundings and the room.

  “Mm. Egg.” He climbed onto the seat beside the Thin Man and hefted the egg up. “For food.” The Thin Man took the egg, but to his irritation, he moved it to the floor.

  “No.”

  Mono wasted no time to pounce the egg before it rolled too far away. “Hey.” The next time he lifted the food, he lost his balance and crashed into the Thin Man’s leg.

  “A̵̩͐m̵̛͓ ̷͔̿Ĩ̶͉ ̷̳̑N̶̲̐o̶̮͐t̵̹͒ ̵̗̈́Ă̷͔l̴̠͝l̷̲̐o̷̦̍w̴̖̓ẽ̵͇d̸͚̈́ ̶̤͘Ä̷̹ ̶͍̓M̴͉̿o̸̻͝m̸̻̀e̶̘͠ǹ̵̼ț̵̅?̸̟͠ ̵͙̆A̸̕ͅ ̴͙͝R̵̪̈e̵̦͘p̷͖͂ŗ̵͝i̴̡͐ė̸̡v̵̖̆ẽ̸̝?̴̜̾ ̴̪̌N̷̲̓ő̴̝t̷͖͑h̸͓̓ḭ̴̒n̵̞̾g̷͇̉?̷̼̍”

  “Shud eat.” At least he saved the egg from cracking. But carrying it and tossing it was wearing on his strength, he was already winded from exerting himself. “Good.” He was lying. Eggs were not good. They were food. Maybe the Thin Man would eat them, and Mono wouldn’t have to glare at them. “Yum.”

  He barely got the egg up and over the seat edge. It would be hard to catch it, and he would probably fall along to save it from cracking. Mono climbed up and heaved his offering over to the tall thin man. A hand stole the egg from his arms and he tumbled sideways, barely raising his head to spot the flash of a projectile glint across the room.

  Where go? He climbed off the cushion and wandered around the room, very certain the egg was—

  He looked over at the base of a wall, where a soggy eggshell crashed. Looking up then, the greasy goo trails oozed into the plaster; a few bits of shell clung fast. “S’tol.” The eggshell was good too, in a pinch. It was crunchy, and he kind of preferred it to the goo stuff inside.

  The Thin Man looked at him when he returned. “T’food. Mmm?”

  “D̶͙̓o̴͔͐e̵̘̓s̵̫͛  ̶͖̀'̵̻͛"I̸̞͊ ̶̬̍A̵̲̋ḿ̸̧ ̴̧͘N̴̛̞o̷̗̓T̴͠ͅ ̶̨̃Ḯ̶͍n̵͚̎ ̷̹͆T̸͙́h̴̝̾Ẹ̷̎ ̴̟͘M̴̝͋o̸̓ͅo̸̭̓D̴̩̿"'̸̼͂ ̴̗̓ M̸̦͠e̴̼͋a̷̭̎n̶̲̊ ̵͚̉A̶͚͘n̸̟̿y̵͙̚t̸̙̎h̶̩̋ì̵͔n̸̰̓g̴̟͒ ̶̧͋T̶̫͌o̸̚ͅ ̶͕̋Y̸͖͌ő̶̞u̴̳͠?̸̧̚”

  Mono tugged on his pant leg and held up the eggshell. “S’better. Mm. Try?” He tossed the shell onto the chair seat and scrambled up. The Thin Man gave a noise and slouched, long-long arms trailing over either side of the chair. “Good. Best.” He tried eating more of the shell, since the Thin Man didn’t understand or flat out didn't believe him. Usually he saved shells for when nothing else was around, and then drywall. He didn’t think the Thin Man would eat wood or drywall.

  One time, he did eat one of the Teachers chalk sticks. It was okay….

  The Thin Man is always grumpy and sad. He never eat. Mono is certain it would help. It always put Her in a good mood. “Give mmm.” The Thin Man didn’t budge when he pressed the eggshell against his jacket. “Hey?”

  Was he okay? The man in the hat let his head hang off his neck. It didn’t look right. And he wasn’t moving. The static was very bristly and grating at his ears, but the Thin Man didn’t do anything. He looked so broken and stopped responding to everything. Like a still child. He wasn’t okay. This was hurt. Did something happen, and the Thin Man hid it? He might disappear!

  What does he do? How fix? Broken? Broken! NoNoNo!

  Mono tugged back on his suit lapel, but that did nothing! “Hey. Hoi.” He leapt off the arm chair and went to one of the hands dangling beside the floor. Wrapping his arms around the forearm, he kicked his heels into the chipped floor and tried hauling the arm with him. “You. Mmm!” When they didn’t produce any reaction, he bit the arm.

  Nothing worked. He tried chewing on the fingers and flexing them and prying, and all manner of movement and heaving, or pushing. Though stringy like a thread, the arm was too much and heavy to shift around.

  He raced to the Thin Man’s legs and tugged on his shoe, and shoved at his leg. “You. Hunh. Hurt. Hoi.” Out of desperation, he tried lifting the leg… nope. He couldn't lift that, not by a hair.

  Next Mono climbed up the arm of the chair and perched close to the Thin Man’s sagging head. He grabbed at the collar of the suit and heaved, but the Thin Man was as cold and stiff as a… a….

  “Don’t.” He tilted his head, and tried once more to get a response. “You don’t.” In a new attempt, he scooted back a ways and coiled up. With a snarl, he leapt and shoved at the Thin Man’s chest. The results didn’t bode well, and he nearly fell off the chair's arm.

  “W̵̜͛h̶̪̉y̴͕̓ ̵̗͋M̵̪̀u̷̜̎ś̶̜ť̷͜ ̴͔̓Y̸͈͝ó̶̪u̴͕͘ ̶͚͂Ṯ̷̕o̶̗̎r̴͑͜m̴̟͊e̶̢̓ṋ̶͝t̶͓̉ ̸̡̐Ḿ̵̠e̴̘̒?̴͍͠”

  Mono squeaked and lost his grip, and fell straight to the floor. He wouldn’t sit up or move, or anything. Not right away. The Thin Man was all right but teasing him. For sure, he thought the Thin Man stopped and wouldn’t wake up. He would be alone and it was all Mono's fault.

  With a snarl he lunged at the hand and bit the fingers. As hard as he could. That didn’t bother the Thin Man. Of course it didn’t, but Mono would get him to pay attention.

  The tall thin man did give a rustling sigh. That made Mono more angry.

  “Less’ehn,” he snapped. “You.” In a wild charge he rushed to the front of the chair and tackled the Thin Man’s leg, or shoe. He tried to bite through the stiff fabric, but he kicked Mono off and scooted him away with his heel. Nothing was going to deter Mono, and hissing, he climbed onto the chair.

  Once he balanced himself on the seat between the chair arm and the Thin Man’s leg, the man in the hat grimaced at him.

  “C̵̺̆ḧ̶̪́ḯ̷͈l̷̬̏d̴̠͝—”

  Screeching, Mono launched at the Thin Man and grabbed the lapel of his suit front. Before he could grab the man in the hat, a searing pop signaled his dispersion. Mono crashed into the back of the chair and rolled to his side. He orientated himself with a sputter, managing to open his eyes and glance up right as a hand lashed down for him.

  In a flash, Mono tossed himself through the back of the recliner and smacked into the wall. He gave his head a shake and shuffled around the back corner of the chair, only inching out enough beside a heap of clothing so for seeing the man in the hat. Still there. Searching. Unaware.

  A seek game, then! The Thin Man was it.

  “Y̷͚̾ȯ̴̠u̶͈͠ ̷̫̇C̵͈̃ő̴͓m̴̻̀è̷̠ ̵̏ͅỌ̴̄ủ̷̫ẗ̴̺ ̵̬͐H̷̛̥e̵̙͋r̸͔̽é̴̮.̴̧͛”

  As the tall figure stepped around to check the side of the recliner, Mono reversed further into the shadows. He paused for a spell, only to get his wits together and get himself braced.

  In a buzzing-hum, he appeared a ways behind the Thin Man; the figure continued to examine the chair. He figured that the Thin Man had a hard time locating him, if he stayed nearby. This made Mono smile.

  “Hey.”

  The Thin Man snapped around. “C̷̭̏e̵̯̎a̶̦̅s̷͓͌e̴̡͊ ̴̬̚T̶͇̏ò̵̘y̴͉̐i̸͓͛n̵͔̓ĝ̴̯ ̵̧̈́W̸̨̚i̷̘͆t̶͙̒h̴͘͜—”

  Mono skittered behind a pile of rubbish, before the Thin Man took a step. A low chatter of static hummed through the room. He liked this game. The Thin Man could catch him, but not until Mono was ready. He listened for the sharp click of shoes and kept his shape hidden, while weaving through a mass of clothing and ducking under the small table. He watched the narrow legs swivel around, then fade out.

  “T̴̞̋h̶͈͆i̸̪͑s̵̺̾ ̴̖̂Ì̶̧s̸̢̋ ̸̟͌N̵̺̂O̶̦͒T̸̺͒ ̴̺̀F̷̗͝ű̸̡n̶̫̚n̷͎̾y̶͈̏!̴͓͊”

  In a blink Mono darted out directly under the Thin Man’s path and looked up at him. He only let him get close, then vanished. This elicited another snarl from the man in the hat. He liked the different noises. They didn’t have meaning, but Mono liked them whenever he appeared, or disappeared. It gave him a chance to plan and stabilize himself, whenever he let the man in the hat close in. But only by a little….

  “L̵̹̚i̴̦̹͠t̵̞͒͘͜t̶̨͈̔l̶̻̝̈́è̴͍̺ ̵͖͊M̶̲͗̆ŏ̵̤̞n̵̦͒s̵̙͒́ṭ̶͎̔̚è̶̡͓r̵͔̰̅̀!̸̨̱̑͌” “F̶̣͚̈́ö̸͍͠r̵̟͉͑̄ ̸̻͍͛ț̵̢̉̎h̵͉̉é̶͙̐ ̵̙̖̌̈́E̸̡̠͠Y̵̯̓E̷̬̐̇!̶́͘ͅ” “T̶̯̓h̷̞̓̊i̸̙͠s̵̢͒ ̵̬̪̔̊H̷̬̭̉͐a̷̹̬̿r̵̟̋͐a̸̼͆̈́s̸̝̱͆́s̶̤̎m̷̰̑̽ẽ̴͚̖̕n̸̝͘ṱ̶̨̈́̀ ̴̧̖̓̃W̶̛̪̣̾I̷͇̺͛̈Ḻ̶͓̊̕L̸͙͑ͅ ̴͙̖͋̈E̶̩̤̍n̶̥̾͝d̴̥̞͐!̶̡̱̓”

  The Thin Man was swift on following wherever Mono reappeared, forcing Mono to physically leap to avoid a hand and lunge behind the side of the recliner. Before the Thin Man could get to him, Mono made a short teleport to the other side of the chair and slipped out from the sheltered space. He darted out and swiped at the back of the Thin Man’s leg.

  “Ÿ̶͎͔o̷̮͂̕ü̸̞̾ ̵̨̑w̶͍͙͐i̸̹̓̋l̵̗̟͝l̵̛͉̙͗ ̷̫̩̈́͑n̵͇̕͝ò̷̝͝t̴̳͉̾ ̵͙̔̅l̴̻̻̅̈́i̴̗͎͆k̷͈͇̽́e̵̛̝͎ ̵̢͑̿í̶̼ẗ̵͕́ ̶̫̩̃w̵͙̞̌̒h̴̢̒͝e̸͍͈͆n̶͕̥̑ ̴̻̘̽I̷̲̿̑ ̸̙̕g̴̪̃e̸͓͒ṫ̶̠͙ ̸̦͋͝m̵̜̮̆y̴̫͊̓ ̶͈̉͝h̷̪̚ą̷̅n̸̬̦̓d̸͇̤̊̂s̵̞̊ ̷̰̂ó̸̻̞n̴̛̤̾ ̶͎̎͘y̴̺̋o̴̜͝u̷͎͆͝!̸̲̫̅”

  Mono stuck his tongue out as he scurried away. He was about to duck behind another mass of clothing, when the dull radiance blotted out and he was thrown to the floor. The impact and dark stunned him briefly, but the tingling sizzled through his shoulders.

  Cautious and alert, he tried rolling over. Something was on him, it was heavy and he couldn’t lift it very well. He was in a space with walls curving around him. The texture felt familiar, like one of his hats. But his hand fit in one of his hats. All of Mono fit in this space, even when he didn’t curl up. Does the Thin Man take off his hat?

  The wide slate beneath Mono creaked and all at once light blazed down on him, while a whoosh of air swept the hat away. Or the Thin Man snatched the hat up and set it back onto his tall shadow. Mono tried to see what the man in the hat looked like, if not hat, but he was already grabbed off the floor.

  “I̸͖͠ ̸̗͇̀̕Ç̸̤̀̈á̷̪͝n̸̜̩̈́͝ ̸̠̓D̶̠͕͘ọ̵̑͠ ̷͈̓Ẇ̴̯͑i̶̭̳͛t̷̲̝̅ḧ̴̛͎̤o̷̙̒͋u̴͇͠t̷̥̚ ̴̟̝̀T̴̼̱́͘h̷̯͛̓ā̸͔͚̆t̴̩̲͑ ̸͇͗̓N̴̠̻͋o̴̤͙͛̈n̷̰͓͂s̵̝̞̽̐ẹ̸͒ň̸̢̕ṣ̵̎ͅẻ̶̡̲͛.̵̘͔͝”

  Mono huddled down as much as he could in the grip coiled about his ribs. He tried petting the Thin Man’s wrist and watched him intently, searching for reflection or change in the hard lines of the scowl. The Thin Man must not like eggs either.

  “Have you.” The Thin Man didn’t look at him as he surged through the hall. “And make safe. N'have game. Was to—” The Thin Man shoved him into an open drawer and slammed it shut.

  The silence flooded into everything. Mono fumbled through stiff clothing and dust, until his legs and hands untangled. Outside, all humming and sizzling subsided into groaning howls. It was always the same. The Thin Man leaves. He made sure Mono had a nest, and then leaves. He was bad at making nests though, but that was adults.

  They thought kids dumped a bunch of stuff in a place and that was it. No! Mono took a shirt, a rag, some other stuff that was soft and kept his warmth. He folded the fabric over and pushed, then shoved. It was important not to get tangled up for if the flee, and that could happen if he fought the dream haunts. But this… where he was, it was not nest place.

  It took a bit of working at the drawer, trying to decide how to grip a bar in the underside of the flat surface of the ceiling and pry, heave, and scoot. Several times he exerted himself and needed a pause, and always his heart skipped at every suspicious creak plodding somewhere outside. After so much work, he made a tight crease open in the drawer where he could poke his head and shoulders out. With more wriggling, the rest of him got free and he crashed to the floor below.

  __

  Another scout done. He went to the room with the mostly complete window and climbed onto the sill. It smelled like smoke. The rain was always falling. Outside always looked the same – sometimes it was brighter, sometimes the rain blasted the glass and the patterns became dagger shapes. Even during a span of passive downpour, he could never see the streets below through the boiling mist. When the blaze burned through the window in wicked flashes and the thunder roared, Mono hid further in the rooms far from the window rooms.

  On one of his scouts, he discovered an old plush animal stuffed under a cracked trunk, left in a room. He stole it away from the bones and resumed checking through the rooms, toy in tow. The rooms with the windows whistled and the drumming rain followed his ears, but the halls held the eerie softness. The emptiness was safe, the absence of sound was good. He was busy with everything to make safe.

  He showed the toy all the foods he was organizing in the kitchen, and how to ration them. It was easiest after he curbed his stabbing famish, and he could take smaller bites sometimes, and snooze at other times. Rest was important. The more he moved around and teleported, the more eating he had to make up.

  As well, a package of food always made it to the room with the recliner, in case the Thin Man came for see while Mono hid away. He liked to think the Thin Man visited while Mono was quiet in rest, since the tall thin man thought that was important. When the Thin Man did too much fussing over Mono, he forgot to look after himself. If without Mono, no one looked after the Thin Man. That was his busy, but he couldn’t do that and keep the dwelling safe.

  The toy was wonderful to wrap his arms around and squeeze. It soaked up his warmth and it felt good to hang onto it, especially when he made his nest. He dragged shirts and things into one of the rooms near the window room, and added to it when he had the energy. Aside from a desk and stool, among lumpy bags stuffed with cloth, the room wasn’t interesting. The cover did make Mono feel secure where he put his blanket materials. If something lurked, he would have an area to dive into or have a chance before the threat saw him.

  When he finished another search through the rooms, he took the toy to where the recliner was and told him about the Thin Man. “So tol. Keeps me. Am make safe for come.”

  The toy sat under the small table, while Mono did speek on the wall with a bit of flint. “Them other kids. Not good but has for keep. So everywhere. Then come for Mono.”

  He took a hat from his coat and showed it to the toy. “Have many.” But it was the paper bag he put on. “Is best for Mono.” He put a finger to the bag, and turned his gaze up.

  A strange creaking and some muffled rumble or other grating vibrations, rebounded down into the room. He’s not sure what. It was something dragged, or flopping over and over. He didn’t like it. The walls felt certain and strong, but a collapse could happen when he least expected. That happened in the forest.

  He did a story for the toy. He did a tree – like the way the Thin Man did the tree – and then a log rolling, all down a steep hill. But Mono was fast! Maybe he did a teleport? Who knows! That was why Mono was the best.

  After another rest and then a scout, he showed the toy the room with the splintered ceiling. Then he took the toy, and they watched the window together. He wanted to see the Thin Man somewhere below, looming in the roads. But it was foggy, and the glass was dingy from age and whatever else. Only when the clouds cleared enough, did the distorted surface hold enough blaze to singe through the traces and marks he placed into the surface.

  Creatures from books. Blades of grass and a cage. A television. Mono. A favorite food bar.

  A prickling sizzle brushed the back of his neck, but when Mono looked back, nothing stood there. Sometimes being dry made everything feel weird. He wasn’t used to it.

  He went to the room with his nest, and set the toy creature (he’s not sure what animal) into the folds of shirts. Mono took a piece of wood and scratched into the wall, while the toy watched.

  Somewhere, long ago. Mono left the Thin Man and never came back. Everyone left the Thin Man. Then when the Thin Man was lost and wandering, he found Mono. Mono did something, and then the Thin Man keeps.

  Mono scooted away from the pictures and joined the toy in his nest. The stuffed creature was soft against his sore sides. He could tug the arms around his shoulders, and pretend another kid was keeping watch. It wasn’t real, but he liked to trick himself too. It was important.

  __

  In between his scouts of rooms, Mono added more speek to the wall. He particularly liked one of when he dropped a block of brick on a large toad. The picture was really gory, just for scratch marks put into wood. It took a while to get that one done and his arm still ached from all that.

  The story he worked on now, was about the Snatcher and—

  Midway through carving out an ugly face, the ceiling above shattered. A thought barely passed through Mono’s head, he reflexively teleported to the other side of the wall. From inside the room the scrambling violence went muffled, but the tremors rebounded through the slates beneath his back. He rolled over and stood, first double checking that he was in the hall and that all of the lights had not busted in the crash. He would not get far if he got cornered, and he would get cornered if he lost his sense of direction in suffocating black.

  He scooted along the wall, until he reached the doorway of the room he (once) nested in. Waves of dust huffed from the entry, nearly causing him to sneeze. He blinked at the dry powder and listened to the garbled wheezing from within. The thing clomped around, but not in a heavy and deliberate way.

  A Viewer.

  For a panicked instant, Mono is blanked on what to do. Others? No flee! The Thin Man would hate him if he let dangers overrun their dwelling! But he searched the place inside and backwards, he did not have a way to fix this. Not unless he smacked it with a board, and then lure… he had something.

  “Psst.” Mono lunged out from behind the wall and beckoned the creature. “Hanh!”

  Before the Viewer fully turned around, it was already running. The sluggish, half vault sent it smashing into the edge of the doorframe; this miscalculation sent it down, but briefly. It’s body hadn’t fully stopped rolling through plaster, but it was already propelling sideways to reach the child.

  Mono winced but took off. The delay wouldn’t delay it, the monster would catch up quickly – if he didn’t already know how fast they could be – his hops and lunges went punctuated with a teleport. Meanwhile, down the hall the Viewer gave a nasally wail and commenced its charge. The jerky hazard clunked and barreled left and right, deflecting off the bent walls as if it was ricocheting down a narrow chute. All the same, the mindless figure gained despite Mono’s swift race.

  He turned into the room he didn’t like. The one with the splintered, battered ceiling. Some trauma of erosion infected the walls all around, but the sort Mono didn’t know. It was the only lead he had, before the Viewer wandered around and got lost.

  With a last sequence of teleports, he bypassed the room in three bounds. He strafed along a wall where the surroundings felt stable and crouched, as the Viewer barreled in without a conscious thought. It made it halfway across the floor before Mono made another teleport, the instant he vanished the Viewer collided with the wall.

  Flakes of plaster rained down, among scraps of wallpaper. Mono shook his head and glanced up, adjusting his bag with the movement to inspect the ceiling. A crack formed where the edge of ceiling and upper wall met, a chunk of wood jutted out. When the Viewer began thrashing around and fumbling to rise, Mono swept his arms up.

  An avalanche of serrated planks and dust churned downward, the catastrophe enveloped the Viewer and chomped through the floor beneath. Mono ducked aside, but the slates beneath him flipped upward and before he could move once more, he slid across the coarse incline toward the black dust surging upward.

  In a reflexive leap, he flung himself to another mangled portion of boards pinned beneath the walls base, though these boards didn’t tear loose and chase the Viewer. Mono toppled onto the flanking planks and before he orientate himself let alone recovery, he blanked out. A gust of silt swamped his form, the croaking splinters and agonized groans subsided. The room where so much happened began to relax into its new state of ruin.

  Ages later, Mono did stir from the bundle he toppled into. He was sluggish and had no recollection of what happened, where he was, not to mention the gaping hole right beside where he lay. As he uncoiled more and felt the familiar ache in his shoulders and head, grainy snaps sizzled in the fog of his memory. The forefront and most vivid recount was the Viewer! Where-

  He crept closer to the broken edge he awoke on, and peered into the blanket of gloom draped below. It took several blink and a rub of his eyes to really work out the grit, especially with the harsh cut of light searing into the black cover. The glittery blade of light seared across the twisted shape of the Viewer, skewered by jagged spikes and plaster. It persisted to twist and twitch, but Mono decided the erratic movement no longer needed his attention. With its legs twisted that way, he didn’t think it would pay him another visit.

  With a couple of well placed - somewhat risky jumps - he bypassed the deleted floor and made it to the crooked doorway without incident. It took a great effort of his depleted energy to heave the door shut, but he managed. He scratched in a picture as well, to (maybe) warn the Thin Man not to go in there. The Thin Man could be an idiot at times.

  The room favored for his nest was… wrecked. Chunks of wood and twisted metal tore open bags, the few furniture that hadn’t been destroyed was now incorporated into the destruction. He did find the toy!

  The plush was a different color from all the dust, but only some of its stitching came undone. He clutched it tightly. And sneezed.

  Above and whatever made the upper level, he couldn’t decide what might have been there or where the Viewer came from. Aside from it wandering, and unwanted. It ruined his nest and his shelter. And the Thin Man might figure a Viewer came, and he might never come back. The tall thin man hated Viewers, but he couldn’t hide like Mono. He might not come. The Viewer might make him leave. Maybe it already scared the Thin Man away, and Mono would never see him.

  While he waited and had a think on what to do, Mono busied himself with a new nest. He picked another but not as great room, and tugged in some shirts and a pair of pants. The toy sat by the wall watching his progress, while he folded and worked with the new material. He shoved everything behind a hollow and broken chest, which held secluded hovels he could dart into. Very important.

  The room did have an unseen break in the floor, where he could slip into a shallow space hidden from above. Through exploration he found that the under space didn’t go anywhere, but he could wriggle among the boards and scuffle through clumps of lint. It was a good place to explore and huddle in, when he was nervous that the Viewer might have climbed out of the pit to search for him. This room was far from the destroyed place, but the event made him wary of more dangers crashing in.

  Mono had quite a bit to do between the scouts. He stopped and wrote another story for the plush, while they sat in the kitchen. It took a while to carve deep lines in the wall, and make the speek clear.

  “Eye,” he whispered. “And Her.” He tried to keep more quiet and mumbled for the toy. In case…. “Kille’t. Is laugh for hate. Grr. Trick. Trick. Hurt.” Then Eyes. Lots and lots of Eyes. Then....

  The story was scratched and slashed into sawdust. Mono dragged his flint piece through the wood, hurting the eyes and the speek of children running. By the end - and such a long time later - nothing but a raw wound in the wall awaited for inspection. The whole event never happened.

  With that busy concluded, Mono sat with the toy and watched the kitchen. Then he wondered if the Thin Man… ever found Her. Was that why Mono never saw Her? Not that the think meant anything to Mono, but he should puzzle about Her. Where She was. What happened. Why?

  Did the Thin Man look for Her, too? Mono never wanted to see Her again. He still wanted to ask the Thin Man, but he was afraid. All of them... gone, but he wasn't stole. He got away because he was faster.

  The toy was good to squeeze and bury his face against. He told the plush that the Thin Man would come back. They tricked the monster and the dwelling was safe. The Thin Man knew everything.

  __

  Al lot of the food stuff containers and crushed wrappings, even from the cabinets, blocked the door of the big fridge unit from moving. Some of the food left in the cold shelves started to smell, and Mono knew better than to test if it was safe. Climbing shelves was hard too, and then trying to pull—

  The lights pulsed and a somber crackle threaded through the hall. Mono glanced around, as he held a cylinder container of something goopy (it was good). Was the storm? This flash was different. The electric haze scent changed too, the same way when....

  He threw aside the container and rushed from the kitchen, he took the hall and raced full tilt. Clicking! And another sizzling-pop!

  In his own glimmer, Mono threw himself from the corridor and into one of the rooms. He slid up under a desk and huddled by the furniture’s leg, unable to restrain himself from racing out to the tallest figure standing across the room and beside the wall. He was about to creep out and make speek, but… something was wrong. He wanted to go over and check the Thin Man. He looked hurt.

  But he’s wary of trick.

  Mono cringed when the Thin Man toppled against the wall, pawed against the peeling surface with his palm, but ultimately crashed to his knees. There the hunched figure stayed, swaying back and forth. The static buzzed through Mono’s ears, but his eyes never dropped from the Thin Man. Hurt. Really hurt.

  The Thin Man touched his face and made a noise. With a lurch and sputter, the tallest silhouette struggled to rise – maybe in a glittering crackle? One long leg bent up, but his coordination was tipsy and his shoe scuffed over the worn floorboards.

  Steeling himself, Mono scooted from beneath the desk and took up a sock. “Hey.” He flinched when the Thin Man glanced his way.

  “Ä̴͇́̌ḧ̷́̕��̥.̴̰̀ ̶̼͌͂ͅŤ̷̢̮̈́h̷̫͊́e̸̢͇̓ ̵͈̻͋̂B̴͍͎͌͘ȏ̴̞͊ȳ̷̲̽.̸͚͕͛ Ș̴͝h̵̳͆̋ỹ̴̰ ̵̝̾F̸͕͕̚r̵̼͇̀ǫ̴͐͑m̵͜͠ ̸̩͂T̸̗̈́h̷̭̙̍͌e̵̤̞̔ ̵̢̻́Ẅ̸̗ó̷̫r̷̙̍͗l̷͇̒̌d̵̦̰͗͠.̸̪̏ ̴͕̃Ḥ̵̠͂͛m̸̆ͅm̵͓̬̊̈́m̸͖͂̊?̷̗̿”

  Mono tilted his head. Inspecting the Thin Man now, he didn’t look hurt. He didn’t act the way of hurt. Wasn’t he smiling? The entire thing made Mono confused. Did the Thin Man not think he was hurt?

