#that i truly had No Thoughts Head Empty for like 20 solid minutes

[kickedin17]

Scanning my copy of The Only Band In the World and godddddddd this bit made me genuinely start crying

because all I really remember about my first impression of Trench was this bell in my head ringing "you survived to get here"

This fucking band

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone

So this builds off of the whole "Tommy has somehow found himself on Hermitcraft after the exile arc" thing that got really popular with @redorich and @petrichormeraki on tumblr. Basically it's an excuse to give Tommy therapy and 20+ parent figures. One thing that's a common thread in those stories is that Tommy is shocked that Hermitcraft has infinite respawns and all of the hermits are quick to reassure him that he really won't perma-die in their world. And I had the thought- well, what if he wasn't in their world anymore? And thus came forth 1500+ words of angst~

It begins like this. Evil X is stuck in the void, alone and with no one to talk to. He misses daylight, he misses touch, he misses hearing voices other than his own. One day, he sees something get shot through the void as if by slingshot, leaving a trail of code in its wake, tethering the whatever it is back the way it came. This is Tommy, and while he begins to get adjusted to Hermitcraft and company, Evil X watches as the string of code begins to imprint itself into the void, and eventually learns that he can interact with it, albeit only on the most superficial of levels. On Tommy's end, he slowly begins to heal from his time spent in the war zone that is the Dream SMP, making fast friends with Grian and several of the other hermits in the process. He goes pranking with his newest, winged older brother figure, laughs at the antics of Impulse, Tango, and Zedaph, builds a cobblestone tower with BDubs, etc. But for all that he's healing, such a process isn't linear. No one on the server can truly understand just what sort of stuff he has been through, and so he often finds himself alone, trying to deal with his wildest emotions by talking to himself.

One day, however, a little voice in his head starts talking back. It's rough and gravelly and not very nice at first, but it's faint enough that he chalks it up to his imagination and moves on with his life. He follows Stress around like a duckling for a day, plays squire for Welsknight, and has a roaring panic attack after an unfortunate spar with False leads to him getting flashbacks to the Pit with Technoblade. He retreats back to his tower for a good cry, and in the midst of his tears, he hears the voice again. This time it's a bit nicer, sounding unsure and a bit panicky as it tries to encourage him to stop crying, god this is awkward, kid, it'll be fine. Wait, are you a kid? You seem tall for a munchkin.

This time, Tommy knows that it isn't his imagination, but half of his old server seemed to have voices in their heads so he really isn't all that alarmed that he seemed to have developed one of his own too. And he does something that no one else does when Evil X reaches out- he starts talking back. It's rough going, at first, especially since both of them have abrasive personalities, but eventually they settle into a rough estimation of friendship that means more to them then they are willing to say. From Evil X's perspective, this is the first time someone has actually listened to him and hasn't been turned away by his violent streak, his bad manners, and lack of proper social skills. For Tommy, this is a chance to vent to someone who seems to understand his pain. It helps that neither of them are inclined to ask too many questions. Tommy, on his part, has no clue that Evil X is an actual person and not a voice in his head, while Evil X can't bring himself to ask why Tommy has left a trail of code in the void and why it's all so glitched. He especially fears asking about the perma-death clause that seems to naturally have occurred in his code.

He will come to regret this choice.

The day is like any other, at first. He begins his day with a slice of sweet melon and then flies off to whatever hermits are awake at the time to "share a meal with them." Really, it started as an excuse to make sure that Tommy was eating at least one meal day, even in his most dissociative of states, but has since turned into an opportunity to eat weird things in front of people to see their reactions. (Etho is his favorite. He's always up early and half the time, asks to try a bite of whatever Tommy is having. They both agree that spider eyes taste a lot like sour boba.) From there it's off to the shopping district to restock his dirt shop and claim his share of the profits from the hole-digging service he runs with Grian. After that, there's just enough time to complete an order or two and collect more cobble and dirt before he has to meet up with Grian to go on their biweekly End Busting session. The two usually have a lot of fun as they go about it, Tommy jokingly shoving Grian off the platform only for his adopted brother to catch himself and fly up to join him on the narrow platform spanning the emptiness once again. Every once in a while, Grian mock-threatens to do the same in return, but he knows better than to actually attempt it after he did it once and had had to catch Tommy when he started screaming and even after they had gotten back to solid ground, he wouldn't stop for the better part of half an hour.

On habits die hard, after all. Tommy may have been told time and time again by everyone on the server that infinite respawns are a thing, yes really, but he still has a hard time believing it. He actually has a rather insane number of levels racked up- even more than Xisuma, which is impressive- because in all the months that he has been on Hermitcraft, he hasn't died once. It's a combination of survival skills taught to him by Philza and his own paranoia which has kept him alive for so long, and most of the hermits agree that it is rather impressive, if not entirely healthy for him to be so scared of dying. (Doc once offered to kill him as evidence that yes, it really is safe here and you will respawn, but for all that death by crazy redstone machine might of been cool, Tommy took a hard pass on that. Grian low key took exception to Doc offering to kill his adopted little brother, really man? Not cool.)

Anyway, Grian and Tommy meet up in the End and start off bridging with the insane amount of cobble that Tommy has stored up. Usually Tommy is in front, placing the stones, and Grian is in back, watching out for any sign of a slip up, but this time they decide to switch it up a bit, head in a new direction, play around with who's doing what this time. It ends... poorly. They bridge out into the black, on and on and on, farther into the void than they ever have before. Slowly, the islands of floating white stone stop appearing with such frequency, but they become larger in size and stranger in shape. Every once in a while Grian will see what he swears to be a glowing white mountain of Endstone in the distance, although Tommy calls bullshit each and every time. They chalk it all up to bad luck and going nuts from boredom, but really, neither one of them knows how to quit while they're ahead. As the islands disappear altogether and all that remains to orient themselves is the tenuous lifeline of cobblestone beneath their feet, the unthinkable happens.

Grian slips. And Tommy, taught compassion by the very world that will now kill him, reaches out to save him.

For one, brief moment, the two brothers clasp hands- and then Grian's weight pulls Tommy right over the edge and down, down, down into the void below.

Grian fell out of the world.

Tommy fell out of the world... and into a new one.

----

Xisuma wakes up late that day. He's been doing that a lot, if he's honest, given how late he's staying up most nights finishing up builds and the like. Those hours of sleep have to come from somewhere, after all, and he's far from an early bird. He gives into the impulse to relax a bit, drinking some tea sweetened with just enough honey to rot his teeth, and then heads off to his computer room to start up his duties as admin for the day. It's the red lights that alert him to something being wrong, and at first, he thinks it's just one of hermits' cam accounts being buggy again. Perhaps it got shut off while the hermit was bridging through the void and the hermit in question simply hadn't retrieved it yet? But who would name their cam account Tommyinnit? The looming dread sits cold in his gut as he flicks his fingers to open up his admin panel... Best to check, just in case.

The death messages are clear enough- Keralis had just perished to a ravager yesterday, likely Tango's from Decked Out if he had to guess. Zedaph had been slain by a piglin twenty minutes ago. And Grian and Tommy had fallen into the void. But if that were the case... why had only one of them respawned?

On Grian's part, he comes to with a lingering chill deep in his bones and an awful headache. The bed underneath him is warm and the sheets are a soft rosy color, likely one of the ones in Scar's magical village if the persistent smell of spruce is anything to go by. He winces against the light filtering through the window and turns to the side, squinting at where Tommy had placed his blue bed right next to his, apology on his lips for his stupid mistake. The sheets are undisturbed. Huh. That's weird, he could have sworn that he and Tommy had set their respawn points at the same time. Maybe Tommy had just forgotten and he was back in his base or at spawn? Grian rises to his feet slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the colors and sounds of the Overworld, then flaps his wings and takes off to go looking for his Tommy.

He doesn't find him.

---

The reactions to Tommy's "death" are many and varied, although for the most part, the hermits are split into two camps- those that think Tommy is gone for good, and those that think he may still be out there somewhere. For the first few days of Tommy's disappearance, most everyone is in the latter camp. Xisuma spends hours upon hours scanning the code, becoming increasingly more frazzled and terrified as his lack of sleep gets to him. Tango and Doc join him in the endeavor, although none of them have any luck or are able to spot the piece of code that caused the problem. No additions, no changes to the text, nothing. Grian leads the other team, those who set out on foot and one wing and with pick in hand to scour the world for their youngest charge, taken from them too soon. They begin in a grid pattern, setting out in ones and twos to search the whole world, but as the distance increases, the neat, orderly flyovers turn into frenzied boosting as panic starts to get the better of them. Some of them hold onto their composure better than others, but Grian ends up flying over the same patch of forest three times because he can't see for his tears. False, Impulse, Welsknight, and Beef cross the Nether, fighting their way into Bastion after Bastion and leaving Nether portals in their wake. In their tracks comes the fliers- Grian, Ren, Iskall, and BDubs. Each one takes a portal and does a sweep through the corresponding patch of Overworld before picking a direction to continue the search. Cubfan, iJevin, and Scar take to the seas, Mumbo, Stress, xB, and Zedaph to the End, Etho down into the depths of the caves below. Strangely enough, there are a few hermits who don't join the search- Keralis, who got the unlucky task of taking care of Xisuma and the others searching through the code, Tinfoilchef, who doesn't provide a reason but everyone gives him a pass because of his age, and Joe Hills and Zombie Cleo, who refuse to explain themselves.

Eventually, the searches dry up. Eventually, some of the hermits admit defeat. Hundreds of thousands of blocks out from spawn, down to the bedrock below, beneath sea and sky and every place that lacks the sun. How far is too far? For Xisuma, enough is enough. Tommy is dead. The search is over.

He stops looking. And soon, others do the same.

And the tone of the server... shifts.

For the first time that any of them can remember, a person has perma-died. Sure, they've all heard the rumors, of servers where infinite respawns is not the norm, of servers where the world glitched and a creeper is supercharged enough to damage a player down to their code. But they'd never thought that one of their own would be on the receiving end of such a curse. And to the hermits, the possibility of dying themselves suddenly becomes all too real. The constant flying is the first to go, and for those that insist on it anyway (outside of Grian, who has wings), checking the elytras' durability becomes more than just a habit. Eating spider eyes and other junk is out of the question, now it's golden apples or nothing. The Nether is all but abandoned, as is the End, and everyone on the server either groups up so that they are never alone, or retreats into their bases, becoming true hermits befitting of their server's name.

The joy that had once been so characteristic of the server is gone, and in the hearts of all, there lingers the dread that any one of them might be next- although, there are still those that hold on to hope that Tommy may not be as gone as he seems.

---

The hermits who think Tommy is dead for good and have stopped searching: Doc, Etho, Xisuma, Welsknight, Grian, BDubs, Cubfan, TinfoilChef, Stress, False, Iskall.

The hermits who think Tommy is still out there, alive if still missing, and that the search should continue: Keralis, Mumbo, Tango, Vintage Beef, Impulse, Zedaph, Joe Hills, Zombie Cleo, Scar, Rendog, xB.

Doc and Etho are old. They don't like to admit it, but they've been around since the beginning, back when players were first learning how to jump servers and communicator technology was undergoing its first upgrade. They've seen a lot and know well by now that dead is dead. Tommy is dead. All that is left to do is mourn and move on, and they have shed their tears already. Call them cold for it, but in the face of a kind of drive that can keep a man going after his entire server has burnt down around his ears (Mindcrack will be missed), they know they need to keep moving forward. There are enough broken messes on the server these days, and it is through their efforts that shops remain stocked and the torches don't burn out. They hold onto normalcy with an iron grip and hope that some day, the rest of the hermits will join them in rationality.

Stress too has a comparatively healthy approach to all of this. She doesn't want it to be true, god no, but so far everything is pointing in the direction of Tommy being dead for good. She eats a couple dozen bowls of ice cream, has a some good cries, doesn't leave her base for a week, and even afterwards she can't bring herself to wear pink for a while. But she's mourning. She's accepted things. She lets her heart break, and as time passes, she lets herself heal. And that's enough for her.

Scar is of the opinion that Tommy is still out there, and while he clings to that hope with all his might, it's fragile and Cub just knows that his best friend is going to be cut to pieces when that hope inevitably breaks. So he takes Scar aside for a quiet conversation, to break his heart before the world can break it for him. Afterwards, Scar stops talking about Tommy as if he's coming back, but his smile is never as bright as it was before. And Cub's heart breaks too.

Team ZIT swings the exact opposite way as the rest and are firmly of the belief that permadeath is impossible and thus Tommy must be alive. The three of them aren’t known for their impulse control at the best of times, and with so many hermits having given up, the trio is rightfully vicious about the fact that the others, in their eyes, have abandoned their friend. Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango all kind of feed into one another and start doing lots of dangerous stunts, as if daring the universe to permakill them and prove them wrong. If one of them does something, the other two join in and escalate things, which gets impossibly dangerous very, very fast. Tango is furious, Impulse is bitter, and Zedaph is straight up heartbroken that his other friends would give up on another of their number. They do things like fly incredibly high, go cliff jumping in the Nether only to catch themselves at the last minute, and sprint across the End bridges. If they have doubts, they never voice them. Even when Tango feels like he’s burning up from the inside and wonders at his newfound hate. Even when Impulse is utterly terrified but goes along with things anyway because Tango is doing it and he can’t bear to leave a friend alone. Even when Zedaph looks at his friends and can’t help but feel scared of and for these strangers wearing the faces he knows so well. Even then.

Team ZIT often gets dragged into and starts lots of screaming fights with the other hermits who believe Tommy is dead, especially Doc, BDubs, xB, and False. False especially gets vicious, as while pvp is no longer permitted on the server, her tongue is as sharp as any blade. She believes firmly that the others are trampling on Tommy’s memory by insisting that he isn’t dead and she is determined to make them stop. And if they refuse to give up their foolishness? Well, all she might have left is her words but with them she will make them bleed.

xB and Vintage Beef are as close to neutral as you are going to get from those that get into regular arguments. xB thinks Tommy is dead until proven otherwise, while Beef thinks the exact reverse. As some of the more chill hermits, they often get dragged in to play negotiator so that the fights don’t turn physical. And some days, when someone says something particularly hurtful, they’ll close themselves up in one of xB’s bunkers and drink until they can no longer remember why they ought to be enemies. It’s hardly healthy, but they both agree that it’s better this way. Better to forget than to hurt, after all.

Grian is… somewhat the same. Sort of. He was traumatized by Tommy, the boy he adopted as his little brother, dying before his eyes, and he can’t help but blame himself. That is, when he can remember that Tommy is dead at all. After the fall, Grian’s mind was badly broken and he couldn’t accept that his little brother was dead for the longest time. He fell into two weeks of deep depression, barely eating or drinking, and eventually Iskall came and took care of him when he realized that he hadn’t seen his buddy in ages. Iskall nursed Grian back to health, only to feel his heart shatter in his breast when Grian turned to him, eyes feverishly bright and tone childlike, asking where Tommy was. The winged man’s mind couldn’t cope with the loss so it had shut down entirely, making him forget the tragedy that had occured. Iskall had deflected then, frantically trying to figure out what to say, but after a few days of Grian wandering about in a dreamlike state, his memory came back to him and he collapsed in on himself once more. The winged hermit is now locked in a loop of this, while poor Iskall is stuck trying to keep his friend alive and relatively sane.

Iskall, for his part, thinks Tommy is well and truly dead. In part because of his own certainty, in part because anything else would be even crueler for Grian. He doesn’t resent his friend for his break downs, just quietly bundles him up and clutches him close, coaxing him to eat and bathe, to put down the guilt and realize that it’ll be okay, the world won’t end with Tommy gone. He gently tries to nudge Grian down that path of acceptance of Tommy’s fate, and though he faces many setbacks, he tackles each one with a special kind of patience born of platonic love. They’re bros, despite everything. It’s only right.

Mumbo is, weirdly enough, on the side of Tommy being alive. Iskall doesn’t exactly approve and while he and Mumbo sometimes get into whispered arguments over it, they try to keep their little disagreements from Grian. Both of them only want to see their friend happy again, and will do just about anything to make it happen. For Mumbo, this means putting together crazy redstone contraptions to try and find Tommy again, as he’s certain that Grian’s little brother is still out there somewhere- and he has a piece that might prove it. Iskall comes over one day, face drawn and haggard from a night of soothing Grian through another set of screaming nightmares, only to find Mumbo waist high in redstone wiring, all hooked up to a strange portal design that looks too much like Doc’s infinity portal from season 6 for comfort. At the top of the arch is Tommy’s compass, needle whirling about like a hurricane, and while the portal isn’t lit, it does give off a faint blue-black glow. Iskall is frightened that Mumbo is tampering with something that could get him killed and Mumbo rushes to reassure him that no, the compass was specifically linked to Tommy so if Tommy was really dead, it would have been reset, right? He’s merely borrowing that tie to try and figure out where the two ends lead. Iskall is less than sure about this, especially since Mumbo is just as drawn and pale as he is, if a bit more covered in redstone, but they agree that fighting is pointless. They care about each other and about Grian too much to put any of them through that sort of pain- and besides, there’s more than enough fighting on the server already.

Ren too thinks that Tommy is alive and he is one of the ones who gets into regular fights. He’s a lover, not a fighter, but something about this whole situation just burns him up. When the pressure gets too much, he goes flying, tracing over those old familiar trails they searched so long ago, trying to see if there is anything they missed. There never is.

Welsknight has made his peace with Tomy’s death, though the server tends to forget that he and Tommy were closer than most. He alone knew that Tommy was once upon a time a boy called Theseus (a name given to him shyly when Tommy had asked him if there were any great heroes with that name that didn’t die). He alone knew Tommy’s love for horses, or that he would spend hours whispering horror stories to them when he thought no one would hear. Tommy was his squire, and although he had accepted the tragedy, he still wept for the hurt it brought him. He alone knew of the little grave he had dug under the willow tree in his castle courtyard and the headstone he had placed there, engraved with Tommy’s true name, death date, and supposed date of birth. He couldn’t have been more than 17, and perhaps that was what hurt the most. Every morning at dawn, Welsknight brings a bouquet of flowers to that little grave and says a prayer before disappearing into the morning fog. The flowers are always the same- forget me nots, for remembrance, violets, for devotion, and clover. (Think of me).

Tinfoilchef stays out of it- always has and always will. He’s too old to rush about searching or to feel as wildly as the others do. He feels, of course, but more so as the mountain does, steady and strong despite the winds that tear at its surface. Tommy is dead, but then, so are many of the people he has known in his life. It’s best to just keep plodding along.

BDubs is a mess. He had never spoken of it, but long before he had come to hermitcraft, he had had a daughter- a beautiful baby girl whose heart was too big for her chest, and she had died for that difference. He had grieved for years, but eventually the peace of the hermitcraft server had left him soothed, if a bit different than before. Tommy had been another chance at fatherhood, not that he could ever bear to call the teen that, even in the privacy of his own mind. Instead, he had taught the kid to build cobblestone towers that weren’t entirely offensive (if shaped a bit oddly) and had been the first to volunteer any time Grian was out and Tommy needed a place to spend the night when the nightmares were particularly fierce. They had so many fun sleepovers like that, and staring at those awful cobble towers in the distance, BDubs can’t help but bawl his eyes out at the memories. He waffles between taking the towers down or leaving them up- they really are ugly, and the feelings in his chest that they inspire are even more so, but somehow, he can’t bear to see them gone. Instead, he dries his eyes, flies off to grab a shulker of cobble, and sets about adding a few more to their number. A final remembrance for the boy he would have gladly claimed as his own, if only he hadn’t been too late. (He ends up building a lot more than a few).

Joe and Cleo are somehow the only ones who are actually neutral in the whole mess. Whenever they are asked their opinion on if Tommy is truly dead or not, the pair simply smile mysteriously and refuse to comment. Joe always seems to know more than he lets on and Cleo is his closest confidant, after all. Despite the anger and tears directed their way for refusing to commit to either side, the two keep their silence. (They know the truth of the matter, after all. Everything will be okay in time).

Xisuma has given up. Tommy is dead, and there is nothing he can do but spend days and days going over the code with a fine tooth comb, trying to find the glitch that cut the life of their youngest member short. Keralis takes it upon himself to take care of his long time friend, but it’s not an easy task, not when the other is so determined to make sure that such an incident never happens again. And Keralis can’t find it in himself to complain, especially since he is laboring under the impression that Xisuma agrees that Tommy is still out there and is trying to find him. It is only when Keralis mentions it in an aside, thanking the admin for his dedication, that Xisuma breaks the illusion and explains. Tommy isn’t just dead, he says tiredly, his very presence is well and truly wiped from the world’s code. All that is left of him is the faint impression his code had left behind, and trying to read it and understand what went wrong is a bit like trying to read small letters that have been drawn out in dry sand. Even for a voidwalker like himself such a task is near impossible, and Xisuma can only do so much. The needs of the many above the needs of the few- best to secure those he can now than worry over those that are gone beyond his reach. And Keralis can’t help but look at his friend with new eyes, a fleeting sense of betrayal in his heart. He had thought better of his Shishwammy, and he says as much. 

He cries while Xisuma watches on in solemn, mournful silence.

---

TBC  :)

[loveissupernatural]

                                         To Love in a Foreign Land

                                            Draco Malfoy x reader                                 

Chapter One: The Letter

[ Read Part 2 here ] 

The day had finally come.

It came in the flurry of an owl’s wings, in the nervous vibration of your sweaty palms.

A delicious breakfast had just been served by your mother that sunny summer morning in suburban America, your fourth term at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry only recently finished. Loud, impatient tapping on the kitchen window glass made you choke on your coffee.

“Mom! Ch-check if it’s from H-Hogwarts!” you managed to cough, pointing frantically at the window. Your mother bolted out of her chair at the kitchen table so you can recover.

She squealed for you, letting the gorgeous but exhausted-looking owl into your kitchen as quickly as she could. It landed in front of you on the table, holding out its leg with what could only be described as relief. Your shaking hands untied the cream-colored envelope from the owl’s ankle, and as soon as you did, it fluttered to the large cage in the corner of the room. Your silver-grey owl, Cinna, hooted indignantly at the unexpected visitor that was gulping from her water bowl.

“Now, Cinna, be nice. He’s had a long journey,” your mother said, wagging her finger. Cinna would have rolled her eyes if she could.

“Mom,” you squeaked, “this is it, this has to be it. I’m finally gonna know.”

You’d decided halfway through your fourth year at Ilvermorny that you wanted to take part in the International Wizarding Student Exchange Program, or I.W.S.E.P. It was a decision that you didn’t make lightly – you’d discussed it at length with your teachers and with your mom. You loved Ilvermorny with all of your heart and soul, after all, it was your home. But you also knew that the world was much bigger, that there was so much in the wizarding world that you hadn’t seen and hadn’t experienced. As a newly 15 year-old, you felt somehow ready for things to change.

Of course, you didn’t want too much change, which is why Hogwarts was at the top of your list. Ilvermorny was modeled after it, and you didn’t have to worry about a language barrier. Hogwarts contained four houses, just like your school, and was a large castle in the middle of the mountains, just like yours. You were ready to experience new things and new people, in a new (but somewhat similar) place. You had roots there.

The Headmistress of Ilvermorny, Celestia Pukwould, had one final meeting with all prospective exchange students before the end of term. The day exams ended, you and a small group of upcoming fifth years were invited to her large study. She pressed the importance of upholding your school’s good reputation as you traveled, to be a shining example of what it was to learn magic from America’s impressive magical education system. Only one of your peers was requesting Hogwarts as their first choice too, a quiet girl that you hadn’t spoken to much over the years named Eleanor.

After the other potential exchange students left her office, Headmistress Pukwould requested for you and Eleanor to stay behind for a bit.

“Ladies, I have sent an owl to Professor Dumbledore himself expressing my full confidence in you two,” she had said, standing from her ornate high-back chair that sat in front of her fireplace. She twirled her wand between her long fingers absentmindedly, fixing you and Eleanor with a kind yet serious stare. “You two are some of the brightest witches in your class. I told him so. I have known Albus Dumbledore for many years, and he is by far one of the most talented wizards alive today. You would be very lucky to learn magic at his school.”

You and Eleanor nodded profusely, eyes wide. While Headmistress Pukwould was a kind woman, she was also not to be trifled with, and her word backing your acceptance at Hogwarts held much weight.

