#propping a mattress against the wall = NEW JUNGLE GYM
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HAVIN A GOOD TIME
#propping a mattress against the wall = NEW JUNGLE GYM#yen the cat#cat#cute cats#photo#cats of tumblr#cats on tumblr#cow cat#caturday
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The Firewhisky Incident
After the positive feedback from the oneshot I posted yesterday, I’ve decided I’ll be uploading more of the ones I write 😊
I’ll also be open to any prompt requests!
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The interior of the Graves’ estate was silent; a silence that some might’ve found discomforting, but Newt sat on the living room couch in one of Percival’s sweaters that was too big on him, hanging off his shoulder in a way that his boyfriend loved. Niffler sat in his lap, soft snores emanating from his little snout as Newt absentmindedly stroked a hand over its dark fur, and Pickett was using his limbs as a jungle-gym, climbing up his long legs and using Newt’s hair as a rope to help him to the top of his head. He nearly succeeded in his hatched plan of waking Niffler up on his way to Newt’s head, but the man caught on to his antics and quickly squashed them. “Now Pickett, what are you doing?” He had asked, catching sight of the bowtruckle with its arms outstretched toward Niffler’s nose. “None of that. Along you go,” he ordered, ushering him along with the back of his hand. “He’s just sleeping.”
Newt, with the two of his creatures, had a book propped open with his right hand and read through the pages. It was something about creatures in North America, for his newfound relationship rendered him stationed in New York and he didn’t think Percy would like if he embarked on a trip away from him for too long. He couldn’t blame him; the anxiety the man developed after being held captive by Grindelwald for months on end was nearly crippling at times, and Newt was one of the only things that could make him feel like himself. Oftentimes, after the man would come home from a long day at the Congress, he’d crawl on top of Newt whether he was on the couch or the king-sized bed in their shared bedroom—after making sure there no creatures on top of him, of course—and cuddle into his chest with a big huff. This is when Newt would ask how his day was and the man would usually go into a tangent or two before seeing how Newt was listening intently and melt under his eyes, continuing to press a small kiss on his lips before taking back his place on his chest, usually falling asleep after about an hour if Newt couldn’t coax him back to consciousness with dinner.
This night wasn’t going to be any different, Newt thought as he glanced at the magical clock on the wall, checking the time to see if his boyfriend would be coming home soon. The time was in fact near that time, confirmed by the sound of the front door opening and closing. He nearly stood to greet Percy, but something told him something was off as he listened to the man’s footsteps against the hardwood floor. They were staggered. Immediately thinking that the man had been injured, for his line of work wasn’t exactly the safest, Newt scooted Niffler off his lap and Pickett buckled down into his hair as he shot off the couch and down the hallway, nearly running into the wall due to his speed but not daring to slow down. “Percy?” He called out, voice near-frantic as he came to the man who was struggling to take off his jacket. “Are you alright?”
Percy staggered as he turned too fast to greet him and the jacket that was half off his shoulders was forgotten as he darted forward, engulfing Newt in a hug so tight that he nearly had to gasp to draw in a breath. “I’m jus- fine, darlin’,” he lilted, and Newt figured out the man’s problem as his breath hit him, smelling of some acohol.
“Are you drunk?” He asked, not mad but not particularly joyful about the situation either.
“Drunk off you,” Percy slurred, sloppily kissing Newt’s neck. Newt turned red at his words, but he brushed them off and forced the man to take a step back.
“Okay. Let’s get you ready for bed. Does that sound good?” He offered, moving behind Percy so he could help the man get out of the jacket he trapped himself in.
“Only if you come with.” It was like dealing with a child, Newt humoured to himself as Percy tried to turn to him with his arms held together at his back by his jacket sleeves.
“Of course I’ll come with you, but you need to get out of your jacket first. Stop struggling.” With a grunt, Percy complied and he was finally able to get the jacket off him to hang it on one of the hooks just inside the front door. “So how did you get drunk?”
“One of my jackass Aurors spelled some firewhisky to taste like coffee.” As soon as his arms were free, he had turned and wrapped himself around Newt again, much like the way Dougal did when the demiguise hadn’t seen him for a while. He now understood why the man was so intoxicated; Percy ingested coffee at what had to be inhuman rates. He could only fear what this Auror had in store for himself tomorrow, because not only will he have to deal with Percival Graves, but he’d have to deal with an angry, hungover Percival Graves.