  “Are… um? Hmm. Y’fall.”

  The Thin Man snorted. “Ṭ̴̛̍h̵̨͆i̷͍̋s̴͍̓̾?̵̠̿͐ ̷̹̟̀̀Ț̵͎͠ḣ̷̖i̸̲̓̚͜s̴̲͐ ̴͙̎̽Í̸̡͍s̸̡̆ ̸̲̀̌N̵̨͎͠ö̷̩́t̵̩͑͂h̶̡͎͊͠i̶̮̽n̶̜̂͘͜g̷̲͔͊̾.̴̝̮͠”

  Mono really wanted to get closer and check, especially while the Thin Man was okay with him getting nearer. But he also didn’t want the tall thin man to fall on him, and with how wobbly he was with sitting and doing nothing, it could happen. Mono liked to think ahead.

  He did shuffle closer, but kept sharp study of the Thin Man’s motions and rocky sway.

  A dry rasp burbled from the Thin Man, and he moved a hand closer to him. “C̴͓̘̋̽o̴̧͆ḿ̴̮͝ě̶͍͇ ̵̧̒̇ H̸̡̓ȅ̷̻͖̾r̶͔̃̑e̴͓̓.̶̝͚̃ ̶̭͑̽ I̴̬̼͐ ̸̩͊̎ S̶̖̉͠h̴̗̳̑o̵͇͎̕ú̷̱͇l̵̻̪͐̈́ḍ̷͌ ̵̖͍͐ Ḻ̷͍͝i̸̳̹̔̇k̸̟͇̀ẹ̷̗̅̉ ̷̯̆̒ T̵̛̙͆o̴̢̙̅́ ̸͈̏ S̴͇̣͠e̶̯͎̾è̵̤̥́ ̶̭̄ Ṯ̵͔̈́h̴͈̐̈́ë̷̹͓ ̴͚̏͋ B̸͚̱̿r̵̦̈a̵̲͈̔̉v̴̺̀e̸̢̦͑͝ ̴̝͗͐ B̵̠̿o̷͘ͅỳ̷̧̭.̴̜̅͛”

  He probably wanted to tease Mono. He did inch closer, but his good senses locked him from getting within grabbing range. He sniffed and tipped his head, trying to work this strange act out. The Thin Man looked unharmed, but he smiled in not the way Mono liked. And a little more. It was a trick. Or a trap. This was the Thin Man, but also it didn’t smell like the Thin Man. The static fizzled dark and vibrant around his shape, nearly obscuring his outline in the simmering light. It almost surprised Mono that he could move without that dragging delay, which was more convincing to mind his distance.

  With a shake of his head, Mono dumped the sock and rushed back to the desk. He  hid behind one of the legs, but kept his toes braced and his focus sharp, should the Thin Man decide to move or flicker. Anything could happen, but Mono had no idea what might come about.

  “Y̵̟͂̈́ō̴̝̓u̷̮͆ ̵̳͙̈Ņ̴̑e̶̩͛ṽ̶̹̰e̸̯͙͂̓r̸̬̜͐͘ ̶͍̚W̴̲̓ả̵̧͎̀n̴̜̈́t̸̫̘̍̓ ̶͕̀T̵̗̂̌͜ȏ̶̞̺ ̵̨̣̌͗ B̷̪͂̊e̷͈͌̇ ̵̦̒A̷̻̰̾͝r̶͗ͅo̷̠̒ụ̸̓n̸͔͔̄̀d̵͈̒͌ ̵̖͆̂M̶͓̱̑̈e̴̮̎́,̷̾ͅ” the Thin Man hissed. He pushed off the floor and got to his feet, but faltered and caught himself against the doorway of the corridor. He grumbled some sounds and kept walking. “N̵̻̤̈́o̶͇͘͝t̴̡̥́̌ ̶̯̬̌̓Ṳ̶͘ṉ̸̔l̵̰̙̽̈e̷̬̝͆s̸̙̹̆̀s̷̥̋.̸͈̜̈.̸̈̎ͅ.̷͖̓̉ ̷̩̖̓̏ N̷̩̎͂ò̴̧̓t̶͍̀ ̵̗͆Ú̷̧n̸̟͔̓̚ļ̵̲̋e̵̗͆s̷̗̟͗s̴͕͌̔͜,̶̝̪͆̕”The tall figure teetered down the corridor, leaning on one wall or the other. “F̶̢͓͛͝o̴̡̠̊r̸̫̙̓̉g̷̲̒ẹ̸̲̐̉ť̴̢ ̷͙̳̾̈́Î̶͕T̶̯͗!̷͖͎̀ ̴͉͑͜T̵̠͉̿h̷̭̋ī̵̟͓͠s̴̱͇̓́ ̴̐͜Ḯ̸̢͓͝s̷͎͆ ̴̰̈́͝ - Ĭ̶̺t̷͕͆ ̸̩̊Ẃ̴̖i̸̞̅ļ̸͂l̷̰͠ ̴̣͑A̴̫̎l̶͖̑w̴̘̏å̸͜ý̵͍s̷̻̉ ̶̿͜B̴̢͌ẻ̷̜ ̵̺͛B̷̭̾ȅ̷͍ý̵̬o̷̹͛n̵̙̕d̴̲̃ ̸͍͝Y̵̦͗o̷͕̓u̷͙͒.̶͚͒”

  Mono slipped away from the desk and crept closer to the corridor, while always keeping a fair and extensive distance from the tall thin man. In case he fell or something. There wasn’t much of anything Mono could do but watch and... be there.

  The Thin Man jarred to a halt and looked back. “Y̵̠̏̇o̸̠͈͌u̷͓̬̒́ ̴̢̣̌͝Á̴̟̮r̴̗̮̄̓e̷̜̻̊̑ ̴̢̀̚F̸͓̕ö̶̥́l̸͎̃͑l̷̫̝̈́-̷̢͓̎̅l̷̼͓̾l̸͍̆́ͅô̸̜̕w̴̧͆͠-̴͚̏͋I̵̠̊Ņ̶̰̀̒G̵̗̗̓͘ ̵̤̂̈́M̸̤̦̕ě̶̖̟̚.̷̜̲̅ ̷͕̣̎̌A̵̺̓r̵̩͂͛ȅ̵͕ņ̷͘'̸͈̆͋ṯ̴̺̌̚ ̸̣̍Ŷ̶̧͌o̷̱̓u̵̱̓͒?̵̡̛́”

  Mono studied the Thin Man carefully, before nodding.

  “W̶̢̜͋͑h̴̲̆ÿ̸̧͈́̈́!̶̘̥̈̎ ̵͉̪̿Ẉ̵̧̉͘h̴̝̹͂͆y̶̯͕͌ ̷͓̣̓̓B̶̘̏̊o̷̻̬͛̋t̶͚͘ẖ̷̔ė̸̙̫̂r̸̼͌?̶̢̀̔ ̶̃̽ͅẆ̶̺͍h̸͎̀ỹ̶̟̇ ̸͓̈̈́A̴̟̺͆r̵̜̞̂e̶̘̟̓ ̶̯͐̉Y̶̖̏͛o̵͎̲̍u̸̘̯̍̚ ̴̖̐̀Ş̷̮̅͠u̸̗̠͒̕ć̴̮̣h̶̜͇̅͝ ̸͙̐͝A̸̜̖͝ ̸̟͎̈́B̸͉̤̈o̴̗̔t̵̺͆h̶̩̒͘e̴͈̐r̸̼̪͂̚?̵̢̟̍͘”

  The speek confused Mono. He was worried about the Thin Man, but the Thin Man always hides his hurts and leaves. Was there a way to fix this? He didn’t know what happened, let alone what could help the Thin Man.

  With a scoff and a shimmer, the shimmering silhouette dissolved. And Mono went on immediate alert, scrambling forward and checking back over his shoulder. The static faded and the soft blaze bristled in the corridor. He didn’t know where the Thin Man was or where he might’ve gone. It was safe to move, but he was cautious while venturing through the halls.

  None of the rooms sheltered the Thin Man, but he did suspect where the man and his hat had gone. He did make his way to the room with the recliner, and there was the Thin Man. The tall, bent figure sat hunched in the chair, and bowed over the small table. Mono slipped into the room and moved close to the table, but not too close. From where he crouched, he peered over the edge enough to see the man in the hat.

  “T̵̖͑h̸̡͚͝e̸̢̝͂ ̷͇̑͗M̸̌͜ô̶̡̤͠m̶̺͐ĕ̸̤̭͠ǹ̵͉̬t̷̻̀ ̸͈̑̕I̶̤̅̕ ̸͎̑̔ͅP̴̫͐̚ͅḁ̷̐r̷̗̺͒k̴̟̼͛ ̵̟̘̊͛Ḿ̴̳ÿ̴̫̣s̸͍̻̚ḛ̷͑͝l̴̪̓f̵̣̘̋.̶̺͍̄” He snickered, but the scowl returned.

  Mono smiled behind the bag. He wanted to be closer and do company, but his finetuned instincts were much stronger than his fickle yearning. “Y’see. How wait?” he whispered. The Thin Man put his face into his hands, the crackling buzz thickened in the room and for a moment, Mono couldn't gather if the Thin Man was speek or muttering, or if he was hearing things.

  “W̶̥͑h̴̲͌ỳ̶̥̥̀ ̴̛̟͇̑A̴̗̖̾r̵̲̚ë̴͔̬́ ̷̼͛Y̴̭̾̑o̷̞̙̎u̵̠̾̎ ̵̪͛H̵̥͍͂̕e̴̢͙͋r̵̭̈́͝ë̷͓́ͅ?̷̟̠̈́̒ ̵̢̹̎͝Ẁ̸̙̲͝h̴̳̜̔̏y̶̱͋ ̸̛͖̪̄D̴̩̃ỏ̶̭ ̶̲̤̚Y̷̟̾̐o̷̢͖̓u̸͈̓ ̸̣̍̍H̷̳́̄a̶̗͑͝v̴̼̆ė̴̟̗̂ ̴͎̊̔N̸̙̖̐͝ǫ̸̼͌t̵̞̞͐͂h̸̬͌i̴̼̊n̵̹͇̓g̸̛̜̫͂?̶̠̣͑”

  Mono uncurled some to see more above the table. “You.”

  “M̴̮̈̔e̷̳̎̈́.̵̩̝̇͝ ̶̤͊͝I̴̢͕̾̍ ̵̗͂Ḁ̸̱̓͗m̵̭͙͆ ̷̡̭̐̓N̶̮̫̆͋o̴̡̙̿͒t̵̢̛̺̓h̸̲͆͝i̵̜̓ń̷̢͛͜g̷͂͜ ̸̛̯B̵̙̘̊̍u̴͆̈ͅt̷̢̑͝ ̶̦̈̐Ȁ̸̗ ̵͕̗̾͗F̶̛̭̪̀i̸̤͚͒ḡ̵͎̼m̴̬̉͜e̷̠̫͂n̴̙̅̓͜t̴̢͕̔ ̵̗͙̊͂O̸͎̦̍̒f̶͎͗ ̴̜́͂Y̶̫̐ŏ̵̭͛u̴̜͖͒r̶̼̜̔ ̷̻̰̈M̶͓͒́ì̸̧̾ͅn̵̩̭̅͂d̷͙̭̓s̵̬̈́̇ ̶͇̻̈́C̴̨͔̑̾r̵̯̘͐e̶̜̬̔͝ḁ̸̟̌̑t̸͍̺͂ǐ̴̮o̶͉̹͗́ñ̴ͅ.̵̹͛ ̸͚̃A̷̧̱͋̉ ̸̱͇͌N̷̰̾̕i̶̯̦͊͘g̸̻̈̊ḩ̸̡̛̆t̴̬͠m̴̢̯͌̃a̵̰̓͝r̶̘̄e̵͕͖͌.̷̝̈” The Thin Man braced one elbow to the table and set his check upon the palm. The other arm stretched out, which spurred Mono to scuttle backwards. “Ý̸͇o̶͔͒ͅụ̸̎͜.̶̡̕ ̸̩̿̿Ý̷̥ò̸̙͙́ư̵͔̱̌.̷̩͖̓ ̵̭͕̃͑Y̵̞̌o̵͕̰͋̽u̴̠̱̅.̴͍̻̇ ̷̄ͅY̸͔̓̏ọ̷̟̑u̶̺͂̂.̷̗̃ ̵̦͉͘L̶̰̆è̵̠̅t̵͚̍͊ ̵̲̎͘ͅM̴̭̃e̷̱̝̊ ̸̜͋͂Š̸̼e̷͍̍͝e̴̢̛̝ ̴̛̱͓̈Ẏ̵̺o̸̙͆ȗ̶͖̣.̵͍̯̑ C̴̪̬̏̋o̸̢̖͑̃m̷͔̋̓ë̴̜́ͅ ̶̥̾Ȍ̶͔̍n̴̗̣̓͝.̶̛̗ ̷̳̼͋̕I̵̔̒͜ ̶̮̳̆W̸͔̅̀o̵̱̾u̴̳̎l̶͔͌͘d̸̡̔ ̷̰̈N̴̺̒͝ḙ̷̐v̷̨̻̔͊e̸̛̺r̷͕̒́ ̸̟̋̅H̶̩̀a̵̢͒ȓ̷̤͋m̵̰͖͗͒ ̴͖͂͐Ś̸͇ű̷͚c̶̈́ͅĥ̴̝ ̶̦͝A̸̼͐ ̵͚́C̷̻͗ḻ̸̛e̷̢͘v̵̤͑ȩ̴͠r̵͈̽.̵̣́.̴͖̐.̵̭͋ ̵̣̉Y̸̪̕o̶̟͘ȗ̷̺.̷̹̅”

  The way the Thin Man did speek was more different, and everything made Mono uneasy. It was hard for the Thin Man, since he didn’t understand anything. He really wanted to help the Thin Man and make certain he was all right, but it wouldn’t be good for the Thin Man if Mono was hurt. How would the Thin Man have food or be looked after, without Mono?

  He backed away, always keeping his firm attention on the Thin Man, and stayed sharp to any disturbance –a shift of static, a flutter in the white noise. The Thin Man let his upturned palm flop over, but otherwise didn’t move. He did smile.

  Once Mono was out of the room, he turned and ran away. He wasn’t sure if the Thin Man would be able to stand let alone pursue, but he didn’t take chances. The room he nested in wasn’t far. He wouldn’t be too gone, in case the Thin Man needed him.

  Aside from get his toy, he didn’t stay in the nest. He found the hidden break in the floor and slipped into the dark confines beneath the slates. Bars of light glistened over his arms and he hauled the toy with him, squeezing through tight gaps among the narrow pillars, until he wriggled into a shallow bowl in the dust, deep and hidden away.

  Somewhere beyond the walls, he’s sure the Thin Man was doing speek. He could be confused and think Mono was still there, or wanted to speek for someone. It made Mono feel bad, he would have been happy to stay for the Thin Man. At least Mono did keep the place safe, and the Thin Man did come back. What happened to the Thin Man? This was a more strange than usual.

  He didn’t think the Thin Man was lie or wanted to trick Mono, but for some reason, Mono didn’t think it was smart to trust the Thin Man. Not while the Thin Man seemed confused and didn’t know why he does thing.

  In a sharp beam, Mono looked the toy over. He sort of fixed it after the ceiling collapsed, but he could only do so much. He took a wad of lint and stuffed it into the toys tummy, and tugged the bent threads until the seam was tight and solid again.

  It made him think of Her. When they hid in sheltered holes and squished into the other, until no whisper of chill pricked at them. Between the gnarled haunts snatching at their minds, they would fumble and twist to get comfortable and not get shoved out into open air. The toy was nice, all he did was squeeze it and hide under its arm. It muffled out the noise of the Thin Man speek and the click of his steps. Mono thought about the foods he had left, and wondered if he should make a new food concoction. When it was more quiet, he would check on the Thin Man. 

Next

[believinghurts]

Their Daughter

Relationship: Regulus Black x niece!Reader, Remus Lupin x Black!reader, Severus Snape x Black!reader, Sirius Black x daughter!reader

Warnings: Insecurities 

Summary: What would have happened if Regulus hadn’t died and Sirius had a daughter whose the same age as Harry? What if Regulus raised her with the help of some friends? What when Sirius comes back from Azkaban and Harry shows up to live at Grimmuald Place? This is the story of Alianova Jane Black.  Voices coming from downstairs stirred Ali from her peaceful sleep. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand she saw that it was only 9am which was pretty early for her and everyone else that lived in her house. Normally her Uncle Reg would be awake, but would be quietly reading till she came down later in the morning since she didn’t have school due to it being summer. Summers were Ali’s favorite time of the year; she got to spend time with her Uncles Regulus, Remus, and Severus. They had raised her since her father was shipped off to Azkaban for the murder of his best friends. They normally didn’t talk about her father in the house since her grandmother hated him and Regulus and him didn’t get along. Uncle Remus didn’t say a lot about him either. She knew that at one point they were best friends in school. 

Although they didn’t talk about him a lot Aunt Cissa often said that Ali looked a lot like him with her dark brown hair and grey eyes. No one knew who her mother was since she left Ali at her fathers doorstep when she was six months old. According to Grandmother she was the product of a one night stand, she never said Ali was an accident unlike how she had heard some of the other parents call their children. She often said she was a blessing when she was alive. Grandfather died before her dad went to Azkaban, and Uncle Reg almost died from an Inferi attack caused by the Dark Lord. She went to live with her Uncle when she was one and a half. Her Godparents oblivious couldn’t take her seeing as they were dead. And Remus needed help with her due to his monthly problem which was how she ended up here. Grandmother died when Ali was five, but we weren’t around her a lot to begin with. Regulus didn’t want my views on life tainted by hers, so he often kept Ali out of the house we shared with her or just with him in general. Her portrait still hung in the hall, constantly talking to whoever would listen. 

Unbeknownst to anyone else Ali knew that her father had escaped his prison last year. She also knew that he came to Hogwarts and sought out her Godbrother Harry instead of her. She knew her Uncle Remus, who was working at Hogwarts during the time, tried his hardest to make sure she didn’t know. Ali had not only overheard the Golden Trio talking about it as well as Regulus and Remus’s conversation about it during one of his visits. No one had mentioned it, but if they did she wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt. Why wouldn’t he seek her out? She was his daughter, not Harry. Wasn’t I what he wanted? She thought time and time again. She heard a few stories from Remus, the few times he talked about Sirius, that he loved her a lot when she was a baby. Constantly doting on her and playing with her, she even slept with him as a baby. So why not me? She couldn’t help but wonder.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she hopped out of bed slipping her feet into her fluffy socks to rid the chill of Grimmauld Place floor. Athena was bouncing around in her cage begging to be let out. The commotion downstairs seemed to be getting louder the longer it went on. She quickly opened the cage and window letting Athena be free knowing she would probably be back with a letter from her best friends Draco, and Theo at some point in the day. Once she opened her door she realized that all of her Uncles were downstairs as well as someone else whose voice she didn’t recognize. The talking didn’t stop once she got the door opened so she decided to tiptoe down the stairs in hopes of catching what was being said. Her plans were ruined once Grandmothers portrait caught sight of her; she just had to talk. 

“Good morning, my darling girl. How did you sleep last night? You’re Uncle has been making such a ruckus, and in my house of all things.” 

She rolled my eyes, praying that the people downstairs were too busy yelling at one another to notice the noise coming from the hall. But Ali was wrong. 

“Alianova, I know you are not trying to eavesdrop are you?,” Remus said causing the others to fall silent. 

She pasted the most innocent smile on her face that she could muster up before continuing down the stairs. “Me? Eavesdropping? Of course not, Uncle Rem. I was just- just talking with Grandmother.” 

She moved to him as he rolled his eyes at her oblivious lie before pulling her to his chest in a hug. “I missed you, Ali.” He whispered into her ear. Remus and Ali had always been close. Grandmother didn’t like him coming to the house much, though she allowed once in a while if Ali asked nicely enough, but Regulus always made sure that Ali would get to see him at least once a week. After Grandmother passed Remus started to come over more often taking her to the book stores in Muggle London. She knew that as children there had been a tension between Regulus and Remus, but over the years it seemed to have vanished leaving the two to have a friendship of sorts that was even present while Ali was at Hogwarts. “I missed you, too. Why haven’t you been coming around? I’ve been out of school for three weeks and this is the first time I’ve seen you…” 

After everything that happened with her father it deeply hurt that Remus hadn’t come to see her. She frequently wondered if he had decided that Harry was better than her as well. She saw his eyes glance up to the third man in the room before answering, “I had a few things to take care of. I’ll be around a lot more, promise Ali.” 

He gave her one more squeeze before passing her off to Severus who was looking rather annoyed by the fact that he was being ignored by the only child he could stand. Like Remus, she was also close to Severus. She knew that most people saw him as cold and mean, but that was only the front he put up to the outside world. Around her he was talkative, and another father figure. Since he worked at Hogwarts she could be found in his office in some of her free time working on homework or helping him with potions for Madam Pompfrey. He was there for her when she came to Hogwarts nervous to be around some many people at once. He watched her get sorted into Ravenclaw and cry when she thought that she was going to be a disappointment to Remus for not getting Gryffindor, and Regulus for not getting Slytherin. He was in no way the “fun” Uncle, but he was a big support in her life. 

Severus patted the top of her head as she hugged his torso. He wasn’t a touchy feely person though he made exceptions for Ali. “Good morning, Alianova.” 

He was the only person who called her by her full first name. Most called her Nova with the exclusion of Remus who called me Ali, and Regulus who called me A, Al, or Ali Jane when she was in trouble. Ali rolled her eyes up to Sev’s face with her nose scrunched up to show that she still despised being called that. She saw his lips quirk a little on the sides in response knowing that if it was just him and Ali he would have smiled some. Deciding to play dirty right back Ali uttered a  “Good morning Uncle Sevvy.” 

His normal scowl fell back into place upon hearing his hated nickname she had given him as a child. Remus chuckled hearing it while the other man in the room stared at them with what appeared to be disbelief etched on his features. She cocked her head looking in his directions trying to think of where she had seen his face before. It wasn’t hard to place it. It was Sirius Black. His face was plastered all over The Daily Profit last year, and she had also seen a few photos of him in the attic. His eyes took in all the features on her face as if he was analyzing her. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet from the attention. Behind her Remus and Severus shared a look while Regulus stepped back into the room. 

Noticing the tension that had fallen he decided to speak, “What, princess? Everyone gets a good morning but me? And to think I had Kretcher make you pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream for breakfast.” 

Ali moved to the man who had been her father for as long as she could remember. She never called him Dad, but it was what he was. He was only twenty when she was thrown into his life, but even then he didn’t let Grandmother do a lot for her. She learned as she got older that he was part of the Death Eaters as well as Severus. They didn’t hide it from her explaining what it was and how they came to be them. According to her Uncles and Aunts, Regulus changed when she came into his life. He was static, showed little emotion, and never smiled. That was the side to Regulus Black that she had never seen. He smiled, was often goofy, and openly expressed his love for her multiple times throughout the day. She knew that this was because he didn’t want her to grow up how he and his brother had, with no love shown. Which was why he was the only to get up with her when she was a baby and let her sleep in his bed after nightmares. Some said that Grandmother raised her till she died and she just had nowhere else to go which couldn’t be further from the truth. Regulus had raised her from a young age of twenty giving his life to make sure hers was perfect, often going against what Grandmother wanted of Ali. He fed her, taught her to read and play piano, let her cuddle in his bed and watched Muggle telly on Sundays, called Narcissa when she had girl problems, and altogether just loved her, often not caring who saw that side of him. 

Ali kept her eyes trained on the man who was supposed to be her father while tucking herself under Regulus’s arm. Sensing that she knew who Sirius was, Regulus pulled her tight, pressing a kiss to her head before speaking, “If I’m correct you know who this is right, Al?” 

She nodded her head, unable to speak, afraid that the tears she was holding would come through. At her nod Sirius stepped forward slowly as if she would be frightened like an animal. “Hi there, sweetheart. You really do look like me, uh?” 

Gulping slightly she nodded once again. She wasn’t sure what to do. Does she introduce herself? Does she say hi? She looked up at Remus and Severus who were both watching the exchange, the latter more like glaring at Sirius whereas the former was ready to step in at a second notice. She turned her head to look at Regulus next, hoping he would give her directions on what to do. He tilted his head to the side letting her know that it was okay to speak. “H-hi. I’m Alianova. Alianova Jane Black.” 

The man before her smiled brightly. “Hi, love. I’m Sirius, your dad. But I think you already knew that.” She nodded again. Tears were swimming in her eyes again because she knew that this shouldn't have been the first time she met him. She should have met him months ago when he came for her instead of Harry. Harry; the golden boy with his golden friends; who had enough family issues that he gets pity while her family who was also torn apart that night gets nothing but looks of disgust all for being a Black. She caught herself wondering at times if her life would have been different if she was a Lupin or a Snape or maybe even a Malfoy. And it made her angry standing in front of the man who not only brought her into the world as a Black, but also left her that fateful night in order to pursue revenge without even thinking about what would happen to her. 

Her sniffle caught the attention of the room, “Why?” Ali needed to know. She needed to know why he left her that night and why he didn’t come for her when he escaped. Panicked by her question Sirius glanced at Remus then Regulus, not sure what to do. 

Regulus took the intuitive to figure it out, “Why what, princess?” 

Her eyes flickered to my Uncles tall figure, “Why did he leave me that night? But more importantly why didn’t he come for me like he did for Harry when he escaped? I was in Hogwarts too. He knew I existed and he knew that I more than likely went to school there. So why Harry?” Ali turned to look back at Sirius who was shocked by the sudden confidence in her voice, but she was a Black, a short temper was to be expected. “Was I not enough? Did you not want me in the first place? I mean I know you didn't. I was the product of a one night stand, so it’s not like I was planned or anything. So why? Why couldn’t you come to me? Why couldn’t you stay for me?” By the time she was done tears were coming down her cheeks and Sirius’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish. 

“I-I” Sirius stuttered trying to find the right words to explain all his actions. Ali could tell by his actions that he thought she didn’t know that he came to Hogwarts for Harry. It wasn’t public knowledge, and according to the other men in the room faces they didn’t know she knew either. She never believed that he did the crime. From the few stories she was told she knew that he loved James and Lily like family and wouldn’t have turned on them which was why she wasn't afraid of him in the first place. She just wanted to know if they were more important than her, if Harry was more important than her. “I know that you probably don’t remember much from that night if anything at all, but when my best friends, your God parents, were taken from me I was angry. So angry that I couldn’t think straight so I left. I took you to the neighbor who watched you a few times for me and went to go take down the man who did it. It was stupid. I should have waited for Remus, but I didn’t. I wanted nothing more the past twelve years, but to get Harry and for us to be a family. As for not seeing you at Hogwarts, I didn’t know you were there. I wasn’t sure who you were staying with so I knew you could have been there or Dumstrang or Beauxbatons. I didn’t have a lot of time to hunt for people. Once I knew where Pettigrew was I had to get to him. I’m sorry, Alianova. For everything.” 