“Don’t disappoint me, ladies,” she said, the smile fading from her face. She tapped her wand on her nails once, sighed, then turned back to the fireplace. “Have a wonderful summer. Owls containing your acceptance or rejection should arrive to your homes within the next few weeks.”  Her tone was final. You were dismissed.

You flashed back to your bright kitchen, took a deep breath and let it back out in a shaking sigh. Your fingers gently traced the refined emerald green writing. You flipped the envelope over and touched the blood-red wax seal, the crest of Hogwarts. Your hands paused.

“Mom, what if I don’t get in?” You’d spoken your greatest fear aloud.

She smiled at you, almost a little sadly, and came to rest a hand on your shoulder and a kiss on your head. “They’d be idiots not to accept you, Y/N.���

“What do you think Dad would say? If they said no?” you all but whispered, a familiar ache rising in the back of your throat. Your father had attended Hogwarts over two decades ago before he moved to America and met your No-Maj mother.

Your mother wrapped her arms around you from behind, pressing her cheek to yours and rocking you gently.

“He would think they’re idiots, too, honey,” she said, a grin in her voice. Your father loved his alma mater, so to imagine him saying anything negative about the school was enough to make you laugh. But you knew she was right, your father had been your biggest fan.

“I miss him,” you said quietly. Your thumb ran over the wax seal again.

“I know, baby. I do too,” she whispered, kissing your cheek. “But he’d be so proud of you, no matter what that letter says. Okay?”

You nodded. You’d lost your father two years ago, but the wound still felt fresh most days. You’d be lying if you said that going to Hogwarts wasn’t an attempt to feel him again, in some form or fashion.

“Here goes nothing,” you breathed, slipping your finger underneath the sturdy paper and ripping it away from the seal. Your heart pounded in your ears like a bass drum as you pulled out the parchment, catching a glimpse of the neat scroll in the same dark green ink. Your mother’s hands tightened on your shoulders.

Dear Miss Y/N Y/L/N,

           We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

           All students accepted to our institution through the I.W.S.E.P. (International Wizarding Student Exchange Program) will be required to travel via portkey on the evening of 29 July. Upon arrival to London, arrangements will be made for you to stay in the Leaky Cauldron before gathering your supplies on 30 July. A representative from the school will assist you in procuring the necessary books and equipment for term, beginning 1 September. You will be expected to arrive at King’s Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾, no later than 09:00 AM on 31 July. Bring all necessary luggage and equipment.

           You will find an enclosed list of all required literature and materials for Year Five.

           We will expect an owl containing your confirmation no later than 20 July. We are honored to invite you into our sacred halls of magical learning.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

 You lowered the letter, disbelief coursing through your veins. It was real, truly real. You were now officially a Hogwarts student.

After at least a solid 20 minutes of dancing around the kitchen with your mother, you scribbled a quick confirmation and laid it by the feet of the tired Hogwarts owl.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to leave for another few days,” you said, answering the owl’s accusatory glare. He hooted ruefully and tucked his head underneath his large wing, ignoring Cinna’s still wary stare.

Your mother excused herself from the kitchen shortly after, attempting and failing to hide the proud tears in her eyes. You hugged the Hogwarts letter to your chest, breathing in the scent of the still stiff parchment. Slowly, you walked out to the empty living room and paced to the fireplace mantle that contained family portraits of all shapes and sizes, some moving in their frames and others standing still.

With tears tickling the corner of your eyes, you picked up your favorite picture of you and your dad. You were six years old, missing a tooth and laughing hysterically, while your father conjured glowing butterflies that danced around your head. The glow of his happy smile outshined those butterflies any day, you thought. You gently stroked his smiling face.

“Well, it’s official, Dad,” you whispered, a single tear sliding down your cheek. “I’m going to Hogwarts.”

                     ______________________________________

That summer passed more quickly than you would have ever expected. Your friends from Ilvermorny came to visit as often as possible, taking advantage of every moment they could grab with you before you left for an entire year. Many days were spent wandering nearby cities and towns, No-Maj and magical alike, with your school friends. You ate as many cliché American meals as you could and soaked up every drop of sunshine possible by the pool. You always looked better with a bit of a tan, and you doubted that you’d be getting much strong sun at Hogwarts.

“So, what House do you think you’ll be sorted into?” Eleanor asked you one afternoon. You’d invited her to stay a week with you and your mother in early July. You two would be the only Americans at Hogwarts in the upcoming year, and you both thought that building a friendship with one another would be nothing but beneficial. Being so far from home, you needed to have each other’s backs.

You were both sitting on the edge of the pool, drinking fresh lemonade and dangling your feet in the water. You took a long sip through your brightly colored straw.

“Good question,” you said, staring at the rippling blue water in thought. “I’ve heard rumors of what each house represents, but how true is it really? I mean, we know at Ilvermorny that more than one House can pick you, and that you can make the decision for yourself. Do you ever wonder if people pick the right one? Think it’s like that at Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know,” Eleanor said quietly. She seemed a little nervous at the thought. “What if we don’t get sorted at all? What if we’re too old?”

“I mean, surely that wouldn’t happen,” you tried to say confidently. “They wouldn’t subject us to public sorting if there was a chance of us getting rejected, right? Talk about embarrassing.”

“I’m sure you’ll get sorted,” she said with an admiring tone. “Everyone remembers what happened when you stepped up to the Knot on our first day.”

You remembered that day with a strange and heady combination of pride and trepidation. When you stepped up to the large Gordian Knot engraved into the shining marble floor of the circular sorting chamber, everything changed for you. For the first time in over a decade, all four large wooden carvings came to life, and the room went dead silent. You’d never felt so many eyes on you, boring into the back of your skull, wondering what made you so special and what House you would choose.

The gem set into the head of the Horned Serpent glowed, the Thunderbird beat its large wings, the Wampus roared and the Pukwudgie raised its arrow into the air. The carvings themselves seemed to stare a hole through you.

The four Ilvermorny Houses have been described as each representing a different part of the human being; Horned Serpent represents the mind and favors scholars; Wampus represents the body and favors warriors; Thunderbird represents the soul and favors adventurers; Pukwudgie represents the heart and favors healers.

You were overwhelmed in every sense of the word. At the small and awkward age of 11, you truly didn’t feel that well-rounded. You were certain that, somehow, these magical carvings had made a mistake.

“What made you choose Thunderbird, by the way?” Eleanor asked curiously, breaking you from your reverie.

“Honestly… I’m not totally sure,” you shrugged bashfully. Talking about this always made you uncomfortable. “Thunderbird is supposed to represent the soul, right? I guess I think that everything is rooted in the soul. We wouldn’t be human without them.”

Eleanor had been chosen by Horned Serpent, but nodded in agreement. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t know what I would have done if I were you.” She laughed a bit uneasily. “At least my choice was easy – I didn’t have one.”

In many ways, you found yourself wishing that only one carving had chosen you. Sure, it’s a bit less flattering, but much less stressful. The pressure of being that student, the once-in-a-decade student that was supposed to accomplish amazing things, was almost suffocating. As a child, you had a mountain of expectations piled on top of you from the moment those four carvings came to life. You couldn’t make a mistake.

In your second year, when your father died, so many of those expectations crushed you in a way that they never had before. His death weighed on you more than anything ever had, and the strength of his support was gone and left you breaking underneath the heavy cinderblocks of watchful eyes. Your grades suffered, and so did your relationships. You shut down.

Only when a year passed after your father’s death did you begin to find yourself again. With the help of your understanding teachers and a loving group of friends, you were able to establish a better academic standing within Ilvermorny. Not that anyone held your lapse against you – after all, you were a 12 year-old that had lost a parent. But you were still that kid, the one that all four Houses wanted, and you’d proven that you were far from perfect.

“What House do you want to be in at Hogwarts?” you asked Eleanor. She smiled, quiet in thought as she threw her brown hair into a messy ponytail.

“Really, I’d be happy with anything. But I’ve heard Ravenclaw is similar to Horned Serpent, academically focused and stuff.” She took a gulp of cold lemonade and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “What about you?”

“My dad was a Hufflepuff, so that would be nice I guess. I don’t know. Let’s just hope the Sorting Hat doesn’t explode,” you joked, setting aside your now empty glass. With that, you jumped into the chilly crystal water, letting it soothe your hot skin. Eleanor quickly followed.

You enjoyed the last inklings of summer vacation together before your new adventure began. You talked about missing friends and family, what Hogwarts would be like, whether or not you liked hot tea and what classes you would be taking. True to teen girl form, you were both excited to meet cute guys with foreign accents. And with a mix of thrill and nerves, you both realized that you two would be the foreign ones to them, and hoped that it would play in your favor.

“I wonder if British guys will think American girls are hot?” you asked her after the sun went down. You’d both climbed out of the pool at this point, your sun-kissed skin beginning to prune.

Eleanor laughed. “Geez, I hope so. Could you imagine getting a handsome British boyfriend? Talk about the adventure of a lifetime.”

You couldn’t deny that the thought of kissing a handsome boy with an attractive accent at the top of a castle turret excited you, but your mind always went back to connecting with the spirit of your father. Maybe you could feel closer to him there at Hogwarts, and would a boy distract you from getting that closure? You knew a boy would distract you from schoolwork, and you were determined to make such outstanding grades that Professor Dumbledore would have no choice but to write back to your Headmistress. After the academic crash and burn that was your second year, any and all glowing recommendations were not only welcome, but needed.

“It would be fun,” you giggled, wrapping yourself in your pool towel and squeezing the water out of your hair. “But wouldn’t it kinda suck when it’s all said and done? I mean, what if you got close to someone and then you have to leave to come back here?”

“I didn’t say we had to fall in love,” Eleanor shrugged. “I just want a hot piece of British ass.”

You busted out laughing. Eleanor always seemed so quiet at school, but once she got comfortable with you, she really came out of her shell.

“Come on, girls!” your mother called, sticking her head out of the back patio door. “Dinner is ready. I’ve got your salads on the table.”

You both trotted inside, whispering and giggling about the possibility of a grand foreign romance. After a pleasant dinner with your mother, you both went to bed, smelling of chlorine and sunlight.

Eleanor fell asleep before you did. You laid awake for a while, watching the shadows of swaying tree limbs dance across your ceiling. Your mind wandered back to the possibility of finding romance at Hogwarts. You doubted it would happen for you, especially since your priorities were elsewhere, but it wouldn’t be so bad to just dream about it, right?

You drifted into a deep sleep, flashes of colorful magic and the shadow of a boy dancing through your head.

[ Read Part 2 here ]

[frostmarris]

notes: an update for a fic in the same month it was posted? blasphemy

enjoy!

Chapter Two

Sai sits on the corner of the desk as he watches Sakura add the finishing touches of the brooch’s drawing, a red-inked pen in her hand and a collection of other pens and pencils laid out to her right. The brooch itself sits nearby as she glances to it for reference, clean and finally finished with its two day soak in moon water. She's added four drawings in total to the brooch's entry in the record book, the large tome laid open in front of her as she leans over it. 

One drawing is inked and colored and the largest of the bunch, perfectly shaded and every detail meticulously copied down as it depicts the front view of the brooch. The two under it, a side view and a drawing of the back of the brooch, are inked but not colored or shaded, yet just as detailed. Sketched out in the margins of Sakura's description of the events of the curse-breaking is a picture of the brooch with the cameo woman attempting to crawl out of her frame, a clawed hand outstretched and her expression furious. 

Sai isn't sure how long she's been drawing but she must be nearing a stopping point as there's little left to add and she'd already completed the drawing on the parchment attached to the amber vial. She hasn't spoken since she'd started and he'd been content to quietly watch her and resist his innate urge to knock one of the pens off the desk, but he finds himself wanting to fill the silence now.

"How long have you been doing this, Sakura?"

"Doing what?" She asks in return, swapping the red pen for one with white ink to add highlights to the rubies.

He is pleasantly surprised that she’d even responded and he moves to lay down on his corner of the desk, his tail draped over the edge and swaying slowly.

"Breaking curses."

She lets out a small hum and waits a moment before she replies, still not looking up from the record book.

"A while."

Sai frowns to himself at the vague answer, having hoped to learn more about her. She'd barely spoken about herself the past two days (granted, she hadn't asked much about him either) and he knew very little about her life outside of her home.

"How long have you been practicing magic?" He asks, trying again.

"A while longer," Is her response and he sighs, feeling a little annoyed.

Quiet for a couple minutes, Sai crosses his paws and turns his gaze from her drawing to her face, still determined to learn more about her.

"Are you self-taught or did you have an instructor?"

That makes her pause and, as he watches her, he can tell when she stops truly looking at her work and her gaze seems to become far-off for a moment, as if she were lost in her thoughts. Sai leans forward ever so slightly, hoping to have made a breakthrough.

But Sakura seems to pull herself out of it after a moment and reaches for one of the black-ink pens.

"A bit of both."

His frown deepens and he sits up again, watching her pen a date onto the top right corner of the page. She leaves the record book open to allow the ink to dry and leans back on her stool, reaching her arms up as she stretches. As Sakura slips off the stool and heads out of her workshop, Sai hops down and follows after her, not quite finished with his questions.

"Did you attend an academy?"

Sakura stops and sighs tiredly, turning around to face the cat and planting her fists on her hips.

"Alright, what's with the round of 20 Questions?" She asks, watching Sai approach the couch and hop up onto the arm rest, obviously unperturbed by her reaction. 

"I know very little about you, Sakura." He says, green eyes that match her own staring back at her. "You've barely told me anything about your life - I don't even know your surname."

"You don't need to know," She turns to head into the kitchen, grumbling to herself. Having already made the mistake of giving the damned cat her first name - and he just kept rubbing it in and repeating it, the ass - she wasn't about to just hand over anything else. "We'll get along fine just as things are."

"But I want to learn more about you," Sai insists, appearing on the island counter. He still had every intention in becoming her familiar and getting to know her was the first step in creating a bond.

Sai, of course, doesn't voice his intentions. 

(If only she wasn't so stubborn.)

Sakura groans and is about to speak again when there's a sudden knock at the door, startling both of them. The cat looks to the front door just next to the living room curiously while Sakura glances at her phone with a frown, double-checking the date.

She hadn't had any visitors since he'd been released - she hadn't even left the house, actually - and he couldn't deny his curiosity, eager to see what sort of company she kept.

But, much to his chagrin, Sakura turns to the fridge and shouts a dismissing, "I'm closed! Come back tomorrow!"

They both pause, however at the shouted reply from the other side of the door.

“Aw, not even for a visit from your best bud in the whole world?”

The smile that appears on Sakura’s face was unlike any expression he’d seen from her yet and Sai finds himself following her to the door, immensely intrigued. She steels her face into one of nonchalance before opening the door, cocking her hip and crossing her arms as she greets her guest.

“Alright, what did you do this time?”

Sai peeks around her legs to peer up at the brown-haired, grinning man on Sakura’s doorstep, backlit by the lit street lamps of the late evening, but quickly finds himself hissing at the sight of a large white dog at his side and scurrying back towards the couch. Sakura and the man watch in surprise as the black cat makes his way up on top of a bookcase, crouches low, flicks his tail in agitation, and stares down at them with disapproval.

“I didn’t do nothin’,” The man says, his curious gaze on Sai as Sakura steps aside to let him and the dog in. “When’d you get a cat?”

“Not technically a cat,” Sakura mumbles, closing the door and moving on towards the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

He sends her a surprised look, head tilting as he drops down on the couch and the dog lays across his feet.

“I thought you didn’t want a familiar?” A pause, his expression thoughtful. “Just some water, thanks.”

“I don’t,” She says, her matter-of-fact tone making Sai frown and straighten up. “He’s just a cursed soul that I’m helping out.”

“Sakura,” Sai finally speaks, a little miffed by her dismissal of him. “Who is this?”

She returns with a glass and a bowl, both filled with water, in hand and passes the former to the man and places the latter next to the dog. She gives the beast an affectionate pat on the head, much to Sai’s annoyance, before answering his question.

“Sai,” Sakura addresses, looking up at him from his place on top of the bookcase. “This is Kiba and Akamaru.”

She turns to the other two and gestures up at Sai before moving to sit on the couch’s armrest, sipping from a coffee mug. “Kiba and Akamaru, this is Sai.”

‘Kiba’, who’d been looking up at Sai with a mix of surprise and amusement ever since he’d spoken, nods up at the cat with a grin and reaches down to pat the dog’s head.

“Don’t worry about Akamaru here,” He says, the dog's tail thumping happily on the floor as Sakura reaches down to pet him as well. “He looks big and scary, but he’s actually a huge softie and he’s super chill with cats.”

Sai doesn’t reply and simply stares down at them all, not budging from his spot.

Kiba shrugs and sips his water as his gaze drifts over the living room, soon landing on Sakura. "How ya been, Sak? You look good - get a haircut?"

She sends him an unimpressed look over the rim of her mug and crosses a leg over her knee, sighing but unable to hold back a small smirk. 

"We both know you never stop by unannounced just to chat," Turning more towards him, she sends her mug floating over to the coffee table. "What have you brought me, Kiba?"

He laughs weakly but nods and reaches into an interior pocket of his coat to remove a small manilla envelope and a wooden box tied off with caraway oil-soaked twine.

"A body was found five days ago," Kiba explains, setting the box in her hand and opening up the envelope to pull out several photographs. He nods towards the small case, which Sakura waits to open.

"They pulled that off the corpse."

"Five days?" She asks, placing the wooden box on her thigh and flipping through the photos when he hands them over as well. "Why'd you wait so long to bring it to me?"

From his spot on top of the bookcase, Sai can see the pictures captured in the photos and finds himself shuffling a little closer to the edge. They depict images of the crime scene - of a body shriveled and drained of both color and life. At first glance it looks like it must have been leftover from the remains of a fire but, as Sai hops down to perch on the back of the sofa, he realizes everything is still intact - from hair, long and chestnut brown, to the bony fingers, curled and clawing in pain. The skin is tight and leathery, a solid dark ashen color rather than the mottled yellows, reds, and purples of a decomposing body, that show off every bone and joint.

It looks similar to mummified remains, but there are no other signs of decay. With the skin so tight and dry, the lips and eyelids are drawn back to reveal perfect teeth and missing eyes, the sockets empty and dark. 

The strangest part of it all is that it's dressed in perfectly normal clothes - unstained, unmarred, and unassuming. Around the corpse's thin throat is a necklace, the gold chain splayed out and the small bell charm resting in the grass.

"They're supposed to contact me the moment there's any suspicion of magic," Kiba answers, looking both frustrated and tired, "And this reeks of it. But those damned human cops didn't call me in until yesterday."

Sakura quirks an eyebrow, frowning to herself and flipping through the rest of the pictures. "They're still giving you trouble? I thought the installment of the Department was supposed to make things all... 'official'."

She makes air quotes with one hand when she says the word and Kiba sighs and crosses his arms, Akamaru sitting up to rest his head on his knee. "They're either too stubborn to get outside help when it's obviously needed or just grossly incompetent."

"Incompetent," She mutters in affirmation, her frown deepening at the pictures.

"Either way," Kiba continues, groaning and leaning back with a stretch, "They hate having to call me in and listen to me talk about magic. The only reason they finally did was because someone realized the horrible feeling of foreboding and dread that had fallen over the entire precinct was strongest in the evidence vault."

"What have they been able to find out about the victim?"

Here, Kiba's lip curls in anger and Akamaru lets out a huff, prodding his stomach with his nose.

"That's just it," He says with the barest growl, his eyes flashing golden. "They went the complete opposite direction with it. Assumed it was just a corpse that had been dug up out of a cemetery and dressed up as a prank."

Sakura lets out a derisive snort, setting the photos aside finally and reaching for the box again. Sai continues to watch and listen quietly, edging closer to Sakura and keeping a safe distance from the man and dog.

"If I'd been called to the scene right away, I could have told them how fucking wrong they were and a proper investigation could have actually happened," Kiba adds, finally sighing and seeming to relax as he pats Akamaru’s head.

"Where was it found anyways?" She asks, waving a hand over the box to lull anything active into a temporary sleep before finally untying the twine.

"A manor estate just outside the city," Scratching at his cheek, just below the red tattoos, Kiba watches as well. "I'm gonna head over there in the morning to meet with the guy who found the body and see if I can sniff anything else out."

Sakura nods and opens the lid, simply inspecting the golden necklace inside visually for a moment before making it float into the air. She eyes the charm curiously and makes it shake, but no sound comes from the bell and her frown returns. It's small but looks weighty - she won't touch it with herself just yet, there's no telling what sort of curses may be lingering - and the upper cap and flared bottom are etched with tiny patterns, the clapper attached to the inside hanging freely. A visual charm rather than a ringing jingle bell, it seems.

The necklace lowers back into the box and she snaps it shut, looking up at Kiba.

"I'll find out what I can and give you a call in a couple days."

He smiles tiredly and nods, moving to stand. “Sorry for droppin’ by just to dump more work on you, Sak.”

She waves offhandedly and gives Akamaru’s ear a few affection skritches when the dog moves his head into her lap.

“You can make it up to me over drinks when I’m not busy,” Sakura answers, smirking at Kiba’s laugh and slipping off the arm of the couch. She walks them both to the front door, Sai following at her heels, and, as she opens the door, the porchlight comes to life. Sai is tempted to step outside and explore, curious to see the outside of her home, but he stays at her side and holds his questions.

“Invoice me when you’re done,” Kiba says, holding up a hand when she frowns and starts to reply. “Like you said, Sak - this is all ‘official’ now. I’m not just some PI comin’ to my pal for help anymore.”

Akamaru gives a woof of agreement and Kiba leans in to give her a one-armed hug, a wet nose pressing against the back of her hand.

“You’re gonna get paid.” He says matter of factly when he pulls away, grin widening when she rolls her eyes. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Fine, fine,” A small smile appears at Sakura’s lips and she waves them off. “Let me know what you find tomorrow.”

Kiba nods and waves back and the pair head out into the darkness, Sakura watching their backs for a few moments before she turns to head back inside, the door closing behind her. Tail flicking behind him, Sai looks from her to the door before finally following, watching Sakura collect the glass, bowl, and her mug.

“What was that all about, Sakura?” He asks after a moment, appearing on the kitchen counter as she heads towards the sink to deposit the dishes. She glances down at him and seems to think something over for a moment before shrugging and refilling her coffee.

“Kiba is one of the only magic and supernatural investigators in the city,” She answers, adding cream and sugar to her coffee, “When he finds cursed items causing trouble on the streets, he brings them to me to get them cleansed.”

Turning, she heads back into the living room and grabs her cellphone, the photos, and the wooden box, sipping her coffee before she continues. 

“Sometimes, like with this case, he partners with the local human police and outsources the examination of magical evidence to me.” 

Sai continues to follow after her, frowning to himself and hopping up onto the desk in her workshop as she enters. Sakura sets her mug on a coaster and closes her record book, swapping it for the manilla envelope before returning it to its spot on her bookshelf. Opening the box, she grabs her obsidian seeing stone and examines the necklace again before encasing it in a sphere of blue energy and making it lift out of the wooden case, the orb hovering just an inch over her open palm.

“So long as the police weren’t wholly incompetent, it should have already been checked over for fingerprints and physical evidence,” Sakura continues, unlocking her phone to open up a playlist of ambient nature sounds before moving to stand in the center of the workshop. “So, now I do my part and determine what sort of curse or spell had been cast - if any - and find out its purpose and origins.”

She glances to Sai, who sits crouched on the desk’s corner, and holds the floating necklace up a little higher. 

“It’s nearly impossible to erase a caster’s signature, but it takes some digging to find it.” A pause, a thoughtful frown on her face before she looks to him again. “Behave and don’t touch anything in the workshop while I’m out.”

Sai sits up in confusion and opens his mouth to question her but, before he can, she places her second hand over the blue orb of magic, hovering just another inch above it, and closes her eyes.

Sakura is completely still for a moment before her eyes snap open - only they’re completely white and unseeing, just barely glowing in the soft light of the room. There’s a low hum of magic in the air of the workshop and, as Sai watches, her long hair begins to lift into the air with an unseen and unfelt breeze.

It floats languidly around her, as if she were suspended in water. The only other movement from Sakura is the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathes and Sai hops down from the desk, taking his human form as he circles her curiously.

He waves a hand in front of her eyes, careful not to touch her, and frowns when there’s no reaction. Tempted as he is to catch a lock of her pink hair around a finger, Sai pulls away and steps back.

Unsure how long she would be ‘out’, he takes a seat on the stool and waits, watching Sakura intently.