“Okay, Percy. I can’t get you to the bedroom with you wrapped around me like this.”
“Just carry meeeeeee,” he whined, rubbing his nose against Newt’s and looking at him pleadingly. He didn’t know what the man was getting at, because even though he was taller than him, Percy definitely weighed more.
“It’s not that I don’t want to carry you, Percy. I just don’t think I have the strength for that.”
“Are you calling me fat?” The funny situation mixed with the affronted expression on Percy’s face reduced him to a laughing mess and he slowly sank to the floor, bringing the man with him as he could feel his eyes well up from the exertion. “Newwwwwt,” Percy complained as he straddled Newt’s lap in the middle of the entrance hallway. If someone were to walk into the house right now, what a sight they would receive. Some of the workers at MACUSA had caught them in questionable positions in Percy’s office, but they’d always been able to play it off; only the Goldstein sisters and Jacob knew of their relationship, so for the whole department to find out they were dating and living together, it would be the gossip of the year.
“O-okay, sorry,” he was able to say once he caught his breath. Percy leaned forward and kissed the tears that still lingered on his cheeks before moving back to see him properly.
“You’re beautiful. Like... really. And freckly,” he spoke like someone appreciating a piece of artwork, which he definitely wasn’t.
“And you’re still drunk, so let’s go.” Newt grabbed Percy’s hands that were on his face and dragged him up to a standing position. He nearly leaned too far to his left, but Newt prevented him from falling with a hand around his shoulders. “Woah there. Steady.” It reminded him of the time he helped deliver a baby hippogriff with his mother and had to help the baby walk for the first time. Percy didn’t speak again, too focused on his footing to form words in his inebriated state.
When Newt finally had the older man on their bed and away from the many hazards the house could pose for someone drunk, he sighed with relief and moved to the base of Percy’s neck to untie the Windsor knot in the black tie so he could remove it from under his collar. The man looked nearly unconscious now, but he guessed this would make his job a little easier as he began to unbutton his white dress shirt from top to bottom, revealing the toned body underneath. Percival Graves was definitely not fat. “Percy, can you sit up for me for a moment.” The man just grunted and heaved himself up, allowing Newt to slide the shirt off his arms and leave his top completely bare. Face now dusted with a light pink, he pushed Percy back down before moving to the foot of the bed to take of the man’s black dress shoes so he wouldn’t be too uncomfortable, placing the shoes in their space within the closet on the left side of the bedroom. He pondered on whether he should take Percy’s pants off too, but that was a little too much for him to do and so decided against it, instead drawing the blankets out from underneath the man and crawling under the blankets with him.
“Nox,” he whispered, the magical lamp on the bedside table turning out and leaving the room dark. Closing his eyes, he relaxed in the silence before he felt the mattress shift from Percy moving.
“Newt?”
“Yes, Percy?” He answered as he felt something sift through his hair (probably Pickett moving to the little bed Newt fashioned for him out of a tea cosy on the table next to the lamp).
“Can you hold me? I don’t like the dark. It makes me think of when I was in...” The man didn’t need to finish his explanation because Newt had already moved over and drew him into his chest, kissing the top of his head.
“Of course.” As they drifted off, Niffler jumped up onto the bed and situated himself at the top of Percy’s head. “I will always be here to hold you. And so will Niffler.”
Already half gone, the man managed a chuckle before falling silent, a content smile blessing his features.
“I love you,” Newt spoke even though the man had fallen asleep, or so he thought before a quiet response was spoken into his chest that nearly made him cry.
“I love you, too.”
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- BelovedBey 💖
#fantastic beasts and where to find them#newt scamander#newt#scamander#percival graves#percival#graves#oneshot#fic#gay#gay ships#gramander
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Fallen
The following is a compilation of roleplay scenes and canon that Mac has experienced the past few days. Bits and pieces to a much bigger story with several other characters. This is but her part in all the madness.
Wednesday, Just After Sundown
With a grin that matched her own, he turned about and spread his arms wide, an arm's length short on either end of touching the walls.
”Home.”
It was not a question. He merely stood there, welcoming her into a hug.
Home.
As the words left his lips, that low rumbling sound that was his voice called to her. Her gaze had turned from the copper tub, and although her devotion to bathtubs was a well-known secret, in that very moment, she had eyes only for him. Pale hazel eyes sought out his as she walked over to him, slowly closing the distance, stopping only when her hand could brush against his leather-clad chest.