One thing that often got her in trouble was that she was a very forgiving person. She often forgives anyone who apologized for whatever wrong they did. But this was the one time she wasn’t sure. He apologized, but it didn’t feel authentic. It was like he didn’t even believe some of the words he was saying. She looked around the room again trying to read everyone's faces. Remus looked like he was slightly mad, but when he caught her looking at him his features soften like the times she was hurt and needed him. Severus was still glaring at Sirius, and didn’t notice my scrutiny, and Regulus had now joined Severus in glaring at Sirius which concerned her. He smiled down at her a little when his eyes moved to her face. She looked back at Sirius who was looking at her with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. Ali took in all his features noting how his brow furrowed, his lips turned down lightly, his eyes big and pleading into hers.

“I-I understand.” Ali couldn’t forgive him yet. She needed to trust him first. She understood what he was saying, and that he was sorry, but it wasn’t okay. And he needed to know that. His face fell slightly at her words, turning his handsome features into a small frown. 

Before he could say anything Regulus intervened, “Alright how about breakfast, love? I know you’re hungry.” Ali giggled as her stomach grumbled in response. “It’s on the table. Muggle way just the way you like it. Go on and we’ll be in shortly.” 

Ali kissed his cheek in thanks, sparing a look around the room before heading down to the kitchen. Knowing that the reason they weren’t joining her right then was to talk about something Regulus obviously didn’t want her hearing she came back up the stairs after opening and shutting the door to the kitchen making it seem like she was in there. Carefully avoiding the squeaky stairs she crouched down to peer around the corner to see the men still standing in the same spots all looking rather annoyed with one another. 

“She understands? That’s all she had to say?” Sirius seemed frustrated and slightly angry if the look on his face said anything. “How is that all she had to say? I apologized. I’m her father. She wouldn’t even hug me.” He threw his hands up while plopping down on the chair before running his hands through his hand, something Ali noted her Uncle Regulus did as well when he was upset. 

“Sirius, you have to understand that she doesn’t know you. She has maybe three photos of you, and has rarely heard stories. Mother loved her, but didn’t like to talk about you very much even when Ali asked. It hasn’t been easy on her. She is ridiculed for her last name constantly; people often judge that before getting to know her. She has no friends in her house really; choosing to spend her free time with Severus, and Remus when he worked at Hogwarts. You can’t just expect her to welcome you with open arms especially after knowing that you went for Harry and not her. Which for the record I did not tell her.” 

“Oh cut the bullshit, Regulus. You told her you know you did. You can’t stand me. You wanted her to hate me. I may have been locked up, but I know that Mother controlled you and probably my daughter till the day she died. She probably filled Alianova’s head with lies about me from the beginning. Bloody hell, you probably did the same!” Sirius exclaimed while getting in younger brother faces. Remus and Severus looked ready to pull the duo apart at a moment's notice. 

Ali could tell from the twitch in her Uncle's eye that he was trying to hold his temper. She had seen it before when someone had made a snide remark about her in Diagon Ally when they went for ice cream her second year. She didn’t want to be the cause of a fight, but she knew better than to intervene. All she could do was sit and watch wide eyed as the potential fight stirred. 

“No. No, Sirius. I have never told that little girl, my little girl mind you, a single lie about you or me or anyone for that matter. After the Inferi incident I never went back to my Dark Mark ways. I acted as a spy for the Order. Dumbledore knew which is part of the reason why I have Ali. He knew I would protect her when he told me what happened. I didn’t know what to believe when he told me that, and she knows that. I never told her you did or didn’t do it. None of us did. Mother rarely mentioned you, and when she did it was because Ali brought it up first. She was five when Mum died, she doesn’t even remember her very much. Mum may have been horrible to us, but the moment I brought Ali here she changed. She loved Ali more than anything. She treated her nothing like how she treated us.” Ali saw her Uncle take a deep breath before continuing. “Ali may be your daughter, but she's mine too. You left HER to go pursue revenge for James. YOU weren’t there all the night she woke up crying wanting to know why not only her Mum left her, but you did too. You weren’t there when she questioned everything about herself when she was ten because she felt inadequate due to someone at school bringing up the fact that she didn’t have parents. You weren’t there when she skinned her knees falling off a broom at Andromedas, and Remus and I had to talk her into getting back on it. You left her; she owes you nothing. And as for me not being able to stand you; I wouldn’t let you in this house if I couldn’t stand you.” Regulus ran his hand through his hair before looking at Remus and Severus who nodded. “Now, she is probably wondering where we are. If you want to join us for breakfast you can. Maybe it will give you a chance to get to know her.” 

Sirius was speechless. Remus thought it was hilarious as the man who couldn’t keep his mouth shut before was just schooled by his younger brother. 

If he can’t handle Regulus he won’t survive Ali, Remus thought. Although Remus wouldn’t admit it out loud Ali acted a lot like Regulus in her wits, sarcasm and charisma. As everyone turned to go towards the stairs Remus stayed back to say something to Sirius. “I know this isn’t easy on you. But Ali is different then you. She takes a while to warm up, and trust people. Keep that in mind. No matter what you think everyone in this room loves her. We’ve watched her grow into who she is today. Just keep a level head about it.” Remus patted his shoulder before heading down the stairs. Yes, Ali was Sirius’s child, but whereas he was loud and outgoing she was more quiet and reserved. Remus knew Ali liked to watch and learn rather than doing which was why she was such good friends with Draco. More times than not Ali was the one who thought out the plans while Draco executed. Remus could only hope that Sirius didn’t shove Ali away when it came down to Harry. Remus was mad when he found out that Sirius hadn’t contacted Ali knowing that it would hurt her if she ever found. 

Ali scurried down the stairs as quietly as possible before sitting in her seat to hopefully looking like she had been here the whole time. She opened the first book she saw on the table right as everyone else entered. Severus gave her a skeptical look when he saw her smile at him, and she knew that she had been caught. Always the observant her Uncle Sev. “Not eating yet, Alianova?” 

“Oh, um no. I was just waiting for all of you of course.” Everyone filed to the table; Remus sitting to one side with Sirius while Regulus and Severus sat on either side of Ali. An awkward silence ensued while everyone piled food onto their plates. Ali kept her eyes firmly on the table, but she felt at least two gazes on her. Risking it she looked up to see Sirius and Remus looking at her. 

Remus cleared his throat breaking the silence, something that Ali was incredibly grateful for, “Ali, how was the rest of your school year?” 

“Oh um, it was fine. I actually hung out with Cho Chang towards the end. It was nice. We helped each other study for Transfiguration, then went to Hogsmeade for Butterbeers with Theo, Blaise, and Daphne.” Ali knew that those at the table who knew her well knew that she didn’t have a lot of friends besides those that Draco hung out with. Being a Black meant a lot of people didn’t trust her unless they were a Slytherin, which was something Ali was not. “I got pretty good scores on my OWLs. I got the highest score out of my whole year in Potions.” 

“I’m so proud of you Ali! I knew you could do it! What about Transfiguration and DADA? I know you struggled some when I was still there.” Remus had turned his attention fully on Ali, but he could see Sirius watching with peak interest wanting to ask questions and he could only hope that Sirius did so. It would make Ali trust him a little more if he showed interest in her life and Remus knew that. 

Ali beamed up at her Uncle, glad to know that he still cared about her life even after Sirius came back, “I got an Acceptable in Transfiguration and a Exceeds Exceptions in DADA. Honestly though if it wasn’t for Draco I wouldn’t have gotten that good in DADA. I swear on Merlin I lived in his dorm the whole two weeks before exams.” 

Her over exaggeration caused Remus and Regulus to chuckle while Severus scowled, “I am going to pretend that I did not hear that since you know you are not supposed to be in there.” 

“Oh calm down, Sev. She wasn’t in there alone I’m sure, and besides it got her a good grade.” Regulus exclaimed wrapping an arm around Ali hugging her while she stuck her tongue out at Severus. 

“I wasn’t in there alone. Blaise, Theo, Pansy, and Daphne were with us and besides that's my cousin, practically my brother gross. I know we’re purebloods, but yuck.” Her comment made everyone at the table break out in a smile. Finally Sirius decided to quit staring and talk to his daughter. He couldn’t hold his tongue any longer after the word cousin left her mouth. He could only hope to be Andromeda's child. 

“Cousin? Which cousin?” Sirius asked before taking a bite. Ali felt Regulus tense slightly at her father's question. Was she not supposed to answer? 

“Draco. Draco Malfoy. He’s Narcissa’s son,” She answered honestly. Ali didn’t see the point in lying. Draco was her best friend, they did almost everything together. 

Sirius was stunned to know that not only had Regulus, who claimed not to be a Death Eater, hang out with a Malfoy, but also Remus who knew better then anyone that is was a stupid thing to do. The Malfoy’s were nothing but Pureblood supremacists with a breeding problem. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed when Remus kicked him under the table. Sirius knew that Remus didn’t want him to say anything about it and from the look on Regulus’s face he didn’t either. He decided that it could wait till the adults were alone, or just Sirius and Remus were fine with him, so he could get some answers because any child of his was not going to spend time with Lucius Malfoy's child. The silence filled the room again making Ali squirm in her seat til Sirius spoke again, “Um, what- what house are you in, Ali?”

 This question caused Ali to tense up. She knew her father was in Gryffindor and she assumed her mother was as well. Her father was known for bashing Slytherins which was what most of her friends were. Even the Sorting Hat debated for five minutes over whether she was a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw. 

Gulping she answered, “I’m a - a Ravenclaw.” 

“Really?” Ali nodded. “Do you like it? I mean I didn’t know a lot of Ravenclaws when I was in school.” 

“Oh um yeah, I guess. I like to read so the common room is always quiet which is nice.” 

“You must have gotten that from your mum. I wasn’t much of a reader, preferred Quidditch,” Sirius let out a laugh. He was trying but it was hard to talk to a fifteen year old who you didn’t know a lot about, but was also your daughter. “Do you play?” 

That caused Ali to laugh. She was a lot of things, but talented at Quidditch was not one of them. She knew that her dad was a player back in the day, a beater if she remembered correctly, but there was honestly no point in her even trying she could barely fly a broom; that alone took a lot of practice and help from her Uncles and friends. “No. Honestly it would be easier for a Niffler to play then me.” 

“Godric, Ali is horrible at flying. I think it might be her downfall one day, literally she's falling off the broom more than flying usually,” Remus chimed in. 

Laughter was heard around the table then, and even if it was at her expense Ali was glad for it. The tension that was surrounding everyone seemed to leave the air and easy conversation flowed after that. Sirius asked Ali more about her interest and school while Remus and Regulus cleaned the kitchen up; something that shook Sirius to his core was seeing his little brother clean things the Muggle way. Severus had to leave to pick up a few things for some potions he was working on which led to Ali hugging her Uncle goodbye and him actually smiling, and judging by the look on Sirius’s face that was something he was not prepared for. 

“Did he just smile? Like openly? And HUG her?” He practically shouted after Severus had left, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile even in school.” 

Regulus scoffed lightly at that, “Well you would have seen him smile in school if you wouldn’t have tormented him all those years. But yes, he did and does hug Ali. She is probably the only one he will ever hug, but it is something.” 

“Sirius, something that you don't know is that Alianova was, and frankly is, the light of a lot of people's lives.” Ali blushed at the comments being made about her from Remus. “She was brought into Regulus, and your mothers lives when she was still trying to get over the loss of your father and Regulus almost being killed. I know your mum was a mean old bat.” Ali let out a string of giggles at that, making Regulus look at her with his eyebrow raised; she quickly looked back down at the table while her Uncle shook his head amused. “But she wasn’t mean to Ali. She loved her to pieces. Yes, some of her views were wrong still they were never shoved down Ali’s throat. Not only did she bring light to their lives, but also to mine and Severus’s. After everything that happened I didn’t even want to stay in London. I had lost everything. Then one morning there is a knock at my door. I debated opening it, but I am immensely glad that I did. I’m gonna be truthful here and this is stuff that Ali and Regulus haven’t heard, but I was scared when he showed up with her. I didn’t know what had happened to her. Harry was shipped off to the Dursleys, and her Godparents were dead and no one would give me much information about her. I had simply given up on the Magical world. Then I watched them play on the floor of my living room and I knew that no one could raise her better than Regulus. He asked me to help of course, and the same goes for Severus. He had lost the one he thought he loved and needed a new outlook on things. He got that from Ali.” Remus placed his hands on the girls shoulders when he noticed she had tears in her eyes. “And I can guarantee that she will be your light too if you let her, Sirius.” 

No one said anything for a few minutes. All were taking in the words Remus had just said. Ali wasn’t used to being talked about like that. Yes, she got praise for school or piano, but no one called her their light before. Regulus stood thinking about the things Remus had said knowing that it was nothing but the truth. He isn’t sure what would have happened if Ali hadn’t come to him, but the outcome would not have been a good one. His self destructive actions stopped the day that baby was placed in his arms. He loved Ali like his own and would protect her from the world. He could only hope that Sirius wouldn’t make the same mistake that he did with him and push her away.

[the-ghost-king]

So I'm not going to start like an Anti-Chiron tag because I don't find that enjoyable personally, but every so often people ask why I dislike him so here's essentially a "masterpost" of my thoughts on that situation for when anyone asks, just so I have it to explain some...

This isn't nearly a full list, and there's many more "incidents" that make me less than fond of Chiron, I don't hate the old man but he leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I'm not a fan of that. He's a very twisted character.

- The Lightning Thief

This quote is literally just after Percy's mom "dies", they're all sitting on the porch of the Big House right after he's finally woken up after days of sleeping, and that's the line Chiron pulls out on him.

That's straight up emotional manipulation which was entirely unnecessary in the context of what Chiron was trying to explain. There wasn't a single reason for that, in the slightest.

Immediately following that, and Percy, who canonically has anger issues, does his best to remain calm, he is immediately threatened by Dionysus, and Chiron doesn't even tell Dionysus off for doing that; Chiron just let's it happen. It's Grover who has to speak up to tell Dionysus off...

The only reason Chiron comes out looking like a old guy in this scene is because Dionysus was so much worse in his behavior, at one point intimidating Percy with his power over madness.

- The Titan's Curse

This is the aftermath of when Nico ran away upon confirmation of Bianca's death. When Percy is telling Chiron about the situation, Chiron wishes Nico had been eaten alive rather than recruited into an army.

He'd rather a child be dead than fight against him, and he openly tells this to other children he's in charge of. If Percy went missing would he have said "I hope he was eaten <3" as well?

I don't blame Perry for not delivering the truth here, it was done in an effort to protect Nico; which wasn't something Annabeth had planned on doing... I don't blame Annabeth for that though either, she's been beneath Chiron so long that she probably doesn't realize the shady stuff he does, and to her "going to tell" probably was the "right" move because she was a child...

But the fact that Chiron believes Nico truly would be better off eaten than alive :/

- Tower of Nero

This quote from Tower of Nero shows that Chiron lied to a bunch of young children (most of them were young because the older campers are largely dead because of the war or too old for camp now). It wasn't just a little white lie that adults sometimes tell kids either; they were walking into battle and he told them it was a field trip.

Did he even begin to explain the danger he was putting these kids in? Did the children understand their situation? And how dangerous it was?

Kayla has been blindsided over the years into thinking that telling children they're going on a field trip instead of fighting a battle is something to make a joke of and not be questioned... (Again, I don't blame her she's only like 12 in the book, but still)

Apollo also agrees, which isn't on Chiron but it's a whole mother reason why I can't stand Rick's interpretation of Apollo...

<><><><><>

This isn't me being like "oh Chiron is the worst most evil character ever" I just think that he has numerous flaws which are largely ignored in favor of the "perfect wise teacher" narrative when in fact Chiron and Dumbledore share a lot of.. Offputting qualities.

I do think that some of the situation is simply a result of Chiron having his hands tied behind his back by the gods some. And he even goes so far as to confirm this in a scene of TLT

However many of the scenes in which he exhibits behaviors like that in my first three screenshots are not related to anything the gods require and are, in fact, of Chiron's own free will.

Some things I would blame Zeus and the council for, such as how he withholds information from Percy to an excessive amount for long periods of time even when Percy straight up asks about things. I could easily see that being Zeus trying to prevent Percy from claiming the prophecy as his own, and I could see reasoning that maybe Chiron had sworn over the River Styx or something similar.

But those things don't apply to Chiron making such an unnecessary comment about Percy's mother so close to her "death". It doesn't explain why he would say he hoped Nico had been eaten out loud, and it doesn't cover the fact that he led children into a battlefield without telling them that's what was happening.

I think the context of Chiron's choices and comments would be different if the campers were older. If they were in their late teens or early twenties for the most part, I wouldn't really have much to say about how Chiron handled the situation.

But this man is in charge of children and extremely young teenagers, Percy is only 12 in TLT, maybe if he would have been 16 or 17 then I could give Chiron a pass, but he wasn't. Within the context of the comment he made in the Titan's Curse, Percy is only 14 and Nico is 10 at the beginning of the book... You don't wish a 10 year old had been eaten alive by a monster no matter how bad you think the alternative is, and if you do wish that you don't say it out loud to a group of other children. In the battle from Tower of Nero we get a quick look at the battlefield, and although Ben's age, and the age of another girl fighting alongside him are never confirmed they are implied to be fairly young, and we know Kayla is only 12 at the time too; yet Chiron told them it was a field trip instead of a battle, limiting the time they would have to mentally prepare themselves for what was coming.

On top of that, the nods the reader gets to the fact that Chiron can't act out against the gods depletes over the course of the series. After TLT the amount of times the situation involves the gods interfering with what Chiron is allowed to say lessens, and by the time the Heroes of Olympus series comes around, these limitations on his speech is almost entirely gone. Yet as seen in Tower of Nero he still does morally questionable things in regards to how he treats the campers.

Like I said, I recognize that in many scenes Chiron's hands are tied behind his back because of the gods.. But there are undeniably things he does of his own free will that are, in the nicest manner, very :/

This also isn't a full list of comparisons just a few notable scenes. I don't think Chiron is equally as bad as Dumbledore, but I think it undeniable that Chiron has some significant flaws built into his character design.

A good character has flaws, and there's nothing wrong with having a character that doesn't always conduct themselves properly or have good intentions- it's actually good writing, and I can appreciate that, but for some reason I find myself personally rubbed the wrong way by Chiron. This doesn't make Chiron badly written, or poorly designed, in fact I would say Rick's Chiron is very well designed in lots of ways, but I just don't like how it's never acknowledged by anyone in the series.

Like I said, I'm not starting an anti-Chiron situation, I just think little events like those mentioned, the way he's built a child army, and how he doesn't even try to plead with the gods over raising the ages on campers being allowed to battle is a little sus. But it more so bothers me that there's no attention payed to this problem anywhere in the books, not even by a side character or Luke, nowhere.

I don't actually care that much and this isn't that important to me, but sometimes people ask why I don't like Chiron and this is basically just my explanation to hand off to them... It's not even so much that I dislike Chiron entirely, he's well written and has his "good" moments, I just don't like the way other characters interact with him and his actions.

It's more a personal beef with him rather than an aspect of poor writing or him "being bad"... PJO in general (and HoO/ToA to a much lesser extent) shows that there's not such an inherent good vs bad in the world, and that sometimes people are victims of circumstances in some situations, or they're horribly misguided in their actions, but the series does a good job of showing those people as human still, and I applaud that.

I don't really know how to tie this up in its entirety, but there's nothing wrong with having a morally grey character who does questionable things and in many aspects it is good writing. I think Chiron is a result of Rick not thinking through the implications what he's doing in lots of situations, and I can see a fairly consistent drop in Chiron's characterization from PJO-ToA which is consistent with most other aspects of Rick's work.

I also want to clarify that if you like Chiron and disagree with me, that's absolutely 110% okay, I just personally dislike Chiron and that's on me. Like my problem with many of Rick's other immortal characters, I think he missed important aspects of them in some manner and slightly (or entirely in some cases) mischaracterized them in comparison to their original myths.. Some of these characters he came around on and fixed their character in many aspects to their more "correct" characterization (like Hera), while others (like Chiron and Apollo) he never quite figured them out. Which is a running complaint I have with Rick so I'm just adding this to his tab.

But yeah, I don't hate Chiron I just dislike him and those are different things, and I don't think it's a bad thing to have a morally questionable character, Chiron just personally rubs me the wrong way and I just wanted to explain that more fully because I've been asked about it multiple times.

Also I apologize for not adding a [read more] to this, it's a complaint of mine often when scrolling through the tags but I'm on mobile currently and don't have immediate access to a computer so~

[axwalker]

If The World Was Ending: Even if he was wicked

Synopsis: When Bianca leaves her son without looking back, Drake has to live on the streets until he finds a home with Angelica Ortiz--Lexie’s grandmother and a foster mom. With the Ortiz, Drake finds a family and falls madly in love, until a tragic night changes everything, threatening the life Drake fought so hard to get.

To catch up (HERE)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Lexie O’Brien (MC) The Royal Romance.

A/N: This will be a very angsty, full of drama, small town romance.

Words: 4,120

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry, except for Lexie’s grandmother and mother.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, prison and a very entitled, “evil” Liam

Due to the several trigger warnings and some of the subjects I’ll be dealing with, I will only tag people who actively asked for it. If you want to be tagged in the following chapters --or untagged, please leave a comment. 

Drake

2008

When I was 12 years old, my mother took off with my little sister leaving me in Cordonia with my father's best friend. I reminded her too much of my father, too much of a life she would do anything to forget. That "anything" included abandoning her oldest son. I'd like to say I was surprised, but the truth is I wasn't. Bianca Walker had never been a motherly woman. The only reason she had taken Savannah with her was that my Aunt Leona adored her. I was sure my mother would dump my little sister on her and never look back. I hoped that was the case, Leona despised me, but she was great to Savannah. 

A short time after that, Bastien passed away and my mother was nowhere to be found. That's when I started to go from one home to another. The first year and a half were the hardest ones. I lived with four different families, each one worse than the last. First, the Lockes, where the family barely talked to me. Then, the Ruiz that made me take cold showers and sleep on the floor. The Godwins where the “mother” used the check the state gave her to buy alcohol instead of groceries. And finally the worse, the Fields. They seemed nice enough when I met them. Not kind but polite. The first few weeks everything seemed normal. Then one day, I got in trouble at school, and Mr. Fields --the pastor of his community, beat me up to “teach me some manners.” His punishments became a usual thing after that. 

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I escaped. Better to be on my own than believe some family was going to love or adopt me. Obviously, there was something very wrong with me. My own mother had left me, and I had never found my place anywhere else. 

I lived on the streets for 6 months. I did all kinds of jobs. Not a lot of them were legal but there were few opportunities for a 14-year-old runaway kid. The most money I got was when I stole car parts that I got to resell to a gang called the Mercy Park Crew. The boss, Mr. Kaneko was fair and paid well enough. I could’ve kept living by myself if something hadn’t got terribly wrong at my last job. One of the boys from a rival gang decided to teach me a lesson and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. A nurse called social services so here I am in a car with another social worker on the way for another foster home. It doesn’t matter, I know it won’t last anyway. 

When you’ve been in the system as long as I had, you learned to look for certain warning signs when placed in a new home. Drugs, ulterior motives, threatening fathers, drinking mothers. After an hour, we drove through a town looking like something straight out of a movie. Valtoria. I’d heard of it before. The family my dad had been protecting when he died lived there. The house we pulled up to, was a large two-story construction with dark brown siding and an immaculate green lawn. 

Joelle, my new caseworker had popped up out of nowhere in the hospital and told me I was coming with her. Just like that. From the way Joelle talked about the new place, I figured it was some sort of transitional home for rejects like me. Too old to get adopted and too troubled for anyone to voluntarily take on. I didn’t ask her anything else because I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice. Besides, I knew words don’t mean anything. I was a kid in the system. I went where they took me. Sometimes, I hated it. Sometimes, I really hated it. This time was different. In more ways than one. Usually, I was dropped off by my caseworker, and the people receiving me were about as excited as they were about junk mail. No one has ever come out to greet me before. As long as the woman at the door wasn’t sizing me up for a skin suit, it didn’t matter.

The social worker got out of the car as I grabbed the trash bag that I used to carry my shit around. She rang the bell, and a small, older woman opened the door. Joelle had told me in the car that the woman fostered several boys and I knew what that meant. She wanted the money the government gave her for keeping us. Well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. If she wanted to cash a check at the end of the month it was going to cost her. I’d make sure of it. 

I had seen it all, but I still was caught by surprise when the tiny woman opened her arms at me and gave me a one-sided hug. A fucking hug. 

“I’m very happy to meet you, mijo,” she said in a strong accent. “My name is Angelica Ortiz but everyone here calls me Abuela. Grandma in Spanish.” 

The woman was deluded if she thought I’d call her grandma. She was obviously trying to impress the social worker with her fake kindness, hugs, and stupid names. I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily. 

I didn’t even answer her as we stepped into the house. Another woman, a younger version of the one staring at me was waiting for us in the living room. 

“Hi, you must be Drake. I’m Elena. Welcome.” She gave me a smile. Fake, I was sure but at least she hadn't tried to hug me. The older woman was talking to Joelle about me. Probably about my problems with authority, anger issues, and lack of communication skills. I knew my file by heart. 

I barely nodded at Elena, and the three women exchanged a look. “Let me take you to your room, Drake. You’ll be sharing it with Maxwell. He’s doing his homework with my daughter in our house across the street. You’ll get to meet all the boys and my daughter Lexie tonight.” 

She walked me to a room on the second floor of the house. It seemed clean and comfortable. Another ploy for the social worker. Two bunker beds with blue blankets and a wooden desk full of books were the biggest pieces of furniture. The left side of the room was covered in posters of who I figured were famous boy bands. There were a few of David Beckham, the only guy I recognized. Other than that there were clothes everywhere. That Maxwell dude was a fucking slob. Great. 

“I told Max to take down some posters so you can decorate half of the room to your liking; This is your room as much as it is his. He's usually much more organized than this." I notice she speaks with a sort of fondness. "It was picture day for the school yearbook and he took hours getting ready. ” 

I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway. I couldn’t care less if that Max kid left his posters on the walls or not. 

She glanced at my garbage bag. “Are those your clothes, mijo?” 

I scowled at her. I knew what mijo meant and I was nobody’s son. “My name is Drake.” 

She smiled. “Of course, Drake. So, are they?”

I didn’t bother with an answer. A nod was enough. 

“I cleared you this part of the closet, so you can keep them there. When you’re ready come downstairs; my mom and I will show you the rest of the house. The boys are out but we’ll all diner together tonight. Do you like Mexican food?”

I shrugged.

The woman smiled. “Shrugging is not an answer, mij- Drake. Either you like it, you don’t, or you haven’t tasted it in which case I can tell you, you’re missing out. Especially when mami cooks.” She winked at me as if we were friends or something. The woman was insane. “So, what is it, Drake?”

I’d never had it before, but she wasn’t going to tell me how to answer a damn question. “I hate it.” 

She frowned --clearly disappointed, and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. “I’m very sorry to hear that. We already made Enchiladas for tonight and we don’t waste food. You can tell us your favorite dish though so we can make it for you.”

I shrugged again. Generally, that's when the person talking to me loses her patience but Elena Ortiz only smiled at me again. ��Think about it. Every Sunday night, we pick someone’s favorite and cook it. It’s really fun. Next Sunday will be your first here, so you get to pick. Mami is a great cook and she can make anything from a mean chocolate cake to the best cheese pizza. See you downstairs, honey.” 