: :

The minutes tick by into hours and there's no change from Sakura. Sai watches dutifully all the while, his concern growing as he stays sat on the stool, his elbows resting on his thighs and his fingers laced together under his chin. He considers moving to the kitchen to prepare a meal for when she 'returns', but the thought of leaving Sakura's side and something happening while he's gone makes him anxious, so he stays put.

There's a sudden fuller hum of magic in the shop that pushes past the white noise it had eventually melted into and Sai startles when Sakura suddenly gasps and moves.

She blinks, those familiar green eyes returning, and her hair falls, a few locks draped over her shoulders and the rest reaching down to her waist against her spine. Her back straightens and she rolls her shoulders before her body relaxes and she reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. The necklace is still floating in her sphere of magic as she moves towards the desk and Sai slips off of the stool, catching her arm when she stumbles slightly.

Once he’s sure she's stable, he transforms back into a cat and watches her crack an eye open to deposit the necklace back in the box before slapping the lid shut. Eyes watering, Sakura reaches up towards one of the shelves above the desk and grabs a bottle of eye drops.

Even with her magic, five hours was an awfully long time to go without blinking.

Sai's still watching her with concern as she tilts her head back to apply the drops, his voice making her turn towards him slightly.

“Sakura? What happened?”

She gives an annoyed huff and, once she seems to have collected herself, grabs her cellphone to check the time before pausing the ambient playlist and slipping it into her back pocket. Looking irritated, she begins to start searching through the various cupboards and drawers and shelves of her workshop to gather ingredients.

“Whoever hexed that,” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the necklace, a bundle of dried herbs in her hand, “Did not want anyone to go snooping.”

“What did you find out?” Sai follows her around the room, his head tilting when she digs through a rack of smaller drawers only to step away empty-handed and frustrated.

“The chain is made of copper and was enchanted separately,” Sakura answers, searching through another set of drawers, these labeled with names he recognizes as various crystals. “It has nowhere near the same amount of safety measures and tampering wards placed over it, so I at least know what spell was used.”

She gives another irritated huff when she doesn’t seem to find what she’s looking for and deposits everything on her desk before turning, Sai following her out of the workshop and towards the kitchen. He's surprised when she opens a door next to the fridge that leads outside, having yet to see her use that exit.

“The spell simply influenced the wearer into never taking off the necklace. Typical stuff,” Sakura continues, following a path that leads from the kitchen door into the darkness of her backyard. Torn between wanting to explore the exterior of her home and wanting to find out what she’d discovered, Sai follows a few paces behind her and perks up when the path seems to lead into a garden. 

Even in the dark, he can tell its lush and well-tended, divided into different sections for herbs, edible plants and vegetables, and sweet-smelling florals. It takes up almost the entirety of the backyard, reaching out to touch the brick wall fence that surrounds her property, and four trellis archways - covered in different climbing plants - stand over the main stepping stone path. Two trellis' each are set up on either side of the large tree in the center of the garden, the path circling around its base and continuing onto the other side with the other pair of arches.

She veers off the path onto a smaller one, the earth raised up three levels like a set of stairs on either side of her, and crouches down between the rows of vegetation to collect a few fresh plants, still speaking aloud.

“It’s inactive now, but it wasn’t a particularly strong spell anyways,” Sakura picks a few sprigs of what he can identify as rosemary before moving on towards the vegetable patch and collecting a few thin, feathery tops of a rooted plant.

“And the bell?”

Sakura grimaces and stands, heading back towards the house. Her voice is short and her posture stiff when she answers.

“It’s made of brass and coated in a lead-based gold paint.”

“And..?” Sai asks, rather unsurely, as she closes the door behind him once they're both back inside.

Her lip curls in distaste and she takes her gathered herbs and plant tops back into the workshop, setting them down with the other ingredients she’d grabbed.

“That’s all I was able to discover,” She holds back her additional hiss of ‘After five damn hours’ and moves to a different cabinet, this one containing various spellcasting instruments and tools. “I’ll need to do some more serious scrying to break through the layers and layers of barriers the original caster set up.”

Sai hops up onto the desk and sniffs at the various herbs - some dried, some fresh, and a few roots - and resists the urge to paw at the crystals.

“Shit,” Sakura hisses in frustration, pulling his gaze back towards her. She’s knelt in front of the cabinet, the lowest drawer pulled open and a small stack of what look like mirrors - all various sizes and shapes - next to her. The topmost one is shattered and, considering the look on her face, he’s fairly certain the rest are as well.

“I thought I still had a few good ones left,” Grumbling to herself as she returns the broken mirrors to their drawer, Sakura stands and grabs a book off the wall of shelves before heading towards her desk. She nudges Sai aside and grabs a scrap of paper as she quickly opens the book to the spell she’s looking for, jotting down the list of ingredients and marking off the ones she has on hand.

Sai watches and realizes the book must be one of her own grimoires as he recognizes her handwriting. She finishes up her list before he can take a good look at the spell entry - he for sure saw the word Scrying in the title - and heads out of her workshop, gesturing for Sai to follow and closing the door once he's out.

“I need to go do a little shopping to get the rest of these ingredients.”

He frowns in confusion. "At 3 in the morning?"

"The market is always open," She says aloud, tucking the list into a purse hanging by the front door before heading upstairs to her bedroom to get changed.

“Should I accompany you in this form or my human one?” Sai calls after her, waiting at the base of the staircase. Sakura pauses, halfway up, and turns to send him a stern look over her shoulder.

“You’re not coming.”

“But, Sakura-”

“No.”

He sits and his tail gives an upset flick behind him. Sighing, Sakura faces forward and continues upstairs, missing the moment Sai suddenly had an idea and turns back towards the workshop door.

: :

Out of her loungewear and dressed in a fresh all-black outfit - high-waisted pants and a high-collared shirt with long sleeves; did she even have anything colorful in her closet anymore? - Sakura heads back downstairs to find no sign of Sai.

She grimaces and glances around the living room briefly before guessing he must be sulking. Truthfully, she felt kind of bad for saying he couldn’t come to the market with her, but she really wanted to make it a quick trip and didn't have time to look after a curious spirit.

Deciding to make it up to him and take him shopping after she's finished with this necklace, Sakura grabs her purse and one of the pieces of green chalk in the key bowl on the foyer table. She looks over the living room again for Sai before heading to the kitchen and out the door into the garden once more.

Probably not best to fly when she was still tired.

Following the stepping stones of the path, Sakura approaches the large red maple tree in the heart of her garden and tosses and catches the chalk in her hand. The leaves of the tree are already scarlet with the early fall and a few have fallen, scattered over her path as she walks forward. Stopping at the base of the old tree, she looks up at the wide trunk for a moment before leaning down to start at the bottom.

Drawing a line straight across in the green chalk, she makes a 90 degree turn when it's just wide enough for herself and continues upwards with a practiced ease before arching over and back down to where she'd started. With the outline of her door marked out, Sakura draws a handle and two sigils towards the curved top, one for Travel and one for Doorway. She wraps the chalk in a scrap of cloth before slipping it into her purse and then places her hand against the bark of the tree, palm flat over the sigils and her fingers stretched out.

Sending a burst of her magic through the chalk and tree alike, she watches as the green markings glow brightly for a moment before the door properly takes shape. She waits a moment until she pulls her hand away and tugs on her black gloves as the door finishes its manifestation, finally reaching for the now very-real silver handle and pulling it open.

Sakura steps through and onto the market street, the shops and stalls all open and bustling with activity despite the current time. The magical shopping district is lit up with different lights, some electric and some flame but all bright enough to drive away the dark of the night, and she pulls the door closed behind her.

The doorway melts and morphs back into the brick wall - one of several brick walls designated for traveling methods such as Sakura’s - and she walks forward, already knowing which shop to stop at first. She passes the pop-up stalls to get to the more permanent storefronts and turns onto a right branch of the main street to continue on for a little further, where the shops were bigger and more spaced out.

She finally finds the one she’s looking for and heads into the Yamanaka Nursery, the sight of the druid owner greeting her as she enters.

Ino, as blonde and beautiful as ever, glances up from behind the checkout counter and grins as she spots Sakura, quickly handing her satyr customer their change and purchase before waving her over. The satyr practically disappears behind the potted peace lily in their arms and Sakura holds the door open as they pass, waving back at Ino. Once she makes it to the counter, Sakura leans forward to let the blonde gently cup her face and kiss both of her cheeks, chuckling under her breath as her face tingles.

“Forehead!” Ino says as she pulls away, resting her elbows on the countertop and settling her chin on the back of her hand. “What brings you in at this hour? Out of my miracle fertilizer already?”

Shaking her head, Sakura leans against the counter as well and opens her purse. “No, I’m out of a few ingredients that I need to grab for a spell. Think you can help me out, Pig?”

“Of course! Whatcha need?” The druid looks to the door to greet a new guest and Sakura reaches into her purse for her shopping list, frowning when she doesn’t immediately feel it. She sits the bag on the counter to have a proper look inside, spotting the paper folded up on the bottom. But when she grabs it, she finds herself pausing at the sight of a familiar locket charm hiding underneath, her frown deepening.

“What the-”

“That’s strange, how did that get in there?”

Sakura’s head snaps up and to the left to see Sai standing just behind her in his human form, his eyes closed and his head tilted as he sends her an insufferable yet unnervingly empty smile. She turns to face him and crosses her arms, aware of Ino watching them behind her.

“I thought I told you to stay at the house.”

He folds his arms behind his back to stand in a very respectful position, one wrist clasped in the other hand and his black eyes on her.

“Wherever the locket goes, I must follow,” Sai says simply, acting as if it was completely out of his control despite the fact that he'd been the one to slip it into her purse. She’s about to start chastising him when Ino interrupts, the blonde’s expression amused and curious.

“Oh, who is your handsome friend?” She says with a grin, eyeing Sai in approval. “A new beau?”

“A stowaway,” Sakura corrects, shooting him one last annoyed look before turning back to Ino and holding out the list. “Nevermind him. Here’s what I’m looking for.”

Ino chuckles and takes the paper, pausing in the middle of unfolding it as, in one blink, Sakura’s black-haired companion suddenly disappears. She’s about to question her friend when a black cat hops up onto the counter, eyeing Sakura even as it brushes against Ino’s arm.

“I’m not a stowaway,” The cat says, not outwardly reacting despite how startled he is when the druid gasps in delight and scoops him up. He continues to stare at Sakura even as Ino holds and fawns over him, a satisfied purr thrumming in his chest. “I’m bound to the locket, after all.”

Sakura leans forward to rest an arm on the counter, reaching out to poke Sai’s pink nose. 

“I distinctly remember putting that charm away.” She replies, sighing when he simply blinks at her. 

“Oh, he’s just adorable, Forehead!” Ino says, giving the cat a quick smooch between his ears before setting him back down on the counter. “When did you get a familiar?”

Groaning, Sakura rubs her temples and straightens up.

“He’s not my familiar,” She insists before she glances to Ino in consideration, missing Sai’s frown. “Do you want him?”

Sai’s ears lay flat against his head and his tail flicks, but Ino lets out a laugh and waves the offer off, opening up Sakura’s list. 

“Tempting, but Dad’s allergic and too many things in this shop can kill a cat.” Ino tosses her ponytail over her shoulder and reads over the ingredients she’s looking for, humming under her breath.

“Good point,” Sakura mutters before looking down at Sai and pointing a finger at him.

“You. Human form until we get back. I don’t need you testing whether a soul can get poisoned or not.”

He sends her a curious look edged with surprise but gives a dutiful nod and hops off the counter, landing in a crouch as a human and standing upright.

“As you wish, Mistress.”

Sakura sends him a sharp look but turns her attention to Ino, listening to her continue to read aloud.

“-statice, pansy, daffodil, bittersweet, hollyhock, pink topaz, and lapis lazuli.” Ino quirks an eyebrow and looks up at Sakura, her expression curious. “What color chrysanthemums?”

“White.”

Nodding, Ino steps out from behind the counter, grabs one of the wicker baskets hanging on a wall of hooks and guides Sakura out of the shop front and into the greenhouse. Neither of them notice Sai’s small frown - had she mentioned crystals? Wasn’t this a plant shop? - but he doesn’t voice his confusion.

“Scrying spell?” The druid asks as she glances back at her, amused by how Sai was following just a few paces behind the pink-haired woman.

“How’d you know?” There’s a small smirk on Sakura’s lip as she asks back, wondering which of the four additional sections of the greenhouse they’d head for first. The frontmost area was for the year-round and non-flowering plants while the four rooms towards the back, two on either side of the center path that runs the length of the greenhouse, have their own mini-climates for each of the seasons, so that the shop could provide a wide variety of flowers all year long.

“All of these either mean truth, honesty, or memory,” Ino answers as she holds the door open for the Spring room, eyeing Sakura. “Not so sure about the crystals, but I’m sure they’re the same too.”

“The hollyhocks are for ambition,” Sakura answers cheekily, earning herself a kick to the back of the calf as the blonde laughs. 

Golden lights come to life as they enter, glowing and floating around the previously-dark room and bright enough to mimic daytime, and they’re met with the sight of the incredibly organized greenhouse. Though it looks like they’ve walked into a botanical garden, complete with a dirt path and a small pond, each plant species is organized into equally-sized sections with no one type overreaching or fighting for territory. They’re all readily accessible and just a sample of what the Yamanaka family is capable of growing. 

The plants are all still asleep but Ino seems to know exactly which to stop in front of, the blue forget-me-nots blooming awake when the druid turns towards them. Pulling a pair of gardening shears out of a pocket in her apron, Ino gathers several clippings before tying the stems together with a bit of twine and placing them in the shallow basket, which she then hands to Sakura. She moves onto the pansies next and the flowers open to reveal different shades of purple, blue, and yellow.

At Sakura’s direction, she collects just purple pansies and places them in the basket once they’re tied together as well. Ino makes quick work of gathering the daffodils and guides the pair out and into the Summer room, the spring flowers bathed in darkness as they step out. Once she’s collected the purple statice, white hollyhock, and gladiolus in both colors, they head into Fall to get the white chrysanthemums.

Sai stops short at the sight of a pair of tall blobs of flowing water, slowly making their way through the greenery with care and leaving an obvious trail of moisture behind. Their arms reach out and up to dip under the leaves of a few hanging plants, their movements languid and graceful, and an active current runs through their bodies and limbs despite their mostly solid shapes.

“Oh, don’t mind those!” Ino says when she notices his reaction. “They’re just giving the plants a little late-night care!”

“They’re water elementals,” Sakura adds, a little amused by how that doesn’t seem to comfort Sai.

With the chrysanthemum blooms added to the basket, Sakura is surprised when Ino leads them into Winter.

“I just want to get you some primrose pansies too,” The druid hums, answering her question before she can even ask it. “Then we’ll get the rest.”

Sakura sends her a fond smile and, with the white variety added to her basket, Ino guides them out of the greenhouse entirely and to a door marked for employees only. Inside is another garden, but Sakura knows that all of these plants are poisonous and toxic and she grabs the back of Sai’s shirt when he starts to follow Ino inside. A stern look from her is all he needs to stay put and they watch Ino pull on a pair of disposable gloves and gather Sakura’s bittersweet nightshade.

These blooms she wraps up in a bit of fabric before adding them to the basket and she’s sure to lock the door behind her when she steps out.

“I can’t get you the nettle, unfortunately,” Ino says as she moves through the store towards an open doorway at the back. It’s dim even though the shop proper is lit up and bright and seems to lead to a set of stairs going downwards, a faint, colorful glow coming from the darkness. 

“We stopped carrying it. Despite the big ass sign, too many employees were getting handsy with it and would come complaining when they got stung.” Her voice echoed slightly as they headed downstairs, the air becoming cooler and those floating lights coming to life to help guide her. “Because, apparently, if it's not belladonna or foxglove, it can’t be that dangerous.”

Sakura gives a small chuckle and they enter the lower chamber, switching her hold on the basket. “No problem, it's for the cleansing part, so I don't technically need it for what I'm casting tonight.”

"More work right after shopping?" Ino asks, glancing back at her. "Don't you ever take a break?"

The source of the colorful glow becomes apparent as they’re met with the sight of a cavern-like room filled with sparkling crystals and gemstones. There’s dozens of different types, some varieties with multiple colors even, and all organized fairly similarly to the flowers and plants upstairs. At first glance, it looks like a collector's bounty styled like a garden but, upon closer inspection, Sakura can tell that it is a garden.

The clusters of gems sprout from green crystal stems, growing like actual flowers. They climb the walls in their little groups and cover the ceiling in places as well. Some grow from single stems, others in bunches among their own crystalline leaves, sharp-edged and glittering. The ones lining the walls sprout from vines and moss-like patches and the odd faux mushroom geode clings to the rock here and there, leaving only scattered spots of bare stone. The patches of sparkling gems and crystals glow brightly in their own colors while the more opaque and rough stones are only backlit by their stems and foliage. 

Everything in the room is made of crystal or stone, including the short earth elementals that are tending to the gem garden. The stout creatures are made of rock and clumps of hardened dirt, tiny gemstone eyes glowing like their crystal crop set into their earthen faces. Their touch is gentle, despite their blocky stone hands, as they care for the clusters and shards and their steps are relatively quick as they trudge dutifully around the room, the occasional lone stone rolling across the winding path. 

One of the five hobbles towards Ino and her guests when it spots her, giving a short bow before looking up. Ino glances at Sakura’s list once more before addressing the elemental, two more of the creatures pausing to listen.

“My friend needs three each of pink topaz and lapis lazuli,” The druid commands, smiling as the earth elemental nods and shuffles away into the garden. One of the other workers nods as well and turns to gather a few crystal blooms from a blue patch of opaque stones, plucking them from their stems and soon bringing the lapis to Ino.

It opens its mouth and tilts its head questioningly and Ino understands a moment later, turning to look at Sakura.

“Did you want anything tumbled or cut?” She asks, smiling proudly. “They’re the best little craftsmen I’ve ever seen.”

The elemental’s eyes glow brighter at the druid’s compliment, almost as if it were blushing.

“No, raw is perfect. Thank you though.” Chuckling under her breath, Sakura crouches down to let the stone creature place the lapis in her basket, the other elemental soon approaching with the topaz. She thanks the elementals and turns as Ino leads them back upstairs, thoroughly satisfied with her haul.

“Don’t be afraid to stop by for something other than ingredient shopping,” The druid says as she rings up her flowers and gemstones, stealing a glance at Sai as he stands just a few steps away.

“Would you like me to invite you along next time we go out for drinks?” Sakura asks with a smirk, opening up her wallet. She gives no indication of who she means by ‘we’, but Ino obviously seems to know as she grimaces and waves off the offer.

“Dog-breath can’t hold his alcohol and he’s disgustingly sentimental when he’s drunk.”

Sai is fairly certain they’re talking about that Kiba man and he frowns slightly, wondering just how close Sakura was to these two.

The two chat and laugh for a few minutes more as Ino packages everything up until, finally, Sakura is ready to go. She snatches up her purchase when she notices Sai reaching to carry them himself and she shoots him a frown, obviously still unhappy about him tagging along. Refusing to let him take the bags, she sends Ino a wave in farewell and heads for the door, sighing when he moves to open and hold the door for her.

Sakura can still hear the druid’s laughter as they walk out onto the street and she immediately turns back the way she’d come, recalling a shop in the main district that would likely have mirrors for her scrying. That should be the last thing she needs for the spell and, though she’d had every intention of getting everything over with tonight, a yawn catches her by surprise and she grumbles under her breath. Maybe Ino had a point.

She can tell the moment Sai transforms behind her by the sound of his footsteps on the cobblestone abruptly stopping, but she pays him no mind, only slightly concerned with him getting trampled. If he did, it was his own damn fault.

She’s surprised, however, as she feels something hop up onto her shoulder, a soft tail wrapping around the back of her neck and tickling her jaw, and the cat barely has a moment to get comfortable before he’s encased in a familiar sphere of magic.

He hovers above her shoulder by a few inches before Sakura deposits him on the ground and narrows her eyes, her voice particularly icy.

“Do that again and you’ll be sleeping outside until further notice.”

“A soul doesn’t particularly need to sleep,” Sai counters and her eyes narrow further, annoyed by the slight amusement in his tone.

“I can banish you from the house entirely, if you’d prefer that?”

Sakura smirks when his relaxed posture stiffens and his ears lay flat, obviously not fond of the idea. She continues on down the street and the cat follows close behind her, his small paws tap-tapping almost silently against the stone.

She finds the store she was looking for easily enough and is pleased with their selection of mirrors, picking out five once she’s verified that they’re fresh and unused. These Sakura does, begrudgingly, allow Sai to carry when he shifts into his human form and takes the wrapped packages from the shopkeep, but only because she knows she’ll need a hand free to draw her doorway.

The pair head back onto the street and through the pop-up market, only for Sakura to pause as she spots a stall selling different types of jewelry chains. She regards the stand thoughtfully for a moment before heading towards it, Sai following curiously behind her.

The lengths of chain are sold either by inches, the full pieces wrapped around a spool for the seller to pull and collect from, or in preset sizes, clasps and locks already attached. It’s a pretty wide array of metals - silver, gold, copper, brass, iron, and so on - and, while some are already enchanted (a few select pieces of the pre-sized necklaces and bracelets), most are normal, simple chains ready for crafting.

Sakura speaks to the stall owner for a few moments and walks away with 40 inches of a thin, perfectly normal, gold chain, packaged up and slipped into her purse. She ignores Sai’s questioning look in favor of continuing her walk down the market street to the familiar brick wall, soon shifting her hold on the flowers to retrieve the cloth holding the piece of chalk.

Feeling Sai’s eyes on her as he watches curiously, Sakura draws her door once more and puts the chalk away again once she’d drawn her sigils. With her hand against the brick and a pulse of magic sent through the traveling chalk, she grabs the handle once it's formed and pushes the door open. On the other side is her garden and Sai peers through the doorway, having missed this part earlier when he’d stowed away in the locket.

Gesturing for him to go through first, Sakura waits until he’s standing on the fallen red maple leaves before joining him and shutting the door behind her, the handle turning to bark and the edges melting back into the tree. Sai rests a hand against the trunk for a moment, feeling for where the door had been, before he realizes that Sakura is already heading towards the kitchen door.

“Take the mirrors to the workshop and set them on the table with the lamp,” Sakura orders as they enter the house. She heads to a cabinet to grab a vase for the flowers and Sai nods, pausing when she speaks again.

“Leave your locket with me.”

He has to admit, he’s a little nervous about her intentions and hesitates before he gives another quick nod and leaves the kitchen. Leaving the wrappings on, he puts the mirrors into tidy stacks, the two larger ones together and the other three just next to them, before stepping back into the living room. Sakura approaches with all of her flowers set up in a vase, a few inches of fresh water at the bottom, and the paper bag containing the gemstones and wrapped bittersweet tucked under her arm.

She brushes past him and into the workshop and, as Sai turns to follow her, the door abruptly shuts in his face.

Sai stares at it for a moment, wondering if she was really that upset with him for tagging along, before hesitantly giving it a polite knock.

“Sakura? May I join you?”

“No.”

He frowns and considers questioning her further, but decides it would probably be best to just not bother her right now. Sighing, Sai turns away and shifts forms before hopping onto the couch and curling up, the tip of his tail flicking every so often as he rests his chin on his crossed paws and watches the door.

It finally opens and Sakura emerges about an hour later, her long hair pulled up in a bun and her black gloves tucked into her pants’ pocket. Sai quickly sits up and, from his spot, he can see that the mirrors have been moved to her desk but are all still wrapped.

He sends her a confused look and Sakura stretches as she approaches the couch, rubbing the back of her neck as she yawns.

“Alright,” She says when she looks at him. “Human form for a minute.”

Sai hesitates a moment before he shifts forms again, startling slightly when Sakura suddenly tosses something to him. He catches it easily and opens his hand to find his locket, a new gold jump ring connecting it to the chain she’d bought earlier. 

It's only about 18 inches of the chain and has a clasp on one end and another jump ring on the other. He can feel a bit of her magic still thrumming through the metal and a quick glance through the still-open door to see jewelers tools and pliers on her worktable confirms his suspicions.

“This way you don’t have to smuggle the locket into my bags to follow me,” Sakura says as she crosses her arms and leans against the sofa. Sai thinks for a moment that she means to wear his locket herself and he hopes that she’s finally taken his offer to be her familiar, but then she continues.

“Try it on and make sure it fits right.” She nods down at the necklace, dashing his hopes. “If it’s too tight I can add more links, but it needs to be short enough to not slip over your head.”