Even through his garb, she could feel the heat radiating off of him, beckoning her closer. It was addictive and in the cool climbs of Kul’Tiras where the wind was often salty and bitter with cold. Like a warm blanket, she wanted to be wrapped in him, to lose herself to his embrace.
She was tall for a woman, long and lithe, yet he still towered over her. With the distance between them but a memory, she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled herself close, burying her face against his chest, letting his warmth envelop her. Her nails raked against his leather vest, dragging across the smooth surface.
Another barrier.
Gods, they both had so many. Clothes were among the simplest to remove, the rest wouldn’t be so easy. Mac, herself, had spent lifetimes hidden behind walls of her own making, caging herself in with her past, her loss, and her sorrows.
Tryn was among the first to see Mac for more than just the mask she wore before the masses.
He still didn’t know all of her. Just as she didn’t know all of him.
The good, the bad, the ugly…. There was still so much to learn about one another. The thought terrified her. Letting someone in. Letting him see just how broken she truly was. She was terrified to look up and see pity in his eyes. Disgust, hatred, anger-- All those she had spent a lifetime becoming numb to. The one thing that still cut deep, however, was pity.
She didn’t want to be pitied. Not by him or anyone else. She didn’t want him to find just how shattered she truly was and to start treating her like some sad and broken thing. She feared what was to come, what she would share, what he would think of her… Yet, there was a quiet peace in the back of her mind.
Acceptance.
She had spent so long hiding who she truly was that for the first time, there was someone before her who wouldn’t push to know her past. He was there, waiting, smiling with open arms, waiting for her to be ready to share a part of herself. He was like that in all things. He never pushed, he simply waited for her to be ready.
She wasn’t sure if she was, but she was damn well ready to try. If only she could find the right words.
Tilting her head back, she smiled up at him and rose up to her toes, only to suddenly hear buzzing and static-filled voices shouting from her hip. How she loathed that device. Turning up the volume, she heard others screaming over the radio waves.
Termina was being attacked. A call to arms sounded.
One look said it all, those pale hazel eyes of hers finding his balefire gaze. They had only just arrived in their new home but it was time to go. Time to fight.
Hours Later, Closer to Midnight
Mac returned. Not to the place she now called home, but to her old house hidden away in the mountains. The evening had been a blur. The battle had left her numb. The aftermath even more so.
Death. She had touched death.
The memory made her stomach turn and before she could stop herself, she was on all fours dry heaving into the thick grass. She had lost all the contents of her stomach earlier after she healed him. No.
That wasn’t him. Not anymore. She healed a corpse. Dead flesh that needed to be knit back together.
Someone like her should never heal the dead. She was no flesh shaper. No death knight. Her gifts were about life and creation. What she had done had violated the very laws of nature. You cannot heal the dead. Yet she did. She did and she could feel it like some vile toxin pumping through her veins. She did it because it was him.
Was.
Cries from the house pulled her attention from her dark thoughts.
The girls.
She had all but stolen them. Scooped them up amidst the battle and ran the moment their mother fled to their father’s side. She had heard the scream of anguish. She hadn’t seen it, but as she heard that scream, she knew without a doubt that he had fallen.
She felt her own bond to him break. Nothing like the Wolf Mother’s. No. This was nothing at all like that. This was her life duty bound to his. A promise, nothing more. Deep and bound in blood, but still no more than a promise.
Broken or not, in that moment, she fulfilled her oath. Protect his children.
She had scooped them up and fled, taking them to her house in the mountains that no one knew of save for Tryn and Gideon himself. Now only Tryn. The dead took secrets with them to the grave.
She heard a voice singing to soothe the girls. Her cousin. She had stolen the woman in a moment of dire need. She had to heal, yet she couldn’t leave the children alone. A hasty hearth to Boralus and back, yanking the woman from her office and warding her home so that she couldn’t leave magically or otherwise until Mac returned.
She had threatened the woman’s life. Her own flesh and blood and she had threatened her. Protect them with your life or die. She had barely gotten the words out before unknown magic pulled her from her home. Time and space blurred and she had been in Termina again… Until now.
Now she was home and terrified to step through that door. How could she face those two girls who hadn’t even seen their first year? How could she hold it together, knowing their father was dead?
A voice whispered in the depths of her mind. The Bitch, the wolf within her.
”Mourn him when they return him to the earth. Until then, he’s not dead.”