Great. I’ve only been in this house for a few minutes, and I already hated it. The only thing worse than a home where you were beaten up as a welcome was a home where people pretended to care. My third foster home had been like that. Ms. Godwin had been all kind and nice at first. I almost felt like she cared about us. A week later, she had gotten drunk. For two days, neither I or the two girls she fostered had anything to eat because she hadn’t bought any groceries. I had to steal a twenty euro bill from her purse to buy food. She got angry and called the social worker who had come for me and taken me to the Fields. The worst home I ever lived in. 

I wasn’t going to go downstairs but I decided that if I wanted a chance to escape it was better if I knew the house. Before I could explore a little, I heard my name from what I assumed was the kitchen. 

Elena was crouching in front of the oven. “Drake has such sad eyes, mami. He’s only 14.” 

The woman that had asked me to call her abuela, answered as she chopped an onion. “This boy has been living in the streets for more than a year. Do you realize it? Pobre angelito. So young and he has already seen more horrors than most people see in a lifetime.” 

“Joelle told me that he had escaped from his last foster home.”

The older woman scoffed. “Home? If that’s how you call people that foster kids only for the money, they get in exchange. I don’t want to imagine why he fled those places." She turned to her daughter who had finished whatever she was doing in the oven and was drinking a bottle of water. "Stop watching me work, Elena and help me with diner, por Dios.”

Why was she pretending she didn’t care about the money? It was obvious. No one did anything for free. There was always a catch. 

“Dónde está mi venadito?”

“Lexie and Max are at our house doing homework, mami. Be careful, though, if Lexie hears you calling her “your little deer” she’ll kill you. The boys called her Bambi for months after they heard you the last time.”

“Nonsense. She’s my venadito and that’s that. You two will come to eat here tonight. I want Drake to meet everyone.”

Elena rolled her eyes but patted her mom on the back. “Yes mami. Lexie is dying to meet him, she and Max made a chocolate cake for him. I’ll call her in a minute. Where are the boys by the way?” 

“Bertie is trying to teach Leo how to drive. Poor boy, I hope he makes it alive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Leo will be careful. Bertrand will be fine.”

“Oh, it’s not Bertie I’m worried about, it’s Leo. Bartie has no patience with him.” 

I left the kitchen before they said anything else. I was sure I was going to hate this stupid place. I was angry. More than angry. Furious. After a year of successfully running away, I was back in the damn system. Back in yet another home where people seemed to care about me in front of the social worker just to ignore me –or worse, once she left. I had to admit that my new foster “moms” played their part better than most. The old one had hugged me and the other one had given me a smile that seemed real. But I knew better. No one really cared for me. No one gave a shit where I slept, what I ate, or if I was ill or scared. Not that I was ever scared. I had seen everything. 

The front door was locked so I went to the backyard. I saw a small wooden house on top of one of the trees. I decided it was a good place to hide and be myself. 

I sat there for a few moments when I heard someone climbing the tree. 

“Hi!”

I looked up and saw a girl a couple of years younger than me. She had the biggest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen and was smiling at me as if I was her best friend. 

“I’m Lexie! I live across the street. I’m Angelica’s granddaughter. You’re Drake, right?” I didn’t think it was possible to smile more but the girl proved me wrong when her grin widened. I simply nodded. 

“Welcome! I know that it must be hard for you to feel at home because you like just arrived but you’ll love it here. I promise. Valtoria is great. We have lakes and the mountains and when it’s warm enough we can go camping all night. You’ll love the house too. I mean between you and me the boys are kind of a pain in the ass but they’re pretty great when they want to. Or when they're not teasing me. Especially Leo and Maxie. Bertrand is a know-it-all. He thinks because he’s sixteen he knows everything." She rolled her eyes clearly offended by the idea that someone could know more than her. "Abuela, that how we all call her because she’s Mexican and would murder us if we call her grandma, is amazing. I mean don’t get me wrong, she's super strict, and as my mom says the woman is never wrong but she’s the best person I know.” 

I blinked. I didn’t know a person could talk that much without taking a single breath. 

“Do you camp?” She asked as she folded her legs in front of her.

I did before. Before my dad died and my whole life blew up in a million pieces. Not that I would explain any of that to the chatty girl, so I just nodded again. 

“Great! It’s getting warmer and Leo wants to go to a new camping site next weekend. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s like the worst camper ever. I have to double-check everything he does but I don’t tell him anymore because my mom said it wasn’t nice.” 

I wondered how could someone carry a whole conversation by herself. I hadn’t pronounced a single word since the girl had shown up. 

“I want to be your friend but I can see we’re about to have our first fight.” She told me in a teasing tone. “You’re wearing a Liverpool t-shirt. We worship Barcelona in this house. Well, Abuela, Leo and I do. The others couldn’t care less about soccer.” 

I looked at the shirt she was wearing. It read "If they don't have soccer in heaven, I'm not going." 

She noticed I was looking at her shirt and beamed. "Abue said my shirt was disrespectful to God but mom thought that was dumb and bought it for me anyway." 

"Do you like soccer?" I finally asked. 

“Like it? I love it! Did abuela saw your shirt? She hates European teams. She thinks Tigres is the best.”

“Tirgues?”

She laughed, and the sound of it did something weird to my stomach. “Tigres. It’s a Mexican team. She goes crazy when they play.”

“What team you like?”

“Barcelona, obviously.”

“Liverpool made it to the finals of the last Champion’s league.” I pointed out. 

She shrugged. “They lost so it doesn’t count. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.” I tried not to show how much I loved it. It was something else my dad and I shared that had stopped when he died. 

“I play too. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I'm twelve. Well, almost thirteen, my birthday is in May.”

I frowned. “It’s November.” 

“I know. I’m almost there.” She beamed. "I'm almost closer to thirteen than twelve anyway." 

“Do you always talk this much?”

She laughed and my belly did that weird thing again. “My mom says I was a parrot in another life. I talk more when I’m nervous.”

“You're nervous?” I liked that I could make her nervous but I didn't know why. 

She blushed and I liked it too. “A little. What happened to your eye?” 

“I got into a fight.”

“Wow. You can’t do that here. Leo is always getting into fights and abuela has to ground him.”

She sure mentioned that Leo guy a lot. “Is Leo your boyfriend?”

“Gross!! Leo’s is like my brother. He, Bertie, and Max live with abuela. We’re a family. You’re family too.”

Fuck that. No matter if the girl was sort of cute. I didn’t have a family. “No, I’m not. I’m not staying.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do; I swear. Plus, I need someone to coach me, so I can get into the school team next year. Leo promised he would, but he never has time.” 

“I suck.”

She shook her head and smiled at me again. “Somehow I don’t think you do.” Then she gave me a conspiratorial look as she pulled out something from her jacket pocket. "You can't tell my mom about this but I took this from her room." It was a white iPod. After scrolling a little through the screen she settled on The Beach Boys. She couldn't possibly know it but they were my dad's favorites. She passed me an earbud and we didn’t talk after that. We just sat together for a while hearing music until we heard our names being called. 

“That’s abuela. We should go. She hates to wait. Plus, I'm starving and we're having enchiladas. You'll love them.” 

Lexie ran to her house to --as she put it-- 'hide the evidence.' I went back to her grandma's house and stepped into the kitchen. 

“Drake, pass me the salt, mijo. It’s next to you on the counter,” Angelica said as she kept on turning the sauce she was making. “You like enchiladas?” 

What was with all these women asking me what I liked to eat? I leaned against the black counter while she opened the lid of another steaming pot on the stove, and stirred its contents with a long wooden spoon. I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked it. But it smelled better than anything I ever tasted, so it couldn’t be all that bad. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d last eaten.

“You know, I know you feel weird now. And you don’t like to talk a lot. Soon, you’ll learn that this is a safe place. We aren’t gonna judge a single word that comes out of your mouth or any of them that don’t.” 

I suddenly felt like I owed her a verbal response in exchange for her kindness. Fake or not. Besides, I just knew the chatty girl I’ve just met wouldn’t be happy if I was rude to her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at my verbal response. “But just so you know. We do have a few rules in this house.” 

Here it comes. The catch. Angelica put the lid back on the pot and leaned over the counter on her elbows. “You just need to go to school, find a hobby or sport you like, don't swear, respect the curfew and keep your room clean. Every child in this house has chores but it’s too soon to figure out yours. For now, you only have to get to know us.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. At that moment the timer of the oven rang and Angelica took a huge dish out of it. She covered it with more steamy, tomato sauce, sour cream, and grated cheese and put it back in the oven. At least, I might get some good food while I figured what I was going to do next. Because no matter how nice and kind everybody acted, I was not going back to school. I used to be good at it without much effort; I had friends and a soccer team. But I had missed a lot in the last two years. I felt dumb and stupid. 

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. “Cuidado muchachos! Be careful with that door against the wall, or you’re going be spackling and repainting this entire house,” Angelica yelled out. Three teenage boys filed into the house, followed by just as many apologies. 

“Sorry.” “Oops.” “It was Max’s fault.” “

“These are Maxwell, Leo and Bertie,” Angelica introduced. “Boys, this is Drake.” 

“Hi, man!” The blond one said with a shit-eating grin. “Abuela, Lena, you guys didn’t tell me you were buying a Liverpool fan.” 

“Adoption is not a purchase of people, Leo” the oldest one --Bertrand, corrected. 

“Yeah, cause if it was, then you got Leo from the clearance rack,” the youngest one joked, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing back an out-of-place dark hair. “I hope you kept your receipt.” 

“Fuck, off,” the blond one replied with a middle finger. 

“Watch it, Leo,” Angelica warned. “Boys.” 

Max kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, abue.” She forgave him with a smile, then swatted at his hand with her spoon when he dipped his finger into the pot. 

“I’m glad you’re here, bro” Leo said. I stood, and he gave me a fist bump without touching my hand. 

“Me too! And we’re going to be roomies,” the kid named Max said. He grabbed a stack of plates from the counter. I followed him over to the long dining room table and helped set the table for seven people.

2020

I lost count of how many days I’ve been in the hole. It wasn’t my first time in here and it sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. It was always the same routine. Days and nights blended into one making it impossible to know what day it was or how much time I had been in here. 

I have been in jail for six excrutiating years. I had known from the day I heard the sentencing that the only way I was going to survive was if I didn’t think about her. It was the hardest thing I had to do but after a while, my routine was running smoothly and when my head hit the pillow at night, I was too fucking exhausted. She haunted my dreams and my nightmares, but I didn’t think of her beyond that. Except for the hole. Locked up there, cold, hungry, and utterly alone her face, my memories of her were the only thing that helped me go on. 

I replayed in my head our first encounter, our first kiss, our first time. I obsessed about her full lips, her expressive brown eyes, her gorgeous smile. I could spend hours picturing every single corner of her soft delicate curves. Sometimes, I wondered if --maybe, I didn’t start fights in the hope of being sent to the hole where I could spend my time fantasizing about her. It was pure torture, but I couldn’t help myself. The memories I had of her, of us and our short time together were the only light in my otherwise bleak life. 

She still wrote me every week but I hadn’t open any single one of her letters. I didn’t want to know if she was moving on with her life or worst if she was waiting for me. Because that was what Lexie didn’t understand. Even if nothing happened and I was released in one year, I would never be that boy again. The Drake Walker she had known and loved was dead and she wasn’t going to like the man that had been left in his place. I was damn sure about that. 

Tagging:

@mskaneko

@burnsoslow

@kingliam2019

@kat-tia801

@petiteboheme

@tinkie1973

@twinkle-320

@thegreentwin

@forallthatitsworth

@marshmallowsandfire

@marshmallowsaremyfavorite

@princessleac1

@lilacsandwhiskey

@lovingchoices14​

@lovingchoices14​

@nomadics-stuff​

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 12)

<<Previous part Masterlist   Next part>>

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx)

Warnings: alcohol.

Disclaimer: pic not mine.

After the sun came completely down and the night bathed the city, making the flashing lights of the buildings and cars look like the sky had spat all of its stars, you gathered all your work and called it a day. Thor, Steve and Bucky were able to go through everything you told them to, and everything was in control. You had managed to solve a chaotic situation from the distance, and the pleasant feeling of doing things right gave you the last push to close your laptop and join Peter and Loki.

Opening one of the windows, you let the fresh wind hit your face and unfurrow your brows, releasing all the tensions you had been accumulating all week long. Peter sneaked up from outside the building and hung upside down from the frame. You gasped, forgetting for a brief moment he was sticky and not completely out of his mind.

“Are you joining us, older?”.

“Yes, little. I’m going”, you laughed at the comeback of the nicknames. Standing for older sibling and little sibling Tony had baptized you with, years ago. Loki chuckled.

“You two are the epitome of adorability, sometimes”.

“Oh, we can get worse”, you laughed.

You had ordered some food in, without wanting to ever touch the mess of that kitchen again, and a bottle of wine. Nobody was there, else than you three; might as well have fun. As you waited for dinner to arrive, you decided on a slide presentation night. You gave each other no more than twenty minutes to arrange it all, so the chaos would be absolute and uncontrollable.

Peter presented first, with a long powerpoint ranking things the Avengers did in “vine-vibes” ascending order. You two tried (and failed miserably) to explain to Loki what a vine was and why something would have its vibes without being actually a video.

Loki’s presentation was titled “Seven hundred reasons why you shouldn’t worship the God of Sparkly hands”. There were actually only six reasons; two of them were about mass murders he was about to commit, and most of them talked about annoying things he did as a child. There was an extra one where it was just a white background and tiny letters in the middle saying “he dyes his hair blonde, he’s actually a redhead”.

Your presentation was titled “Seven hundred and one reasons why you should worship me instead”. No need to elaborate. They all differed except for Friday; she clapped with her electronic hands.

Two board games and some chess later, the food had already arrived. Peter was famished and ate more than you could’ve imagined a boy was capable of. He got so full, so quickly, that he instantly got sleepy. Loki could not bite his tongue and had to say “just like a baby”. It did not help that you snorted, and Peter shot his webs at you two; Loki avoided them and you couldn’t, so you ended up stuck to the roof. Peter started to walk to his room, leaving you up there.

“Hey, hey! Don’t leave, I’m still here!”, you called him. But he was gone. What an avenger. Loki chuckled, and raised his hand to free you with magic, and you instantly realized you were six meters away from the floor. “Wait! I’ll fall!!”.

He didn’t stop, and dissolved the net with a simple spell. As you fell down, you closed your eyes and tried to cover your head, knowing you’d have at least a broken bone. Peter has done this before, you knew there was no way to actually leave unharmed. Loki’s arms tightened around your body, avoiding you to fall flat against the floor.

As you looked up, you met his face, closer than ever. Closer than it ever has been. Your heart skipped a beat, and you knew you had to think about something else than the feeling of his chest against yours, his hands in your back, how he was holding you so gently, how he was looking at you so dearly. You knew you had to think about something else; for he could be reading your mind. He surely was. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop focusing on his peach lips and how soft his cheeks looked from up close. You couldn’t see anything else than the movement of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed hard, and how his hand trembled a little in your back.

He let you down slowly, still holding eye contact, still with his arms around you. Not the threatening gaze he would hold against everyone else on the compound. Not the lustful gaze he would sometimes draw while stealing some glances at you changing on your suit (he thought you didn’t notice, you certainly did). Not the concentrated gaze he would hold still on his face while reading one of those books he always carried around.

It wasn’t any of those. You had studied them thoroughly, meticulously, every inch of his facial expressions, every inch of his being while he wasn’t aware of your eyes on him. God, how you hated to look at him this way, but how much you couldn’t avoid it. Your brain knew you shouldn’t get attached. You had no chance at all to be with him; he was a God, a criminal, and he’d go back to Asgard. And, foremost, he didn’t feel the same. He had a lover, and his mind was still there, stuck in that person, undeletable.

And, as much as you could have read him like a children’s book the entirety of the past week, right now, you had no clue what those green eyes on you meant. You had no idea why the blush on his cheeks was in there, and why he let out a tiny (the tiniest, ever so subtle) gasp. Parted lips that shone, looked so…

You shook your head, closing your eyes. He didn’t let go of his grip around you, but your feet were already on the floor. You could’ve walked away if you wanted to. And you wanted to, you definitely did not want to stay there, and sink your nose in his neck. You certainly did not want to play with his hair while staring at those pair of emeralds he couldn’t keep away from you. You couldn’t read him. He looked at you in a way you’ve never seen him before. Yet it felt so… right.

No, it wasn’t right. God, what were you thinking?

He pulled away, and the cold breeze from the window surrounded your body. You didn’t realize how much body heat he was warming you with until he left. Or maybe it was your own. Your face was still burning. You visibly cringed at your reaction, and could not play it cool at all. He chuckled, again, and walked to the kitchen.

You didn’t say anything. Your face still burned, and your chest was tight. You haven’t felt like this in a long time, why now? Why in the middle of an important mission? Why just now, that he specifically told you he would not stay, and that once he left he would not come back? Why now, that he was opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and pouring it in two glasses?

Opening the balcony’s doors, there were two metal chairs (those with delicate designs, that would usually belong to a grandma’s garden) and a round and tiny glass table, just waiting for you two to sit there. You needed fresh air, so you did, sinking in all the city, the active flashlights of the cars, the minute people running around, or walking.

Two glasses of wine clicked against the glass table, and Loki sat in front of you with his eyes fixed on the city, too. You observed him from the corner of your eye, and he did the same. A subtle smile drew across his tightened lips.

After a glass of wine, a refill and about an hour of small talk, he uncrossed his legs and stretched his arms and back with a yawn. The blush still remained intact on his cheeks, and it couldn’t be because of the wine. If you weren’t drunk, much less him. He looked back at you, and chuckled uncomfortably.

“What?”, he asked.

“What what?”.

“You’re staring”.

“Oh, sorry”.

“No, it’s fine”, he said, and you furrowed your brows. He specified, “I don’t mind. I wonder what you’re thinking while you stare, nothing more”.

“So you’re not reading my mind?”.

“No. You said you didn’t like that”.

“Ah”, you gave your glass of wine one last sip and emptied it. It was such a simple gesture, yet you didn’t expect him to actually have listened. Of course he would, he wasn’t actually as bad as he was portrayed by Stark, or so you have seen so far of him. “I just… I wonder about you”.

“About what?”.

“You’re difficult to read. My job here is mainly knowing how to read people”, you explained, and he nodded. “It’s almost like you’re purposely hiding. Like you’re shifting your microexpressions into whatever they are now, so nobody can see what you actually think or feel”. He let out a short chest laugh. Probably sarcastic, but how would you know.

“Who would actually want to know what goes through my mind?”.

“I do, just told you”.

He looked down and played with the empty glass in between his fingers. It looked small in comparison.

“You don’t want to, believe me”.

“Are you afraid of letting people in?”.

“No, it’s not that”, he said, trying to let you know he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You ignored it and opened your mouth, but the words died in your tongue as he added, “please, don’t”.

“I wish I knew you better”, you said after a few more minutes of silence. You swore you heard a creaking foot on the stairs, peeping in the conversation. You ignored it; if Loki was to talk to you, he would also say it in front of Peter. Not like you had some sort of special bond, or even friendship. You kind of wished for it, though.

“Why?”. His knitted eyebrows showed how actually curious he was about that. He believed you. He was certain you were telling the truth, but he simply couldn’t put his head around it. Why would anyone want to know me better? What is it about me that you care? And you wished to know the reason, too. If you knew why you were so drawn to him, maybe you could’ve stopped yourself.

“I feel like I’m missing out on something”.

“Something like what?”.

“Something great”.

“There is no greatness in me, it’s all an act”.

“I know it’s all an act”, you said, referring to his whole I’m a God and you’ll kneel before me and I’m superior. “I don't mean that kind of greatness. You’re hiding the wrong things”.

“You’re not missing out on anything”, he insisted, and not for humility, but because he wanted to brush you off. Keep you away from him.

“Don’t you think we could ever get along? Friends, even?”, you pressured. You knew you shouldn’t have, but Loki didn’t take it badly. Instead, he finally looked at you, drawing a sad smile.

“I’m going back to Asgard after the mission. I don’t intend to make new friends”, he said, but a softness in his voice hinted he wasn’t being mean; simply stating the facts. Exactly as it should be.

“Why did you come only for this mission?”, you asked. You actually wanted to ask do you even have friends back there?, but you knew better.

“I owe Stark. I messed up and wanted to fix at least something with him. He’s not taking it too kindly, but I think he understands the intentions”, he explained, sitting back up on his chair and getting his eyes back on the city.

“A peace offering?”.

“More like an apology. Redemption, even”.

“Redemption? Do you see yourself as a villain to him?”.

He didn’t answer right away. Took his time to find the words.

“I wronged. I did things I shouldn’t have”, and then you realized, he wasn’t apologizing for the New York incident. It was personal. You even wondered, maybe… was he…? Was Tony actually the...? No, imposible. “I know helping out on a mission won’t cut it, but if I can at least be a little bit of help to his planet…”.

“May I ask what did you wrong him in?”.

“I tried to take over Midgard once”, he said, and you didn’t believe him.

“If you ask me, it’s not Stark’s place to accept that apology. He doesn’t own the planet, even though he thinks that”.

“Does he?”.

“He acts like such, at least. He has a big ego, but also a big heart. He’s the closest thing I have to a father”.

“I know”, and you weren’t sure what he had said I know to.

The night was kept awake with more small talk you wouldn’t remember the next day. You saw the sun rising from behind the buildings in silence, with a bad aftertaste of wine, takeout food and unspoken words that would stay just like that.

[reinerispretty]

rotations. bonus! (y/n) is pregnant

can i request zuko learning that his wife is pregnant? (like after the honeymoon stage) and how would he react on the following 9 months?

Marvellous Masterpiece of series you had us read! Thank you for everything! I wanted to ask if is not too much to ask (if you want to of course... it is just a suggestion😰😂) if you can write another bonus with y/n realises she is pregnant and sees how they are with their children. The book change my perspective completely about Zuko. I love Zuko, but now... I am in love. Thank you and have a nice day! Stay safe!

I'm so sad that rotations is over!!! 😭 I'm definitely gonna reread it again! It was so good! You're such a talented writer! Thank you so much for creating such a great story ❤❤ On a side note, what about a blurb where Zuko and y/n find out they're having a baby ! 😱 I could only imagine Zuko freaking out about it 😂

as u can see....this was widely requested. thank u to everyone who did!! :) 

(Y/N) inhaled the sharp ocean breeze as she stepped off the boat. It had been years since she had been back to Ember Island. The last time she had set foot on its shores, she was sixteen and plotting to save the world from a tyrannical monster. Now, she was twenty-four, happily married, and queen of the very nation she had been fighting against. Interesting, how life worked. 

Zuko was already waiting for her at the end of the dock. He had left the palace a few days early to make sure the house was properly cleaned of any dirt, dust, and unhappy memory. (Y/N) ran into his arms and he lifted her up, spinning her in a circle before setting her gently back on her feet. 

“I missed you!” She exclaimed, before planting a kiss on his lips. Zuko smiled into it before pulling away. 

“I missed you too. How was your trip?” (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I only threw up twice! That’s got to be a new record, I think.” Zuko chuckled as he took his wife’s hand and led her up to the beach house. 

“I think you’re going to like how the house looks,” He said. “I even included a little surprise for you.” 

“A surprise!” She gasped. “I love surprises. Is it a turtle duck pond? I think everywhere we go should have a turtle duck pond.” 

“Something even better than a turtle duck pond.” (Y/N) scoffed as they walked up the rocky steps to the backyard of the beach house. 

“There’s no such thing.” As she turned to face forward, her eyes widened at the sight of all of her friends: Katara, Aang, Sokka, Toph, and Suki all stood before her, big smiles on their faces as they shouted: 

“Surprise!” 

(Y/N) immediately left Zuko in the dust, running toward her friends and enveloping them in tight hugs. She hugged Toph first, then Suki, Sokka, Aang, and saved her hug for Katara for last. They held onto each other tightly, rocking back and forth as (Y/N) cried into her shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” Katara laughed as they pulled away. (Y/N) nodded as she quickly wiped away her tears. It had been months since she had seen any of her friends, and it had been nearly years since they were all in the same place at the exact same time. To see everyone together made her more than emotional. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just really surprised and really happy! What are you all doing here?” 

“Zuko asked us all to take a well-deserved vacation,” Toph said, cracking her knuckles. 

“You’ve been working hard at the palace,” Zuko said as he came up behind her. “I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you.” 

“Aw, who knew Zuko had a heart,” Sokka joked. 

“Uh, I kind of called it the whole time,” (Y/N) laughed. She clasped her hands together. “Food! We need food and drinks and--” 

“And everything will be taken care of by the servants,” Zuko said, rubbing his hands into her shoulders. “All we have to do it relax.” 

They spent the remainder of the day at the beach, swimming and building sand castles like they had when they were young. (Y/N) had lounged on the beach beside Suki and turned her head to speak to the Kyoshi Warrior. “You know what I’m really craving? Sea prunes. They sound so good right now.” 

Sokka heard her statement and looked at her quizzically. “You hate sea prunes. Like, with a passion.” (Y/N) shrugged. 

“Maybe I’m changing as a person.” 

(Y/N) had requested of their servants that their dinner be a feast. She loaded food on to her plate and went back for seconds and thirds. She even saved room for fruit tarts for dessert. Zuko had to practically carry her upstairs to their bedroom because she was so full. 

The next morning, (Y/N) eyes flew open and she immediately ran to the bathroom. She slammed the door shut and hunched over the toilet, unfortunately throwing up all the delicious food she had eaten the night before. Although Zuko had been asleep, he was now on high-alert and knocked on the bathroom door. 

“(Y/N)? Would you let me in?” 

She coughed and shook her head weakly, even though he couldn’t see her. “No, it’s gross in here.” 

“You act like I would care. Let me in, please.” Slowly, she unlocked the door and Zuko flew in, kneeling at her side and pulling her into his chest. “Are you feeling alright?” 

(Y/N) nodded. “It was probably the sea prunes. I ate so many.” Zuko chuckled. 

“Can I ask Katara to come in and check on you?” (Y/N) nodded again and Zuko propped her gently up against the bathroom wall. Within minutes, Katara was kneeling down to check her for any illness. 

“Good morning,” (Y/N) said sarcastically. Katara laughed. 

“It’s strange for you to get sick like this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick.” 

“It’s because I have the blood of champions,” (Y/N) said nonchalantly. “I’m really feeling fine, Zuko’s just a worrier.” 

Katara stared at (Y/N) for a moment, her brows furrowed, before leaving the bathroom completely. (Y/N) sat on the floor, confused. While Katara was dependable and motherly, there were definitely times when she did things out of the ordinary. When she returned to the bathroom with Toph, (Y/N) thought that was definitely strange.

“No offense, but why is Toph here?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine, Fire Feet.” Katara leaned in and whispered something inaudible in Toph’s here. The earthbender’s eyes widened before an excited smile appeared on her face. She stepped closer to (Y/N) until their toes were touching. 

“(Y/N), could you tell me why I can feel two heartbeats inside of you?” (Y/N) squinted her eyes in confusion. 

“Toph, what are you talking about?” She looked up at Katara, who bit her lip to hide her smile. Suddenly, it clicked. “No way. You’re lying! Absolutely not.” 

“I don’t lie!” Toph exclaimed. “Well, not like I used to. But this time I am 100 percent telling the truth.” 

“It all makes sense!” Katara said. “Your weird cravings, your larger than normal appetite, your emotions, even throwing up this morning! You’re pregnant!” 