His disappointment doesn’t make it to his face and Sai simply sends her an empty smile and nods. But he struggles with the small clasp for a few moments and Sakura sighs, taking the necklace and tapping his back to make him scoot forward as she moves behind him.

“It’s nothing too special,” She explains as she places the chain around his neck and holds open the clasp with her thumb nail. “Just a charm to keep the locket from falling off, something to match your transformations, and an anti-tampering ward.”

Sakura steps back once it's connected properly, the metal feeling comfortably warm against his pale skin rather than cold like he’d been expecting.

“Only you or myself can remove it,” Her green gaze looks over the chain as she stops in front of him again before her expression softens just slightly. “How's it feel, Sai?”

He’s certain she can’t hear his purr even as it thrums softly in his chest at the sound of her saying his name and he feels at the necklace for a moment, centering the locket before he looks up at her with a slightly more genuine smile.

“It fits perfectly. Thank you, Sakura.”

She waves his thanks off and nods, gesturing with her chin. “Go on, cat form again. Gotta make sure the spell works right.”

Sai hums before he shifts, expecting to feel the chain links catch on the fur of his neck, but is surprised when it doesn’t. The necklace shrinks to match his smaller size and, while it still holds the same weight, it doesn’t move like a chain. Had he been able to see his reflection, he would have seen that the necklace had taken the form of a normal cat collar, the locket charm the only unchanged part.

“A cat wearing a chain would look odd,” Sakura explains before yawning again. She checks the time on her phone while Sai bats a curious paw at the charm before she sighs and starts to head upstairs.

“I’m going to take a nap before I do my scrying,” She mutters, knowing the flowers would stay open and fresh for several days thanks to Ino’s touch. “Try not to wake me.”

Sai hops up onto the top of the back of the couch and watches her as he sits, wanting to follow her but deciding to give Sakura some space as thanks. Perhaps he’d take this time to finally do some exploring.

“Rest well,” He calls, a pleased purr settling in his chest when she returns the sentiment and leaves his line of sight. Sai listens to her footsteps as she wanders around on the second floor for a few minutes before she finally crawls into bed and the house falls silent.

[narcissasdaffodil]

Flufftober 2020

Day 12: the Perfect Gift

It wasn’t the gift itself that was the most difficult part for Marisol, but keeping it hidden from Alecto was a considerable task. She had a lot of hiding places around the flat, while Marisol didn’t have anywhere to hide stuff that Alecto didn’t know about. It was their 2 year anniversary in a couple of days, and she had managed to get Alecto’s younger sister Livia to take her out for the day. She turned over the neatly wrapped package in her hands, sitting perched on the bed with her legs swinging slightly and was looking at the chaos she had made of the bedroom. That would definitely have to be cleaned up before Alecto got back.

She had always been a tidy person, so being in the room full of mess was starting to panic her slightly. She placed the box down on her bedside table, getting to her feet and going into the kitchen for a cup of tea while she tried to think over her dilemma. She usually drank coffee over tea, but she hoped the change in drink would inspire her to find a place that Alecto wouldn’t sniff out easily. Once her drink was ready, she grabbed a snack and a plate and took a seat at the kitchen island. Her bare foot bumped against a box as she sat down on the stool, and she wobbled slightly, grabbing the stable surface in front of her to steady herself. Ow, what was that? Wait a minute. A box? Alecto never leaves boxes hanging about.

She hopped off the stool again, bending down and grabbing the box, minding her head as she stood up. She put it on the island and climbed back on the stool again, studying it carefully. It appeared to be a large shoebox, but felt pretty solid when her bare foot bumped into it earlier. She rubbed her foot, she had knocked against the corner of it. She opened it, interested to see what was in it. To her surprise, it was empty and she stood up again, taking it back to the bedroom with her and fitting the neat package into it nicely. She studied the box. That can’t have been there all along, right? It doesn’t even fit underneath the kitchen island well.

The box had a strange draw to it, it was pale green with a strange pattern that she struggled to make out. She put it down on her bedside table again, going back into the kitchen. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she retrieved it, checking her messages.

“Did you find the box? There’s no way you can miss it, it’s lime green with a spiral pattern. I had a feeling that Alecto has a lot of secret hiding places around the flat, leaving nowhere for you to put stuff. I still keep finding her hiding places now, and she’s been out of the family house for years!” Aww, Livia definitely thinks of everything. That was nice of her.

“Thank you for the box, that was so kind of you.” She sent the text, putting her phone back in her pocket. The gesture from Alecto’s younger sister touched her more than she expected, her family definitely weren’t as close as Alecto’s were. Both Livia and Lexi were around pretty regularly, and she could tell how much Alecto cared about them. She had an older brother and younger sister herself, but she was distant from both of them. Being the middle child in a high achieving family and having to live up to the expectations already set by Jaime was difficult for her to follow, and Isabel being the youngest was fawned over and adored. She had always felt out of place in her family, the forgotten middle child. She had taught herself to enjoy being alone, but it was always slightly difficult to see happy families. Her parents were still together, but very much distant. Her dad was closer to Jaime and her mother was closer to Isabel, she was the favourite child of neither. Which she was comfortable with, she preferred seeing Alecto’s family more than her own but knew she’d eventually have to see them again. She had met them on an individual basis with Alecto, but seeing them altogether was something she was hoping to avoid.

She leant a hand against her cheek, surprised to find a tear there. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, going back to finishing her snack. Her drink had gone cold while she had been stuck in her head. Olivia’s kind gesture was a pleasant surprise for her, she almost never found herself getting emotional. Despite herself, she did want to have a better relationship with her siblings, but knew that would be difficult to accomplish given how far they had drifted apart. She checked her watch, and gasped. Alecto was due home in 20 minutes, she still needed to hide the box and the bedroom was a mess.

She hopped off the stool again, moving quickly back to the bedroom, nearly tripping over a random stack of books on the floor Alecto had left there for 2 weeks already. She still hasn’t cleared those away, yet? She’s probably tripped over them multiple times herself, she’s a slight walking disaster.

She opened the wardrobe, storing the box in the top and putting a pile of jumpers in front of it. She scanned the room, putting stuff in organised piles to be put away and making sure to avoid stacking stuff on the floor if she could help it. She heard the sound of keys in the door, and her eyes widened. The room was nowhere near clean. The fact she’d let it get into this state surprised her.

“What happened in here, then?” Alecto was standing in the doorway, her eyes shining. Her cheeks had a healthy glow, and she had a small smile on her face, despite viewing the mess behind her.

Marisol was slightly speechless, and just looked at her, her mouth opening and closing slightly as she tried to think. Occasionally her girlfriend’s beauty and general presence would stun her, and this was one of those times. She was having to concentrate pretty hard to try and put a sentence together, but she kept losing grip of the words and they slipped away from her. She gave up, moving in Alecto’s direction and wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug, which Alecto easily returned. She breathed in the scent of Alecto’s perfume, the sweet strawberry scent being familiar to her now. It felt like coming home. It was interesting how they both had gone for distinct fruity perfumes, but it showed in a way how alike they were.

“Mari...as nice as this is, I can’t exactly breathe currently. It’s a little too tight.” Alecto gasped out. Marisol let go, stepping back slightly to give her some space.

“Thank you. I missed you too, it feels nice to come home. You look rather frazzled, want a hand with cleaning this up?” Alecto gave her a gentle smile, her voice still slightly breathy from the fierce hug.

Marisol nodded in return. She had spent the entire day with only Sadie for company. She occasionally did talk to the cat, but she hadn’t seen Sadie all day. She turned around, moving back into the room again and starting to tidy the mess. Alecto joined her, settling into a comfortable silence. As the mess started to get less and less, Marisol felt herself calming down gradually, finally able to speak.

“I’ve been trying to find a hiding place for something, but everywhere was taken! How do you have so many hidden spots anyway? I wanted to make sure you didn’t find it, you can sniff out a hiding place very easily. I wanted it to be a surprise, as it’s special.” She explained, her words running together slightly in her urge to get them out at once. She had forgotten the art of speech, and speaking felt unfamiliar to her. She felt Sadie wind herself around her legs, feeling herself calm down slightly. She was aware she clearly appeared panicked, her hair was more wild than she was used to and her eyes were wide.

“I promise I won’t go looking for it. Don’t worry. I’ll let you have a surprise. The reason I have so many hidden spots is that the person who finds them is the one to claim them, so you haven’t been lucky enough to claim or spot any I guess. It’s probably a little unfair, you deserve some places of your own to hide things.” Alecto moved in her direction, gently moving the hair from her face and turning Marisol to face her, wiping her eyes where the residue of tears remained. She relaxed into Alecto’s touch, she was the only person who she let touch her in general. She knew that Alecto herself was just as particular and it meant a lot to know how much she cared about her.

“Thank you. Have you had food? Or did you eat while you were out?” She asked, feeling herself calm slightly. Alecto’s presence was calming for her, something about her overall energy caused her racing heart to slow.

“Even better! I bought fish and chips, wanted to surprise you. Thought you deserved a treat, especially since Livia just sprung meeting up with me so quickly and I know you got the week off especially to spend time with me. So I do owe you a bit.” Alecto linked hands with her, leading her into the kitchen. She noticed the food set out on the kitchen counter, and Alecto led her in the direction of the table. Alecto let go of her hand to shoo Sadie away, otherwise she would eat the fish. She had done that before when food was left out. She took a seat, and Alecto returned fairly quickly with the food. The surprise was nice, but she had completely forgot about food all day. Her entire day was consumed by trying to find the perfect hiding place, meaning she was behind on everything. Her eyes widened at the thought of it.

“Hey. Whatever it is can wait until afterwards. You’ve got the rest of the week to tackle everything else, you don’t need to rush yourself into doing it all tonight. Just sit back and relax.” Alecto gently linked her fingers in hers, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go. She read your mind! Being around someone with similar strengths to you can be beneficial in that way.

“I love you, you mean the world to me.” She said, giving Alecto a smile, her first of the day. She saw the smile reflected in Alecto’s face, watching her brown eyes go brighter with the warmth of the smile. When Alecto was truly happy, her eyes were so bright they gained the stars inside them and she could see separate galaxies.

[doof-doofblog]

"So Are You!"

Tuesday 5th January 2021

Hello again everyone! Well, we're back in lockdown, I hope you're all keeping safe and looking after yourselves. This has got to come to end at some point right? Considering that the UK has been put into another lockdown, for those of you who are wondering, EastEnders have confirmed that they will still be carry on filming with plenty more social distancing policies in place. I'm very pleased to hear this news, I felt it was hard when EastEnders had to go off air, I was so thrilled when it returned to our screens. Also it doesn't even phase me that the episodes only last 20 minutes, I know it might be annoying some of you guys, but it doesn't matter how long an episode lasts, we're still getting our daily Easties fix!

Now about last night's episode, there's quite a bit to cover, there were quite a few moments I got completely confused, but by the end it all made sense! I'll explain more of that a little later, but first lets focus on Kush and the Slater family. Poor Stacey is completely beside herself, fearing the worst that Kush has kidnapped her son and taken him to Dubai! Kush is still in hope that Whitney will help with the funds he needs to get away, only when she turns up empty handed and refusing to help with his plan, he can see his chances to get away have slumped! Whitney tells him some pretty hard hitting truths, regardless whether he thinks he's doing the right thing for Arthur, Whitney tells him that his actions could force Arthur to hate him, taking him away from his Mum and family, this fact seems to really play on Kush's mind. Back on the Square Stacey and Martin are contemplating calling the police, stating the fact that Kush hasn't left them any choice, only just before they're able to dial, a taxi pulls up and little Arthur is seen getting out. Stacey is overcome with relief as she rushes to her little boy and scoops him up in her arms. Kat really isn't best impressed as she approaches her boyfriend and gives him a huge slap around the face! Regardless of emotions being so high, Ruby is there with a really smug looking face watching everything unfold in front of her! Once inside, Kat lays into Kush about his actions, it's quite hard really because I feel for them both, even though Kush did have it coming! I feel, if Kush hadn't started his gambling addiction, he wouldn't be in this awful mess. Kat mentions how she felt safe with him after being lied to so many times by Alfie. It's clear to see she is in deep distress after being lied to again and again, after being betrayed by someone she truly loved and trusted. Even though Kush is apologetic and trying to persuade her that he'll change, she can't seem to find a way back from this announces their relationship is over. What do you think? Will they be able to work it out? Do you like Kat and Kush together?! Later on, when Ruby is at home, Kush knocks on her door and bursts his way in, blaming her for putting the idea in his head an even more so of giving him the money to flee, in an attempt to blackmail her, he announces that he'll be moving in with her and Martin, seeing as he has no where to go, and if Ruby declines, he'll inform Martin about her giving him the money to take Arthur away, from the look of Ruby's face - she simply has no choice but to let him stay!

--

The second thing I want to focus on, is Sharon! It looks as if she is still wanting to carry on with her plan and poison Ian. After Phil eventually agreed on helping her take down Ian, she visits him hoping to receive more pills to poison him with, but when he gives her such a small amount, she's not impressed. She informs him that it's not enough and that she needs more, but Phil warns her they need to take it slowly, make it look real, and not give him too many in one go. She seems disappointed but leaves with with pills nonetheless. Back at the Vic, she's prepping the pills and adding them to Ian's coffee, only Linda seems to interrupt her and takes her by surprise. Linda appears with little Ollie as she comes to visit her friend and comes to seek some advice after getting things back on track with Mick, as they begin their catch up, Linda encourages Ollie to go and play with Albie. Later on and Sharon seems to forget what she was previously doing, and enjoys her chat with Linda, little Ollie comes walks in - I'm assuming he's wanting a drink - as he walks straight up to counter and goes to grab the mug left on the side, the mug which contains Ian's poisoned coffee! Luckily, Sharon notices the little boy's actions before any harm can be done, but because she shouted at him so loudly, she scares the poor boy. Linda seems surprised by actions but she thinks quick and explains that she didn't want Ollie having so much caffeine. Linda seems to shake her friends behaviour off, but it looks as if Sharon can't afford to lose her focus, otherwise an innocent party could be badly hurt.

--

Lastly, the main focus of this episode was Callum and Jack! Previously, Jack had agreed to help Callum out, regarding DI Thompson. Callum feared that if Thompson was going to reveal everything, he'd lose Ben and his place in the Mitchell family for good. The only person he could turn to and actually trust to help him, was Jack. In this episode, Callum informs Jack that a meeting has been arranged with DI Thompson at Ruby's club, at first it all looks like they have a plan in motion to maybe blackmail Thompson, bullying Callum into doing things he shouldn't be doing etc etc. Callum waits nervously, DI Thompson enters and Callum begins to mention that he has something solid on Phil that he'll be interested in - of course it's just an excuse to keep him there until Jack shows up, however Callum begins to panic and struggles under pressure as Jack fails to turn up. My first thought was - where the hell was Jack? Unfortunately, I don't think that question gets answered. Thompson is clearly getting fed up of Callum and his excuses and makes his exit, leaving Callum in a panic. As he attempts to follow, Jack finally turns up, much to Callum's relief. Jack informs Callum to leave as he'll take it from here - it's then that Jack confronts Thompson with what he's been up to the past couple of months and forcing a junior police officer to do things he shouldn't be doing. To save him getting in any trouble, he urges DI Thompson to take early retirement and leave Phil to him. At this moment, I slightly panicked - it had me questioning as to who's side Jack was actually on?! I was so confused - one minute he was helping Callum, the next, helping Thompson! - WHAT?!

But then Jack found Callum and informed him that everything had been sorted, there was no more reason for him to worry and he could tell the Mitchell's everything. Being the supportive colleague, Jack accompanies Callum to the Mitchell's as they reveal everything about DI Thompson's plan. At first both Ben and Phil are furious to hear that Callum was involved, but they both make them see that everything he did was to protect the Mitchell's, putting his career on the line for them! Ben seems to realise how much Callum has gone through to protect him and proposes going to the pub for a drink. However, as Ben and Callum leave, Phil can't seem to understand why Jack would get involved, he senses that something isn't right and he's after something - it's then that Jack reveals to Phil that Thompson has given him a memory stick containing everything that Phil has done in the past up till present day of his dodgy and petty crimes. Phil sees that Jack will want something from him in return if he wants all this to disappear, but what?!

Meanwhile at the pub, Callum is confessing everything to Ben. Informing him that he just wants to be honest with his boyfriend and most importantly, he'd do anything to protect him - even if it means putting his career on the line! Ben is completely overwhelmed by his boyfriend's actions. It's then that Jay walks in and Callum offers to buy the next round of drinks. As he steps up to the bar, Ben looks lovingly at his boyfriend, to which Jay notices, asking what the look was for, Ben innocently smiles and states clear as day "I'm going to marry that man, Jay!" ......... Oooooh I'm sure you Ballum fans will be going crazy after that line!!! Is this a slight hint that there could be a Ballum wedding on the cards? Here's an interesting question - who would you like to see pop the question? Ben to Callum? or Callum to Ben? - Personally I think if Ben was to pop the question to Callum, it would fit so perfectly!!

--

The final clip we see is Denise walking through the Square, however unbeknown to her, Lucas is following her from a distance! Can I just say how bloody creepy that was? Clearly Lucas is still has it in for his ex, but why?! Denise really needs to keep on her guard! As she reaches her house, suddenly Jack appears with a huge bouquet of flowers, and admits to Denise that he wants to give them both another try. Even though Denise is touched by his romantic gesture, she questions whether he's accepting of having Phil in her life, literally because of Raymond - it's then that things are made clear. Jack informs her that she doesn't have to worry about Phil as he has sorted it - which basically means that they've made some kind of deal, Jack won't dob him into the police as long as Phil stays away from Denise and Raymond ... That's got to be it, right? Even though Phil may have agreed to this arrangement, I do fear he may find it hard, knowing full well that his son is just on the other side of the Square. Then again, I suppose he could take comfort in knowing that his son is close to home. Who knows? As Jack and Denise close in for a kiss and rekindle their romance, Lucas watches with dark eyes from a distance!! He is so creepy, I am so glad that EastEnders have brought him back, it's going to be so interesting to see what brings Lucas back, Denise had best watch her back!

Overall a great episode, enjoyable and again so much drama! Thank you again for reading, I truly appreciate your time. Please feel free to leave me any messages or comments, I'll always find the time to reply! Thanks again folks! Love you all xXx

[monsterlovinghours]

So... I found an interesting tweet and was wondering if you'd write something sexy for it.... "In Vietnam it's a popular belief that if you are single in your 20s there is a ghost following you and hindering your romantic life because it wants to be with you and I just want to tell my personal ghost to quit being a coward and fuck me already." Also I claim the ✨ Emoji, if that's okay?

That’s fine with me, Starburst! holy fucking moly this took me forever to finish and this turned out way longer than i had originally planned but fuck this is such a neat idea and it just kinda snowballed but it’s finally done hurrah!!!!

fem!reader, just bear with me i am soft and full of feelings and i need to self insert

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she unlocked the front door to her empty apartment. Her empty, cold, lonely apartment. Another unsuccessful first date, ruined before any real potential could be reached. Everything seemed to go wrong; first her car wouldn't start, then her Uber was late, the table next to theirs at the restaurant was noisy and obnoxious, and the movie they had wanted to see had been sold out. Her date hadn't offered any suggestions to further the date, just sighed and took her home. He didn't even try to touch her, barely looked at her, and that stung more than she cared to admit, to feel invisible and undesirable. If he was the first, second, or even the fifth, it might not have hurt quite so badly. But the numerous dates she had gone on since entering her twenties had all gone the same way, ending too soon without a single spark of chemistry. Was there something wrong with her? Was she that repulsive?

Sighing, she swallowed her tears for the moment and walked dejectedly to her bedroom, dropping her purse and keys as she went. Down came her hair from the careful twist she had pinned it into, Mediterranean blue waves spilling down her back, her dress shed and her shoes kicked off. Makeup removed and dressed in panties and an oversized shirt, she slipped into bed, curling up with a pillow hugged to her chest. Finally, she let the tears come, sobbing out her hurt, her frustration, her loneliness. She had thought that perhaps this would be the one that went somewhere, that she'd finally break the cycle and maybe, just once, she'd have the chance to feel wanted, to feel seen. To love and be loved, like everyone else. But no; either she was entirely unloveable, or some force out there was deliberately fucking things up for her. In desperation, she angrily muttered through her tears, "Whatever cosmic entity has decided that I'm going to be lonely and hurting forever, could you either fuck off or come fuck me yourself?"

Thud

Something fell from her desk, something relatively heavy, and she sat up with a start and a gasp, her heart hammering. Her journal had fallen to the floor, lying open on a date that was still several months in the future, and the pen that she kept tucked in the pages…was standing upright on the page, scribbling something onto the paper. Her heart rose up into her mouth, fluttering sickeningly. That...was...not normal. Slowly, she slid out of bed, approaching the journal as if it were a live thing, dangerous and fanged and unpredictable. The pen finished whatever it was writing and fell over, and she knelt to read the message it left behind.

i thought you'd never ask babe

She sat back, her eyes darting around the space as if she could catch a glimpse of the mysterious specter that seemed to be listening, watching. Her voice soft, hesitant and tremulous, she asked, "Is someone there?"

Instantly, the pen flew upright again, scratching something out just below its previous message.

been here the whole time sorry about your date. 

"Oh my fucking god," she breathed, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Who...who are you? How long have you been here? Are you the one fucking with my love life?"

whoa one question at a time babes

To calm herself, she took a deep breath. "How long have you been following me?"

5 years 

"Jesus." She let out a breath, unsurprised to feel her hands shake as she ran them back through her hair. "Why?"

its complicated id rather tell you face 2 face

Her brow furrowed, getting to her feet to switch on her light. "Okay. So come out and talk to me. Why are you hiding?” The pen scratched across the paper insistently.

invisible not hiding

“So...make yourself visible?” She crouched by the journal, noticing that the pen was digging into the paper so hard it was nearly tearing it. 

Can’t until you say my name

“So what’s your name?”

Can’t tell you

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. The pen suddenly flew across the room, where a poster that had been hanging on her wall swung loose, then fluttered to the ground. Her poster of the constellations. The pen was circling something, a name...the name of a star. 

“Betelgeuse?”

Almost excitedly, the pen wrote next to the star, the words jagged and sloppy.

Two more times!!!

She paused, wondering if this was truly a good idea. “Beetlejuice.”

One more one more one more please baby gimme one more

One beat, then two, then she threw caution to the wind and spoke the word one final time. “Beetlejuice.”

Her light flickered, as if to announce the sudden appearance of a very real, very solid looking figure standing with their feet planted on her poster, wearing a suit of dirty black and white stripes and a grin that could light up a small town. “You said it! You finally said it! I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for five fucking years and you finally said my name!” Before she could speak or even breathe, he had all but lunged for her, wrapping her up in his arms, the smell of damp earth filling her lungs even as he tried to squeeze the breath out of them. Ineffectually, she squirmed in his over-enthusiastic embrace, trying to wriggle away, to take a minute to process what the fuck was happening and who the fuck was standing in her bedroom right now. 

“Wait wait, hold on, so...your name is Beetlej-”

“Shhhhh!” He clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t say it. I’m sorry babes, but I’ve waited too long for this to go tits-up now.” He lowered his hand slowly, that grin resurfacing. “Okay, so I know you’ve got a lot of questions and you must be pretty excited to meet your own personal ghost but before we get to the boring stuff I gotta do one thing first.” Without giving her a chance to ask, his hands slid to her waist, pulling her to him even as he dipped her back and kissed her, his lips like ice, though surprisingly soft. What surprised her most was not the kiss itself, but rather her lack of aversion to it; she tried to tell herself it was because she hadn’t been kissed in so long that she was desperate for any kind of affection, even the strange, otherworldly, and rather abrupt kind. Oddly enough, she even found herself kissing him back, her fists gripping the lapels of his coat as he set her upright again. That Cheshire grin still hitched the corners of his mouth high, and his gaze raked over her like a physical caress, cool, white hands still curved in her waist. 

"Alright. Fire away, babes, ask me anything."

"Um…" Her head spun, thoughts racing, heart still pounding a chaotic timpani in her ears. "Did...did you say 'my own personal ghost'?"

"I sure did. You're one of the lucky gals that gets a ghost attached to ya when you reach adulthood. And you've got the luck of the draw, sweet stuff, because you managed to snag the Ghost with the Most!" His thumbs hooked into his suspenders, though oddly enough, two hands still stayed clasping her waist.