Mac shook her head. She was right. They had her heal his fresh corpse. They wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t plan for him to be pulled back from the beyond. She wouldn’t mourn him.
Mourning would happen only when the funeral pyre was lit.
The Next Day
She had pulled the mattress from the guest room to the living room, her cousin helping her before she was sent back home. Mac wanted the girls close, so the moment the bed was in place, she let them curl up together and drift off to the sound her Mac humming a gentle Gilnean lullaby. The moment they were asleep, Mac curled up next to Tryndan on the floor. He had been the one to pull her back to Termina. Her cousin said as soon as Mac had vanished, Tryndan had appeared and passed out on the floor.
Mac didn’t risk moving him. Instead, she kept them all close. The girls on the mattress and Mac in his arms. Her home was an indoor garden. The moment her lullaby faded, the sounds of nature sang to them all as they dreamt.
It was in the hours just after dawn that Mac heard the cooing of two very awake girls. Peeking open an eye, she saw them sitting on the mattress playing peek-a-boo with one another. She couldn’t help but smile as she propped herself up and watched them.
They didn’t know their whole world was different now.
Moving slowly, Mac inched away from Tryn and rested on the edge of the mattress, joining the game with the two girls. She used the corner of the blanket to hide her face and then when she felt those chubby hands tug, she popped up with a silly face, time and time again, filling her house full of the sound of tiny giggles.
As happened with most games and young children, eventually they tired and found something new to play with. This time it just happened to be the large sleeping worgen on the floor. Mac watched as they crawled over and turned Tryn into a furry jungle gym. He was sleeping, yet he didn’t want him to wake up suddenly so she leaned down and whispered in his ear.
“I’m going to make breakfast. Be mindful of the pups.”
Even though she hadn’t called the place home in some time, somehow the pantry and icebox were still packed with fresh foods. Either she had visited here and there to clean and restock, or there was some other magic at play. Her raven locks were a wild mane that was tangled and in disarray. Still, a simple leather band and she had her long locks pulled back and out of her face, letting it all rest atop her head in a messy bun.
Scents began to fill the air. Sweet at first, fruits and honey. Then there was the earthy scent of porridge. Luckily, for Tryn, Mac wasn’t about to force her eating habits on him. As he was stuck on the floor, drooling beneath two babes, Mac let a large steak dance across the pan before she set it on a plate to rest. She didn’t cook it. Not really. Simply seasoned and gave the piece of meat a nice sear before she set it on the plate to bleed its delicious juices all over the plate.
Eggs were next. Mac wasn’t one to skimp on breakfast and she hummed while she cooked. This time it wasn’t a lullaby but a soft tune that had a happy melody. So much had been lost the night before, yet Mac held herself together and hummed as she cooked for Tryn and the girls.
She didn’t take long. In fact, before he was in a lake of his own drool, Mac came over and gently moved the girls, one at a time, back to the mattress to free Tryn from his adorable prison. As she moved them, she brought the blankets up around them, tucking them in together so they could share each other’s warmth.
She sat there for several moments, just watching the girls doze quietly as she knelt on the edge of the mattress. It wasn’t until she pulled her gaze away and looked up at Tryn that he could finally see the hidden sorrow in the depths of her eyes. She had been doing her damnedest to hide it.
She didn’t think she could hide it from him, he always saw through her masks. There was a small smile that curled in the corners of her lips. Not one of happiness, mind you. Just a small private smile that begged him to be patient with her. She was holding herself together, but just barely. Surely he would see that.
As she rose up and away from the girls, her voice was quiet again. “Come and eat, love. I made you steak and eggs. The girls have some milk porridge cooling for when they wake. We’ll let them rest for now.”
During Breakfast
The quiet meal had turned into something so much more. While Mac thought she would hide behind the much needed satisfaction of a good meal, instead, breakfast was almost all but ignored as Tryn peered into her very soul with those balefire eyes. He watched her as she put on her mask, hiding behind it, and clutching it tightly like her only lifeline.
He watched her, and yet he couldn’t let her suffer alone.
His questions felt like a sharp knife, cutting away her protection. Making her face the horrors and pain that her mind was trying so desperately cast away and let sink into the dark depths of her memory. She realized only as she started to answer him that those thoughts were an anchor, weighing her down, pulling her into the darkness with it and he wasn’t cutting away her protection.
He was saving her from being pulled under.