(Y/N’s) head felt a bit woozy. “I might need to sit down,” she said. 

“You’re already sitting.” Toph and Katara sat on the ground beside her. (Y/N) smiled at her friends. 

“I’m really pregnant?” 

“Really,” Toph confirmed. (Y/N) felt her eyes fill with tears of happiness. Her entire life, she had always wanted a child, and to think that she might have a little her or a little Zuko in the future made her heart swell with joy. 

“I have to tell Zuko,” She said. “Oh no, Zuko! He and I haven’t even talked about having kids yet. What if he-” 

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Katara said as she helped up a hand. “Zuko absolutely adores you. I can’t imagine that he’ll be anything other than excited.” 

“He loves you more than you loved those sea prunes last night,” Toph said. (Y/N) put her face in her hands and rubbed at her cheeks. 

“Okay, I’m going to tell him.” She got to her feet and her friends followed her out of the bathroom. 

“What are you going to say?” Katara asked as they walked down the hall. (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I’m probably going to just wing it. It hasn’t failed me yet.” 

“I feel like I can name a few times-” Toph began, but Katara hushed her. 

(Y/N) walked out into the courtyard where the rest of their friends had gathered. The early morning sun was hot that day, so the servants had prepared watermelon juice and other cold items to keep their friends cool. Being from the Fire Nation, (Y/N) and Zuko had no problem with the heat. 

Zuko’s face lit up as he saw her exit the house. “Hey! How are you-” She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him toward the beach, stopping on a cool portion of sand. The waves lapped at their feet as (Y/N) turned to face him. She inhaled a deep breath as Zuko stared at her, obviously confused by the morning’s events. 

“I’m pregnant.” The expressions on Zuko’s face went from worry, to confusion, to shock, and (Y/N) could feel the nervousness creeping up within her, but she shoved it down. “Toph confirmed it. She said she could feel two heartbeats and Katara said that explained why I had been acting so weird. And I know we haven’t talked about it, and I don’t know if we’re ready, but--” 

Zuko covered her mouth with his hand to get her to stop talking. “We’re having a baby?” 

(Y/N) felt her eyes well with tears. She had known happiness before, but being here with Zuko and seeing the excitement on his face as he said “We” made her heart explode. She nodded quickly and Zuko pulled her into himself, burying his face into her neck. 

“We’re going to have a family,” He whispered, and she could feel his tears dripping onto her neck. Both of them had had less than great families. Knowing that they were making one of their own with their love of their life made them both emotional.

“I’m going to be an uncle!” Sokka exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air. Zuko and (Y/N) looked up to find all of their friends sitting at the top of the steps, eavesdropping on their conversation. “Can I be the godfather?” Sokka asked. Katara snorted. 

“You can barely take care of yourself! How are you going to take care of a baby?” 

“Simple,” Sokka said. “I’ll just strap it onto my back when I go into battle.” 

“Do you think it’ll like to go windsurfing?” Aang asked. 

“Maybe it can visit Kyoshi Island and ride the giant koi!” Suki exclaimed. 

“I just hope it doesn’t cry as much as Twinkle Toes.” Toph muttered. 

(Y/N) looked up at Zuko, who beamed down at her. They had their own little family, with their friends, and they knew that their baby would be loved so much.

---

Tag List!

@beifongsss @musicalkeys , @aroyaldarknessblr , @itsivyberry , @harryisthesunshine , @coldlilheart ,

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

FP//you are summer, to my winter heart

Request: if requests are open can i request a fp/reader where you show up once Gladys leaves cause he asks you to help take care of jughead and you two end up together?

hey! i decided to do this as a headcanon because i thought it would be easier to show the development. i hope you still like it!! title is from a poet called gemma troy! i liked it (even though winter is the superior season) 

- ‘she’s gone’ 

- It was the first words you heard when you walked through the front door. 

- But you didn’t really need to be told 

- You could just tell

- You’ve been in and out of the Jones household countless of times

- And every time you’ve walked in before...its been loud 

- On good days when Jughead and Jellybean are playing

- Or bad days when Gladys has called you over to talk some sense into FP.

- You and Fred usually take it in turns to go over 

- Either to talk to FP or to take the kids out for a few hours

- But on the 24th of February 2009, for the first time ever, the trailer was silent. 

- You looked around, noticing the lack of kids toys, shoes and just general mess 

- The lights were off, the curtains drawn and FP leaned against the kitchen counter, barely able to stand up properly.

- As soon as you saw him your heart dropped

- Your arms were around him instantly and he just let go 

- His fingers gripping your jacket so tightly you thought he was going to rip a hole in it 

- And he just cried 

- He cried for what seemed like hours and you just stood there and held him

- Because what else where you supposed to do? 

- He was your best friend 

- Even if he did have his flaws 

- Even if he did scream and shout for no reason 

- Or pushed people away when he was too drunk to realize what he was doing 

- You were always going to be there for him 

- Because who else would be?

- Especially now 

- When Jughead emerged from his bedroom, he smiled as soon as he saw you 

- And you untangled yourself from FP

- ‘hey jug’ You’d said as cheerily as you could and he sent you a toothy grin back

- ‘y/n, what are you doing here?’ 

- ‘i came over to hang out with you’ 

- ‘can we go to the park’ 

- ‘of course we can. but you need your breakfast first...so what do you want?’ 

- ‘...pancakes?’ He’d asked nervously and you’d smiled and ruffled his hair

- ‘sure. why don’t you go watch some tv’ 

- He’d ran off before you even had the chance to finish your sentence

- And the action made you smile a little.

- It seemed he hadn’t noticed yet

- His family had fallen apart and he was worried about missing the Ninja Turtles 

- Or if he had noticed it, it hadn’t sunk it properly 

- ‘have you told him?’ You’d whispered to FP who just looked at the floor. ‘so no?’ 

- ‘no.’ 

- ‘okay.’ You nodded. ‘we’ll tell him together. later on.’ 

- ‘you don’t have to.’ He’d argued but you just sent him a look 

- He’d grown used to that look, and by now he knew not to argue with it. 

- ‘thank you’ The sincerity in his voice made you smile softly at him

- ‘but you have to do something for me’ 

- ‘what?’ 

- ‘sort your life out’ 

- And he did

- It took him a while 

- And there were a few bumps mountains in the road 

- But he eventually did it

- Nothing is ever as easy as they say though

- It was difficult at first

- What isn’t difficult about raising an 8 year old that isn’t yours

- And keeping one of your best friends sober after his wife left and took their daughter with her 

- There was a lot of tears, shouting and slamming of doors 

- And that was just from FP

- ‘you’re not my mom’ - jughead jones every single time he saw you for a week 

- ‘we don’t need your fucking help y/n’ - fp jones every single time he saw you for a week

- But eventually you got the hang of things 

- A routine was formed 

- You’d drop Jughead off at school before going to work 

- FP would pick him up on the way home 

- Dinner would be timed perfectly for you coming home 

- You’d help Jughead with his homework, always finding a way to make it fun 

- You’d spend your evening watching movies either at home or at the drive in

- Or you’d spend hours arguing about what to watch

- Weekends would be spent at Pop’s, or the park or at the river 

- And sometimes you’d drive to the beach and have a picnic

- Jughead would always insist that you had to tell him a story before sleep 

- ‘because you do the best voices y/n’ 

- Sometimes you’d read them from books

- Other times they were made up (mostly)

- And FP would always stop outside of the room to listen in for a few minutes 

- And when Jughead said he didn’t need a story anymore he was able to quickly put him to bed while you cried on the sofa 

- He’d hugged you until the two of you fell asleep

- Only woken up by Jughead asking what was for breakfast

- Some stories he’d recognize from the years before Jughead and Jellybean were born 

- They’d be from summers spent together going on adventures despite being in your twenties and thirties 

- Others would have just elements of truth in them

- Like when you’d found a suitcase by the river 

- But you managed to leave out the fact that it was empty apart from the blood splatter 

- You replaced the blood with a portal to another world 

- And all of them you made sound magic 

- To both Jughead and FP

- And he’d be left wondering what he would ever do without you

- So he would come up with a plan to show just how much they appreciate you

- And so the 7th November was officially made Y/n’s day 

- It was kind of like mothers day 

- But not

- Jughead would make a Y/n’s day card 

- FP would make breakfast for you and then you got to chose what to do for the rest of the day 

- You’d also always get a present 

- One made by Jughead and another bought by FP 

- It was usually always small, but you loved it anyway

- And even after almost ten years, Jughead always still got you a card and FP always bought you a present. 

- You’d practically moved in with them within the first year of it all happening 

- Sleeping on the pull out sofa in the living room 

- It wasn’t that bad after a while 

- Although you will always blame it for the permanent sore back you have now

- And eventually everything felt semi-normal 

- You were like a little family 

- You’d go to parties of friends together 

- And you and FP would rarely be seen apart 

- Always sat or stood together, talking or laughing at something 

- Sometimes and arm would be slung around your shoulder or waist 

- New friends or neighbours of the trailer park assumed you to be a proper family 

- Assumptions would always be met by awkward laughs and quick mutters of ‘we’re not a couple’ 

- Over time though you started to notice a change in the way they made you feel 

- At first it was sort of funny and a little awkward 

- But the more it happened the more you felt your chest tighten when you or FP denied it

- Until you found yourself not denying it, letting FP laugh it off every time 

- But despite that small detail

- You worked well together 

- Everything seemed to be going well 

- Until it happened

- Until FP spiraled and you were left to pick up the pieces 

- Looking after a now 15 years old Jughead while his father was in prison and his mom and sister were god knows where. 

- Jughead was lost and you could tell 

- What 15 year old wouldn’t be 

- So you made sure he knew you weren’t going anywhere 

- You were always there when he woke up in the morning or came home from school 

- You listened when he talked 

- Whether it was about his novel or his friends 

- And you reassured him his dad would be okay 

- Even if he had been arrested for murder

- You’re still there for FP too

- Visiting as often as possible 

- Even if you do give him the look every time you see him

- But you promise to help him

- And when he eventually gets out 

- Your the first one to hug him 

- Wrapping him up in a giant hug that makes both of you feel like you’re home 

- Even more so when he hugs you back just as tightly 

- Jughead coughs awkwardly and you pull apart 

- You shuffle away from him 

- Letting them have their own moment before taking them both to Pop’s 

- Again it took a while 

- But you got your routine back 

- And everything went back to normal 

- As normal as you can be when you live in Riverdale 

- You supported Jughead when he wanted to join the serpents 

- And you helped FP get his job so he could support the three of you 

- Before his arrest there had been talk of you moving out 

- Its not like Jughead needed you anymore 

- Not really 

- And FP was doing great 

- But now, it looks like you were stuck sleeping in the living room still 

- Jughead needed stability 

- And you and FP needed each other 

- It was never said out loud 

- Never discussed 

- Never so much as briefly mentioned 

- But everyone knew the two of you needed each other 

- The thought of moving out may have made your back happy

- But that was the only part of you that wanted to

- The rest of you didn’t know what you’d do without him

- And FP was absolutely terrified of the idea of not seeing you every day 

- It made his chest tight and his head hurt 

- So you stayed 

- Until she came back

- Jughead went looking for his mom and sister 

- Something you don’t blame him for 

- You’d probably do the exact same thing

- But whenever Gladys is around 

- There’s trouble 

- She may be your friend but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t bring chaos wherever she goes 

- Yes, she might have had her reasons to leave 

- You don’t blame her for that 

- What you do blame her is leaving one child while taking the other 

- ‘well isn’t this cozy’ 

- The familiar voice makes you jump and you watch as FP stands up, eyes wide as he stares at his daughter and estranged wife 

- Jughead is also just as shocked, hugging Jellybean tightly 

- The ache in your chest returns, and this time no matter how hard you try it stays 

- It stays all through the night 

- And its still there by morning 

- It follows you around wherever you go

- It seems no matter where you are in Riverdale 

- Gladys and FP are there 

- They both make your heart ache

- But both of them for different reasons 

- And its not until you’re lying in bed 

- Two weeks after Gladys turned up and essentially kicked you out 

- Leaving you to quickly find a trailer to rent 

- That you realize whats happened 

- You’re in love 

- But there’s nothing happy about it 

- There’s no magic, sweetness or joy to it

- Its all yearning looks and gloomy thoughts

- Watching a family you used to be apart of from the outside

- She does what you used to 

- She should, she is their mom and his wife 

- But she’s missed 7 years of their lives 

- Seven years that you’ve been there 

- You held together, looked after and cleaned up the mess that she left behind 

- And the worst thing is 

- You know you’ll do exactly the same when she inventively leaves again

- You tried telling FP 

- ‘you and gladys together does not work’ 

- But he just brushed it off 

- Happy that his family was back together 

- But he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was missing 

- Like when a photograph has been folded over

- He knows something’s not right

- He just can’t figure out what it is 

- He can

- He knows exactly whats missing 

- Its you 

- But what’s he supposed to do? 

- He can’t bring you back

- Gladys and Jellybean have come back

- They’re happy 

- Or at least thats what they’re trying to be 

- But there’s a massive crack down the middle of this family 

- And there’s not enough glue to fix it

- Its just a matter of waiting 

- Waiting for the inevitable to happen 

- No matter how much he wills it not to 

- Jughead and Jellybean are happy 

- Gladys is happy 

- But he isn’t so sure its because of him

- And to an extent he’s happy too

- He has his kids back

- He’s got a great job 

- And eventually a house 

- Even if it is the Coopers 

- But he can see you’re unhappy 

- And he hates that 

- He only ever wants to see you smile 

- Its one of his favourite things 

- Always has been now he thinks about it 

- But he saw you at his party 

- You were smiling 

- But it wasn’t real 

- And every time you see each other you send each other smiles 

- But they never reach your eyes. 

- Riverdale being Riverdale 

- Crazy things always happen 

- You hear of a Griffins and Gargoyles being played again

- And remember when you would play 

- Remember what happened to your friends 

- And to The Midnight Club

- FP telling you all about it one night after Jughead had gone to bed 

- Those nights seem so far away 

- You suppose they are really 

- You make sure to tell Jughead to stay away from it

- Not wanting him to have to go through anything that you or his parents did. 

- And then there’s the robbery at Pop’s 

- And suddenly FP’s in hospital and you find yourself giving him the look when you visit him 

- He smiles

- Despite the trouble and pain he’s in

- Because you being here eases both of those things 

- It doesn’t last long though

- FP is arrested and you’re sent home

- Its not until a few days later do you find yourself walking into the Jones’ residence again

- ‘she’s gone’ FP says, sat at the dining table with his head in his hands 

- ‘i know’ You say, sitting beside him and grabbing his hand. 

- ‘have you come to say i told you so?’ He looks at you sadly and you just shake.

- ‘no. i’m here to help.’ 

- ‘thank you.’ 

- ‘what are friends for?’ 

- The word stings, but it needs to be said 

- No matter how you feel about him

- You’re still his friend 

- So you do what you do best 

- You fix 

- And after a while you have a routine again

- It takes a while 

- But eventually everyone gets used to each other

- And its normal-ish

- You still listen to Jughead talk about his novel 

- You’re the only person he really talks about it with 

- And you help Jellybean with her homework

- You take her shopping at the weekend 

- And listen to her when she tells you about whatever drama is going on in her class 

- You and FP take it in turns to cook dinner 

- The other one always washes up

- You still feel the ache in your chest every so often 

- But it’s not as strong 

- Because you see each other every day

- You’re back together 

- Where you should be 

- Even if it is platonic 

- Well, up until he kisses you before you go home 

- He walks you to the front door as usual

- Offering you a lift which you always politely decline 

- And just as you’re about to leave 

- He grabs your arm gently, spinning you around and kissing you softly 

- It takes you by surprise 

- Your eyes widen at first and he panics, starting to pull away 

- But when you fingers grip his arms 

- The dark fabric bunching together as you pull him closer

- And you kiss him back

- A lot more force that he had 

- He knows he hasn’t messed up

- He knows he made the first right decision in about 7 years 

- Because when your arms wrap around him he knows he’s home 

[whump-town]

Careful

Takes place after 5x01 because I love that angst of that episode and I love hurting Hotch but also Reid so...

No warnings

Dozing in and out of anesthesia it takes Spencer several hours to recall the full events of the day. He’s in too much pain, too distracted to note the lack of people at his bedside. Penelope holds his hand and he knows it’s her because he cracks an eye open and sees that someone dressed as the embodiment of the rainbow is softly asking him if he wants another ice chip. As time moves on, minutes feeling like hours, his sense comes to him and he sees the room around him. Feels a pang of hurt when he realizes that while Derek is eating his jello he does not see the typical crowd of three always waiting just at the edge of his bed.

“Where’s Hotch?” he asks sleepily. He can’t disguise the pain in his voice at this realization that Hotch hasn’t shown up. Hotch is always here. Lingering just out of reach but watching, Hotch always watches. Maybe not every time that Spencer wakes up but there are always blurry memories of the older man. Sometimes resting or pacing the room or just sitting and waiting but something. There’s always something.

Derek clears his throat but Garcia’s softly muffled sob beat him to it.

The heart monitor jumps as Spencer’s anxiety skyrockets, the pieces of his memory filling in as he recalls the conversation he had with Emily. Foyet and blood and the hospital. He can’t fight his tears, no amount of quick blinking abates them. “Is he…”

Derek sits up, shushing him before he can find the words to fill in the heavy blank. “No, no,” he cups Spencer’s cheek, shaking his head. “No, pretty boy, he’s okay.” Derek shakes his head at his own exaggeration of the truth. Hotch is anything but okay right now but he’s alive and that has to count for something. “He’s a little banged up,” Derek amends. “He’s alive.”

They dodge his questions for the rest of the day. Using just how touched starved he is against him, turning his attention away from his thoughts with a hand pressed to his forehead. Fingers sweeping through his hair until he’s safely nestled back into his blankets and pillows, losing to his exhaustion.

The sunrise of the next day brings the pain he hadn’t felt under the mental fog of the other drugs. He curses Tobias Hankle and hates himself as he fists the sheets in his hands and shakes his head. Turning away their offers. Thankful he doesn’t have to explain how life has left him here chewed up and spit out and deprived of the drugs that would soothe this pain. Derek tries to help but Spencer doesn’t care that it’s not technically a relapse and no one would blink an eye if wanted something, hell anything but he shuts his eyes and refuses.

He’ll be fine.

The pain… After a while, he struggles to keep his cool. Penelope comes up early and wipes sweat from his brow where it’s accumulated in his strain. He tries to keep silent, answer her questions as nicely as he can so that he doesn’t say something mean. He hates the way that the words come out of his mouth. The way he takes his pain out on everyone else around him.

He just wants to know how Hotch is and after a while of their brief answers and shrugging, half-assed mumbles he can’t take it. Secluded to this bed, having no say in anything happening to him, all he has is time to get lost in his head. Which is okay for a while, he can think about books to take his mind away from the pain but that does get boring quickly. Daytime television is ass and he’s not nearly tired enough for a nap.

“How’s Hotch?” he asks knowing already what they’re going to tell him. Never direct answers because he suspects they’re trying to protect him but it’s really because they don’t know. They’re afraid to really know. He would be afraid too if he could see but he can’t see and he can’t know and he’s really, really fed up with it.

JJ shrugs. “He’s just--” she crosses her arms over her chest, shaking her head. Guarding herself. “You have to be careful around him,” she mumbles. That’s all that any of them seem to be able to agree on. This careful that they all seem to ache with. The way that they can’t even look him in the eyes to say it. Even Penelope, she looks down and tears glisten in her eyes and there’s that word again: careful.

And he mistakes JJ to mean that he has to be careful around Hotch. That they’re saying that he is at risk of setting Hotch off and it’s childish and a simple misunderstanding but it drives him crazy. Of all of them, they’re worried about him? He and Penelope are the only people who don’t go out of their way to piss Hotch off. Derek yells at him all the time, the two of them never get along. Hotch has known Spencer twice as long as he’s known Emily and Hotch hated her for the first year she was on the team.

But he needs to be careful? As if they aren’t torches lighting him ablaze.

So, he goes to see for himself.

It’s late and he’s working with a small time frame. Needs to wait for Dave to head home after dinner but before Emily can come to sit with him for the night. It’s about twenty minutes, he knows only because Derek aired the concern two days ago. Was afraid of what could happen in that amount of time but Dave had won out and the twenty minutes remained. Hotch needs a break from them and he likes the twenty minutes, so they’ll give him that.

So, twenty minutes it is.

The moving makes him tremble, the pain nearly overwhelming but he’s got a plan and he needs to move. Needs to do it fast.

He doesn’t know where Hotch’s room is but he knows it’s on the second floor. He’d heard JJ and Emily talking about Hotch getting moved from the intensive care unit to a general floor but not one like Spencer’s. Someplace still close to the nurses who often need to get to him quickly. Emily had dropped that it was the second floor, twisting her fingers anxiously in her hands. She hadn’t liked the idea of the move but it wasn’t up to her.

So Spencer makes his slow way down the hall of the second floor. His bracelet and crutches get him far, it just looks like he’s been sent by another floor’s nurse to get some exercise in. That and he’s aware that his overgrown hair and thin body makes him look younger, innocent so he gets smiles and the occasional wave and one says anything.

Finding Hotch is harder than he’d thought it would be but he finds the room. A giant stuffed bear sitting in the windowsill-- the same one, if not smaller he notes with a jealous frown, Garcia brought him. Stepping into the room he’s not sure what he’s expecting to find but it’s not this. Careful, they’d said, and he’d thought of Hotch’s performative anger. The way he sends paper flying through the air. Thought of the way Hotch had fussed with him over the years for his dangerous stunts.

Careful and he’d assumed Hotch would be hardened. Guarded.

He’d never thought careful could be mean weak.

There’s a walker sitting by the bed, discarded Spencer knows when he realizes that the wheelchair is physically closer to Hotch. That the tiny amount of space between the chair Hotch sleeps in now and the bed was too great a distance. Even though it’s no more three feet, no more than a step or two.

He’s paler than Spencer has ever seen him, held up by pillows, and breathing heavily even with the aid of the oxygen canal sneaking under his nose. Entirely limp, lifeless with his head turned into the raised side of the chair. To his left is the dinner he’d left nearly untouched, unable to stomach even a bite of unseasoned chicken or the steamed carrots that should have been easy on his stomach. He’d had a few sips of apple juice and fallen asleep, exhausted from just being moved from the bed.

Spencer stands there so frozen that he’s glad Hotch is asleep. He can’t imagine the ways in which he’d hurt his boss if he were awake to see the emotion in Spencer’s eyes. To see the tears and sympathy as his eyes move over Hotch’s chest. Taking in the dots of blood on his chest, the gown pulled down to show far too much. To see the staples peaking through where the gauze isn’t thick enough. That he’s being held together like a broken doll and he looks their measures just aren’t enough. He’s broken beyond compare.

“Reid.”

He jumps and turns to see Emily standing outside the door and he wonders just how long he’s been standing there. He steps out into the hall, flinching at the grip she has on his elbow as she steps close to him. There’s something about her eyes, the sneer he hasn’t yet heard in her voice. He’s afraid of her and she wants him to be. “Don’t let him see you looking at him like that,” she warns but it’s not the way you reprimand a misguided child. She’s pulling his hand from a red hot burner and she means to scare him. “Do you understand me? Do you think that’s what he needs right now? Seeing you look at him like that?”

She releases him and he resists the urge to rub where her fingers dug in. Only then does she soften, just a little, and sigh with a shake of her head at him. “Pull yourself together,” she mumbles, brushing past him to step into the room. “Don’t come in here unless you can handle it.” He sees her pain now, the way she looks at the floor. “He needs you to be strong, Spence. It’s not easy but he can’t do it right now.” She pulls in a deep breath, “I’ll tell him you came by--”

He shakes his head, “no, no I--”

She stops him, “please? Take tonight. Feel. Let it sink in and come back in the morning. He’ll… he’s better in the morning.” But her tone makes him think that’s probably not true.

He watches her go into the room, watching from where he’s hidden as she walks up to Hotch. Cherishing a soft moment while he sleeps to press a kiss to his temple and wake him, gently like she’s sorry. They exchange soft words, Hotch’s too slurred for him to make out but Emily’s clear and kind. She’s walking him through the last few days, reminding him until he can nod and fill in the pieces himself.

He turns away when he sees Emily preparing to get him up and he realizes that he really isn’t strong enough for this. She was right and he can’t imagine… he doesn’t want to even think about Hotch right now.

Curiosity killed the cat and now he's dragging his sore ass back to his room. Left to sit on the image of the man who's always protected, the man who never leaves slumped and hurting because he can't stomach it. He's too weak.

Spencer's always too weak.

What does that say about him? That he can't think of a single time Hotch left him alone in the hospital, no matter his condition, but when Hotch needs him...

[srose-foxfire]

“Under an Autumn Moonlight” Part: 3 (Damirae fic)

Part #1

Part #2

Part #3 

Raven let out a deep sigh as she exited her history lecture hall. Her mind should had been in class, but her mind she kept going back to the very uncomfortable lecture they received from their landlord outside their apartment building. Raven and Donna had returned to find their apartment building evacuated because their friend and roommate, Jinx, had started a small fire in their kitchen. Their landlord was furious with them all, this wasn’t the first time Jinx had endangered lives before. It was her third, and their landlord was running out of patience to let them continue renting the three-bedroom apartment. The only thing saving them from being evicted was that they were college students trying to get by and focusing on their degrees. Though Raven was certain with another ‘Jinx incident’ they be kicked out to the streets, for sure.

Their friend seemed to be a magnet that attracted misfortune wherever there was any electronic device. Nevertheless, they all cared for Jinx very much. Raven wouldn’t be true to herself if she didn’t feel a bit least upset for leaving Robin. She was starting to feel at ease with him and wanted to continue talking with him. It also seemed he wanted to talk about something more personal before she got the phone call from Jinx.

“I hope to see you again.”

Was the last thing Robin had said to her and in truth Raven wanted to see him too. She didn’t know how to though, it would look strange if she just showed up at the warehouse, besides she didn’t know when the band was there. Maybe if she could contact him directly? Robin was friends with Jon, maybe Raven could ask Jon for Robin’s number, but knowing Jon he would question her and then go gossip to Donna who would interrogate Raven on the matter. Raven didn’t even know what all this was, the only thing she was certain was she wanted to see him again and just talk.Right? That’s all she wanted nothing more.

Raven continue walking down the main walkway of the university going to her next class. Introduction to Astronomy. One of the class assignments she was looking forward to was going to an overnight camping trip to stargaze and map out constellations. Their professor also added that they could distinguish the planet Saturn from the stars because it was closer to Earth during the fall semester.

Raven could hardly wait and just stargaze to ger heart’s content. Since a child, Raven always liked looking up into the starry night sky and letting her worries be swept from her.

Raven didn’t have the best childhood; she lost her mother at very young age where her memories were blur glimpses. What always made her think of her mother was the smell of lavender. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could had sworn seeing her mother standing next to her crib and light a lavender scented candle, singing her a gentle lullaby. When her mother passed, she was left with a drunken father who wasn’t home at all doing who knows what. She was confided in that small apartment for eighteen years, the only times she was allowed outside was to go to school. During the day she was the good student, getting the highest remarks in every class, but when night came, she let herself cry out. One night she looked up to a full moon and imagined it was her mother’s way of lighting her dark world. Since then Raven found solace in the night sky.