"And you...you've been fucking with my dates...screwing around with my love life for five years?"

Her voice raised a bit in pitch, and he had the presence of mind to look sheepish. "Sorry about that, but none of those schmucks were good enough for you. I had to scare 'em off, you're mine."

"Excuse me??" She broke his grasp, stepping away from him as her brows knitted together in hurt and anger. "I've spent five years convinced there was something wrong with me, that I was repulsive or unattractive or unlovable, because no one ever made it past the first date, and you waited this long to tell me that it was you the whole time? Do you have any idea how worthless I felt after each failed date? How broken a-and defective I felt? How-”

“Hey hey, take it easy for a second, dollface!” He grasped at her wrists; until he grabbed them, she hadn’t realized how wildly she was gesturing. “Look, I tried. I’ve been trying since the moment I saw you to get you to talk to me. It ain’t exactly easy for the dead to communicate with the living. But you knew I was there, didn’t you? Hasn’t every house you’ve lived in felt just a little bit haunted?” She paused, thinking back to all the doors she had closed but hadn’t opened, the objects on the floor that had been sitting secure on a shelf when she’d left, the quiet moments when she couldn’t sleep when she swore she could feel eyes on her. Encouraged by her pause, he continued. “You breathers are stubborn, you just don’t wanna see what’s right under your noses. Until tonight, I barely had enough influence on the living world to push a piece of paper off the desk. But you...you called for me. You finally gave in and called for me.” He grinned again, and though the fangs should have made him seem frightening and demonic, he just seemed...relieved. “I was finally able to tell you my name, and let me tell ya, there hasn’t been a single sound in my very, very long existence sweeter than you calling my name.”

She took a deep breath in, processing everything he had told her, everything that had happened in...god, had it only been three minutes? “What did you mean when you said that...I was yours? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, pulling her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. “Means you’re mine, babe. It means that you’re my girl.” Something dulled the gleam in his eyes, and to her surprise, the green in his hair began to fade to a deep, shamed violet. “I was there for every night you fell asleep cryin’ over some guy who would have only hurt you in the end. It gutted me that I couldn’t do anything to help. You’re my baby, and I don’t like to see you hurt, and I really don’t like being the one to hurt you. But it had to be done. You didn't belong with any of them." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as his hair faded back to green, as if he were forcing the color to appear. "We're wasting too much time talking when I should be kissing you."

"W-We just met!" The outrage on her voice felt like a show, a dutiful proper response to finding a green-haired, handsy ghost in her bedroom. But she hadn't once tried to wriggle out of his arms, unconsciously leaning closer when his hand slid up her spine.

Beetlejuice shook his head, stepping into her, strands of pink peeking through the green of his hair as he felt her body against his, solid and oh, so warm. "We've known each other for years, honey. You may not have had a face or a name, but deep down you've always known I was there. If I was just some stranger, you'd have run for the hills by now." She wanted to argue, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. His presence felt familiar, like a memory from her past she had all but forgotten about, but the emotions attached still lingered. It was why she hadn’t struggled when he reached for her, hadn’t tried to shake off his grasp, had kissed him back. His grin widened when she didn’t argue or protest, and he pulled her close, her body flush to his; he all but purred at the way her lashes fluttered, her hands naturally settling on his shoulders, as if they had done this a hundred times.

“Let me kiss you,” he rasped, holding her chin in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, babe, please...let me give you a real kiss.” There wasn’t much more than a fraction of a second of hesitation before she nodded, gaze flicking to his mouth just before the distance closed and her brought her lips to his. With that first urgent kiss out of the way, this one was softer, more patient, sweet, and when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, she parted them without question. Oh, it was wonderful, more so than she had ever dreamed, to be kissed like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, to have hands pressed so close to her skin, as if she would slip from his fingers and shatter if he let go. She wasn’t quite sure how they had ended up on her bed, but the softness of the duvet embraced her as he laid her back, kneeling over her. She moaned as the tip of his tongue flicked against hers, the sound echoed as he tasted the first flickers of her pleasure, soft and tremulous, like the first stretch of the wings of a newly emerged butterfly. 

“I wanna touch you,” he growled, his kisses trailing down her neck. “Fuck, you taste so good already, baby.” One of his hands rested at her collarbone, waiting for the invitation to slip lower. “Please, honey, let me pull your shirt up? Wanna feel just how warm you are under there…”

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, leaning up on one elbow. He seemed confused, perhaps just a touch annoyed, but he stopped. “All those years you spent following me around...did you ever…” She gestured to herself. He smirked.

“Of course not. Not that I didn’t want to, sweetness, but when I saw you for the first time, I wanted you to be able to see me back, y’know?”

“And when I...had...alone time?” She arched a brow, and his grin widened. 

“Didn’t see a thing. Scout’s honor. Though, I definitely heard quite a lot. You know, you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.” Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned her head to the side in an attempt to mute the color rising in her cheeks. “Nope, huh-uh. Keep those eyes on me, babe.” His fingers gripped her chin again, bringing her gaze back to his. “I want you to keep looking at me, no matter what.” She nodded, and he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good girl. Now, lemme get a look at you.” Perhaps not quite as slowly as he should have, he grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it, groaning as her breasts came into view, soft and tipped with dusky pink. “Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpered, and she moaned as his hips pressed into hers, seeking warmth and friction. “Such a gorgeous little thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen you come in from the cold, saw these little beauties all stiff and hard through your shirt, and wanted to tease them with my tongue until I had you moaning and squirming.”

She shivered, letting loose a soft sound of want as he settled his weight more firmly over her, purring like a cat as he leaned down to kiss her nipples, first one, then the other. A moan left her as she felt his tongue softly lick at one stiff peak, her hand tangling in his hair, which to her surprise pulled an answering moan from him. Seems she had found a weak spot.

Oh, she had never dreamed that this would feel so nice, his mouth at her breasts, sucking, kissing, licking, teasing. His hands, still cool but warmer than before, squeezed the full flesh, kneading restlessly, and she arched her back, pulling her shirt off all the way and moaning. His scruff tickled her skin, made her shiver and break out in goosebumps, and she let her fingers drift through his hair, causing him to spill little growls and purrs against her skin.

"Ohhhh, baby," he groaned, lifting his head, his hair a deep rose pink, his pupils wide, drinking in the sight of her. "Baby girl, I've dreamt of this moment for five years, I wanted to make it so good for you. But I don't think I can wait." His hand slipped down her body, palm flat to her skin to touch as much of her as he could at once, then slid between her legs, inside her panties to cup her sex, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit. She keened, her toes curling, and he groaned in response. "Please, babe," he murmured, pushing the tip of his middle finger into her. "Please?"

"Yes," she said, with no hesitation, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, god, please."

There it was again, that mega-watt grin, his mouth split wide with joy. "Thank you, doll, fuck...oh, I've been wanting this for far too long." He sat up, and in the time it took for him to be upright again, his clothing-suit, tie, and all-had vanished, leaving him naked and visibly throbbing. His hands shook as he pulled down her panties, his cock twitching as he saw her bare for the first time. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, my god…” Nearly the same temperature as her now, he touched her, thumb rubbing her clit as he pressed two fingers inside. “Has any guy ever done this to you before," he asked lowly, his free hand sliding up her thigh as he watched his fingers slide in and out of her. 

"No." Her answer came immediately with a shake of her head, hips rolling against his hand. "No one."

"I knew it." He grinned, withdrawing his fingers and popping them in his mouth with a deep groan. "Knew you'd wanna save this for me." Licking his lips to savor her, he crawled over her, grasping himself to guide his cock to her entrance. The tip pressed inside, and he groaned, shivering as he saw her teeth come down on her lower lip. "Feel okay?"

"Feels great," she murmured, reaching up to hesitantly cup his cheek in her hand. "You can move, honey, you won't hurt me." Her heart gave a funny little stutter as he nuzzled into her palm, as if craving her touch. He began to rock his hips, so shallow and gentle, widening her for him, though she could see the strain it put on him to go slow, the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. Any last doubts she had about him melted away as she fully understood the care he was treating her with. To wait so long for somebody, to be with them every second and watch them laugh and cry and hurt without you, to ache with the need to touch them and be near them, and for the object of your affections to not be able to see you, let alone touch you...she could only imagine how frantic for her he must feel, but he was taking the time to consider her comfort, setting a slow pace despite the fact that it must be torture for him. “Beej?” She spoke the nickname softly, and his gaze focused on her with laser intensity, teeth exposed in a grin. “You don’t have to take it so slow, I won’t break.” Her thumbs stroked over his cheeks, slipping down to cup the sides of his neck and trace his jaw. “I want you to...to feel me. I made you wait so long, honey, but you can make up for lost time now. Don’t hold back.”

A thousand expressions crossed his face at once, his hand sliding around the back of her neck to lift her head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Baby,” he rasped, sounding on the brink of some tremulous emotion, “are you sure? I want this to be good for you-”

“This is as much for you as it is for me. If...if we’re really meant for each other, then isn’t it my job to take care of you, too?”

Beetlejuice let out a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his lips pressing desperately to hers. “How did I get so fucking lucky to land a babe like you?” And with a snap of his hips, he was fully hilted, his eyes rolling back to the whites as she jolted in his arms, her wet warmth squeezing him, gripping him so tight. A string of curses left his lips, some in a strange language she suspected wasn’t from anywhere aboveground, and she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, anchoring herself to him. “Fuck, that’s it, babycakes,” he crooned, his hips rolling, groaning with each delicious slide within her velvet. “Ohhh shit, you take me so well...yeah, fuck, you feel so damn good, sweet stuff. You doin’ okay?”

Oh God, was she ever. It was a little uncomfortable at first; while he was average in length, he more than made up for it in width, and there had been a strange burning as she stretched to accommodate him. But that sensation of fullness, of movement, of joining...was indescribable. It felt like breathing for the first time. Like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Like the ceasing of a lifelong pain she had grown too used to to notice until it was no longer there. “Yeah,” she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m great. P-Please, you can go faster.”

He looked stricken at the glisten of her eyes and the tremble in her voice. “You sure? We can stop if it hurts, babes, I don’t-”

“No.” Her hands shot up to thread through his hair, yanking on it to pull him down into a kiss, the first time she had kissed him. “God, no. It doesn’t hurt, honey, it feels...oh, you feel so fucking good…” To emphasize her point, she squeezed her walls around him, bucking her hips up, and he groaned, shuddering against her. “More, please, I need more of you.”

His mouth left hers, but his lips wouldn’t or couldn’t seem to leave her skin, kissing across her cheek, the delicate shell of her ear, down her throat. “Fuck, say it again,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat as his pace increased, pushing harder, faster, the sense of something on the verge of collapse filling the room around them.

She knew what he meant, and she smiled, combing her fingers through his hair, neck arching as her hair spread across the pillow. “I need you,” she repeated, her body meeting his, rising up as he pushed down, rolling and cresting and crashing like waves against the shores of her bedsheets. “I need you, please.”

Whatever splintering dam had been holding him back finally broke, and he latched his teeth into her throat with a cry, slamming into her with unrestrained passion, marking her at her pulse, her collarbones, even just under her jaw. She was his, his, and no one else could ever have her now. She had called him, accepted him, opened herself to him in so many ways, in ways he never dreamed a beauty like her ever would. Praise dripped from his lips like rain, showering her in attention and bite marks. Her back curved, her body alight with sensation, each nerve electrified as she held him tighter and tighter, curling herself around him and letting herself get lost in him. This was everything she had wanted, everything she had been missing, in the world’s most unconventional lover. Affection, pleasure, desire, playfulness, care and attention. Her heart melted, her entire self surrendering to him; she felt it now, felt the rightness of his claim. She was his, body and soul. She always had been. 

His moans changed in pitch, his thrusts frantic, mindlessly chasing his pleasure as he took her hand, pressing it into the bed beside her head as his fingers wove between hers. “Babe, fuck, I’m gonna come...can I come inside you, baby? Huh? Can I fill you up, sweetness, fill you up and make you come with me? Please, baby girl, I’m so close…” He growled, nipping at her earlobe. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded, almost too breathless to reply. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, I’m already yours.”

He groaned, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back before releasing it. “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m y-oohh fuck!” She cried out, cursing as his free hand began rubbing her clit, hard and fast, tripling her pleasure all at once. “I’m yours!”

“Again, babes…”

“Yours, Beej, I’m yours!”

“Louder, baby, scream for me!”

“Yours!”

With a shout, he broke, his entire body shivering as he came, cool and so deep within her she could practically taste it. The fingers at her clit didn’t let up, and moments later she was following him, her pleasure crackling through her, spreading like lightning across a stormy sky through her body. Her vision faded, dimmed, but the light of his smile and the sound of his voice remained clear as day, grounding her as the muscles in her body unfurled one by one, her body collapsing against the bed as the pleasure faded slowly. There was the sensation of something dripping down her thighs, something wet and just slightly cooler than her own skin, and a delicious little shiver went through her at the sensation, heightening the little aftershock tremors. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself to rest his head on the pillow of her breasts, “that was worth the wait.” His hands cupped them, pressed them together as he buried his face between them. For a few moments, everything was silent and still, his lips skimming her skin in little butterfly kisses as she stroked her fingers through his hair, catching her breath. Then, she heard something, heard his voice, heard a muffled voice murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”

“What was that?”

Lifting his face ever so slightly, but not looking up at her, he said loudly, “I said you have nice tits!” The words tumbled out of him a little too quickly, and the sudden flush of pink in his hair was a sign that he hadn’t meant for her to hear him, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all. Either way, she didn’t press the matter, smiling secretly to herself. His kisses, however, became firmer, his tongue even darting out to flick against her skin, and she moaned, wriggling against him as his lips began to migrate south. 

“Where’re you headed, honey?”

“God, I like hearing you call me that.” He grinned up at her, licking over her navel. “What, you didn’t think I was done with you, didja? No way, dollface, I’ve got five years of lovin’ to make up for.” 

She could have made the argument that they had tons of time to make up for those five years, but as his fingers spread her open to allow his tongue to lap at her clit, the sentence was erased from her mind, her hips jolting up into his mouth. It had been worth it, she decided as his clever, hungry mouth sent her spiraling into one frenzied orgasm after another. All the heartache and tears and lonely nights had been worth it, since it had all lead up to him. For the first time, she felt wanted. Felt loved. Felt truly, finally seen.

[captainamericasbeard]

Rescue 9/10

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Enhanced!Omega!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none really

Summary: The Avengers are sent in to rescue a group of omegas from the hands of Hydra. There Bucky finds you, an enhanced omega. Can you ever be fully rescued from what Hydra has done to you?

A/N:  This chapter wrote itself. There’s friendship, hugs, bloody knuckles, and thigh holsters. I don’t think anyone on this hellsite can write about a thigh holster without paying tribute to @kentuckybarnes​ Agent 28. If you haven’t read it yet, you’re a fool.  IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED PLEASE SEND AN ASK.

Rescue 8 l Masterlist

You lay in your nest staring at the ceiling like you had been ever since Steve deposited you there three days ago. Sleep occasionally stole it’s way through your room as you lay listlessly in a tangle of sheets and Bucky’s clothes. You were desperate for his scent, craving it like a cigarette. You wanted your lungs full of him, but he was gone. Taken by Hydra off to god knows where and you were left here alone, with no way of getting him back.

You rolled over in your nest, tears slipping down your cheeks again when someone knocked on your door. Rap rap rap, the noise of it hurt you and you groaned, pulling a blanket up over your head.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open the door!” Thor’s booming voice came from the other side of the door. You refused and buried yourself deeper in your nest.

“If you don’t open up I’m coming in,” he insisted, jiggling the door handle only to find it locked. You made no effort to move. Seconds later with a crash and a grunt Thor entered you room. An angry cry came from Tony down the hall. Thor gingerly propped the door back on its frame before turning to you apologetically.

“Sorry, but you’ve made us all desperate, locking yourself away in here,” Thor said. You blink at him. You have nothing to say. Thor sets himself down on the edge of your couch, arms resting on his knees and hands folded in front of him. The two of you stare at each other for a few moments before Thor speaks.

“I’m scared too, Y/N.” Your lip quivers and a few more tears escape at his words. “Everyone is scared actually,” Thor continues “but everyone is out there doing their part to try and find Bucky. Tony has all his tech running around the clock searching for Bucky’s face. Nat and Clint are running down every Hydra agent we’ve come across, looking for someone who knows something. Steve and Sam are vying with all the powers of the UN to bring him home. People are working, Y/N. What are you going to do?” Anger pricked at your heart at Thor’s words. Lightening flashed in your eyes as you stared him down. He stared right back. He wasn’t challenging you, he was honestly asking the question. What are you going to do to bring Bucky home? A few seconds of staring and all your resolve withered. The light died in your eyes again and you cried in earnest now.

“What can I do, Thor? What am I? I’m not a genius like Tony? I’m not a super spy like Clint and Nat or a superhero like Steve and Sam? I’m a freak that was rescued from a cave. Everything I am, Hydra made me. I’m only a functional person because of Bucky and he’s gone. And I can’t bring him back.” Your words came through gulps of air and shuddering sobs. Thor came and knelt at the side of your bed, careful not to touch your nest. He reached out a hand for yours and you had a flash of mad dancing and hysterical giggles. You took his hand timidly.

“You’re right, Y/N, you’re not Tony or Clint or Nat or any of us. You’re you. Not a freak made by Hydra. Not a shell of a person propped up by Bucky. You are you. You went to all those hard therapy sessions and talked through what happened so you could find out who you truly are. You trained harder than I’ve seen anyone train to become so much more than what they made you to be. And if you’ve relied on Bucky too much I know you have the strength to stand without him now. To train again, to go with us, and help us find him. I know out of all of us, you are the one that can bring Bucky home. Because you love him more than any of us and you hate Hydra just as much. You can bring him home.”

Thor’s words broke you. All the pain and fear you’d been cramming inside your chest broke out with an almighty wail. Your body heaved with sobs and Thor scooped you off the bed and into his lap on the floor. He held you in his arms and rubbed soothing circles on your back and let you cry it all out. Which is all you’ve wanted for three days anyways, to cry and be held. And as you cried you felt the poisonous fear leaving your body to be replaced with something else. An obsessive feeling of determination was digging its claws into your heart telling you to do whatever it takes to see Bucky again. As the feeling took root, your sobs slowed and your breathing steadied. You peered up at Thor and giggled slightly, embarrassed by the position you found yourself in. In spite of yourself, you threw your arms around his neck and gave him a huge hug, knocking him backwards into your table. He laughed and squeezed you back.

“Thank you Thor,” you whispered in his ear, “Thank you for being my friend.” You looked him in his eyes and found the shining love of friendship radiating back at you.

“That’s what I’m here for, Y/N.” Thor replied with a smile. Shakily you stood up, all the blood rushing to your head. You were trying to remember when the last time you’d eaten was when you swooned a little bit. Thor gently caught you by your elbow.

“Whoa there, dear friend. Let’s get you to the kitchen, shall we?” He hooked his elbow around yours and guided you through the broken door and down the hall. You entered the common area and everyone stopped what they were doing to look at you. Wanda approached you first and wrapped you in one of her mama bear hugs. You felt instantly calmer and more able to face the others. Tony strode over to you with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the floor. When he finally looked at you his usual cocky demeanor was gone.

“I’m sorry Y/N, we all are. We’re doing all we can to find him.” “I know you are Tony. Thank you.”

Gradually the others surrounded you offering hugs and apologies. Sam was obviously just as shaken as you were to lose Bucky. Nat whispered that he blamed himself as Sam turned away. Steve still couldn’t bring himself to look at you. You knew he was shouldering more guilt than anyone. You walked over to him and lifted his chin till his eyes met yours.

“Steve, I need you to train me,” you say with a quiet certainty. Steve searches your eyes, confused.

“You’re not mad at me?” he asks.

“How could I be? If there was anyway for Bucky to be here right now, he would be. None of this is your fault. It’s Hydra’s. Let’s make them pay for it.” You said, your eyes hardening. Steve nodded.

_______________________________________________________________________

Six months of training sees you transformed. Your lithe body is now tense and toned, ready to lash out. Nat has taught you how to make every inch of your body a weapon, to not just rely on your powers but to be able to strike discreetly. Sam has you fully trained on weaponry, even Bucky would be impressed with your speed and skill. You stuck to guns- knives held too much association with Bucky and you couldn’t bear the thought of someone else teaching you how to use them. Steve oversaw it all, watching your determination with pride.

While you had been training the search had continued. You got regular updates from Tony. They nearly thought they had him back in an old haunt in Siberia but it was a false lead, another trap. Then again in sweltering South Africa, but the base was cleared out before they ever got there. Lead after lead, base after base, they searched in vain it seemed. Every base they attacked was either cleared out or filled with low level operatives with little to no intel.

Until they got to a cramped corner of Eastern Europe. Nat had been tailing who they believed to be a high ranking operative within the Hydra weapon’s division. The sort of man who would have been trained by the sort of men who made Hydra’s greatest weapon. The exact sort of man who would have wanted that weapon back. Nat tagged him and trailed him to an empty alleyway. He must have thought he had the upper hand, but Nat got the drop on him and dragged him in.

That was a week ago. SHIELD had sent in their best nutcrackers but no one could get him to talk. Tensions were running high and you could see even Tony was starting to sweat. Steve caught you crying into a punching bag. You had been in the deserted gym alternating punching a bag till you couldn’t breath and sobbing until you couldn’t see straight. Steve came in, took one look at you, and walked back out. He walked straight down to the detention wing. He came back thirty minutes later with his knuckles covered in blood and Bucky’s location.

“Jet leaves in 20,” Steve said, never taking his eyes off yours.

The compound broke into a flurry of activity. Tony rushed you to his lab to show you the suit he’d been working on for you. Skintight like Nat’s but with the ability to help you conduct electrical currents and a thigh holster to boot. You thanked Tony with a peck on the cheek and rushed off to change. You joined the team to a chorus of whoops and whistles.

“Wait’ll Barnes gets a look at this!” Sam quips, giving you a once over. Even Steve nods with approval. The team settles down and turns their attention back to the holoscreen in the middle of the desk with the little intel Steve had been able to “gather.”

“It’s a large base deep in Northern Canada that’s been off our radar until now. Intel says it’s similar in size to the one we rescued Y/N from. Scientists, agents, the whole bit. Should get a good bit of intel off them too, Nat that’s your job.” Nat gives a curt nod of agreement.

“And what if we find…Not Bucky. What if we find The Solider?” Sam asks the question no one wanted to ask. Eyes flicker to you and your eyes find Steve’s.

“Then we’ll handle it, won’t we, Y/N.” You clench your fists as fear tightens your heart.

“Yes, we will.”

Chapter 10

_____________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @fanfictionjunkie1112​ @kiki5283​ @humanexile​ @starkrobb​ @alyxkbrl​ @momc95​ @bullshitantichrist​ @the-omni-princess​ @animegirlgeeky​ @acf2510​ @fluffyirwinie​ @disasterwelshgirl​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @veronawrites​ @guccicloudz​ @holyhumorliteraturelight​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @no-clue-whats-happenin​ @booktease21​ @mymomcallsmefury​ @fafulous​ @asgardlover75​ @susmita121​ @noseyrosey1597​ @jennmurawski13​ @buckybarnesscrunchie​ @learisa​ @kinkywitchy​ @mywinterwolf​ @dyanna-corona​ @procrastinating-angels​ @shellbeerocks​ @broco8​ @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ @sweetybuzz25​ @cookies186​ @badassbaker​ @buchanan-lover​

[worldcakecakecake]

Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I  Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64  I Chapter 65 I Chapter 66 I Chapter 67 I Chapter 68  I Chapter 69 I Chapter 70 I Chapter 71 I Chapter 72

                                                    Chapter 73

“I am incredibly uncertain about this,” Arthur said, yet joining the others in their decreed way.

 The castle seemed more active than it had ever been during this entire war, a rush passing by them or following behind.

 “It’s only obvious I should go,” Feliciano lead this huddle of many worried, trembling or even ready to begin the process. “I was the one who missed the alignment, I’m the one whose prophesied to finish all this and I have the magic necessary that can help me more than any of you in the interludes.”

 “Feliciano, you only but just recently left the birthing room. I don’t think you are yet mentally stable for this,” Kandake tried to walk at his pace, wanting that he would look at her, not just forward, to the room decided would bring their faith.

 “You are bearing!” Louis joined, of the many at the front wanting to keep his speed.

 “All the Queens should be here to take action,” Aldrich said.