Words flowed from her, they weren’t easy to say, nor to hear spoken aloud. Yet she confessed her dark thoughts one by one. The perversion of her power, how she had gone against her very beliefs. The loss she felt. The blood bond that was broken. One by one, she laid them out for him and as the last confession left her lips, she didn’t see pity or disgust waiting for her.
She saw only him, holding his arms out, waiting to comfort her. She didn’t hesitate as she closed the distance between them. The walked forward and fell into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight.
Far Too Soon
She had only just lost herself in Tryn’s comforting embrace when her com came to life. Mac listened to the chatter as it came over her radio. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not only were they parading people through a safe house, they were demanding the children to join the circus act. What in the hell were they thinking? She pulled away from Tryn gently, but the moment she was free, there was no longer despair. There was fury.
Mac had grabbed her com and dialed in Blackstone’s private frequency. "A word." She said tersely.
"Aye." He answered after a moment.
Mac wasn’t one to sugarcoat, least of all in this. The moment he answered, she cut to the chase. "Every single person who was seen yesterday is a potential leak, intentionally or unintentionally. You're going to lead them right to the Wolf Mother. The more people that know where she is, the more at risk she is."
"I know.” He replied. “ I have a plan for it if it does happen, I promise. Please just trust me. She requested I tell them she's takin' visitors. I'll be there the whole time. I will not let her be hurt, or anyone else in this company."
Men. By the gods, how stupid they were. Tension sounded in her voice. "Oh, you think you'll be able to protect them? One man, against how many?"
"Mac. Trust me. She told me to do this."
She didn’t trust any of them. Not now. None of them were thinking clearly. "She isn't in her right mind and you know it. And you want me to put children at risk?"
"She wants her kids. Don't fight her on it. Will you just -trust- me. If you want her to stay in bed, lean with her a bit, yeah?"
Mac didn’t answer. She was beyond furious. How could they all be so blind? So stupid. She wanted to throw her com. To leave it deep in the forest and run with those two girls and Tryn. Letting them join their mother when her location was becoming the worst kept secret in Azeroth put a pit in her stomach that made her nauseous. The coms kept going off. The company line. People discussing the children.
No one would listen. No one. All they wanted was to keep the Wolf Mother happy.
Mac didn’t care about her happiness. She could care less if the Wolf Mother was miserable.
She wanted her safe. Moreso, she wanted the girls safe. She wanted the unborn babe safe. The Wolf Mother, she could take or leave. It was the children Mac cared about.
Right now, they needed their mother to remain alive. No one would listen. It would be like fish in a barrel if their enemy caught wind of their location. She barely heard the words over the com when she realized someone was being sent her way to retrieve the girls.
She was cornered, backed against the wall. What choice did she have? Kill someone following stupid orders? Run with the girls? Her mind reeled with the possibilities. She would do it. She would kill for them. She had no doubt about that. Her mind went to what would happen if she stole those girls to safety. The wolf mother wouldn’t rest. She would push herself to the ends of the earth to get those girls back. She would kill the babe inside of her to hunt Mac down.
She could keep the girls safe from a potential and likely risk… but if she did, she would be killing the unborn babe still growing in the wolf mother’s womb. That wasn’t a possibility. It was a certainty. She closed her eyes to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks.
She had to let them go.
Mac slammed her fists on the counter as her eyes flashed that brilliant amber color. Reckless fools. She looked up at Tryn, that quiet wrath bubbling beneath the surface. Pursing her lips as she shook her head, she said nothing to him. Nothing needed to be said. He had heard every last word.
Pushing off the counter, she growled under her breath as she walked over slowly to collect the girls. How she wish people would listen to reason. Instead, they knew only madness.
Soon After
Mac waited quietly outside of her house that looked like it was being consumed by the forest around it. Everything was in bloom and the lush surroundings were a veritable paradise. She was no more than twenty feet from her front door, which was open, revealing the fact that much like outside, the inside of the glass house was wild and covered in beautiful growths, bringing the wild indoors.
Mac looked exhausted, her skin paler than usual and dark circles were heavy under her pale hazel eyes. The expression she wore on her face was one of complete and utter numbness. She didn't want to feel, not in this, especially not now. While she had put on a cheerful face for the girls as she tended to them, playing with them as the hours of the day ticked away, keeping them safe and happy, that time was now over. She had two choices. Hand the children over to their mother’s pawns, knowing full well the dangers of bringing them out of hiding. Or run.