When Raven graduated from high school, she left that small apartment and moved away with her only friend Donna Troy to Gotham City, for a new start. There they met Jinx, this made Raven feel she had someplace she could really call home and have a family. She entered the new school year without declaring a major, but knew she wanted to be surrounded by books. During her second year in the university, Raven was passing by a small vintage store and through the window saw a mother and her very young daughter look through a worn-out book. In that moment Raven imagined herself in the girl’s place and transformed the woman to what vague memory Raven had of Arella, her mother. That’s when Raven decided she would open her own bookstore, in memory of her mother, and help others find sanctuary.

Raven finally arrived at her astronomy classroom. She sat down in her usual lab table and took out her notebook and textbook. There were ten tables in total, separated in pairs to force students to work together. Though the seat next to Raven’s was always empty, which was weird there were exactly twenty seats and twenty students were enrolled. One student was never called for, yet the seat was taken since no one had dropped out. To act like she could rely one someone, Raven always placed her backpack on the empty seat, the bag was a trusted ally who always carried her things. The classroom was starting to fill as each student too their seat before the professor arrived.

Raven was looking over her notes from last class when she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye standing next to her table.

“Is this seat taken?”

Raven looked up and her gaze widen in shock. Standing before her dressed in designer clothes was none other than Damian Wayne. Like theson to Bruce Wayne and heir to run Wayne Enterprises. What was he doing here?

Raven managed to squeak out a no, and quickly as she could remove her backpack from the chair. Damian sat down, and took out a notebook, flipped through it till he found a clean page. He scribbled something on a corner and then very gracefully pulled out his textbook. This made no sense, Raven thought. Was he the one student that was enrolled and never show up? And why show up now of all times. They were halfway through the semester and come to think he wasn’t around for the midterm they had taken a few weeks ago.

She could feel the atmosphere change in the classroom as everyone stared at the young man next to her. Damian Wayne was someone who didn’t allow anyone get near him other than his family, in interviews and documentaries on his family’s company he was always seen to be at a distance from everyone. Raven wasn’t much for gossip, but all these were just rumors and online news articles she had heard from.

From the corner of her eye she saw Damian read over some notes, he looked so calm. Like he had no care in the world. Which was surprising given to the fact she caught some of her classmates taking pictures of him. Probably posting on their social media pages that the infamous Damian Wayne had graced their presence. Raven would lie to herself if she didn’t admit he was handsome. His olive skin looked almost that of a god of sun, his emerald eyes containing vivid green forests in them. Raven wasn’t staring she had seen countless pictures of him to study his features. The room went silent when Professor Charles, entered the classroom.

Professor Charles was in his late sixties, with a small rounded belly and fine gray hairs still trying to cover his baldness. He went straight to his desk, plugged in his flash drive into the classroom’s computer and turn on the projector. Someone who sat behind Raven, cleared their throat rather loudly making Professor Charles look up from the computer screen. He was about to address the student when his eyes caught something unusual. He removes his small round glasses, gave them a quick wipe, and placed them back on the brim of his nose.

“Ah. Mr. Wayne. Glad you could finally join us. I assume you will be with us till the remainder of the semester?”

“Yes. Professor.”

Raven tried so hard to pay attention she hadn’t been focused in her previous class but now this was ridiculous. Her mind kept screaming:

Ahh it THE Damian Wayne! Is he going to be OUR lab partner?

When did she revert back to a lovestruck teenager? He was just another classmate nothing more. Raven continue to try and focus on the lecture and take notes as the studious student she was. Her mind wondered again but thankfully this time it made her start doodling on the corner of notebook page. She was going to pay for it later, but Raven manage to write down some words she heard her professor say. Raven will have to go over one of her classmates notes after deciphering whatever her brain allowed her to retain. She allowed her hand to move to whatever direction it wanted, she wasn’t paying it no mind.  

Raven stopped when she heard countless chairs screech, she looked up to find her classmates collecting their belongings and heading out the door. Raven shot a quick glance towards Professor Charles and he was erasing something he wrote on the white board. Panicked kicked in and Raven quickly wrote whatever was left of the assignment. Maybe she could ask someone for clarity on the homework through the class’ online portal? Feeling very disgruntle with herself, Raven started slamming her things into her backpack.

“A robin.”

Raven looked up to find Damian standing from his seat staring at her notebook. She then looked down and saw she had doodled a bird, though she wasn’t sure with herself if it was a robin. “I guess.”

“Your favorite bird?” he continued.

Damian was trying to make small talk. Why with her? “Not really, but birds are cool.” Brain stop talking. Raven was making a fool of herself; she flipped her notebook closed and slammed it into her backpack. Out the corner of her eye, Raven could still notice Damian just standing there. Was he waiting for a longer explanation? “I was thinking of some… thing that happened over this weekend. Made me draw a bird.” Truth was she had met someone but he didn’t need to know that little detail.

“Sounds interesting. I’m Damian Wayne by the way.” I know. “I have been away due to personal matters and would like to ask if you could assist me? I fear I may be a little behind and could use a study partner for this class.”

“Well according to the seating arrangement, we’re supposed to be lab partners for the whole semester. I’m Raven.” She extended her hand out and Damian shook her hand.  

Damian smiled at her, “pleasure to meet you.”  

Raven could had sworn she seen that smile once before, but couldn’t place it in her mind where she had seen it.

--------------------------

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this update, I wanted so much to happen but had to pace myself for the sake of this story. I am not sure when I will update this one next, trying to figure out a route that I like best. HOWEVER be on the look out this Friday for the first two chapters on my Dark Robin Au! I am excited to share with you all this fic, also because I want to multitask I will be sharing a chapter  for another longer Damirae fic sometime this weekend. 

Till next time!

~ S.Rose

[riversofmars]

Thank you so much for your lovely comments and encouragement. I honestly didn't expect such a huge response to an opening chapter so I'm absolutely thrilled to have you all along for the ride <3

Chapter 2: The World’s Turned Upside Down

The Library, 52nd Century

River closed the door to the kids bedroom - alone for the first time since the Doctor had saved her to the Library core - and she finally allowed her composure to slip. She pressed her hand to her mouth and swallowed a sob, afraid the kids might hear. She had been proud of herself for staying strong all the way through her final adventure. The moment the young Doctor had turned up  instead of the one her message had been meant to reach, she had realised things would not go according to plan. For the Doctor, it had been the first time they had met. He hadn’t known her yet so she couldn’t tell him why she was really at the Library as she had intended. She also hadn’t been able to take comfort in seeing him though she had so badly needed to. Looking at the Doctor and having him not recognise her was a most cruel trick of fate after everything she’d been through.

At the time, threatened by the deadly shadows of the Vashta Nerada, she had kept her focus on the task at hand: carry out the mission, get access to the Library, get her answers once everything was wrapped up. She had decided she could always fill her Doctor in later; but she hadn’t anticipated this might be a one way trip. When it got to it, when things had fallen into place and she had finally understood how her life had always lead up to this, it had been far too late. Things had been beyond her control. She had to sacrifice her future to ensure her past. The truth of it was only sinking in now that she had space and time to think about it.

River cradled her diary to her chest as she made her way down the corridor to the living room. She dropped onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands as she started to cry; for herself, for her future, for her family. Suddenly, the Doctor’s sorrow at her leaving Darillium made so much more sense. He had known that she wouldn’t return but he hadn’t been able to tell her. Rationally, she knew he couldn’t have told her about her fate, but her sadness gave way to anger regardless. If she had known, she would have made different choices. It wasn’t her own fate she was angry about. As for as dying went, this wasn’t so bad: she was safe, immortal even. Though she was trapped, it beat dying properly. Had she known what was to come, she would not have kept secrets from her husband the way she had.

River trusted Vastra, Jenny and Strax to keep her son safe, and eventually, surely, they would contact the Doctor when they realised she wouldn’t return. He would be angry with her for keeping her secret and rightfully so. But eventually, hopefully, he would forgive her and raise their son. They would be together: Her family. River, however, would never be able to hold her child again. The realisation overwhelmed her and she struggled to breath, her sobs catching in her throat.

Alone with her own thoughts, River allowed herself a moment of weakness; she was dead after all. She could rest from being the strong, self-assured woman she had had to be all her life.

River couldn’t be sure how long it had been when she ran out of tears to cry. She just sat for a while, staring into space that she knew was nothing but strings of numbers. She had been saved to the greatest hard drive in history, everything around her was pure data and so was she.

A realisation came to her like a flash of lightning and she jumped to her feet: She was where she had meant to end up. Quickly, River made her way to the bookshelf on the other side of the room. She was in the biggest Library in the universe with all its knowledge at her disposal. Just because she was dead didn’t mean the forces threatening her husband and child had disappeared.

A new kind of determination gripped her and she pulled book after book from a shelf, that responded to her thoughts of what she was looking for. This was just another stop. Her Doctor was out there still and sooner or later, he would need her help and come looking for her. She wasn’t going to be empty handed when he arrived.

——

London, Late 19th Century

“Jenny!“ Vastra rushed to her wife’s side while the Doctor remained rooted to the spot, trying to work out what was going on.

“Doctor?“ Yaz asked, awaiting some sort of instruction or at least a reaction from her but she didn’t get one. So she hurried to the other unconscious figure. She didn’t recognise what species he was but he seemed to be breathing. They had probably been stunned, Yaz concluded, as there was no blood or other marks of force on their bodies. She took pride in her constantly improving observational skills. This was far better police training than her probationary work ever had been. She looked up to the Doctor who was still staring at the cot, holding on to a stitched piece of cloth. “Are you okay?“ Yaz asked, unsettled by the distinct lack of reaction on her friend’s part.

“Vastra, what is going on here?“ The Doctor’s voice was hollow when she finally spoke. All manner of thoughts were running through her mind but the most obvious explanation couldn’t possibly be true. She tightened her grip around the prayer leaf.

“Doctor, I will explain but first…“ Vastra had pulled Jenny up against herself and pressed a kiss to her forehead, as she tried to gently shake her awake.

“No, explain NOW!“ The Doctor yelled, losing her temper for one terrifying moment that made Vastra and Yaz jump.

“Doctor, let’s look after these people first.“ Yaz stood quickly and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder, bewildered at the uncharacteristic outburst. The flash of fear across the lizard woman’s face shook her. It was an unwelcome reminder that the Doctor had changed in the nineteen years of prison. Something was weighing her down. They had seen flashes of it in their fight against the Daleks but there had been no opportunity to address it at the time. Now, it became painfully obvious that something was wrong with her. A deep anger had taken root and was bubbling to the surface.

“This doesn’t concern you, Yaz.“ The Doctor bit back and shrugged her hand away. She used her sonic to scan the cot for clues before turning back to Vastra. “Who’s baby was sleeping in that cot?“ She pressed through gritted teeth and Vastra couldn’t bring herself to speak, her throat closing up with sorrow. They had failed the Doctor and River.

“Vastra…“ Jenny mumbled, drawing her attention as she came round slowly. “Someone came… the baby, is the baby okay?“ She asked, her voice weak. Vastra couldn’t answer her wife, she just looked up to the Doctor.

“Doctor, we are so sorry…“ She croaked, her voice full of guilt.

“Doctor?“ Yaz watched and wasn’t following.

“So it worked, the emergency beacon…“ Jenny mumbled, still in a haze. She looked to the Doctor and recognised them from the age of her eyes and the sorrow she found there. A new face was of no consequence.

“You triggered it?“ The Doctor asked.

“Professor Song left it… But we expected you to be…“ Vastra tried to explain that she wasn’t the Doctor they had expected. She was so much older and it only made it harder. She couldn’t bare to think just how long ago Darillium was for the Doctor at this point.

“Where is she? Where is River? Who’s baby is it?“ The Doctor tried her best to keep her voice steady. She needed confirmation. It was so glaringly obvious but also too impossible to believe. How could River have kept this from her?

“Does it really need saying?“ Vastra voice broke and the so did the Doctor’s hearts.

The Doctor hurried down the stairs, she needed space. She couldn’t face the others and she couldn’t keep looking at the empty cot. She tightened her grip around the prayer leaf, her knuckles turning white. She took two steps at a time, running like the devil was on her heels. This was too big, too painful to face and so she ran - until the brittle stairs gave way under her heavy steps and she put her foot through them, crashing through the bottom half of the staircase.

“Oh my God, Doctor!“ Yaz hurried after her, careful not to cause any more damage. She reached under her arms and pulled her up. “Doctor, what’s going on?“ Yaz was at a complete loss, she had never seen the Doctor react like this, not even when they were dealing with the Master. There was genuinely panic and fear in her eyes. The Doctor pulled away from Yaz without a word.

“Doctor.“ Vastra appeared on the landing above and the Doctor’s eyes snapped up to her. “Please don’t run away from this.“ The detective pleaded.

“Don’t talk to me right now!“ The Doctor yelled with anger the likes of which Yaz had never seen. “You don’t get to talk to me right now!“ She struggled down the rest of the stairs without looking back.

“Doctor!“ Yaz called after her as she just carried on, darting to the front door.

“Give her a moment…“ Vastra realised there was no point in trying to stop her, she needed a moment to herself and that was the least they could give her. “In the meantime, would you mind helping me with the others?“

The Doctor slammed the doors of the TARDIS and received a scolding hum for her actions. She ignored it and dropped onto on of the steps in the console room. There she unfolded the prayer leaf again, holding it close as her vision blurred with tears. The TARDIS gave a concerned hum but the Doctor couldn’t speak to answer. She knew the TARDIS understood, their psychic link was stronger than words and the Doctor couldn’t bring herself to phrase everything she was feeling.

She thought back to the last time she had seen River. They had watched the sunrise on Darillium after twenty-four wonderful years there, and then, she had left. River hadn’t been able to keep her promise of return as the Doctor had already known at the time. The Doctor had waited regardless and had set the table for breakfast on the balcony on the off-chance River had managed to trick fate. It had been a long, lonely wait. Eventually the Doctor had busied themselves by fixing up a new body for Nardole when the loneliness was getting too much. For many sleep cycles they’d brought breakfast back to an empty room, setting it on the balcony again and again. The Doctor even did on the day they left Darillium for good and headed to New York to try and clear up the time distortions. It would have been a first step to visiting the Ponds for some comfort after losing their daughter for good, but it had never played out like that.

The Doctor took a deep breath as she considered what River had done after Darillium and before going to the Library. Was this it? Or where they in fact even earlier in her timeline and River had just never told her that the had had a child? Both options were far too painful to contemplate. She was already reeling from imprisonment, the destruction of Gallifrey and learning about the gaps in her past. How was she to cope with this? Her world had turned upside down, inside out, more time than she could count but this was different. How was she to do this without River to rely upon.

“Here we go.“ Yaz helped Strax sit up on a chair in the mostly untouched drawing room.

“I don’t require human assistance.“ The Sonatan protested but Vastra shushed him as she helped Jenny to the sofa.

“That’s quite enough of that Strax, we need to make sure you’re both uninjured.“ The lady of the house stated firmly. Jenny, however, was more concerned with her wife’s wellbeing.

“We’re fine. They only stunned us, but what about you?“ She asked as she reached out and touched her fingertips to Vastra’s cheek brushing off dried scales. Yaz watched the tender gestured as she learned more about the Doctor’s friends. “Your skin appears to be…“

Vastra straightened herself up and rubbed her face to find herself shedding more scales.

“It appears the blast of whatever that bomb was aged me…“ She observed, witnessing the sped up effects of her amphibian skin renewing itself. “Not to worry, dear, I still have a lot of life left in me, perhaps our life spans are more aligned now.“ She gave her a soft smile and her hand a squeeze.

“So you are the Doctor’s friends?“ Yaz spoke up at last as it seemed they had all recovered from the attack they had been subjected to.

“Old friends, yes. By the look of them, it has been a long time indeed…“ Vastra commented with an apologetic smile. They didn’t mean to keep the Doctor’s young friend in the dark but she had to see to Jenny and Strax first.

“So you knew her before she changed?“ Yaz concluded. She had met a few people from the Doctor’s past now, Jack, the Master… she was eager to learn how these three fit in.

“First a young man with floppy hair, then the old Scot…“ Jenny recalled and Vastra finished the sentence for her:

“Now a pretty blonde.“

“Oi!“ Jenny gave her wife’s arm a slap, feeling a lot more like herself now. The after-effects from the stun blast were wearing off.

“Pretty?“ Strax interjected confused. “He looks the same as ever.“ The three women paid no heed to him.

“So when you called for her, you expected her to be a younger self?“ Yaz concluded. Time travel was confusing but she was getting the hang of it.

“Indeed.“ Vastra nodded.

“So what happened here? Who attacked you?“ Yaz pressed on. A child had been abducted so surely, time was of the essence. “And what about the baby?“ She carried on as she looked into deeply unsettled faces. “Who’s is it?“  

“It’s mine.“ The Doctor’s voice made them all jump.

“Doctor, we’re so…“ Jenny attempted to get to her feet. She wanted to apologise, plead for forgiveness as they had failed her, but Vastra gently pushed her back to sit down.

“What?“ Yaz frowned, confused as she watched her friend walk into her room. She looked a lot calmer than she had when she had stormed out of the house but her was expression remained grim. Yaz noticed she was still carrying the green cloth. Judging by the way she ran her fingers along the stitching, it had to bear some meaning to her.

“That’s right, isn’t it, Madame Vastra. River entrusted our child to you.“ The Doctor concluded looking to Vastra accusingly.

“You have a child?“ Yaz was stunned. She looked around the room, into grim but knowing faces, and found that she was the odd one out.  

“I didn’t know, my wife never told me.“ The Doctor answered without looking to her young friend, she kept her focus on the Silurian, excepting an explanation. Yaz was only getting more confused. This was the first time she had heard the Doctor mention a wife. She had so many question but she realised now was not the right time to ask.

“She was pregnant when she left Darillium. She couldn’t return and had to have the child by herself. Then she entrusted him to us before going to the Library.“ Vastra kept her voice calms as she explained, keeping her answer brief.

“Why would she do that?“ The Doctor snapped. Just because she had already assumed as much didn’t mean she understood it.

“She was trying to keep you safe, keep all of you safe.“ Vastra carried on. She couldn’t presume to know the Professor’s mind but she knew what she had told her and what she had read in the notes she had left behind.

“It’s not really worked out that way, has it.“ The Doctor shot back, upset.

“Strax, how about some tea?“ Jenny looked to Strax, hoping to calm the situation before it could escalate again.

“I was quite enjoying being in the line of fire once again.“ The Sontaran retorted but Jenny’s expression left no room for discussion.

The interruption as they left for the kitchen was enough to calm the Doctor for the time being. She kept her eyes on Vastra, her expression making quite clear how disappointed she was in them for having gone along with this.

“Who was it?“ The Doctor said at last. “Who took my child?“ The words echoed through the silent room, their meaning so poignant it made all their hearts ache. So soon after finding out, the Doctor had already accepted that this was her child, her family, they were talking about. And in the same sentence, she had already lost them. It was too painful to contemplate.

“I honestly don’t know.“ Vastra broke the silence at last. “It all happened very quickly. I was going to answer a knock on the door as Jenny and Strax were upstairs looking after the little one. An explosion happened and then you woke me up. I’m afraid that’s all I remember.“ She explain sorrowfully, begging forgiveness in every syllable.

“A chronon mine… that’s Time Lord technology.“ The Doctor said after briefly considering her words.

“I thought you said all the Time Lords are dead?“ Yaz asked, remembering the Doctor’s account of what happened on Gallifrey after they had left.

“They are. The Master killed them all.“ The Doctor nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps not all of them… at least that was your wife’s theory.“ Vastra said slowly and went to the bureau in the corner to retrieve the file River had left. “She left us with this, accounts of what she did since leaving Darillium.“

——

Sheffield, early 21st Century

“Feels weird, doesn’t it.“ Ryan Sinclair observed walking past by the apartment block Yaz’s family lived in. The spot where the TARDIS had been a welcome sight stood empty. The Doctor and Yaz had left a few days ago and the reality of them being out on adventure by themselves had yet to fully sink in.  

“Feels right though.“ Graham O’Brien placed his hand on his grandson’s shoulder as they turned and continued down the street. They had had wonderful adventures but it was time for both of them to carry on with their lives. There were things at home that needed fixing too, not just out in the universe. The most recent misadventure with the Daleks had proven as much.

“Shall we just nip round to the Chippy for tea?“ Ryan suggest when they reached home and he pushed his bike into the garage. The time up in the mountains practicing was starting to pay off. He knew his nan would be proud of his progress and the pride he saw reflected in Graham’s eyes was confirmation of that.

“Sounds good, just let me grab some cash.“ Graham grinned unlocking the front door. “I think I have a twenty in my other jacket…“ He turned into the lounge and jumped with a very undignified yelp. A woman was sitting on his sofa and greeted him with a smile. “Ryan?!“ He called out and his grandson joined him quickly.

“What the…!“ Ryan stared at the woman in shock. She was tall, blonde and altogether far too relaxed for sitting in someone else’s lounge as they returned. “How’d you get in here?“

“Apologies for startling you, Mr. O’Brien, Mr. Sinclair… I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.“ The woman got to her feet. A empty cup in front of her indicated that she had been waiting a while and hadn’t been shy about helping herself to refreshments.

“We do mind, actually! Who are you?“ Graham tried his best to sound authoritative. Talking a good talk was half the battle, or so they had gathered from how the Doctor approached trouble.

“Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, Chief Scientific Officer at UNIT.“ She extended her hand that neither of them took.

“UNIT?“ Ryan echoed with a frown.

“Rings a bell, doesn’t it.“ Graham sensed that they were both thinking the same thing.

“The Doctor might have mentioned us.“ Kate smiled and sat back down, gesturing for them to do the same. Graham and Ryan exchanged confused looks, not used to being told what to do in their own home. They were, however, relieved that the stranger didn’t seem to be here to kill them.

“You know the Doctor then?“ Graham’s relaxed a little as he sat in an armchair across from her.

“Yes that’s right, didn’t the Doctor try and contact you when we found that Dalek the first time round and you didn’t exist anymore, or something?“ The penny dropped for Ryan as well as he perched on the end of the sofa. He couldn’t quite keep the accusatory undertones out of his voice that he felt were justified. Only the UK would dismantle a useful agency in order to cut public spending. If the Kasavan hadn’t taught them a lesson, surely the Daleks would have now.  

“Yes. I’m afraid at the time, UNIT was not operational…“ Kate retorted pressing her lips to a thin line. Clearly the budget cuts were a sore subject for her as well.

“And where were you this time around, eh? Daleks all over the place, straight from the government, all them politicians involved in it, surely that’s the sort of thing you should have intervened in.“ Graham crossed his arms in front of his chest. They had done their very best researching the Daleks in the Doctor’s absence. If UNIT had been about, things surely would never have gotten as far as they did.

“I’m afraid we have had greater concerns to deal with.“ Kate revealed sounding regretful, yet matter-of-factly.

“Greater than an army of Daleks trying to conquer Earth?“ Ryan retorted with a huff and a laugh. He found that very hard to believe.

“With UNIT officially ceasing to exist, it has given us the opportunity to retreat into the shadows and work undetected. We couldn't risk revealing ourselves.“ She gave an apologetic smile. “You might not be aware of it yet but there are far greater forces at work on Earth right now than a rouge strain of Daleks.“

“Don’t like the sound of that…“ Ryan mumbled and Graham leaned forward in his chair:

“Have you spoken to the Doctor about this?“

“Not yet.“ Kate admitted. “Not until we know more. We can’t always rely on the Doctor, they have other things to concern themselves with. Rest assured we will reach out when the time is right. Until then… we are recruiting and Captain Harkness was kind enough to provide your address. Hence the house call.“

“Of course he did…“ Graham shook his head to himself at the mention of Jack Harkness.

“Recruiting for what?“ Ryan asked.

“Humanity’s last stand, should it come to it.“

[yeaahishowedupatyourparty]

@.JaneyPowellx: This has been something I’ve been debating doing for a long time now and it’s never really felt right. Even now, with all of the words on paper, or typed on to a digital page, it doesn’t feel right. I found writing fiction through the desperate need to escape reality & I’ve done everything in my power to keep them separate. Whether your favourite work of mine is Harry Potter, The Selection, We Were Liars or Twelve, you’ll never find me in them because they’re idealised situations in world’s that could be just around the corner or in far off places. 

This story is different. It isn’t fiction and it isn’t escapism. It’s set in the real world and within the 21 years I’ve been alive. If you’re holding this book in your hand after purchasing it or have just downloaded it from my website, I’ll be bold enough to assume you already know the basic premise of the plot and you already have your expectations. There’re different versions of this story on true crime YouTube channels, in the newspapers and on blogs, some written with a good lot of research being done and others written just for clicks. It’s been a hard thing to accept, but all of them are somebody’s experience of the event and therefore hold a certain degree of truth. 

This is just another version of a story that you might have heard before, this time told by me, Janey.  CHAPTERS 1-3: TRIGGER WARNINGS THROUGHOUT FOR ABDUCTION, ASSAULT/HARASSMENT, DRUGS & ABUSE

//OOC: This isn’t a full on story, just the outline! I think it’s taken her ages but she’d definitely record like a diary-styled retell of everything that happened to her involving the abduction that happened when she was 15. It’d be super cheap and available in stores AND online but all the profit would be go to appropriate foundations. 

CHAPTER ONE - Happy Birthday! 

In this chapter, Janey would start out by describing her fifteenth birthday. The year before, she’d seen Harvey, her older brother, cross a milestone - his sweet sixteenth. Therefore, the expectations for her birthday were pretty high. She was expecting the big party, huge balloons, special presents, a sip of alcohol and extra privileges but alas, she was only turning fifteen. Her parents were very clear about birthdays, drinking and other rules: 16, 18 and 21 were the milestone birthdays, otherwise parties were smaller and inexpensive. 

She’d go on to explain how she’d been sulking all day because of it and explicitly remembers refusing to blow out her birthday candles after dinner. It would be something she’s embarrassed by now but at the time, it was perfectly reasonable. She’d mention that most people who only know the twenty-one year old her wouldn’t recognise fifteen year old Janey. A moody teenager who insisted on dressing like Jade West from Victorious and took way too much interest in her pink flip-phone (another thing she wasn’t happy with, seeing as Harvey - being 16 - had recently got a better one).  

It’d talk about how her parents were firm but fair and well known in Violet Springs. Her Mum was a teacher and, to Janey’s horror, actually taught her in Year 7. Her Dad is an independent photo journalist who mainly covers local sporting events. She’d explain how they’re amazing parents and even if fifteen year old her couldn’t see it, they were equally amazing to Harvey, Annabel and herself. 

Janey would go back to writing about having serious middle child syndrome and never making life easy for her parents. She wasn’t “naughty” but definitely pushed boundaries by breaking curfew, getting in trouble in class and talking back a lot. She’d confess that she cared a lot about being in the “right” crowd in high school. Deep down, she was always a naturally quiet person but felt the pressure to be as loud as the other girls. She wanted attention, and to be popular, and for boys to like her; that was all that mattered & if she knew then what she knew now, she probably would’ve slapped herself because she has no doubt that that’s what ultimately led to everything going wrong. 

She’d mention that her birthday is the 19th of March (and she prides herself on being a true Pisces as it’s also her moon sign). It also gave her a couple of months until summer, where she and her friends planned her REAL birthday party since her parent’s wouldn’t give her one. They’d decided that they’d go to the open fields in between Lilac Heights and the Cotswolds (?) during the summer and drink, get high and just have a good time. She’d explain how the group of girls she was friends nearly all had older boyfriends who were in college and it was easy to get a hold of stuff they probably shouldn’t have been having. 