 “I am fine,” he tried to make it sound stable, yet it was forced, there was anger, clearly part of the denial. “I am sure the children will be fine.” He gave the jewels a short caress, the only moment he had gotten his eyes elsewhere. “All the Queens will take action. I am only doing my part.” He began to take off the red cape and the jacket he had been wearing, meaning to throw it to the floor carelessly, instead, his mother caught it, part of her refusal, holding and offering for if he still changed his minds in the mere minutes left.

 “Amore, there are so many who could go in your name.”

 “I don’t need anyone to go for me. If I can do it, I will.”

 “But if we loose you, we loose the biggest piece we have in this war,” Herakles said.

 Feliciano took a deep breath, swallowing once again the weight and terror of all this, “I won’t fail.”

 “And if you do…what then?” Vincenzo posed the dreaded question, the one to turn Feliciano’s step into hesitance.

 It was small. Another breath and he continued as he had.

 “Then all hope is gone. Nothing else will be left.”

 Many servants and maids stood beside the room that was decided. They trembled in their eyes, it spread to their clothes, a panic that worsened at the groups’ coming.

 “But I won’t let you down. I know what this means, and I can’t let myself betray the kingdoms.” He raised his hand, with a queenly decree to open.

 Elizabeta held it before it was uttered. “Once you pass those doors, we will understand then that there’s nothing we can do to change your mind. We will start and you will be brought into the Interludes. One last time…are you sure you want to do this?”

 All, even the servants and maids, stared hoping still for other words that could spare him from this, that anybody else still had the chance to offer themselves. With the elongated silence, they wanted to believe it was to happen, coming ever closer for the acceptance.

 Feliciano released himself from Elizabeta’s grasp and used the hand to push open the door, making his way inside. The rest looked between themselves hoping for any new words that could help to get him out of there before it truly began, but now they had nothing. It was as Elizabeta had said, by this point, there was nothing they could do to change his mind. All they could do now was to fulfill their part, heading behind him to begin.

 The room they chose was the one that held the recreational pool. The specific servants who worked there could well count the times it had been used. Feliciano and Ludwig themselves had only been there two times…one of those being in their heated Roseann spring frenzy. All Feliciano could see were the spots they had made love, where they told sweet words, smiled and touched in what they had thought a forever. To Feliciano it was a new shot of pain, biting his lips, peeling himself harshly away from those scenes of memory, a new shade of tears to add to his eyes. No…he couldn’t show this now…especially now.

 “This place is actually gorgeous,” Lovino had to admit.

 And indeed it was a majesty.

 The room was dark, in the solid of the rock that had formed it. The only light was but those of specific jewels. There were three large ones that emitted a pinkish light, at three high points, right above the formations that cascaded new water into the pool below. The rest of these jewels were in the waters, showcasing the depths…perfect enough for one to lay in its infinite…no safe reach to the surface. Some shivered at its emptiness for now.

 Planted fauna, along with small statues decorated it heavenly, a beauty that made many wonder why they didn’t use it more often…and why did it have to come to them using it for a purposed drowning. Distracted they were to not notice how Feliciano already sat at an edge, rolling his pants and taking off his boots, to the side uncaring…he wouldn’t need them dead. He could have swung himself that instant, but he was held by a hand on his shoulder, looking up to meet with his cousin. Herakles turned his head, asking for patience.

 “All right, so, we need someone to stay always at the door, controlling who comes in and even defending if it comes to it,” Lovino loudly told.

 “I will offer myself then,” Louis said, already taking a seating, brandishing a polished and beautiful spear…out of its case for the first time in decades.

 “Us Queens will take the ever watch on Feliciano, as well as necessary mourning,” Arthur said, Elizabeta and Lili joining on his side, creating a sort of shield on Feliciano, to stand strong from that moment.

 “Yet, we are in need of more watchers and mourners for if we are needed elsewhere,” Elizabeta reminded.

 “Then the rest of us will stay here, to act quick if that is to be the case,” Kiku said.

 “Messengers are rallied, and we are prepared to work here,” Aldrich said, in his place along with the rest. He was determined to be a part of this, to be close. All the tables, plans, books, even charms and talismans were there with them, a good space apart from the pool so neither could be disturbed, each in their own mission.

 As they all made their final chats and placings, Lovino headed over to his brother, kneeling beside him, worried glances exchanged…but loving, yet dreading, both beginning to take a synchronized row of breaths.

 “Lovino, I’m already here. You can’t change my mind any-”

 “I know…I…just want to tell you to be safe…I don’t want anything to happen to you…”

 Feliciano smiled, yet a dry hand coming to take one of Lovino’s, the grasp tight and assuring.

 Lovino sighed, “you know what you have to do.”

 “Ever since I decided. I’ve read the chapters like twenty times. I know enough, I know what I need.” He gazed to the water, like a new door before him. “I’ll…do my best…and then I’ll be back before you guys know it,” he confided with such a large smile, the one of their youth, his and now Lovino knew ever shinning.

 “Any idea on where the power will be though?”

 “I’ll look, I’ll do whatever it takes, I know I’ll find it.”

 “Fine and…Feli…” and there was the chest, the musical one, placed right beside him on the ground.

 “I wish I could take it,” Feliciano admitted.

 “I’ll play the melody…perhaps you’ll be able to hear it…perhaps it can help.” He wanted to hope…he wanted to do more.

 “It might… I’ll try to hear it.”

 Lovino smiled…lowering down for an embrace, Feliciano knowing his last physical warmth before he left. It was then Vicenzo and Renata who came down, sharing in it as well.

 “What about…what about the children?” Vincenzo pointed to the jewels.

 “I’ve said it enough times, papa. They’ll be fine.”

 “The body will be well kept, and while Feliciano is surviving in the Interludes with a hold spell, the children will be able to grow as per usual from the magic here,” Renata deemed.

 “I hope so…” Feliciano let his hands caress them, not knowing if they will be in the interludes as his light and belief.

 “We still don’t truly know though,” Louis had to remind.

 “I don’t think someone has ever purposely gone to the interludes while bearing,” Lili added.

 “Well…I’ll come back and be the first one to write about it, I guess,” Feliciano breathed, his feet now entering the water, the cold giving a strong shiver that almost froze his entire body that instant.

 “The time is upon us…who will create and hold the suspension spell,” Vincenzo alarmed.

 “I-” Herakles was to offer, but he was interrupted by the crashing entrance of a messenger. It had been so sudden that Louis had bared her spear at him. The messenger was too frantic to care about the weapon pointed at him.

 “Destro! He has entered Austria!” He shouted, just the alarm that brought them all to hesitance once again. They shared panicked glances, their worry heightened, and a new dread of planning was to come…just as Feliciano was set to leave.

 Herakles looked to Feliciano, and he nodded, the Queen giving the command for what had been a planned leave.

 “And where is Khaos?” Lovino asked.

 “The defenses of the Amazon are crumbling…they expect soon entrance into Spades as well.” The messenger was still breathing heavily, every word more a weight on him.

 Many fretted, halted in confusion on what to do.

 “I’ll head to Greece immediately and begin our protection at the border,” Herakles stood proud, making his way, but not before coming to Kiku, a tight caring hold of his arms before they embraced and kissed.

 “We continue as we have. We create new tactics, new attacks, send orders,” Aldrich tried to calm.

 “There are casters in Italy of old age that wrote to me that they will act on such a case. I’ll message them this instant, perhaps they can join you, Herakles,” Vincenzo stood.

 “There are also casters of equal state and strengths in Japan as well. I’ll tell them to join along,” Kiku said…anything to help his intended.

 “See if there is anybody still in Germany that can go and fight,” Renata joined. She feared how they were in their last resort…sending seniors to war.

 “Arthur, I recommend you start sending reinforcements to the Oralee. It is an easy door for Diamonds that Khaos can misuse,” Elizabeta suggested, and the Spadian Queen began his orders.

 “Amore,” Renata kneeled back to her son’s sitting, who was now held, wanting to also fulfill duties in this fighting, but nothing came from his mouth, the water surrounding his feet reminded of what he was meant to do instead. “I’ll hold the suspension spell.” There were no disagreements and so it was decided. Feliciano held her hands tightly in gratitude.

 Orders and plans began to get shouted, the room now a mess. Lili began organizing a map, putting accord new plans, paths, and locations. “Opa, look,” she pointed and so all noticed the route Destro was taking, new terrors reigning.

 “He’s trying to get to Hearts,” Louis said aloud.

 “More specifically…he wants to come to Berlin,” Lili noticed.

 Some teared, some paced trying to rid of their shake.

 “His plans have long been obvious. What difference does it make that it’s more sure?” Vincenzo said.

 “It shows that there’s a specific purpose,” Lili glances to Feliciano and all knew for certain the main important plot for Destro.

 “He’s heading right to us,” Aldrich said.

 “Then we defend the castle. We make evacuation plans. We can’t let that freak get to Feliciano, especially while he’s in the Interludes,” Lovino appointed.

 “Our time has been shortened though,” Aldrich reminds.

 “Well, fratellino, you better hurry the fuck up then,” Lovino turned to him.  

 “I’ll try my best.”

 “We have to start now!” Kiku deemed it.

 “Hurry, we don’t have any more time to lose,” Herakles said, his last words before he was out of the room, to battle like many.

 “Feliciano, it’s time for you to start getting in,” Aldrich said.

 And so Feliciano nodded, taking his last deep breath before he followed the command of the last king and began a slow submersion into the water.

 No one else could work, no one else could go on with their mission, Feliciano felt all their eyes on him. If it wasn’t for the chill of the pool, for the coming dread of death, it would have bothered him, but it didn’t matter, not now when he was especially close. He could depend on the steps, taking them one by one, submerging only slightly each time. When the water was by his torso, he extended his leg and found no more rock to hold, it was then the vastness he had to take. He turned one last time to all, now so far.

 “Please…be safe,” the last words he heard were those of his father, taking his wife’s side as comfort for what he was seeing, pain like the ones scarred on his body.

 Feliciano nodded, hoping they could see all the love in his bright open eyes, before he faced the water, breathe and he jumped forward without any more delays.

 He was now completely submerged, falling and letting the water take care of his descend however it wanted. He didn’t fight, he didn’t reach, he was not meant to escape from this. Relax…he let it all take him in. Don’t be fearful…sleep.

 There was the constriction, of the water filling his lungs. It would have been painful if he had begun to fight it, but he was going in ease, continuing his fall, now reaching a mid where he could float in an infinite. Slowly did the darkness took him, easing everything until all movements ceased, and he couldn’t control anymore how even his arms and legs fell. He was gone with an accepting seal of his eyes.

 They all watched the rumbling, the bubbles, all to the very last one that surfaced.

 “Renata, now,” Kandake commanded, seeing the opportune moment.

 Renata breathed in, rubbing her hands together, her breath releasing in a pinkish glow in the palm of her hands. Like a blown kiss, it floated and coated the pool, a beautiful pink mist to arise and drape before it fell and reached for the body it was to work on. It took it like a large blanket, draping him all until only a glow on his silhouette was left. Renata’s palm was in the same glow.

 “The hold depends on you. Make sure to always keep it,” Kiku said.

 “With my life if it comes to it,” she held it dear to herself, as if it was her little son.

 Feliciano shone like another jewel of the ones below the pool, but it was still disconcerting…how he was dead… even if  he was meant to come back and was holding to some sort of life  line with Renata’s spell. Their entire future laid on him like this. They were fearful of all the wrong that could occur, of this castle crumbling under Destro’s wrath, of Feliciano never returning from this, of a future enslaved or killed by this menace.

 Arthur hated how defeated they looked…when they haven’t finished anything and Feliciano was just floating uselessly in the pool. “We don’t accomplish anything just standing around here. Feliciano won’t be coming back anytime soon. Come, let’s get to work.” He turned and continued his orders to get the Oralee mobilized, as well as see if there was anymore that could be done to defend the Spadian border that was soon to be breached. And one by one they followed the Spadian Queen’s suggestion, heading to their place. The only who remained in their stare were Vincenzo, Renata, Kandake and Pookie. They didn’t dare leave. They wanted to keep ever watch, as if they could help defend him even if he was in another world…as if they could still reach him.

  Eternal…always in these waters, floating, vast, in a surrounding of nothing. It extended like this, his body in answer to its void. No response, no way to-…wait. It was then that Feliciano realized he was aware, that he knew his body or…soul and spirit, were present in these new waters. He could move his arms apart, paddle his legs, if even slight moves, slow. He tested his eyes, welcoming, adjusting them to what they could see and meet.

 Vast darkness, more so than what he knew the pool had been. The pink jewels were gone, instead, he saw a far blue light, like a moon shinning far off, into a surface. He could see ripples, small, like small stones falling upon it. There was something out there, new and…he could turn his body, energy was coming to him again, he had impulse and he used it to swim upward, now far, a grand effort that for Feliciano was like swimming the length of a full ocean. As he did, he realized that he hadn’t used his breaths…and that he didn’t need them. They didn’t exist here anymore. The closer he got to the top, the more there was this invisible pull, rushing him forward until finally he was released. No splash, no disturbance in this surface. He landed as if he was on solid ground, easy and balanced…even with an infinite depth of water below him. His steps caused only but a small ripple that easily disappeared, and once it was gone, Feliciano came to the realization that he was just as alone, in yet another blanket of darkness above him. No sun, no moon, no stars…no jewels even from the Aces to decorate such dread. That blue light he saw was somehow emanated from the very line that divided the water and this…place.

 Could he…move, walk? He could raise his hands, legs, turn his head. He tested a foot forward. Solid, another gentile ripple. Yes, this was ground he could trust for now to venture.

 As he completely settled straight, he noticed that the jewels of bearing weren’t present…only a haze red that looked more like a simple bruise. Yet, they were in their form and place, still a reminder that they were there. Actually, now that he saw, he had his normal arms, legs, stomach, head. He rummaged his fingers through his hair, still with its curls, feeling the same texture and skin. Even his clothes were the very ones he had taken his dive with. The only difference was all his bruises, cuts and scars were gone, with a small red glow surrounding him, as another light to guide. The realization made him smile, even extend himself upward ready to jump and shout in celebration.

 This had worked! He was in the Interludes! This was surely the first realm.

 He gazed about him, still the same infinite darkness, nothing of the descriptions he had read.

 Where was he to go? What direction could he take? Who could he even speak to?

 He was ready to dash for whatever he could find, to turn and shout if he had to. A sudden blast of white, lightning and shock as he stumbled upon it. Feliciano startled and screamed back at the sudden appearance of a body, floating and resting right before him, all is if he was in the depths of water the person was not actually in. He was from the White Kingdom, deep dark skin, his silvers, pearls and rich white silks from his soldier uniform, swaying along with him in quite a majesty. The body would disappear into a haze, but then he would shimmer again in this sudden crackling of light. Every time it extended below him, a single zigzagged line reaching down, disappearing into vastness.  That glow made him notice another body, deep below in the waters, flying and extending with not a wetness noticeable. This one a woman from Diamonds…the Israeli province he knew, she had the symbols along with her yellows. She also wore her soldier uniform, the same flashes of sparks, only in yellow…deep in rest as the other figure.

 Feliciano waved, tried to do any kind of big movement that could get them to wake up…yet they remained as they were. He dared to reach his hand to touch, but the shocks instantly got him, painful and burning. Feliciano couldn’t believe he could feel such a physical attack…when he was supposed to be dead. He moved back, he felt another shock and burn, another sudden body. It pained to know it was a Heartian, red, from Greece…surely of those sent to aid the fight at the front with Destro.

 As the blazing continued, extending, Feliciano could spot another Whitean, a Spadian, Clubian…several more, making the space glow in quite a beautiful array of colors. They were now everywhere…but not a single one standing as he did, pointing or providing a way. He spun, he fretted, anxious breathing that he didn’t think would follow him here.

 Okay, think, steady your breathing as if you were still alive…what did the book say? What did we talk about with everybody else? He brought his hands to massage his head as he ordered everything in his mind.

 “The deceased enters. The first realm is a mirror lake,” he remembered Elizabeta’s word, clear now once he stared to the endless bottom of this water. It wasn’t mirror-like…he didn’t spot his own reflection…only the other bodies.

 “All resided magic must be released.” Those sparks…how it had no specification…it was just to…release.

 That very moment, the body of a near Heartian boomed loudly, the glow coating Feliciano all in red. The body continued its rest…into haze, then more small sparks, but yet he didn’t awake.

 Feliciano now couldn’t control his breathing as he realized that all these bodies…so many…so many… wearing soldier uniforms…were the dead of the war currently being fought. So many looked so young…so many with badges and seals that showed their hard efforts…a life dedicated…finished in this. Feliciano shivered, tears brimming, close to kneeling him in the loss and misery.

 “This takes a period of four days in our time. A week in the time of the realm.”

 Enough, enough, enough, he repeated to himself in deep anguish, understanding that there was a mission that needed to be fulfilled…and it had a time limit. Even if he managed a passing to the Interludes with the chance of survival, for those once past lives that hauntingly floated around him…there was nothing he could do. He wallowed in the pain and blame…wondering if part could have been avoided if he would have acted earlier, if there was something before everything that could have been key to an easy victory…not to this reach where he had to visit the afterlife.

 Breathe…he had a week in this realm to find whatever answer he could. Even if nothing seemed present that instant…he had to explore, venture and hope that he could find a clue…or even someone.

 He stood, just as a Spadian body flew along him, as he gazed upward and noticed a larger array than before, all from Diamonds. Feliciano swallowed, not wanting to know what it meant.

 Okay, he had to go on. One foot forward, the next following, a pace as if he was strolling through the castle. He tried to keep that singular line, only his gaze turning to the bodies he saw, careful of the lights that shot down.

 Into the depths he went, yet still the only red light that walked singularly in that eternal extend.

[natasha-lightwood]

(i hate this so much BUT here's 1.7k of carolmaria fluff, english isn't my first language so sorry for any mistakes, happy new year)

Maria was stressed. It was just a matter of time until she was gonna give birth to her daughter and the room wasn't ready yet.

The furniture should've been there two weeks before, but apparently the supplier had a problem and she was stuck with an empty room and a mental breakdown over fucking furniture.

Maybe she could convince Carol to go live in a cave. No one expected you to have furniture in a cave. Just something to make a fire. And a pillow.

If she didn't get her double leaf closet soon she might actually start to consider it.

"I can hear you thinking. I'm trying to watch TV" Carol said with a monotone voice.

Maria stopped pacing around the room to glare at her. She raised an eyebrow from her spot on the couch.

Stupid eloquent eyebrows

"This is a total tragedy," she declared

"You know this isn't healthy, right?"

"No, this is terrible, an absolute disgrace," she stressed "and you don't understand"

"I think you're overreacting" Carol shrugged.

Maria gave her a more vicious glare. If looks could kill. "I'm not overreacting," she hissed "it's you who can't see the problem, but sure blame it on the pregnancy hormones"

"It's just furniture!"

"It's not just the furniture!" she suddenly yelled. "It's the fact that I couldn't even give her a proper room. She isn't born yet and I'm already disappointing her" there were tears forming in the crinkle of her eyes, her voice a bit unsteady. She pressed her palms on her eyes and took two deep breaths. There was no more anger in her, at least not for Carol or the damn furniture supplier. She was just so tired.

All her fears, all the terrors she pushed down during the nine months were coming back and she couldn't breath, couldn't think about anything other than the fact that she was gonna give her daughter a lifetime of things not ready and not good enough (she was not enough) and that everyone - her mean colleagues, the other future moms at the prenatal course, her parents - were right all along and she was just blinded by her own egotistical desire of being a mother-

When she looked up, Carol had lost every trace of frustration and sarcasm and she was giving her that kind, concerned look destined just for vulnerable moments like that. Maria softened a bit too and she felt her heartbeat go slower. The effects those brown eyes had on her. It never ceased to amaze her.

"Come here," Carol whispered, patting the spot next to her lightly.

Maria managed to drag herself to the other part of the room and sit, slowly, carefully, next to her girlfriend. She was pretty agile even though it was her ninth month of pregnancy, but sitting and getting up still took effort.

Carol took her hand and kissed the back lightly, before starting to massage her shoulder blades. She knew exactly where Maria kept all the stress. Of course she knew.

Maria left out a pleased sigh while the other girl's thumbs moved in circles. She was so good at this, it was insane.

"There, relax, sweetheart" she pressed a soft kiss on Maria's temple.

"Now, want to tell me what is going on through your head?" she asked gently, not stopping her soothing movements.

"It's just- Carol I don't think I can be a good mother" she said

"Bullshit" she interrupted.

Maria shot her a warning glance and Carol offered an apologetic smile. She gestured for Maria to go on.

"This kid deserves someone who can give her anything she wants. She deserves not to wait. She deserves stability and safeness and a someone who isn't going to leave her in the middle of the night because of a life threatening mission. She deserves someone who can give her a good life, a normal life" the lump in her throat felt unbearable.

"Hey" Carol moved a lock of hair behind her ear "You're going to be a great mother. I know it, Maria. This kid," she laid her finger on Maria's belly lightly "Is going to grow up surrounded by love. We are going to give her so much love. And that's all she'll need to be happy"

Maria scoffed. "There's about 20 people I know that would disagree completely"

"Then I'll punch them all in the face" she stated. Just like that. As if it was the logical conclusion to someone making her feel unhappy. And she meant it. Maria couldn't help but think, this is the woman I wanna grow old with.

She was truly gone.

"Even my parents?" she asked weakly, with a sort of bitter humour. It was meant to be a joke. It didn't sound like it.

"Especially those fuckers" Carol said, with false innocence. She smacked her shoulder and shot her a disapproving glance, but the smile spreading on her face didn't make it look believable at all.

Her relationship with her parents had started to go downhill when Maria introduced Carol to them a second time, this time as her girlfriend and the woman she was gonna raise her daughter with. Her mother had cried. Her father had left the room without a word. Losing their approval and support had been an heavy blow, but they made their choice and she eventually came to peace with that. They loved her, but they didn't love all of her and there was no place for someone who couldn't accept the best thing that had ever happened to her in her life.

Carol had taken her on the top of a cliff that night and told her to scream in the void and wait for the echo.

"Say it. Come on. Scream it" she had asked, her eyes sparkling.

"I'm Maria Rambeau and every part of me is beautiful" she had said.

"Louder!" Carol had laughed.

"I'm Maria Rambeau and every part or me is beautiful!" this time, her fists had been clenched and her voice had not trembled.

When she looked up she noticed Carol had her brows furrowed and then her jaw set in that stubborn look of hers that meant whatever crazy, insane thing she was thinking of, she had already decided she was going to do that.

"Carol…?" she started

Carol suddenly got up with her shining eyes set on an undefined distant point. She looked at Maria.

"Wait here" she told her.

"Wait- what- where are you going?" Maria asked in disbelief.

"Just wait!" Carol yelled from the door before taking her coat and hurrying out of their shared house.

Maria continued to stare at the closed door.

***

Carol came back about an hour later, her cheeks rosy for the cold weather and her hands behind her back.

"Where the hell were you?" Maria asked, too confused by her girlfriend's behavior to be annoyed.

Carol's eyes were full of excitement while she revealed what she was hiding.

She squinted. "A bucket of paint?" this really didn't answer any of the thousand questions in her mind. She was getting less and less sure of Carol's mental stability. Maybe she had the flu and was being delirious. Her cheeks were rosy after all.

"I-- I thought that maybe you'd like to paint her room. To feel useful. So it wouldn't feel so empty. We can do it. Together"

Maria gaped at her for a solid minute and Carol's expression started falling. "O-or not. If you don't want to" her smile twitched nervously "I should have asked you first, I know, but you know how impulsive I am, I just thought maybe- actually, scratch that, it was a stupid idea I don't-"

Maria crossed the room in a heartbeat and threw her hands around Carol's neck, almost spilling some paint. In all honesty, she couldn't care less if she stained the fucking parquet in that moment.

"Thank you," she whispered "Thank you so much" her voice was breaking and she was trying to communicate the utter adoration she felt with her hug as if the proximity of their heart made it possible for her emotions to go directly into Carol's, but it wasn't enough, nothing would never be enough to make her understand how much Maria loved her.

"So" she wiped the tears at the corner of her eyes "let's get to work"

***

Two hours later she stood proudly in front of the blue-painted wall and she was so lost admiring her work that she missed Carol's mischievous grin.

Fatal mistake.

She gaped at the blue stain on her shirt and then raised her head, a devilish smirk replacing the former surprised expression.