She couldn’t run. Not without risking the life of an unborn babe and countless others. So, she stood there waiting for Syana's mother, the girls wrapped up warmly, one tucked in the crook of each arm. She stood there like a sentry, simply waiting for it all to be over.
The wait wasn’t long for the woman who had come to claim them. Mac felt her presence moments before she appeared a few feet in front of her, carried to Mac’s hidden refuse by the hearthstone she had entrusted to Syana. She barely heard the woman as she thanked Mac for keeping the girls safe, feeling her take one, then the other from the crook of her arms.
It wasn’t until that weight was lifted that Mac spoke, in no more than an angry whisper.
"She is in a safe house that you are parading the entire damn company to. Every person who sees where she is a potential risk. You might as well put a bloody target on her. And now... This? NO ONE knows of this place. No one. It is safe and you are putting these children at risk."
Mac clenched her jaw. She wanted to scream but she wouldn't in front of the babes. "She is not in her right mind and you know it. And your daughter? Her husband? They're too devoted to see that right now Daria doesn't need people who will follow her orders. She needs someone to defy her and keep her safe. Keep her children safe. What happened yesterday.... will happen again.. and again... because everyone in this blasted company is to blind and too stupid to use common sense."
She took a step forward, lowering her voice even more. "Send Keantha to Pinky's Groggery. She's getting a crash course in how to be a midwife." Mac swallowed hard and exhaled a controlled breath and she unclipped her com from her belt and tucked it next to one of the girls. "Your son in law knows where to find me if there is no one else in an emergency."
And with that, Mac turned and walked away.
Seconds Later
How much longer could she hold it together? She didn’t truly know. She felt it all welling up inside of her like a great storm. One after the next, storms collided until there was only the tempest raging inside of her. She had left the woman with the girls, not even risking a glance back. Instead, she surged into her house and without a word, wrapped her arms around Tryndan moments before the Stone to The Hound’s Tooth activated.
The world titled as they were pulled from one place to the next and as she pulled away she quickly moved to an empty bloodstained table to collect herself. She refused to cry. Refused to let him know how broken she felt. She refused… and yet she splintered before him, cracks showing in that coveted mask of hers. She tried to hide, but the more she hit, the more clear it was that she was falling apart.
How much more?
With eyes closed as she breathed in deeply and forced herself to exhale, she tried to quiet her mind. It wouldn’t be silenced. She couldn’t it run from it forever. Luckily, a wet nose, a heavy nudge, and a quiet whine pulled her from the chaos.
Distractions would only prolong the inevitable, yet this distraction was one she couldn’t ignore.
Max. The large wrinkle-faced mastiff stared up at her. He had been forgotten in the chaos. Left behind in the ruins to fend for himself. His master slain, his home destroyed, his family in the winds and lost in grief.
Mac knelt down and parts of her mask chipped away. As she pet him, offering him some small comfort in all that he had lost, Mac looked up at Tryn, her bright hazel eyes brimming with tears as her lower lip trembled.
Grief was a strange thing sometimes. While Mac had little in common with the large wrinkly faced creature, in that moment she felt as he did. Alone. Abandoned by most everyone.
As she stared up pitifully at Tryn, her voice cracked as she spoke, sounding hoarse with sorrow. “Will you take him home? We can’t leave him here…”
Finally Over
She had pulled herself together just enough to pass off information to Keantha, telling the healer all that she needed to know and how to find her if there was an emergency. She thought it was over, but the worst had yet to come.
Mac was hidden behind her mask as Kari walked up to that lavish fire pit. Words cut through Mac like a knife.
Selfish.
Coward.
If she only knew. If only one of them would listen, really listen to her. Mac hid behind her mask, taking every cut. She didn't want to fight. Not over this. Not with Kari. Not with Sal who stood quietly behind her.
She didn't want to fight, yet she wanted her sister to understand. Why did none of them understand?
In the end, she did the only thing she could. She hugged Kari and walked away.
She tried to get them to hear her. To listen. They were all too lost and Mac....
She just wanted to go home.
@theruneslayer @bastard-blackstone @fires-of-blackstone @karicharbonneau @salvador-nightbane @keantha @gideonbelmont
#Mac's Head Canon#dear god what have I done?#what a fucking week#poor mac#Tryn & Mac are keeping the dog#dead Gideon
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