Janey would talk about how the field has become iconic for completely different reasons now. If you google it, you won’t have to scroll very far at all to see pictures of it sectioned off when the police were searching for her. But, that summer it was beautiful and everybody was tanned, having fun and happy to be going into the last year of high school. Janey would explain that she’d always been insecure about not having a boyfriend, but she and her friends planned to change that because one of their boyfriend’s was bringing a guy who she’d been speaking to online. He was 22.  

The end of this chapter would be romanticised and Janey would reflect on how it was the last time she was ever “old Janey.” Her plans had been to sneak back in through Annabel’s bedroom window and get into bed before her parents even suspected a thing. But, that never materialised. 

CHAPTER TWO - As It Happened. 

In this chapter, Janey would mention that she’s going to tell everybody exactly what happened that night. Details the police couldn’t even figure out when they tried to piece it all together. There’d be a trigger warning that she’ll be mentioning drinking, harassment and abduction but would promise that it isn’t graphic.

The first part would be about how the field party was a typical summer thing; hot weather, people drinking and having fun as well as sneaking off into the forest (but not too deep) to do god knows what. She’d talk about how she ignored the constant texts and calls from her Mum when it got dark, and how she was drunk. It’d also cover that she was introduced to the friend of her friend’s boyfriend  and even though he wasn’t her type, she was excited about the attention. When it got too dark to see anything, most of her school friends decided to call it a night but Janey went to Downtown Springs with the guy she’d met and his friends because they promised they could get her into Indigo, which they did. 

Most of the night was fun; she was bought drinks, there was lots of flirting and she felt special...which is kind of the hole she’d been trying to fill throughout her teen years. She’d definitely then mention that the guys she was with and every person like them exploit people who aren’t feeling their best and would talk about surrounding yourself with people you trust and not just people who are giving you what you want. 

At one point, the boyfriend of her friend (who was now at home) started getting really loud and rowdy. To this day, Janey doesn’t know if it was genuine or just an act for an excuse to get her to leave the club with them and not go home like she’d planned. They were kicked out before it was midnight and she’d vividly recall passing a few people from school (including Wes and Nate - her ex, I think!) and chatting to them for a little while before the guys she was with mentioned their friend was having a house party in London. Nate specifically asked her to stay but she was set on having fun on her birthday and left with them. 

She’d talk about seeing familiar buildings of Violet Springs turn into intimidating city offices and the roads getting wider as they entered London. The atmosphere in the car shifted slightly but at the time, she was too drunk to even notice. Neither of the guys said anything to one another or her & it gives her the chills now to know that in that moment, she’d been abducted, but she didn’t know it. They got out of the taxi and Janey remembers being embarrassed about not having enough cash on her to pay for her third of the fare - something trivial now - and one of the guys just paying for it without much fuss. 

Once they stepped outside, she saw they were stood in front of a tower block that was almost completely silent. No sign of a party. That’s when she started to hesitate but was too shy to say anything; she was in a weird part of London at 11:45 with nobody she knew and no money. Also, she was sure she was just overreacting. One of the guys said that the party was on the top floor which is why nobody could hear it and even faked a phone call with the “host”. Janey took the elevator up to fifth floor with them and again, felt as if something weird was going on because the top floor was the seventh. This also ended up being something that confused the police in her investigation; witnesses who saw her enter the tower block had overheard the conversation and couldn’t piece together WHY she wasn’t seen on the seventh floor or who’d even supposedly had the party. 

She’d explain how the flat they entered belonged to the friend of her friend’s boyfriend and how eery it felt when it was completely silent. She asked multiple times about the party and both guys said they’d go up soon, but they wanted to have some more drinks and smoke before going up so that they were on everybody else’s level of being completely fucked. Janey remembers sitting on the arm of the sofa and realising how gross and dirty everything was. She wondered how someone who was 22 had given up already and remembers seeing pictures of her parent’s starter home at that age and how pretty it was by comparison. 

The longer it took for them to go back up to the party, the more anxious Janey got. Eventually, she excused herself to go to the bathroom and decided that she’d have to face her parent’s consequences and ask her Dad to come and get her. She panicked even more when her phone wouldn’t switch on and she realised it was dead...meaning, she’d have to borrow money to get home. Once she came out of the toilet, she half debated leaving without them knowing because she just had a horrible feeling but felt like that’d be rude. So, she went back into the living room and asked to borrow a phone. That’s when things shifted completely and fun flirting became intimidating harassment; sleazily flirting with her and telling her not to be boring. One of them even insisted on kissing her to shut her up but once she got really upset, they agreed to take her home on the basis she’d have one last drink. She did, and it was spiked, which made her pass out. 

The next day she woke in the bedroom of the same apartment, still fully dressed - something she was too young to register at the time, but now she reflects on it, it was the one comforting thing of the whole morning. But, her bag had gone and the door to the room was locked from the other side. She remembers banging on it and calling for someone, but nobody answered. She’d describe the panic and desperately wanting her brother or her Dad in that moment, but had to keep reminding herself she didn’t have her phone to contact them. She ended up being shut in that room for twenty-four hours before one of the guys came back; the friend of the boyfriend. He told her that she wouldn’t be going home and the more noise and fuss she made, the longer she’d stay in the bedroom. 

Janey would talk about how her biggest regret is NOT making a fuss and screaming until a neighbour or somebody heard, but her survival instincts kicked in and she was scared she was going to be seriously hurt if she didn’t listen. So, she stayed quiet and followed what she wanted him to do; which was to dye her hair brown and change into clothes he’d bought for her - a basic black tank top and sweatpants. Again, at the time she was too confused to even begin to think about why but now she knows it was because she’d soon be declared a missing person and if they were taking her into public, she looked too familiar to any description circulating. 

She’d end this chapter by saying how she remembered sitting on the floor of the living room that night while he put the dye in her hair, trying not to cry while her story first broke on to some of the news networks. But she’d also talk about how she felt twistedly happy that her parents had decided she was missing and not just out being her usual, difficult self. 

CHAPTER THREE - THE FLAT. 

She’d start the chapter with a warning about mentions of sexual abuse again. This would be a really brief chapter, but it would basically be her explaining to everyone who she was taken in the first place; trafficking; and how it isn’t what everyone imagines. She wasn’t chained up in a basement somewhere. In fact, before the news of her disappearance really blew up, she was actually allowed out given that she was with one of the two guys. She’d go to the store, or just sit in the park and once even to the gym. 

She’d explain how ultimately though, she’d been taken as a product. Neither of the guys ever slept with her, but there were other men who did and they’d pay the two guys to do so. She’d never get or see any of it and she’d talk about how from the beginning there were strict rules. Her name would be ‘Liz’, short for Elizabeth which was her middle name, she wasn’t to have personal conversations with any clients and the answer had to always be yes to whatever they asked. Also, crying or appearing upset was a big no. 

She’d talk about how this went on for a month which was enough time for the search for her to gain momentum and more press coverage. And, she knew this, because the people keeping her almost INSISTED that she read newspaper articles or watched reports about herself. She’d also mention how they would mock her parents, sister, brother and friends who obviously would make appeals or speak about it in statements and find it funny. That would often set her off and she’d argue with them, which never ended well for her. 

The chapter would be rounded up with how by the end of August and moving into September, when she was supposed to be starting college, the police released sketches of the “suspects” and mentioned that they could be in the London area. For around three days, Janey had hope and felt like she was going to be found...but the guys began to panic. That’s when she wasn’t allowed to go outside anymore & one night, she overheard the guys speaking about how they were going to move her “and the others” further away from the Capital. That’s when she knew that this was going to be a lot harder than just doing what they said until they got bored. 

[breanime]

How are you doing lovely? "Why wasn't I invited?" With my sweet Angel Reyes please?

Angel Reyes was a lot of things. He was reckless, and careless, and loyal, and loving, and frustrating, and confident, and unsure and just… A lot. And the more you got to know him, the more time you spent together, you realized something else, too.

He was your soulmate.

You’d never been so in love with a person before, never cared this much about someone else—

—you’d never been so irritated by another human being before.

“Por favor, mi dulce,” Angel said, following you around the house as you packed, “You don’t have to leave, alright? I’ll leave…”

“I need a break,” you said, stuffing a pair of sweatpants into your duffle bag. You glanced back at Angel, and your heart almost stopped. He looked like he was about to cry. “Not from you, mi amor,” you clarified, going over to him and putting your hands on his firm chest, “just from… this house. Just for a day or two. I’ll be back.”

He covered one of your hands with his—the one that was over his heart. “If that’s what you need,” he said, his voice and eyes soft, “I just… Lemme at least drop you off, okay?”

You smiled, nodding. “Thanks, baby.” You kissed him, trying to let him know from that small gesture that you loved him, and you just needed some space.

Angel dropped you off at your best friend’s house, lecturing her—a mother of three—on what a pregnant woman such as yourself needed to eat before being shooed away. The kids were at their Dad’s, so you and your friend stayed up watching movies and talking—which was fun…

…but by the 4th film, you were starting to miss Angel.

Everything you saw reminded you of him: the way the dashing rogue in the movie charmed the reluctant heroine into loving him reminded you of when you and Angel first started dating. The pile of toys haphazardly thrown in the corner reminded you of how excited Angel was to be having a child with you, how almost every day he came home with a new set of toys or clothes or tiny baby shoes (and a custom onesie that said “My Papi is A Mayan, and My Mommy is A Babe”). Even the freaking couch cushions—which you were holding onto in place of Angel—reminded you of the safety and security of his arms.

“Damn girl,” your friend said, coming into the living room with a bowl of mangoes, “It hasn’t even been a full 12 hours and look at you. Pathetic.”

“What?” You said, taking a mango from the bowl. “How am I pathetic?”

“Just look at yourself,” she countered, plopping down next to you, “You look like you’re about to start dry humping my pillow and calling it ‘Angel’…”

You laughed, throwing your head back. Truth be told—she wasn’t far off. “He’s been on my heels all week,” you admitted, wiping your chin as you bit into the ripe fruit, “but now that I’ve had a few hours away from him… I miss him.”

“Oh my God,” she rolled her eyes, standing up, “Your love disgusts me.”

You laughed again, turning back to the TV as she walked off. She came back a few moments later with your duffle bag in her hands.

“Come on,” she grinned, “Let’s get you back to your baby daddy…”

Twenty minutes later, you were pulling up to your driveway. There were a couple of bikes parked outside, and you knew Angel’s brothers were there to keep him company. You grinned. You were in love with a softie. You thanked your friend for the ride, took your duffle bag, and headed to the door. When you walked in, you saw…

…a spa day?

Coco was sitting on the floor getting his hair braided by Letty, who was on the couch and wearing a face mask. EZ was also wearing a face mask, and he and Gilly were drinking what you assumed were mojitos and arguing about the pros and cons of natural births. Bishop was taking a nap on the other couch, covered in a blanket with a half-eaten plate of fruits on his stomach while Taza and Riz were walking to the bathroom. You caught their backs, and saw that they both had hair masks and were probably about to go and wash them out. Angel, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” EZ said, turning to you with a grin, “I thought you were at your friend’s.” He got up and walked towards you.

“I was,” you said, letting him take your bag, “but then I wanted to come home, so… What the hell are you guys doing?”

“We’re having a relaxing day in,” Bish said, his eyes still closed.

“Your man was being a real pussy about you taking some time for yourself,” Coco said, “so we came over to show him how to chill.”

“Ooh, Y/N,” Letty turned to you, “Can I braid your hair next?”

“Uh, sure… Where’s Angel?” You asked.

“Back room,” EZ reported, fanning his face so his mask didn’t crack, “with Pops.”

“Felipe is here?” You asked, walking towards the back. You hadn’t seen his truck. You turned the corner, and you heard your father-in-law’s deep voice.

“I was afraid, too,” Felipe was saying, and you stopped to listen, “when your mother told me we were going to have a kid. But when I first saw you… I knew that there wouldn’t be anything in the world more precious or important to me than you.”

“I just wanna be good, Pop,” you heard Angel say, “Y/N is so perfect, I just want to be the best husband and father I can be, but… What if my best isn’t good enough?”

“It is, son,” Felipe assured him.

“Yeah, but what if it’s not? What if I can’t provide for them or love them right?”

“Hey,” you heard the soft sounds of Felipe’s footsteps, and you knew he was standing close to Angel, “let me tell you something, son. That girl loves you. She loves you like Marisol loved me. And that baby inside of her is going to love you, too. I know I wasn’t the perfect father or the best example, but I love you and your brother more than anything in this world, and I know you’re going to be a good father, Angel.”

There was silence, and then you heard Angel’s soft voice. “Thanks, Pop…”

You smiled; your heart full. You loved Angel so much. Clearing your throat, you walked in the room. “What’s going on in here?” You asked. “And why wasn't I invited?"

“Baby!” Angel greeted you with a hug, and you melted in his arms. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” you put your hand over your stomach, “I just missed my family.”

Angel’s answering grin was beautiful. You moved away and greeted Felipe, who pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before walking off. “Leticia said she wants to give me a ‘cucumber treatment’,” he said, “so I guess I’ll go see what the hell that is…”

Angel hugged you again, kissing the top of your head. “You missed us?” He asked.

“I missed you,” you replied, “We missed you.” You stepped up and kissed him, and you could feel Angel’s smile against your lips.

“If I would have known you were coming back home so soon, I wouldn’t have invited the guys over,” he said.

“Nah, I like this whole spa day thing,” you said, taking his hand and leading him back to the living room, “I didn’t know you guys had it in you.”

“Give it a few hours, baby,” Angel grabbed your hips and pulled you back towards him, “and I’m gonna be in you.”

You laughed—you did that a lot with Angel: laugh. For the rest of the day, you and the guys and Letty enjoyed a relaxing day in. You ended up calling your best friend over, and she stayed most of the day before disappearing with Coco.

“We’re gonna have to unpack that later,” you whispered to Angel as he gave you a foot massage.

“What’s to unpack?” He said back. “Coco’s been trying to hit that since our wedding day.”

“You lie!”

“Nah, I’m forreal—ain’t that right, Letty?” Angel called.

You giggled, leaning back into the couch and engaging in gossip with your guys (and Letty). As the night went on and people started to leave (a well-rested Bishop was the first to go, followed by Taza and Riz who couldn’t stop tossing their hair), you couldn’t help but be grateful for all that you had. It was a lot, of course, but you loved it all. And as you leaned against Angel’s shoulder, laughing as EZ and Felipe compared who’s face was now softer on their way out, you looked up at your soulmate, and saw the swirl of emotions in his dark eyes. But that was Angel—he was a contradiction, he was a mess, he was perfect…

He was yours.

And you couldn’t be happier to be carrying his child.

*******************************************************************************************

GAWD, I love Angel. Thanks for reading! Tag yourself, I’m the best friend. 

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek  @charlylama @realduckvader @teacuplotus @whovianayesha  @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily  @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @maxslime-blog @songforhema @lucielandss @themadhatter92  @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry  @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @leahnicole1219 @evanlys19  @binbons-is-theloml @aikeia @bitch-imma-head-out​  @witchygagirl @geeksareunique @sparrows-books  @nyxxnoxx

Mayans MC Taglist: @vicmackeybullshxt  @glorified-angl @ben-c-group-therapy

[yenni19]

Chapter 10

Akamari is upset crying in her room, Souske knocks at the door

Souske(opening the door): can I come in?

Akamari: your in already so shut the door

Souske: I'm sorry....

Akamari: why did you throw a fit....what's your deal with Sarutobi anyway.....he did nothing to you...it was just a present

Souske: it's not what he did....its what he is to you...and because of his father

Akamari: I don't understand...

Souske: what if I told you that you and Sarutobi are related by blood in some way...how would you see the situation then?

Akamari: it wouldn't matter....

Souske: even if you and Sarutobi share the same father...how would you feel about him then?

Akamari: your lying...that's not true!

Souske hands her a picture of her mother and Kawaki in the hospital room holding thier child

Akamari(crying): no....this can be any other kid!...or....or.....

Souske: this is a picture a day before she died...your grandmother took this picture hours after giving birth

He hands her a small photo book, she flips through it,when she gets to the last picture it's her mother and Kawaki showing a tiny Akamari

Souske: now you know the truth....

Suddenly out of nowhere Souske gets sucker punched as he gets thrown and breaks the door

Souske(scared and coughs up blood): Akamari.....I'm......sorry.....I........didn't....want...to....upset....you....

Akamari(angry while activated byakugan): you and him both....are shitty excuses for parents....him for being a coward....but you....you are the shittiest.....for not coming to see me....now I know why

Souske(catching his breath): no Akamari....that's not true...you still are my daughter.....

Suddenly her gift starts to show red instead of gold causing things to turn to ash

Souske(pleading): Akamari.....please honey...let's calm down...

Akamari(laughing): sorry dad....but I no longer am calm....(screaming) I see red!

Suddenly the whole room is ash as she disappears, Sauske saves his son by teleporting him to the living room

Sauske: what the hell was that Souske...

Naruto(interrupting): it's begun hasn't it...Kayuga's gift is evolving inside Akamari

Souske: it's not the first time this happened....

Sakura: how long ago...how old was she?

Souske: it was was around the time Samari was little...Akamari was seven and they were playing....Akamari got tired of playing but Samari pestered her....and that's when I noticed the gift turning red causing a knife to fly directly across the room almost Stabbing Samari....ever since then I've been so terrified of a tragedy happening that I isolated myself from her and kept her occupied at all times...making sure she had no room for anger...but my biggest mistake was separating Samari from Akamari by sending her abroad just so she was not hurt by her own sister

Sauske: well we better find her....if not there's a chance she's not in this realm....we are gonna need Boruto and her father....

Sakura: but she might attack him....like she did Souske...

Naruto: we must take that chance....its the only way to bring Akamari back here....ready Sauske

Sauske: when ever you are....idiot

---‐--------------------------

Akamari reappears but in a meadow, with a big tree in the middle, it's night as she looks around and sees tall grass with every wildflower in it. Fireflies in every direction lighting up the night like tiny stars

Akamari: where am I.....how did I get here...I really need to control my anger....(smacks her head) damn it why am I so temper mental....why the hell am I this way

She looks around and notices a cabin....she goes inside and sees its dusty....she cleans it

Akamari: this place must of been abandoned....for awhile....well its looks better now since I cleaned it (cracks her nuckles) well its time to start a fire....its getting cold

She starts chopping wood....and gets a fire going, she notices the book shelf with several books, and picks one out to read....within minutes she falls asleep

----------------------------------

Back at the leaf village, the Uzumakis and Uchias including Kawaki and Sarutobi are trying to find Akamari

Sauske: there's no trace of her....anywhere

Sakura: maybe she's hiding somewhere we don't know about

Hinata: I just hope she's okay.....

Naruto: where can she be?

Boruto(running to his parents): it's been three hours...we have to call it a night...and start again in the morning

Kawaki(meeting up with Boruto): we can't she might be in trouble....who knows where she is

Sarutobi(running to meet up the Uzumakis): I looked as well...its like she disappeared leaving no trace I can't even sense her chakra signature anywhere

-----------------------------

Four days pass, Akamari wakes up from a deep sleep, she finds a way out from the meadow heading back to the leaf village

Akamari(entering the village): man I'm starving...I'll probably go to the Ramen noodle shop...and order thier special

Suddenly as she's walking...Akamari notices surprised stares coming from the villagers

Akamari(confused): that's weird...why do they look like I was reincarnated or something

She goes to the ramen shop....as she enters inside....everyone is shocked and silent, she shrugs it off and orders her food, the waiter nervously hands it to her

Akamari(smiles): thank you

Waiter(nervosly): your welcome

Phara(sitting next to Akamari): you girl have a powerful gift dont you....its must be amazing to be the last Otsutsuki in your bloodline

Akamari(confused): I'm sorry...who are you?

Phara: my name is not important....but I must tell you something....on the twenty first year of your birthday you will give your life for the sake of humanity as the last Otsutsuki

Akamari: the last Otsutsuki....give my life...

Phara: yes your life....because your gift is rare and powerful you will be a target for those like you....they will stop at nothing to gain it...heed my words and from here on out be careful who you surround yourself with...life is precious

Akamari: but I'm not an Otsutsuki....

Phara: your father is Kawaki Madra holder of the karma.....your mother is Himawari Uzumaki daughter of the jinchuriki who held the ninetail fox and the bayakugan princess

Akamari(shocked): how do you know that....

Phara: I've been watching you my dear....my duty as a birther was to look after you...I'm the last one of my kind who still alive and holds the gift of the forseer which let's me know about catastrophic events

Akamari: but you look so young....how old are you?

Phara: four hundred and fifty years...

Akamari(spits and chokes on her soup): what....you....are....four hundred and fifty....years.....old?

Phara: yes I've was around even before clans turned into cities like this one...I've been and seen how ugly wars can be between Otsutsuki and humanity....you are the last of your bloodline....you will fulfill your duty in order to stop another war from happening....you are destined to be a fallen hero

Akamari(sad): a fallen hero....me....but I don't even train....

Phara: in time you will....you will pick a sensei that most thought to be dead...but don't worry he'll find you...and you will know

Akamari: who...?

Phara: he'll be a man missing a limb....with spiky white hair....a legendary sage who trained your grandfather Naruto...but be cautious he's not who he use to be...he's mean and strict...but I believe you can soften his hard shell

Akamari: wait a minute...the woman chaser that always got my grandfather in trouble....Jiraiya

Phara(smiling): so you know of him...but don't worry....he has lost the habit eversince he realized that he was at the brink of death....he even lost his will to write those repulsive make out tactics...now he just writes poems that are famously known around here...he even changed his name which is now Jerico Myzuki...a famous poet

Akamari(shocked): wait...are you saying my favorite poet of all time...is Jiraiya....Narutos sensei...the so called pervy sage...are you sure it's the same person....

Phara: yes....(getting up to leave) well I have to go I believe you have somewhere to go at this moment....Jerico is having a book signing today and you will miss it if you don't hurry

Akamari: but his book signing isn't four days from now at eleven thirty specifically

Phara(pointing at the calendar): but it's the eighteenth today and it's ten thirty

Akamari(shocked): omg I've been gone four days!...(pays for her food) thank you lady I got to go...I'll see you around

She arrives at the book signing....there are crowds of women waiting for the largest book store in the village to open for the book signing

Akamari(disappointed): damn if I knew there would be crowds of women here I would of came an hour early

Mianari(walking up to Akamari): are you here to get a signature from Jerico Myzuki?

Akamari: yeah why

Mianari: no reason.....I need to see if this was the right book store....there are two more but they are on the other side of town....I just stopped by to give my husband his lunch

Akamari(surprised): wait....are you Jerico Myzuki's wife....

Mianari: oh I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself I'm Mianari Myzuki wife of.....

Akamari(mesmerized): you were the famous singer who managed the group Starfall....which is my favorite group of all time...but it still upsets me till this day they disbanded about four years ago

Mianari: well it was a good fifteen years with them....but the group just wanted to do thier own things....I believe the main singer is a father of two beautiful little girls...and the guitarist is a pharmaceutical tech the other three became solo artists

Akamari(pointing at the crowd): um...one question...how will you get through the crowd of fangirls wanting your husband....

Suddenly Akamari notices the group move to one side of the book store. A large man in a black suit and silver hair walks past the crowd of scared girls and walks up to Mianari

Mianari: Izuke....there you are is my husband inside?

Izuke: yes he is (showing Mianari the way) he is waiting to have lunch with you before the signing miss

Mianari: oh great I thought I came too late (to Akamari) well it was nice getting to know you...hope to meet you again

Akamari(smiling): yeah I hope so too...and by the way Jerico is lucky to have a wife like you

Mianari: thank you well I'm off bye

Akamari(waving): bye...Mrs Myzuki

[spellnbone]

Contrary to what some people think at first sight of his description, Edgar is not someone who rejects emotions. He might be driven by a mind that craves logic, but his heart is a loyal one and contributes to his decisions greatly. Following positive nihilistic philosophies, he knows the importance of love, of loving, and of living in the moment freely. This being said, while he does enjoy a night full of quick-lived romance, he is mainly a terrible serial monogamist.

Age Fourteen - Ainsley

He was in year four when the kids around him began trying things out. Drinking, flirting, kissing. Removed from everyone as he was at that time, he saw no reason to participate, but when he heard that Amelia too had played such games at a recent party, he grew jealous. The two were still in a process of detaching themselves from the other and the idea to be so purposefully excluded from her adventures lit an angry little fire inside of him.

So he stomped up to one of his (very few) friends, Ainsley, who was herself reading a book in a corner at a Ravenclaw party, and prepared a whole speech about why logically it’s of fundamental use to try some of those games yourself, for the sake of both philosophical and physiological development, and then -- never got a single word out. Instead he just pressed a kiss to her mouth.  

“Thank you.” “You’re welcome.”

And they never spoke of it again.

Age Fifteen - Tsi / Fabian

It was in a similar line of thinking that Tsi, a Slytherin, chose Edgar to be her boyfriend. They’d been transfig partners for almost three months, working on a project together, and eventually she decided he’d be good for snogging. Seeing how Amelia, too, just had gotten a boyfriend, Edgar wasn’t very hesitant to agree. He thought it rather agreeable that Tsi didn’t care about his opinions or wishes and just told him what to do, when and how, as it at least alleviated any form of awkwardness -- and taught him a lot.

She broke up with him when the Summer holidays came, with the words: “You’re probably gay anyway.” He was a little upset as to how one could possibly come to such a conclusion, and then spent the Summer drunk and making out with Fabian.

Age Seventeen and Eighteen - Wandering Philosophers

After graduation, Dell invited Edgar to join his little group of Wandering Philosophers. If one has ever seen one of those Summer of Love hippie bus drug montages, one can image what this year abroad was like for Edgar. It was perhaps 1971 and not 1967 but that did not stop the excess of free love and free drugs.

By the end of the year, Edgar had made more experiences than his mind cared to remember, had massively changed his opinions on friendship and other people, and had -- somehow managed to find a steady girlfriend?

Age Nineteen - Janis

Said steady girlfriend came with him back to Hastings. It’s not entirely clear what came first, her or the end of Edgar’s travels, but either way, the moment he’d spoken his first I Love You, he knew he wanted her to come to England with him. As he worked for the West Sussexian Wizarding Paper, they rented a small apartment by the sea, and he was the happiest one could be.

She was not. The American Witch often hinted at him how small the world had become, how the routines felt so terribly familiar, how there was no newness anymore -- and he thought she meant it in a positive way. It turned out, she didn’t. When Edgar stumbled upon Ainsley one day, she suggested he’d join the Daily Prophet in London, and when he told this to Janis, her cry of relief was great.

“Yes, please, Edgar, go!” she said, and in between words of reassurance that she did love him, that she just hated the small town life, she was already packing her own bags.

Age Twenty to Twenty-Two - Lucienne

It took a while for Edgar to recover from Janis basically fleeing from him, but it was all the easier now that he’d moved to London and was close to Amelia. The two had barely been in contact since graduation, and while he’d done nothing but smoke weed and discuss heatedly if Camus or Sartre were superior, she’d worked herself up to the top of the Ministry of Magic. He couldn’t be prouder. But as he waited for their very different lifestyles to clash, they only grew closer and closer again.

This process was brusquely interrupted when Edgar met Lucienne. She was an actress from one of the underground Wizarding Theatres he wrote about regularly, and (as he’d written in one of his reviews) she needn’t no spotlight to make her shine. She was a bright firework herself, wherever she went, people turned heads, and Edgar never fully understood what she saw in him, why she picked him.