"Oh, you want war?" she picked up the paint brush from where she left it in the bucket "then war it is!" she threw some paint straight on Carol's face who gasped in mock-outrage, bringing a hand to her chest to add to her dramatic act.

They went like this for a while, until Maria suddenly realized how to get the upper hand.

She let the paintbrush fall on the floor and picked up the whole bucket instead, advancing threateningly, batting her eyelashes in faux innocence at Carol.

"No. No, no, no" she backed up quickly.

"Not so bold now, are we?" she asked when Carol's back touched the wall she held up her hands in a pacifying gesture and Maria poured the whole bucket's content on her, painting her blue from head to toe.

Everything was quiet for a moment until Carol opened her eyes. She still had that smirk on your face.

"Hug me, Maria" she made grabby hands at her and tried to catch her while Maria ran away giggling.

"Hug meeeee!" she sing-songed until she managed to reach her and hold her tight.

A moment later they were both on the floor, and indecent amount of blue paint covering their bodies and they were laughing like they haven't done in a really long time, getting the floor all messy, a mess they would have to clean up later.

Maria thought that, if someone asked her where she wanted to be, the only answer she'd be able to give would be: right here, right now, with her.

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages Drabbles: 20

Without You...

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Drabbles following Delicate Stages. Looking into the life of Bucky and Ana.

Warnings: Language. Angst. Sad. Fluff kinda. Trauma. 

Words: 7,330

A/N: Sorry this took forever to post, my life has had a streak of bad luck lately. But here it is! This chapter and the ones to follow will follow some canon from End Game (which goes to say, there are spoilers, but hopefully everyone has seen it by now.) I struggled a little with this one, so hopefully you like it! I feel like my writing in this one was a bit different to reflect how Ana reacts. (Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first)

Previously on Delicate Stages Drabbles:

Ana breaks eye contact, a thought crashing through the blankness in her mind. She looks down at her body, shimmering waves encase her. The rings aren’t activated. The glow is her own power source, her own energy shield. Protecting. Protection. Protection for herself. Protection to keep her safe. Protection for-

“Steve,” Ana exhales as her body begins to tremble all over. Her fists clutching at he dirt where her husband vanished before her eyes.

Her vision blurs, her head swimming. Her chest is utterly empty. She meets his gaze, a complex of emotions storming in his eyes. Ana wraps her arms around her middle. Protecting. Like she tried to do with…Bucky. Like he tried to do with her. Protecting her. Protecting them.

“I’m pregnant.”

***

Silence.

Utter, still silence. Silence is a numb caress over an empty shell; a numb empty chest, a vacant heart. Silence burns through veins like the horrors of torture. Silence is crushing. Silence is broken by mimicking sounds of thunder rolling in the thick air. Silence is tainted by horror, confusion, cries of anguish. Time slowly ticks by, seconds morphing into minutes.

Ana blinks the burning dryness from her eyes from staring unseeingly. She must have blocked her surroundings out, absently wondering if there’s an empty hole through her chest. It has taken her a good amount of time to barely register sitting on a fallen log. She must have been moved, taken her away from that spot and sat her down. Someone is next to her, their hand on her wrist; a solid comforting grip. Her right hand laid protectively over her stomach.

Fallen leaves and grass rustle to her right and a small, black hand touches her knee. Ana looks up from her lap. The talking racoon from early is there, gazing up at her with a disheartening expression. He removes his hand in favor of picking something up, holding it out to her.

It’s a gun. Bucky’s gun. He’s offering her Bucky’s gun. The one he had used to fight a war he didn’t truly want too, but did because people needed him. The one that dropped from his deteriorating fingers. If Ana could feel anything at the moment, she would probably cry.

She lifts her hands, the person beside her releasing their hold. Ana accepts the heavy M249 paratrooper gun, resting it carefully on her lap. She nods in gratitude at the little guy. He hops up next to her, placing his hand on her arm, something akin to another form of twisted comfort through grief.

“Rocket,” He supplies, speaking so quietly, she almost misses it.

“Ana,” She thinks she murmurs back.

She grips the gun with her left hand, then moves her right over her stomach once more. Tired footsteps heavily approach them, Ana suddenly staring at a dirty pair of combat boots in her line of sight. There’s a sense of failure in the stirring air, thickening the chaos; Ana ignores it.

“We should go,” Steve suggests quitely, a slight tremor in his voice. “We…we shouldn’t- I don’t think we should stay here.”

A wave of nausea curls through Ana’s stomach. Leave? Leave to go where? Leave her home? The home she and Bucky- Ana blinks. Her home is gone. Faded away. Crumbled between her fingers, helpless to prevent it.

“Ana,” That’s Natasha’s voice. Sitting to her left, squeezing her arm. How does she sound so gentle? “Do you want to stay here, or come with us?”

“Nat…”

“It’s her choice, Steve,” She tells him. To Ana she continues, “It’s up to you. I know your hom-“

“I’ll go,” Ana’s voice sounds strange in her own ears. As if someone else is speaking for her. Finally, she lifts her head to meet Natasha’s shinning green eyes. “I need to get…can I bring…”

She shakes her head, biting her lip hard. Waves of emotions rolls through her veins like ice. She ignores it once more.

“Gather some things?” Natasha supplies knowingly. “Of course.”

“I don’t want you going alone,” Steve input. He sounds so…broken.

“I can go with her,” Rocket volunteers. “Why not, I’m already hitching a ride back with you lot anyway.”

He jumps off the log, brushing his hands on his vest. Ana hasn’t moved, until Rocket firmly pats her knee twice; she feels waves of despair coming from him. Gripping the gun, she slowly stands up, swaying just slightly. Two pairs of hands quickly steady her.

Steve lifts his hands for the weapon. “Let me take this to the jet,” He coaxes gently.

She yanks it to her chest, eyes burning as she glares at him. His jaw clenches, chest stuttering. There’s a strange glow around the gun, as if a sunbeam enlightens the weapon. It takes a few seconds for Ana to realize, it’s her. Protecting a weapon. Protecting Bucky’s weapon.

A flash of hurt, pain, shines in Steve’s blue eyes. “I swear I’ll keep it safe,” He whispers.

Cautiously, he places his hand over hers. But instead of rebounding back from her own energy field, the light slowly envelops Steve. Odd. Finally, she nods and the glow fades away.

*

Walking feels like wading through a rip current, difficult and stumbling. Several times, Ana halts in her tracks, looks around, only to realize she is leading them the wrong way. Her lip quivers, her chest burns, her skin prickles, then Rocket calls her name. She inhales, her stomach churns, she exhales. Once more, her skin is glowing and everything she was trying to hold off nearly comes crashing down on her.

The entire country is in shock; horror-struck. The entire country is left in bewilderment. Left in mourning, in agony. Ana feels every single ounce of it, beginning to break apart her bones. Weighing her down into the depths of the Earth where she so temptingly wants to curl up under and never rise.

With trembling fingers, she twists each ring on, settling the chaos inside her mind, throughout her body. It only lasts a minute before the rings feel like it’s amping up her own dark energy. She doesn’t linger on the thought of how it happened, or why, she just turns the rings off, and continues walking.

They stop by the village first. Usually, a few baby goats will run right over in greeting, with older goats lazily grazing along the grass, waiting for their caretakers to return. None of the goats are in sight. No loud bleats of hellos, no soft headbutts, no inpatient baah’s.

Instead, there is only a few of the village people crying out in sobs to the sky. The children…Ana only sees two of them, in the tight clutches of not their parents’ arms, but of others. She turns away from the scene.

Walking into the hut feels empty. Quiet. Wrong. The last time she was here was when T’Challa brought Bucky his new and improved arm. Ana stares at their makeshift bed. Images of early morning giggles, mid-day exhausted cuddles and lazy nighttime kisses flash through her head.

Abruptly she turns on her heel. There is nothing but phantom memories lingering in the hut.

*

The trek to the apartment takes a longer. Twice, the heaviness of what happened, of what Thanos had succeeded in doing, finally overtakes Ana. She falls to her knees each time, digging her fingers into the soft ground of the earth. Dirt beneath her fingernails, gripping at sand and roots and the crying earth. Wishing, praying, hoping it’s all a horrible nightmare. Hoping that, when she grinds her knuckles into the ground, that she will be able to pull Bucky back from the same dirt he vanished from.

The field pluses with a wave of energy, disturbing the grass and trees in the near distance. The air ceases in her lungs, but she doesn’t try fighting to gain it back. Her husband isn’t there to help her. Her soulmate isn’t there to comfort her. Her Bucky…

Is gone.

Vaguely, she hears voices trying to speak to her, but she can’t make out the words. Instead, she attempts to focus internally. After a great deal of effort and some sort of willpower she didn’t know she still had, she pulls herself together. She channels everything she feels, the broken, defeated energy and chaotic emotions, and locks it inside. It sits heavy in her chest, but the ground has stopped shaking like an earthquake.

Finally, Ana breathes again, panting heavily. With stiff fingers, she releases the dirt, pulling her hands from the earth. She wipes at a wet itch on her cheek, her eyes glancing at Steve who knelt to her level. Some of the anguish Ana is feeling is reflected in his stormy blue eyes as he lifts his hand.

He gently swipes his fingers across her cheek, either wiping away the dirt track or tears, she doesn’t know. But that look in his eyes, the expression on his face; he gets it. He understands. He’s broken too. Beaten, bruised, dirty and broken. They all are.

With an odd grimace of despair, Steve offers his hand to her. Ana wraps her fingers around his, allowing him to help her up. No words are spoken, just a shared sense of heartbreak. Dropping his hand abruptly, Ana continues the way.

*

Stepping foot in the apartment feels like stepping out of her own body. Ana feels the emptiness the second she walked over the threshold. She begins to welcome it without resistance, moving through their home like she’s in a trance.

The first thing she does is enter their room, as if Bucky’s presence is beckoning her. The bedroom smells like him; strong from the shower they took just hours before. Ana clenches her fists. A pop of shattering glass snaps her out of it.

She looks at the lamp on their bedside table, broken pieces of white glass now lay at the base of the lamp. She blinks, unclenches her fists and continues. She carefully grabs Bucky’s pillow, her mind escaping as her fingers graze the fabric.

“Babe,” A chuckle leaves Bucky’s lips, “what in the hell are you doing?”

Picking her head up from his pillow on their bed, Ana grins at him. “Stealing your pillow, what does it look like?”

He lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “Looks like you were inhaling it. Creep.”

But his goofy smile looks like he found it endearing. Ana pokes her tongue out at him, climbing off their bed.

“I’m staying with Pepper for a week since she’s on bed rest and I’m going to miss you. So, I’m taking your pillow hostage. Don’t pretend you don’t do the same when I’m gone.”

Bucky catches her waist, pulling her closer and kissing her forehead. “Guilty. We’re both creeps.”

Ana smacks him with the pillow.

Swallowing the thick lump in her throat at the memory that invaded her mind, Ana moves on. She finds the small lock box they keep their marriage license, and passports in. She spots the kintsukuroi art piece, carefully wrapping one of Bucky’s shirts- the red Henley- around it. She slowly gathers a few more items and a mixture of both their clothes, ending with a stack of journals. She gently thumbs over the withered leather cover of the one she received as a gift.

Bucky hands a small, thin journal to her. Confused, Ana lowers her coffee mug and takes it. Bucky is blushing slightly as he sits next to her, a shy smile on his lips. She opens the journal to the first page, reading over the words scribbled half in cursive, half in print. Immediately her eyes begin to fill with tears. She looks up, lost for words.

“I know it’s not the greatest birthday gift, but t’s from my heart,” Bucky shrugs sheepishly. He nervously plays with her wedding bands, spinning the rings around her finger. “Not too long after I met you, Annie, I started writing letters…to my mother.”

“Bucky…”

“Sam suggested it. Figured it could help me in some way. He was right, but don’t tell him that.” He chuckles, lacing his fingers with hers. “Anyway, I started writing these little…notes, as if she could read them. I told her about you. How you made me feel, how I was beginning to fall in love with you.”

He scratches his chin. “I guess they’re really love letters to you, if you think about it. This was the only journal I never showed you. Until now.”

Ana lifts the journal, pressing it to her chest. She’s about to respond, when something falls to her lap.

“That too,” He mumbles, ducking his face into her hair.

She picks up the item from her lap, holding it between her fingers. It’s a thin gold necklace, with a tiny, delicate snowflake pendant. It’s simple, it’s beautiful, it’s making her feel emotional. Ana shifts, puts down the journal and lifts her husband’s head.

“James,” Ana sighs happily, cupping his neck. Bucky’s cheeks always turn darker and his eyes always flutter when she calls him by his first name. “This is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing this with me, it means so much to you, and me. I love you so much. Snowflake.”

Bucky beams, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He presses his forehead against hers. “Love you too, Annie. In case you didn’t know,” He laughs along with her. “Happy birthday, my love.”

Ana lightly touches the necklace hidden under her shirt. Her Snowflake. Her chest aches. She carefully puts the journals in the bag she found and quickly leaves their room. His smell is everywhere, his presence lingers in the air, his laughter and words echo through her ears. The phantom caress of his touch fades from her hands.

She stumbles into the living room, clutching at the counter of the kitchen bar for support. Her chest is constricting, her heart aching. Steve is by her side in an instant with instructions to breath slowly. His nearly bruising grip on her elbow is enough to shift her focus to the physical feeling rather than the internal ones.

Rocket has been inspecting the living room, trying to respect Ana’s space. He spots a rustic wooden frame, a date carved at the bottom. He studies the picture placed behind the glass, then carefully picks it up. He figures it’s something she may want.

“This important?” He inquires knowingly, holding the frame out.

It takes a moment for Ana to realize someone else spoke to her. She blinks slowly, regaining her breath, then turns to see what Rocket said. He’s holding up one of the pictures from their wedding day. Her favorite picture. With unstable steps and trembling hands, she reaches out to take the photo from him.

“Annie Doll,” Bucky sighs lovingly in her ear, his hand grazing her neck. She feels his ring against her skin, making her shiver. Of course, his lips grazing her skin don’t help either. “I don’t mind a few pictures.”

Ana turns her head, placing a light kiss to his jaw. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable, babe,” she pauses, then grins mischievously. “Plus, I spotted a supply closet earlier.”

“Шалунья,” Her husband breathes hotly in her ear. It nearly makes her moan. Abruptly, Bucky picks her up by her waist, suddenly spinning her around in the air.

“Bucky!” Ana shouts gleefully, laughing along with him.

The bright, elated smile on his beautiful face makes her heart melt. Their noses brush, Ana closes her eyes, the wind around them, making her feel like she’s flying. She’s been flying ever since she met Bucky.

“I love you, Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky says breathlessly.

Ana gently traces the picture, caught in the moment when Bucky spun her around. She grits her teeth, clenches one fist. If her heart hadn’t already faded with Bucky, it would shatter. She can’t speak, just gently places the photo it in the bag. The one filled with all the important stuff; his pillow, his soap, his journals, Nutella, their marriage certificate, five more pictures, the kintsukuroi.

Lastly, she moves to the kitchen, only taking one thing. The sonogram from the refrigerator door.

Ana can feel how soft her expression is as she stares at her husband, who squints confusingly at the picture. He tilts his head, first to the left, then right, then flips the picture over. Recognition dawns over his face, his mouth dropping in a small O.

“Now I see it,” Bucky announces, nodding determinedly.

Ana narrows her eyes, her legs over his lap and one finger playing with his hair. “No, you don’t.” She calls his bluff.

He groans in disappointment, dropping his head back with a sad pout on his lips. “No, I don’t.”

Tilting his head back up with her fingers, she takes his wrist to bring the sonogram closer to their faces. She circles the image with her finger after she releases his wrist.

“See this circle here?” She begins, then slides her finger over as he nods. “And this tiny little speck-“

“That? That little thing?”

“Yes, that little thing is the baby. Our baby.”

Bucky exhales. “Our baby,” His voice is thick with emotion. “It’s so small. Like a little bean.”

He turns to smile brightly at her, his pure blue eyes misty. Returning his smile, she pushes his hair back behind his ear, leaning forward to kiss his scruffy cheek.

“Exactly. Our little bean.”

“Ana,” Steve’s soft voice shakes slightly behind her, but he doesn’t say more.

Maybe he just called her name to comfort her, maybe he can no longer find any words to comfort her. Maybe he’s just reminding her that she isn’t alone. Whatever the reason, she’s broken out of the recent memory, pressing the sonogram to her chest.

Ana finds both Steve and Rocket staring at her with expressions she doesn’t want and can’t decipher. She nods once at them, carefully slipping the sonogram between he pages of the journal in the bag.

“Is there anything else?” Rocket questions cautiously.

Ana notices Steve from the corner of her eye, two smaller picture frames from the same display as the wedding photo. She catches a glimpse of the photos; one from the wedding of them, the other, a black and white photo from simpler times. Steve tucks them carefully his belt, his glistening eyes snapping over to her quickly before turning away.

“No,” She answers, the word barely making it past her lips.

As they silently make their way out of her and Bucky’s home, Ana spots his jacket in the corner of the couch. With her left hand over her stomach, she reaches out her right one, shaking as she grabs the jacket. It smells like Bucky. The whole apartment does. He’s everywhere and nowhere. He’s gone, vanished, faded away. Ana turns, and quickly walks out of their home, because if she stays there any longer, she will fade too.

Avengers Compound: 5 days Later

Steve stares at the holographic screens in front of him, watching as his friends, his family, pop up as missing. His eyes slide to the climbing red numbers on top of the screen; the count hasn’t stopped for days.

Shuri. Hope and Hank Pym. Peter Parker. Sam. Wanda, Scott Lang. T’Challa. The list goes on and on; , faces he’s heard of, face he knows.

An image catches the corner of his eye, moving his gaze to stare of the face of his best friend. Missing. Gone. Dusted right in front of him, right in front of Ana, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He lost. They lost. He failed.

His grip tightens over the edge of the table, only pulling away when he realizes his fingers made cracks in the polished wood. Steve drops his head, feeling the tension build in his shoulders and some bruises lingering from the fight. Blowing out a long breath, he pinches the bridge of his nose pressing into the corner of his eyes to fight off the sting of unshed tears.

Finally lifting his head, he looks at Natasha, staring at the screens with glassy eyes, chewing on her fingernail. Colonel Rhodes is sitting in another chair, keeping careful watch for any signals to pop up on a location device. Thor had agreed to come back with them, but the god has barely moved from the bench small back porch outside. He’s been nearly as quiet as Ana since they got back.

A new flutter of anxiety pangs through his chest, realizing he hasn’t checked on her in several minutes. He was too busy wishing the numbers would stop. Steve looks around the room to find her. She’s not in the corner she was sitting in three minutes ago, but that doesn’t surprise him. What does, is how utterly silent she’s become; entering and exiting a room without Steve even knowing. He shakes his head.

“This is a nightmare,” He sighs forlornly, his voice hardening. “A fucking nightmare.”

“I’ve had better nightmares,” Natasha mumbles behind her fingers, sounding as if she’s miles away. There’s a pause. “Ezra is gone.”

If there was one thing that could possibly give them a strange sense of comfort, it would be the cat. When they arrived back, Ana was slow to get off the jet, as if it pained her to do so. She didn’t speak a word, to anyone since they left her home, but Steve kept a close eye on her, extremely concerned about her well-being. He knew when she began looking for the cat, and he knew she couldn’t find him when she quietly sat herself in the corner by the window.

Her body keeps fading in and out of the golden light, as does some of the power. Steve wants so badly to comfort her, to give her a long overdue hug, assure her that they’ll fix this. But he can’t, because it could all be a lie. There are promises he can’t make, and he won’t give her a false hope, just to have her heart break again. She wouldn’t be able to handle it physically.

“Has she eaten?” Inquires a new voice entering the room. “Because she’s getting weaker.”

Steve turns his back on the screens, giving their new powerful friend, Carol Danvers, his full attention. She appeared up out of nowhere just two days after they arrived back to New York. She was baffled as to what happened to Earth and Nick Fury, especially after he sent her an emergency signal. Her unannounced arrival was the first time Ana spoke in 48 hours.

“Her energy…she’s powerful. Immensely. Maybe she can find Tony...if he’s alive.”

Natasha rubs her temples. “No. And she’s refusing any medical care.”

Hearing the anger in her voice, Steve speaks up. “Pepper is on her way. Maybe if Ana sees her…” He trails off, not believing his own words.

“Let’s hope,” Nat mumbles. Her eyes snaps to his. “Did you know? Did anyone know?”

Placing his hands on his hips, he swallows the thick lump in his throat, shaking his head. He’s not sure if Bucky knew.

“This isn’t healthy for her…or the baby,” Natasha finally collapses in one of the chairs.

“She’s powerful, you know,” Carol states, the tiniest smirk lifting her mouth. “More than she lets on. The energy levels admitting from her is chaotic right now, but she’s strong.” She squints her eyes in thought, appraising Steve. “Shouldn’t the baby be fine since half its DNA is from a super soldier?”

“It’s a possibility,” Natasha muses sadly. “Since a version of the serum was embedded into his genetic code.”

“But since this is the first pregnancy in this case, we won’t know unless symptoms show up,” He informs quietly. “With her or the baby.”

Before anyone else can respond, a sharp beep cuts through the air. A sense of pride and triumph flashes across Carol’s face before she across the room to another computer. She grabs the device she hooked up, turning to show them the screen.

“I found something.”

A week later:

Ana stumbles out of her bathroom, sweaty and wiping her mouth, barely making it to the bed she hasn’t slept in for two years. Pepper’s hands gently guide her down, so she doesn’t fall off. She forces a glass of water into her hand, and a piece of dry toast in the other. Her cousin doesn’t have to say anything, but the pointed glare with her pinched lips gives Ana the impression that if she doesn’t eat and drink, there will be hell to pay. So, she tries.

“I promise you’ll feel better after you eat,” Pepper assures her gently, taking away the now empty glass. “The toast really helped me when I was going through this at 9 weeks.”

Ana forces a breath from her nose, begrudgingly nibbling at the bread. She allows Pepper to hold her hand, squeezing for comfort. She’s been here for the past two days now, waiting. Waiting to see if Tony is still alive, if he didn’t get dusted like everyone else.

Tears burn at Ana’s eyes, but they don’t fall. Instead, she blinks rapidly, and takes a bigger bite. Pepper looks so stressed, worried, heartbroken. With a rather uncharacteristic like thought, Ana realizes she can feel Pepper’s emotions, and also realizes she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to help; use her ability to calm her cousin. She slowly pulls her hand away from Pepper’s.

“Parenting is hard,” Pepper states suddenly. Gone is her gentle tone. “It’s hard, and terrifying. You lose sleep, probably some sanity, and you might definitely need help. It’s usually a two person job, Ana.”

She takes another bite.

“But, sometimes, that second parent isn’t there, and the parent that is left has to step up and be both parents. That’s even harder. It’s double the work, double the sacrifice, and double the love. But it’s hard, and if that one parent doesn’t think they can handle it-“

“Pep,” Ana cuts her off with a warning tone. “Stop.”

Pepper’s eyes grow sad, but she keeps her words to herself. Instead, she pushes the damp hair sticking to Ana’s forehead aside as she lays back.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or anyone else?”

“You didn’t,” Ana mumbles haughtily. “And, first trimester.”

“Please allow a doctor to look at you,” Pepper pleads softly, her eyes watering.

“Who’s that going to be?” She remarks bitterly, wincing as her stomach rolls again.

“You need to take care of yourself, Bug. All this…emotional stress can be dangerous to you both.”

“I’m tired, Pepper,” Ana sighs, only half lying as her eyes close.

She hears her cousin sigh in defeat, followed by the motion of her getting off the bed. Ana feels Pepper push back her hair once more before kissing the top of her head. She thinks she left after several long moments of quiet. Until she speaks again.

“You know Ana,” Pepper starts, a quiver in her voice. “Bucky wouldn’t want you feeling like this. He wouldn’t want to see you this sick.”

“Goodnight, Pepper,” Is Ana’s response.

The second the door clicks shut, Ana curls into a ball, hugging his pillow between her body. The sudden weight of her own feelings crushes down on her aching, empty body. The weight of the others adds to it, and rather than fighting it, she allows it to happen. For their failure to drag her down, fill her lungs with ashes until she can’t breathe. Smothering her with the phantom feel of her love between her fingers.

Ana gasps, wraps one arm over her stomach, and cries into the pillow.