But it mustn’t have been pity, for she was the one to suggest he move in with her. The fact that their greatest obsession was also their common interest helped. While Edgar joined the Order and had his mind growing clouded with the dangers of this war, Lucienne always managed to remind him of the world’s beauty as well. They could rehearse, discuss and analyse plays for hours and hours without it ever growing boring, and while the city outside grew dark, at least inside their apartment Lucienne’s light illuminated everything brightly.

Age Twenty Three - London

It was in the Fall of his twenty-second year that Edgar witnessed the first death of someone close in the Order. Some even said he’d been the cause for it. It changed something in him. After the funeral he saw Caradoc cry for the first time. Had the two hated each other up until that point, something connected them over the grave of their friend. Edgar brought him home, not to Lucienne, but to Amelia. They told her about the Order and about their loss, and till this day, Edgar is not sure why he chose Amelia to comfort them. Perhaps if he hadn’t, if he’d brought Caradoc to Lucienne (who was, after all, an anti-bloodpurism activist) everything would’ve been different now.

But as it were, he stayed with Amelia for days, perhaps weeks, incapable to face Lucienne again, until, about a month later, she sent him his things. No letter, nothing attached. Just a clear sign: they were over.

This was the only time that he and Amelia shared a flat, and along with the truth of his political endeavours, this truly sealed their relationship with wax. Ever since having been sorted into two different houses at Hogwarts, they’d slowly but surely grown apart, but now it was as though they were in Mexico all over again. They cooked together, went out together, slept together -- that is in the same bed, of course. Sometimes they brought home someone from a pub, but it was never until they fully reached the bedroom that it became apparent for who that person was meant for. Amelia? Edgar? Neither? Both? Either way, the moment the person was gone the next day (or same night -- after all, the Bones twins were quite good at being hostile to unwanted people) they were clinging together again.

It was during this time that Edgar remembered why he’d changed his writing hand from left to right, once upon a time: it was to hold Amelia’s at all times.

Age Twenty-Three to Twenty-Five - Genevieve

(Un)fortunately, there were still moments they had to spend apart, namely at work. And it was during work (visiting a Muggle play on Drury Lane) that Edgar met Genevieve. She was different from anyone he’d ever met. She was of royal blood and knew her manners, spoke of luxuries and her own charities with ease, while at the same time showing no sign of vanity or arrogance. She loved theatre and due to being a Muggle, knew nothing about the war that was slowly but surely devouring Edgar’s mind.

Edgar realised quickly that if he wanted to keep up with her, he needed to leave Amelia. And so it came that only after about three months of dating, Genevieve bought them an apartment and they moved in together. He was enamored by her every move, every word, every sight. He was incapable of reviewing any plays but romances, began writing terrible poetry himself and -- neglected everyone but her. Had Amelia been the center point of his life only half a year ago, he now barely remembered to reply to her letters, and was the war still raging, he struggled to see its somber colours through his pink glasses.

So it came, that when it turned out that Genevieve was no Muggle at all, but a Muggleborn who’d chosen to live amongst Muggles, something changed. On the one hand, he loved her even more, now capable to show her the House of Bones and introduce her to his family, on the other hand he knew what this meant. And indeed, it didn’t take long until her family was attacked by Death Eaters. The family had once upon a time been closely connected with a family from the Sacred 28, but after the Statue of Secrecy had been established, the ties had been cut. However this didn’t change the fact that the family knew of the Wizarding World, being reminded of it ever so often whenever a new magical child was born.

“My family is in danger and I don’t know what to do.” “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

It was the first time Edgar told someone about the Order, other than Amelia. But while Genevieve thought he’d now ask her to join the fight (she was eager to), he told her about this pilot project of theirs, about taking in refugees and helping them to flee.

“You want me to leave?” He wanted to say no, because never had he loved someone as earnestly and deeply as her, but he said “Yes,” and she was too noble and dignified to fight. After all, it really was the smartest decision.

Age Twenty-Six - Tsi

Yes, Tsi from Year Five. What happened in between Genevieve and the heartbreak she caused and Tsi, should be of no mystery anymore: Amelia. They didn’t officially live together this time as she had her own boyfriend, but they still very much spent every waking moment together. Eventually the boyfriend left. Neither of them really acknowledged it. What mattered was that Amelia forgave Edgar for leaving her so suddenly, and he promised to never to it again.

About four months later, Tsi found Edgar. She had barely changed. She was still a fierce and stubborn Slytherin, hungry for power and control, and all too earnest about her urges and desires. So Edgar, still nursing his heartbreak, was willing to submit himself to her demands once more. She was so different from Genevieve it was easy to forget her in Tsi’s commands and willful ideas.

It ended abruptly when Edgar learnt she agreed with Voldemort’s ideas.

Age Twenty-Seven - London Again

Once again heartbroken, Edgar found himself with Amelia again as well. But this time she made him promise to never hurt her again properly.

“No one must come between us again.” “No one will, I promise.”

Amelia was by now an affiliate of the Order and because Edgar was almost certain that the Other Side knew his face and name, he didn’t want to put Amelia in danger by living with her. So he got his own apartment, a little thing in Muggle China Town, and on the nights he doesn’t spend with Amelia or working, he does bring people home. He cannot stand sleeping alone anymore, the silence causing his thoughts to spiral terribly.

So it doesn’t really matter who that warm body is, he’s content as long as he can nestle up to it at night. Sometimes it’s a good friend, drunk, like Fabian, who needs a place to crash, and sometimes it’s a stranger, who Edgar makes sure not to learn anything about, out of fear to fall in love again.

[the-yellowturtle]

The Curious Case of Master Katara (Pt.3)

Summary:  In the sixth year of Fire Lord Zuko’s reign, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe is assassinated. (OR: Katara Becomes the Painted Lady! AU)

Chapter Summary: Sokka reacts to Katara’s passing. 

Part 1 (Toph), Part 2 (Toph & Gran Gran), AO3 Story Link, & special thanks to @levitatingbiscuits for enabling this :)

The Surprising Origins of the Squiggle Meme

Xin Jizhe

Omashu Times News Reporter

You’ve seen it. Your mom has seen it. Spirits, even your pet fire-ferret has probably seen it! The latest comparison meme that’s often paired with the caption, “Ink Brush Painting is My Passion” is everywhere! However, the origins of the painting are much more heartfelt than you could have ever imagined.

The physical copy of the painting is currently hosted in the Caldera City Art Museum as part of the “Heroes of the Hundred Year War” collection. According to the museum’s website, it was painted by Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe as an outline for the paintings that would appear in his picture book about his younger sister, Master Katara, who had been assassinated by extremists in 106 AG. The paintings used in the published copy of the story are also available for viewing in the Caldera City Art Museum.

(Fun Fact: The official versions were painted by his wife, Suki of Kyoshi Island. Yes! That Suki! The one and only President Suki that fought for Kyoshi Island’s right to self-determination, and became the third president!).

Anyway, back to the matter at hand! Sokka reportedly decided to publish the picture book about his sister as a reaction to the growing popularity of a woodblock print that depicted Master Katara in her last moments. Sokka wanted the world to remember his sister as she was living, not a romanticized image of her death.

Try to see this touching meme in real life before the collection ends this spring.

___

When Sokka hears from one of the shaken villagers that after being shot Katara vanished into thin air, he gets an inkling about where she really is. When another local presents the pendant of Katara’s necklace to him, the sinking feeling in his gut tells him that his suspicions may be correct. And when he gazes up at the full moon later that night, he knows for certain.

Katara is gone.

He doesn’t need to travel to the Spirit World to know this. It has happened before. Before his very own eyes and between his very own arms. Some people are not destined to rejoin the earth; some are destined to be among the Spirits. He can only hope that she didn’t suffer too much in her last moments; that it was quick.

When he looks up at the moon, up at Yue, he pleads, “Please take care of her for me.”

Yue is probably far too busy being a beautiful celestial goddess to listen every time he talks to her, but he thinks she’s listening this time. She has to be.

___

Sokka was in the Southern Water Tribe on break from his studies in Ba Sing Se when word came that something had happened to Katara in the Fire Nation. Something that had warranted a personal letter from the Fire Lord, and had turned Zuko’s normally pristine penmanship into a barely decipherable mess. Katara was missing.

Truthfully, at the beginning of the letter Sokka was not worried at all. Zuko had a knack for worrying and exaggerating, and Sokka was certain that Katara would be back from wherever she had wandered off to before he could even set sail for the Fire Nation. Katara had probably found some wayward child or koala-sheep that needed assistance along the way, and she was so caught up in being benevolent that she forgot to hawk Zuko.

But then his dad and him had gotten to the part of the letter that informed them eyewitnesses were claiming that Katara had been attacked. That someone had shot her with an arrow. That they had watched her be struck, fall back into the river, and never rise again. That Katara was missing. That Katara might be dead.

It took more than one person to restrain him from immediately running off to the Fire Nation. Not that dad was any help, frozen, rereading the words over and over and over again. Katara might be dead .

When preparing to depart from the Southern Water Tribe, Sokka had promised his family that he would bring Katara home safely. That he would find out what happened.

He only manages to keep one of his promises. And it’s the one he cared for the least. When his dad and Gran Gran meet him at port, red-eyed and bags heavy, they know with one glance at Sokka’s face.

“She’s gone,” Gran Gran states, gripping his arm.

Sokka presses the carved pendant into his father’s hand. “She is.”

___

At first, it’s easy to pretend. With all the international guests and foreign dignitaries flocking to the Southern Water Tribe to personally pay their respects, it’s easy to slip into the role of being just Sokka. There are people to accommodate and details to smooth over. The South needs a planner, so Sokka becomes the mastermind.

It becomes a mask he slips on and off. One moment he is only Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, the next he is Katara’s brother. When it becomes too much, one of their friends is there to comfort him or one of the guests is there to exasperate him. It’s easy at first; ignoring that nothing is ever going to be the same.

All things must come to an end, however, and the funeral is the same. The world must continue onwards, and gradually all of their friends return to where they are needed. When it’s only Gran Gran, dad, and him left, that's when the cracks begin to show.

It’s in the way that Gran Gran accidentally burns the sea prunes because she thought someone would be watching them when she was turned away. It’s in the way that dad leaves official correspondence from the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom off to the side of his desk because he thought someone else would be looking over them. It’s in the way that Sokka reaches into his pocket and is surprised to find a necklace pendant because sometimes he still thinks that she’s somewhere out there wearing it.

Their family already had cracks, but now they no longer had the glue as well. After their mom passed away, Katara had taken it upon herself to be what everyone had needed. An eight-year old had done everything she possibly could have to fill the gaping hole their mom had left. At twenty-two years old, Sokka still has no idea how she found the strength to do that. But Katara is gone now, and the cracks in their family have transformed into an unmeasurable crevasse.

___

Sokka quickly learns the crevasse encompasses the entire Southern Water Tribe. This becomes abundantly clear one afternoon when three of Katara’s students confront him at the docks.

Akia, the shortest of the three and a refugee from the Northern Water Tribe, speaks first, “Sokka, we have a request.”

“Sure, what’s up?” he responds, setting down his catch.

The three young women exchange glances before Aqpik, from one of the interior clans, says, “We were wondering if you would allow us to enter Master Katara’s private study.”

Sokka freezes. No one in their family has been in there since her passing. “Why would you need to do that?”

“Spring is coming, and that means so are the seasonal waterbending students. We need to be prepared for when they arrive, and Master Katara always kept the lesson plans and personal scrolls in her study,” Akia pleads.

He begins to respond before he’s abruptly cut off by Mirae, a mixed waterbender of Water and Earth descent. “Master Katara fought long and hard to revitalize Southern bending, we can’t let it die with her. We were all so close to being declared masters, and we can continue the tradition in her stead. We need to do this.”

Meeting her determined gaze, Sokka knows immediately that this conversation was only for propriety’s sake; Mirae would most definitely break in if his answer was anything but the one she wanted. It’s a look he had seen so many times on Katara’s very own face. He had been so caught up in remembering Katara as his sister that he had forgotten that she was so much more than that to the South. She was the one who had painstakingly travelled the world to bring back the South’s stolen heritage, and Sokka would never be able to live with himself if he was part of the reason her efforts became in vain.

“Of course, you can,” he replies, “But first there’s something I need to do.”

___

In the Southern Water Tribe, when someone passes away you offer them to the sea along with an assortment of their earthly possessions. The objects that would feel wrong for any other to use are submerged with them, and the objects that would be a shame to waste are passed on to those who need it most. There is no fear surrounding the usage of things the deceased have touched; to use one of their belongings is to honor their memory.

This ceremony is an essential step in the mourning process of the South, but the most important by far is the telling of stories. For it is through stories that a person’s life is truly seen and celebrated. It is through stories that they are remembered and may continue to be remembered generations after they are gone.

Sokka has a feeling that the stories about Katara will be told for so long it will become impossible to discern myth from truth. A part of him is satisfied knowing that others will appreciate the person she was long after he is gone, however, they will never have the privilege of actually knowing Katara. Future generations will hear about the Hundred Year War, the Avatar, and the restoration of Southern Bending, but they will never learn about the time she broke her wrist penguin sledding as an adult . They will remember Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, but they won’t remember Katara.

No, remembering Katara is up to them. It’s up to Sokka and Gran Gran and dad and the rest of the gang to remember who she was. This is why the night after his conversation with the waterbenders, Sokka brings Gran Gran and dad with him to go through Katara’s study. Katara may have been the glue of the family, but this does not mean that Sokka can’t be the rope.

At first, it’s quiet as they work together to sort through the rest of her belongings. Unsurprisingly, she had meticulously organized everything. The waterbending scrolls are divided by style and skill level, the letters by country of origin and sender, even the hanging art is suspended according to the changing of the seasons. Sokka feels antsy just looking at how neat it is.

Dad is the one to break the silence. “She’s always been like this,” he comments, looking around the room, “Even as a toddler, she was extremely insistent on things being returned to their proper place.”

Gran Gran chuckles. “I wouldn’t say always , Hakoda. She could get pretty messy at times.”

“I’m gonna have to disagree, Gran Gran. Even as kids, Katara would only get messy if she had a statement to make. Didn’t like the way I folded my clothes? Then she would throw them about. Didn’t want to go to bed? Then she would refuse to get washed.”

“Ahhh bath time, that was always such an adventure with you two,” Dad smiles.

Sokka scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was the best bather! Katara was the one who would get water all over the place”

“Sokka,” Gran Gran grins, patting his shoulder, “You would run around naked and we would have to catch you. In Winter . Thank the Spirits, you never attempted to go outside.”

The conversation goes on like this for hours; the waterbending scrolls forgotten. They laugh and cry and tease and debate. They remember.

When the embers are low and the sun is on the horizon again, Sokka reaches into his pocket and freezes. The pendant.

He hesitates before slowly pulling it out and tracing the carved waves with his finger. “Gran Gran? Dad? Do you think we should have submerged this, too?”

It was often a thin line between deciding what objects were inseparable from the deceased, and what objects the living could not bear to part from. When the time had come to select the belongings for Katara’s funeral, Sokka had found himself unwilling to hand over the necklace. There was no object more symbolic of who Katara was as a person, Sokka was well aware of that. However, for as long as he could remember, Katara had always been there. Even when they were far apart with her scouring the world for Southern waterbending scrolls and him in Ba Sing Se furthering his engineering studies, they had written constantly and made frequent trips to visit each other.

Katara was his sister; she would always be his sister. He knows she is gone, probably gallivanting about the Spirit World with Yue and telling Spirits how to do their jobs, but he needs to hold onto this piece of her. Just for a little bit.

“No,” Gran Gran finally answers, “We shouldn’t have.”  Sokka meets her unwavering gaze. “That necklace has always been worn by women with the conviction to do what was right. Surely, Katara will not be the last.”

___

Gran Gran , Sokka thinks to himself as he watches his daughter from afar flip one of the Northern boys over her shoulder, really was always right. Some parents would probably be concerned that their child is getting into fights during the Winter Solstice celebration, but if Sokka may say so himself, he and Suki are excellent parents and that boy most definitely deserved it.

Sokka’s instincts are proven to be correct when Senna comes to join him and Suki where they are waiting to watch the waterbending performance.

“That was a good throw, sweety. Great form,” Suki compliments, hugging their daughter to her side.

Senna huffs at the reminder of the event and promptly launches into what happened. “Those little tiger-seal shit eaters were saying Yuki shouldn’t have been given the main role because apparently it’s only for girls ,” she rolls her eyes, “So I informed them that eating snow is only for narrow-minded, sexist boys, those fucking iceholes.”

Being interested in architecture and mathematics, people often assume that Senna mostly takes after him in looks and personality. But the focus, fighting and cussing? That was all Suki. And the ferociousness for justice? That was most definitely from Katara.

He likes to think that she would be immensely proud of his daughter, the new owner of her necklace, for never backing down. Sokka certainly was. He’s sure that she would also be overjoyed to know that the storybending performances she had revived were flourishing and that her nephew had worked his butt off to earn one of the main roles. Funnily enough, the role of Katara.

Yuki had been nervous, going over his routine again and again these past few days to make sure it was perfect. He had only managed to calm down when Suki had given him her protective amulet for good luck, and Sokka had reassured him that Aunt Katara would be honored by his performance no matter what.

When the storybending officially begins, Sokka can only beam with pride as he watches his son flawlessly reenact the freeing of the earthbenders. Yuki has certainly come a long way from accidentally splashing his sister to manipulating a stream of water to look like coal soaring through the air. He wishes Katara was alive to see it, but a part of him gets the feeling that she knows.

Sokka is aware that the Painted Lady is out there somewhere running around trying to help those in need, but on nights like this when the moon is bright and the sky is full of lights, he gets this feeling . Even if he can no longer meet her, sometimes it feels like she’s still there.

So when the performance is over, and the kids are finally off to bed, he takes a moment to gaze up at the full moon. “I’m happy, I hope you are, too.”

[downwiththeficness]

In the Blood-Part 2

Pairing: Brasa/ Female OC

Words: ~2,000

Warnings: None

Part One

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

She’d been feeling odd all day, an itch under her skin that, no matter how many times she scratched, wouldn’t go away.  It feeling sat petulantly, reminding her that there was something undone. Needing a distraction, Lilah shifted as she glanced down at her phone.  Beside her, Chewie rolled his eyes.  

Lilah didn’t know what Chewie’s real name was, and she didn’t much care.  He was three hundred and fifty pounds of wrecking ball and he always came through. Reliability wasn’t always something she found in people with her line of work.  She appreciated it where she could get it.

“How’s Barb?” she asked, to pass the time, her thumb running along the edge of her phone.

Chewie smiled wide, “She’s good.  Joined this Zumba group on Thursday nights.  Gives me time with Joey.”

Lilah nodded, “He still playing baseball?”

“Nah,” Chewed replied, one hand lifting and falling with a heavy thud onto the steering wheel. “Tell you the truth, he’s not going to be a sporty kid.  He said last week he wanted to learn to play the piano.  Where the fuck am I going to get a piano that’ll fit in our apartment?”

“Could do one of those electric ones.”

He jabbed a finger at her, “That’s a good point.  Maybe for his birthday.”

Lilah glanced at her phone again, “When is that?”

“About two months out.  He’ll be ten.”

“Ah, double digits.”

Chewie scoffed, “He’ll be claiming he’s a man soon.”

She gave a soft sound of assent and turned her attention outside of the car. They were parked outside of a warehouse.  Lilah had stopped counting the number of times she’d sat outside of warehouses, waiting for some schmuck to show up.  This particular schmuck was half an hour late.  

Said schmuck pulled up in a bright, shiny sports car that had Lilah rubbing at her temples.  She looked at Chewie and then ambled out of the sensible Ford compact she’d rented for the occasion.  With a shrug, she pulled her hoodie closer, her hands falling naturally into the pockets.  Mr. Schmuck exited his too expensive car, pulling on his leather jacket to display a nice watch.  Lilah made a mental bet that it was a Rolex. These kinds of guys always wore a Rolex.

“I got a call that I’m supposed to meet somebody,” Schmuck said with a sniff.  “What the fuck am I doing here?”

Lilah stood a little ahead of Chewie.  Although she was a little above average in height, she knew what she looked like next to him.  Weak. Small. That was her intention and always was when she asked Chewie to come along with her on messenger duty.

“You owe a debt,” she announced.  “I’m here to make sure you pay up.”

Schmuck had taken a loan against the house in a casino-slash-strip club-slash-whore house.  She’d never been inside, but she’d heard things.  It was just over the border, situated in the sweet spot where regulation didn’t quite have jurisdiction.  It was the kind of place where people like her and Chewie made good money and people like the smirking schmuck in front of her got killed and dumped in a river.

“I don’t think I owe anything.  I think I squared up when I left.”

Lilah shook her head, “I can assure you, you did not.”

He eyes twinkled, “You gonna prove that, honey?”

Honey. Baby. Sweetheart. Doll. They all called her a nickname that they thought would be demeaning. She’d heard it all in one way or another.  A fixer didn’t get to the ripe old age of thirty five in this line of work without being insulted at every turn—especially a woman.  She fought the urge to laugh.

“Listen, I’ve been authorized to broker a deal for you.  I’m going to encourage you to take it.”

“Or what?”

God, did the script ever change?

“Or, you’ll end up with your legs broken.  For starters.”

Schmuck looked from her to Chewie and back.  He seemed to take a moment to contemplate his position. Then, as Lilah thought he might, he pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at her. One handed, turned to the side like every gangster movie he’d probably binged as a child. She sighed.

One hand rubbing at her temple, the other lifted and made a sharp arc in the air.  From a rooftop somewhere, a sniper took aim.  Schmuck hadn’t yet noticed.  The little red dot flashed at her, she smiled.

“You got a little something...just there,” she urged, gesturing to Schmuck’s chest.

He looked down, flinching as his free hand pressed ineffectively at his chest.

“I came prepared,” she pronounced evenly.  “Now, I want you to drop your gun, then your car keys, followed by your watch, and that nice little ring on your pinky.”

Schmuck looked at her with wild eyes.

“Or, I can go ahead and shoot you and take those things, anyways.  Your choice.”

He paused and she could see him weighing his options.  He could fire at her, but he’d probably die as well.  She didn’t have to know anything about him to know he was a coward.  It took about ten seconds before the gun dropped and he followed her directives.

“Now, start walking.  Don’t come back.”

She hoped this was enough to keep him from coming back to the bar.  People who got in too deep didn’t get this kind of opportunity.  A couple thousand in loans would turn into hundreds of thousands and nothing solved that but a body in the dirt.  

Lilah watched him wander off for a moment before leaning over to Chewie, “You think he learned his lesson?”

He shrugged, “I doubt it. Looks like a trust fund baby to me.”

“Yeah,” Lilah agreed with a nod, “They never learn.”

And they didn’t.  No matter how many times someone like Chewie beat the shit out of them, they just kept coming back.  She didn’t understand why.  They could get tits and ass anywhere.  What was it about this place that made them make such shit-tastic decisions?  

Lilah leaned into the car, looking for anything of worth.  They’d have to drive it back to Chewie’s parts shop.  His cousin did most of the work, but Chewie kept people from looking to closely at the books.  He’d been laundering money since age twelve, when he’d first started brokering in stolen merchandise.   Lilah had him do her, admittedly fake, taxes every year.

“Hey, Chewie?” She called out, looking over the open door of the coupe.  

He turned and gave a little shrug that meant ‘what?’

“You know how to drive stick?”

Later, after pulling into the garage to trade in her rental, Lilah stabbed the elevator button and turned to survey the empty lot.  She hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulders while she waited.  The evening was hot and dry.  She wanted a shower and a drink, possibly at the same time.  It had taken little to no effort to get the day’s haul completed, but she was tired.  

It was easy money, guaranteed to her bank account.  Her handler had given her at least a dozen or so of these a month for several years.  Still, she didn’t really know who was financing her.  Her brain automatically cautioned her against this line of thought.  It didn’t matter where the money came from. What mattered was that she got paid.

Movement caught her peripheral and she turned her head.  Had the lights dimmed?  It felt like the area to her right was somehow...darker.  Without taking her eyes off the shadows, Lilah reached out and pressed the elevator button again. She squinted, trying to parse the objects in the shadows.

More movement.  This time closer. She flicked her gaze to the stairs, wondering if she needed to run. Perhaps Mr. Schmuck had gotten pissed and followed her.  Wouldn’t be the first time.  Warily, she unzipped the side pocket of her pack and palmed the small pistol she kept on her for just such an occasion.

It was as if a dark fog had cleared, her vision focused on a figure standing in profile maybe twenty feet away.  He was dressed head to toe in black.  A dark leather coat hung over the broadest set of shoulders she ever seen on a man of his build.  Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest, and she suddenly felt herself transport to a dream she’d deemed the result of too much late night snacking.

As if he could hear her panic, he turned.  He was wearing a pair of gold rimmed aviators despite the fact that the sun had already set.  She took a step back, nearly falling into the open carriage of the elevator.  The doors closed and she desperately pressed the button for her floor.  From outside, a roar built, shaking the metal beneath her palms.  

Lilah alternated between watching the floors light up above her and the doors, half thinking that she’d see fingers wiggle through the tiny opening and pull them apart.  The elevator moved without preamble, jerking upwards.  She stepped back and gripped the handrail, metal biting into the meat of her palm.

When she reached her floor, she ran.  Full sprint.  Pulling her keys from her pocket, she headed for her car.  Once inside, she sped it all the way back to the hotel. Every few miles, she looked behind her, as if he might be following her.  It took until the moment when she was slamming the extra sliding lock of her room into place for her shoulders to relax just a bit.  Still, she stared at the door, half thinking he’d slam through it.

It was quiet, only the sound of the air conditioning keeping her company.  She let out the breath she was holding and pressed her hand to her forehead in relief.  It wasn’t real.  She was seeing things.  Too much stress.

Sitting on the bed, Lilah ran her hands through her hair and tried to calm herself.  It was the same man, though.  She knew it without a shadow of a doubt.  Even though the last time she’d seen him,  he’d been covered in blood, she could recognize that proud posture, the sharp nose, anywhere.  

“Get it together, McNamara,” she gritted through clenched teeth.  “You’re tired.  You’re just tired.”

Sliding to her knees, she opened the tiny fridge and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, yanking out the stopper and drinking from it.  For a long time, she just stared at the blue patterned carpet, drinking periodically.  Then, when her heart finally slowed, she picked herself up and headed for the bathroom.  

Setting the bottle on the counter, Lilah pulled off her shoes and socks, leaving them on the floor and starting the water.  While she waited for the shower to heat up, she looked at herself in the mirror.  Her makeup was a little smeared from tears she hadn’t known she had cried, her cheeks dry with them.  Irritably, she wiped away the smudges, taking another swig.  

For a moment, she continued to look at herself, her stick straight hair falling limply to her shoulders.  A bad bleach job had made her cut it short, a look she didn’t know if she liked.  She was glad it wasn’t orange, anymore—now a box brown that was a little green in certain lights.

With a huff, she pushed that strands back and started to pull at her t-shirt.  

“Querida.”

Lilah screamed and flung her body towards the closed door, another little whimper bursting forth when she was bodily pressed against it.  

He was looking at her in disbelief again, gloved hands holding her hips.  Her face was reflected clearly in the lenses of his glasses.  She looked terrified.  She felt terrified.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Before she got an answer, the lights flickered and he was gone.