*

Days pass. Nights linger. Ana can barely sleep. Every time she starts to drift off, she sees Bucky disappearing before she could even wrap her arms around him. She nearly forgets she’s pregnant one day, as she grabs on of the whiskey bottles and almost takes a long swig from the bottle itself. Until Bruce walked in at the perfect moment, quickly snatching the bottle away from her.

It resulted in a scolding, and threats of bodily harm from both Steve and Natasha, if she didn’t allow a doctor to evaluate her. It was only one day after that incident, did Ana finally agree. She gets checked over by a both a doctor and GYNO after Pepper was able to find the best of the best who had survived the Snap.

She’s put on bed rest for two weeks, as the emotional turmoil was beginning to become too much for her body. The baby, thankfully, seems to be developing perfectly. But there are times, where Ana is between being awake and sleep, she swears she hears Annie, like a whisper in the wind.

When those times happens, she gets out of bed and always ends up in front of Steve’s door. And every time, Steve always welcomes her with open arms of shared grief to sob into. Sometimes Natasha is already in his room, and the three of them sit in silence; misery loves company.

“Any word from Barton?” Steve cautiously asks one night.

Ana is half asleep, finding it just a tad easier to relax somewhat around Steve. He had set up a few pillows differently to help her get comfortable, and she had been resting a pillow on his thigh as she drifted off.

“No,” The tremor in Nat’s tone makes Steve drop the subject.

Blinking her eyes open, Ana shares a sad look with Steve. She spins her wedding rings around her finger as she shuts her eyes again, then reaches out to link her fingers with Natasha’s. She doesn’t change her energy around, but the small effort of comfort doesn’t go unnoticed.

*

Oddly, it’s Thor that seems to remain stoically calm next to Ana. So, she finds herself around him during the day. Neither say much to each other, but occasionally when she’s feeling like she’s able to, will reach out and touch him.

She feels his anger, his immense guilt, his failure in so many ways. He’s lost so much more than any of them have. But he understands their lost, he understands how Ana is truly feeling at times. Thor wasn’t around too much when Bucky lived at the compound, but when he was, he was always friendly and jubilant towards Bucky.

“He doesn’t seem to be bother by people’s past, does he?” Bucky had questioned after meeting Thor for the third time. They’re on the rooftop, lounging on a chair with his head resting against Ana’s chest.

“Not really. He’s not one to judge quickly,” Ana informed him, brushing her fingers through Bucky’s thick hair. “He must think you’re worthy.”

Bucky had held her a little tighter after that.

Ana blinks the memory away and wipes the single tear from her eye. Thor had caught this moment, his gaze lingering on her face long enough to be uncomfortable. He dropped his gaze, going back to pushing cereal around in the bowl.

“I must apologize, Ana,” Thor mumbles shamefully one day. “Your husband is gone because of me.”

“It isn’t your fault, Thor,” She responded. “I’m not the only one who lost someone.”

*

Without knowing how, another three weeks goes by. Ana didn’t really feel like it has, just trying to go through the motions of trying not to cry. She’s taken to screaming into a pillow more than not, and accidentally causes yet another power outage.

Pepper is back, by request from Bruce and Steve. A sharp pain had hindered Ana for two days, everyone concerned about her and the delicate life growing inside her. A 12 week sonogram revealed that the fetus was still developing perfectly, but Ana’s body was just taking a toll itself. Elevated hear rate, low iron levels, blood pressure going up and down.

She’s resting in bed, hoping to actually sleep, when Pepper brings her decaffeinated tea. She presses close to her cousin, Ana rubbing soothing circle over her small bump. They decided to watch a movie, something light, something uncomplicated. A quiet rattle from the window panels catch both women’s attention. Pepper stands to peak out, as Ana places the barely drank tea on the side table.

“Oh my god,” Pepper breathes. She pulls back the curtain to show Ana.

*

Everyone jogs out into the field, watching as Carol, a bright burning star in the dark sky, effortless lows a giant space ship down to the earth. Ana is the last to bring up the group, weaving through everyone to stand directly behind Pepper. The emotions from them all burns at her skin, and the relief and hope she can feel from Pepper is…painful.

The door of the ship opens with a ramp lowering down to the ground. When her eyes adjust properly to the two bodies walking off the ship, Ana gasps. It’s Tony, alive and….skin and bones. He’s being helped by a woman with blue skin, but Ana barely focuses on her as Steve rushes forward to assist them. Tony looks two seconds away from death. Their whispered words can’t be heard.

Pepper gently embraces him as he relaxes into her, grateful she’s alive. Tony’s eyes flutter open, gazing around until he spots Ana. He looks more relieved when he sees her, but his expression changes when he realizes who is missing.

As he’s helped to walk along further, he stops in front of Ana, nearly tripping over his feet to hug her. Despite everything, she allows herself to feel the amount of relief of Tony being alive.

“Bucky?” Tony questions, gripping her shoulders.

Ana shakes her head.

*

Tony is seriously malnourished and dehydrated, his muscle mass dwindled from being adrift in space for 21 days. Steve, Rhodey and Bruce quickly got Tony inside, checked his vitals and hooked up to an IV, sitting him in a wheelchair. They all gather in an open office area, close to the medical ward, while goes off to Pepper call Happy.

Ana sits quietly at the table, absentmindedly spinning her wedding ring around her finger. Murmurs can be heard if she pays close enough attention, but she doesn’t. All she’s been trying to do for the past month is ignore the near suffocating air of misery, to keep everyone else’s energies at bay. With each day that passes, it gets harder and harder, she even thinks the protective rings don’t offer much help anymore. Possibly got damaged in the fight.

“He did everything he said he would. Thanos wiped out 50% of all living creatures.” Natasha’s voice pulls Ana back into the room.

Tony’s had his hand over his mouth, as if he’s trying to hold something together. “Where is he now? Where?” He asks irritably.

“We don’t know, he just opened a portal and walked through,” Steve answers, crossing his arms.

Tony huffs, and spots Thor in the outside through the windows, sulking on a bench. “What’s wrong with him?”

Rocket pipes up. “He’s pissed. He thinks he failed, which of course he did, but ya know, there’s a lot of that going around, ain’t there?”

Ana mentally agrees with the shared failure.

“Honestly, until this exact second I thought you were build-a-bear,” Tony snarks. Ana knows it’s the trauma effecting Tony and the way he’s acting, even breathing. As if he’d ready to be strained once again.

“Maybe I am,” Rocket challenges.

“He’s not,” Bruce defends.

Steve clears his throat. “We’ve been hunting Thanos for three weeks now, deep space scans and satellites and we got nothing.” Steve pauses, “Tony you fought him.”

“Who told you that? I didn’t fight him,” He snips. “No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleaker Street magician gave away the stone. There’s no fight-“

“Okay-“

“There’s no people.”

“Okay,” Steve tries to be patient. “Did he give you any clues, coordinates, anything?”

Tony makes a pffft noise, motioning he’s got nothing. He looks around wildly for a moment. “I saw this coming a few years back, I had a vision, I didn’t want to believe it. Thought I was dreaming.”

Steve grits his teeth before remaing calm. “Tony, I’m gonna need you to stay focus.”

Ana feels a sharp shift in the air.

“And I needed you!” Tony snaps. “As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It’s too late buddy, sorry,”

“You know what I need?” He lashes his hand out, knocking over the glass of water and soup bowl. “I need a shave.

“Tony-“ Rhodey tries, being ignored.

“I believe I remember telling, live and otherwise,” He suddenly grabs his IV, pulling it out of his arm as he stands up. Ana winces, more so at the anger beginning to boil her blood.

“Hey, Tony-“

“That we needed was a suit of armor around the world, remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not that’s what we needed!“

Steve doesn’t budge as Tony limps his way right in front of his face. He looks the weak man right in the eyes. “Well that didn’t work out did it?”

Tony sways. “I said ‘we’d lose’. You said ‘we’ll do that together too’. Guess what Cap, we lost. And you weren’t there” He pokes his chest. “But that’s what we do right? Our best work after the fact. We’re the Ah-Vengers, right? Not the pre-vengers!”

Tony stumbles, Steve’s hands twitching to help. The more Tony spews, the more Ana feels the energy.

“Alright, you made your point, just need to sit down.” Rhodey demands, attempting to bring him back.

“No, no,” Tony tries to push him off, as he points to Carol. “You know what, she’s great by the way! We need you, your new blood. Bunch of tired of mills, I got nothing for you Cap!” He breaks out of Rhodey’s hold, getting in Steve’s face once more. “I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies. No options, zero zip nada. No trust. Liar.”

Ana can’t take it anymore. The high-strung emotions, the dark tainting energy, is beginning to drive her insane. The animosity and tension building in the room, between them. All Anger and hurt and disappointment. She can barely contain the tremors throughout her body, and if she accidentally loses her own control, it won’t be good for anyone.

“Tony!” Ana sharply cuts off his insults to Steve. He sways, nearly losing his balance to face her. A spike of concern flashes through her but she ignores it.

“I know how you’re feeling, Tony. I know. I can feel you,” She informs him, keeping her voice low. “I can feel everyone in this room. I feel it in the air. I know you think you failed. I know it’s hard right now. You were strained for a month. It must be so hard. But are you honestly telling me, you are not going to help us find him? We need you.”

Tony blows a raspberry, then scoffs. “I needed you too,” He slurs irrationally. “I could’ve used your help. Drained his life force or whatever the hell you do,” He wiggles his fingers. “Instead of you running off-“

“Tony-“ Natasha warns, being ignored.

“She risked her-“ Rocket begins angrily.

Tony doesn’t stop “-to hide out in a secret country with Barnes-“ The lights begin to flicker. “Who probably refused to-“

Ana abruptly slams her hand down the one table, standing up, the chair falling over. “I. Can’t. Feel. Him!” She grits vehemently through her teeth. The power surges around the room as her eyes water. “I can’t feel him!”

The wood beneath her hand begins to sizzle. Tony’s eyes flicker to the spot then back to her. Natasha moves to either comfort her or calm her down, but Ana slaps her hands away as her chin trembles.

“I can’t! It feels like I can’t breathe! I couldn’t…I couldn’t hold him…I lost him! We!” She gestures wildly around the room. “We all lost loved ones! And I feel it! The entire world! It’s in the air, in the ground, it’s in this room.”

She inhales deeply, paying no mind to the few tears that betray her eyes. “Are you telling me, you’re just going to walk away. Just take Pepper and leave? You’re just giving up!?”

The tension between them as they glare into each other’s eyes is nearly palpable.

“Yes!” Tony spits like a curse. “In fact,” He turns to Steve again. He grabs the arc reactor on his chest, yanking it from his fragile body. He takes Steve’s hand, slapping the reactor on his palm. “You take this. You find him and you put that on,” He breathes heavily, swaying, pointing at Steve. “You hide.”

Something snaps within Ana as she leans across the table. She snatches the arc reactor from Steve, glaring at Tony. The once powered down device suddenly lights up, glowing brighter and brighter. Her palm begins to emit a strange, faint orange hue, quickly enveloping her entire body. Heat raises in her, boiling her blood, and everything she’s felt since the snap comes to the surface.

Suddenly she launches the reactor forward. It soars right over Tony’s shoulder, narrowly missing his ear, and shatters against the wall behind him. Tony flinched slightly before matching a glare with Ana. They say nothing. Seconds of utter silence, seething silence, passes. Then, Ana spins on her feet, exiting the room in rage so tangible, it stings at everyone’s skin.

Tony turns back to Steve, panting heavily as he stumbles again, pointing in his face. “You’re on your, Cap.”

He collapses to his knees, Rhodes and Steve calling his name, right before he passes out.

*

The air in the living room grows hot as Ana paces around, the lights go out, the windows rattles. She’s vaguely aware her skin is glowing. That her powers are raging, and a voice in the back of her mind tells her mind that being this high stung is not good for the delicate life inside her. She stops pacing, then notices Natasha, Carol, Nebula, Steve and Rocket have all followed her.

“Ana,” Natasha begins softly.

“Don’t.” Carol demands calmly, moving closer to Ana with a understanding loo in her eyes. “Don’t tell her to control her emotions.”

“I wasn’t…” Nat’s words die off.

At Carol’s gentle touch with her hand on Ana’s elbow, the raging wave inside her chest slowly begins to regulate. It’s an unearthly amount of power, but the powerful energy emitting from the newcomer it doesn’t control Ana’s own. Instead, it comforts it.

But Ana doesn’t want comfort. She doesn’t want to regulate energies or feel the grieving world’s emotions. She wants to protect the shattered shell of her soul, of her heart. She wants to protect the only thing of Bucky she has left. Places her hands over her slightly bulging stomach, and does something she never thought she could.

Closing her eyes, Ana inhales deeply, feeling the chaos of energy within her and from others. She finds her own emotions and concentrates until she can feel it all gather in the center of her chest. Lifting her right hand to her chest, Ana presses down, then zaps her fingers over her heart. Then…nothing.

Everything stops.

When she finally opens her eyes, she feels nothing.

“What the hell was that?” Rocket questions, baffled. Nebula looks a little sad, yet curious.

“Ana,” Natasha speaks up cautiously. “You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Steve demands, an air of urgency in his tone. “What did she do?”

“She…” Carol answers, clearing her throat and takes her hand off Ana’s elbow. “Didn’t control it. She did something worse.”

“Like what?”

Ana slowly meets Steve’s worried gaze. “I shut my emotions off.” She informs him, her voice an even tone. “Now I won’t feel anything.”

Ana doesn’t bother watching Steve’s concern grow into fear. She just walks out of the room. After a few minutes of stunned quiet, Natasha breaks it.

“She never told Tony she’s pregnant.”

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

Drabbles: Nineteen   Drabbles: Twenty-One

Tags:  @thecreatiivecorner @kat-lives @stressedasalways @watchoutforfrostbite @justreadingfics @keldachick @fics-i-read @eurynome827 @elatedmarvel @shesalatesh

[the-walking-memelords]

A2 - Chapter 6: Search for Safety

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Series is rated M

Word Count: 2528

Clementine finds herself reintroduced to the horrors of the world outside her secluded home.

Read it on Ao3!

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The smell of pine sap permeated the air as the fallen green needles crunched under her boots. The hardness of the ground below her was the only real indication that this was a paved road as leaves and branches masked the abandoned route. White clouds formed in front of their faces with every exhale as the chilly morning air clung to their skin. The clouds above their heads danced with the strong winds as they darkened with every passing hour.

I hope we find the others before that storm hits.

Eli followed along in silence, hands jammed into his pockets and seemingly locked inside his own thoughts. Clementine walked behind him, not willing to let him out of her sight just yet. She wanted to trust him, she really did, but caution was required with someone unknown and unpredictable. 

Clementine had decided that she would do what she could to help the boy, but if he tried to throw it back at her, she wouldn’t hesitate.

Louis led the way with AJ at his side. The two of them talked in hushed voices that couldn’t reach her ears, but AJ was smiling, so she wasn’t worried.

Eventually, the trees grew sparse as they approached a hint of urbanization in the seemingly endless forest. At least in the forest, you could pretend all was right with the world. Untouched wilderness remaining uninterrupted by humanity. But approaching something like this, shells of burnt-out cars overtaken by vines scattered and crashed along the cracked pavement. The faded yellow lines that once divided the lanes became ignored as this flurry of people rushed to get away from the first of the walkers. The cars sat rusted and charred, crushed together in nearly unrecognizably twisted clusters.

The four of them walked past the automotive graveyard, ignoring the unmoving jaws of the scorched skeletal figures slumped in the seats. Their remains fused to the very material. 

A small, high-pitched gurgle was barely audible from one of the cars. It was a minivan. Red paint chipped and melted in the front half leaving the back to be weathered down but more or less intact. Another wheeze came out of the heat-shattered window.

The four of them stopped as the shuffling of the agitated walker became more apparent. Louis and Clem looked at each other as they gauged the possible threat.

Louis stepped forward silently, reaching his bat out in front of him as he tapped the metal under the opening. 

A small, bony hand gripped the edge on the window frame, unconcerned about the glass shards digging into its skin. The face of a child appeared over the frame, half of her face burned to a crisp with an empty eye socket. The other side that still had some remnants of functional flesh was twisted into a dark scowl. Locks of thin and matted hair hung from a ponytail still tied in a bow with a stained yellow ribbon. The little girl lunged out of the window, the glass tearing into her yellow dress staining it with her nearly black blood and holding her in place.

Clementine stared at her with eyes filled with shock. 

Why did it have to be a kid?

Even now in her 20’s, seeing a child as one of them made her think of how close she came to being just like that. She would have been dead in a week if Lee had never found her. Dead, and turned. Without ever knowing what was happening around her. Just like this little girl. 

Maybe that’s why the kids always made her hesitate. Killing an adult walker was more dangerous and more difficult, but she would never stop for even a second. But a kid? Looking into their blank eyes triggered a flash of all of the kids she knew to appear with those eyes in place. 

Looking at this little girl’s white, unfocused eye made her think of every kid she watched die.

She could feel Louis’ sympathetic gaze on her. Clementine forced herself to find more interest in the mud on her boots than the dead child and shook her head. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Louis’ boots walk towards the van as the growls intensified. There was the shing of a knife and then silence. One final thump and it was all over. When Clementine looked back up it scene was as empty as it had been when they arrived, save for a piece of torn yellow fabric stuck to the broken glass.

She can rest now.

You didn’t know her. 

Just don’t think about it.

“Let’s keep moving.” Clem said plainly as she took the lead.

---

The rushing rapids of the river could be heard from quite a ways away even over the whistling of the winds. The road approaching the substantially large steel bridge became even more clustered with abandoned vehicles lost to nature. 

The fence separating the solid ground from the cliff’s edge was nearly non-existent at this point, leaving little to prevent someone from talking the steep and long plunge should they get too close.

The bridge seemed like it was the site of another panicked tragedy that was never resolved. The lone trailer of a transport truck laid perpendicular to the road, sitting on top cars it must have rolled onto.

“How do we get through?” AJ asked as they surveyed the trailer caught in both sides of the bridge’s supports. 

Clementine walked to the edge and peered around. Looking down, barely visible in the water was the cab of the truck.

We go this way and we’ll end up down there with the driver.

“If the others made it around this thing then we’ll find a way too.” Louis said confidently as he looked around for a way across.

“What if we don’t.” Eli spoke for the first time in hours. 

“What if we don’t find a way through? What does that mean?”

“It means they didn’t go this way and we have to look somewhere else.” Clementine responded, looking him dead in the eyes. She refused to consider the alternative. 

A burst of thunder echoed in the distance. A warning of what was to come.

“We won’t be able to track them well in the rain so let’s hurry up and look around.” She walked past both Eli and AJ.

Louis sat crouched next to one of the crushed cars, rubbing something between his fingertips.

“What did you find?” She asked as she crouched next to him. 

“Blood.” Louis’ fingers were covered in the sticky red substance.

“Living blood.”

Louis pointed ahead to the area underneath the trailer. It was a gap a few feet wide and tall that was a straight shot to the other side where it was boosted up by the car. A small yet sharp piece of metal stuck out from the side, covered in red that dripped to the road below.

“It’s still a little wet, so it’s not old. And it’s too light to be a walker’s blood.” Louis reasoned as the light from the other side of the bridge became a small beacon of hope as he rambled on.

“The spike is easy to see normally, but if someone was in a hurry, if multiple people tried to get through at once, or if someone couldn’t see very well, they could easily get cut.”

“You think this is where they got through?”

“I know it.”

From what she could see, the other side of the bridge was clear. A few dead walkers littered the road as well as…

Shit.

A mess of orange hair whipped around in the wind, the body it was attached to limp as the walkers.

No.

She’s too tall.

It’s not Ruby.

“Something happened over there.” Louis said.

“Let’s check it out.”

“I’ll go first.” A voice came from behind them. 

Eli stood with a determined look in his eyes, and a hunting knife in his hand.

“I’ll look for walkers or signs of people being through here.” His determination faltered and revealed a tone of desperation in his voice.

“I can help.”

What is he trying to prove?

“Fine” Clementine relented. “I’ll go second, then AJ, then Louis.” Clementine stumbled onto her hands and knees as she crawled under the metal trailer, keeping in mind the sharp debris around her. This thing’s been solid for over a decade, what are the odds it falls now?

Her thoughts were halted by the boy frozen in place in front of her. Clem was about to ask what the matter was when she heard something unexpected answer her.

A horse whinnied from somewhere near the end of the bridge accompanied by the muted arguing of two men.

“What’s the holdup?” Louis asked from the other side.

“Gravediggers.” Eli growled.

Clementine squeezed in beside Eli to get a better look. Two men wrapped in fang-marked cloaks pulled a horse-drawn cart. The first man made a beeline to the dead woman, holding the sides of her head in his hands and bowing his head.

“She gonna come back?” The second man asked as he grabbed one of the walkers and threw its body into the cart.

“No.” He replied.

“Somebody put a bullet in her head.”

“Let’s just get her home and get her in the pit.” The second man said as he came to console the other.

“Word is the boss had his eye on her. She’s better off this way.”

“That don’t make this right.” His voice broke as he scooped her up in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

The man placed her into the back of the cart gently as the other threw in the last walker. Just as quickly as they arrived they pulled the horse alone a side trail and disappeared into the trees.

They waited several minutes under that trailer to make sure the men would not return. When they determined that they had truly left, the four of them crawled out to survey what remained of the battle scene.

“What the hell was that about?” Louis asked, breaking the silence.

“Scouts don’t usually go alone with just walkers. She probably had a partner that booked it and left her to die.” Eli explained with a dark expression.

“Gravediggers pick up the bodies. Human or Walker. You’re worth the same to Wolfgang.”

---

They walked for a few miles along the road as the trees faded into abandoned fields which opened up for the outlines of a few buildings to appear in the distance. Thunder continued to periodically boom across the sky, getting closer and closer as the clouds threatened to unleash the storm upon them.

A truck stop sat next to a few large retail buildings. As soon as their shoes hit the parking lot they realized they weren’t the only ones headed to the old Save-Lots.

A sizable herd had converged in the wide-open area. The sounds of nearly a hundred of the dead drowned out anything else as they wandered aimlessly.

So much for this place.

“I don’t think they’re here.” AJ said as he held his binoculars up to his eyes.

“Theres so many.”

“Do they look like they’re trying to get inside?” Clementine asked.

Who knows how long they’ve been here.

Could’ve been days, could’ve been hours.

We can’t give up on this place yet.

“The front doors are all boarded up. There’s a few standing close to it but they’re not hitting it.”

“Whether they’re here or not we gotta find a place to hide before those clouds break and we get drenched.” Louis pointed out. As if on cue, the sky lit up with a flash of lightning followed by the crash of thunder.

“No time to backtrack. We gotta go through them or around them.”

AJ handed Clementine the binoculars. Looking through, walkers surrounded nearly every building. Though thinly spread, there was no getting in anywhere without being seen.

“Looks like there’s less around that smaller building past the Save-Lots. If we have to hold up here tonight it should be easier to clear and less likely to be noticed.” Clementine pointed out.

“Now for the gross part.”

---

Slicing her machete down the abdomen of the fallen walker released a burst of foul air around them that made her stomach turn. Clementine bit her lip as she stuck her hands into the gorey mess, trying not to breathe as she stained her red shirt darker.

I liked this one, too.

Louis gagged and spit off to the side as he made sure AJ was good and covered. Eli didn’t hesitate to join in, smearing his face first before his clothes. He’d probably done this more often than any of them, being covered in guts to move walkers from place to place.

“Alright.” Louis said as they all donned their camouflage.

“This is where we’re starting. We all know where we’re going. Don’t clump together but don't spread too far apart. Got it?”

“See you on the other side.” Clementine squeezed Louis’ hand and nodded to the boys.

---

There was something surreal about walking through a herd. Being surrounded by the creatures that had hunted her for most of her life yet being utterly ignored. Walking as one of them, but the only one with a purpose in mind. The only one who knew where she was going. It made part of her wonder what drove them. What could they feel if anything at all? 

Was it a hunger? 

A rage?

What force made them walk one way while she walked the other?

Once the years numbed the horror into normality it sparked a morbid curiosity. Sadly, she knew she would never have the answers to any of her questions.

Where did they come from? And why? What made them tick? How did they manage to bring the entire world to its knees?

Now’s not the time for idle thoughts.

A cold droplet landed on the tip of her nose as Clementine gazed up at the foreboding dark clouds over her head. A second droplet hit her cheek and rolled down her face as more followed. The rain began to fall quickly as it soaked everything around her.

Clementine looked around her frantically for any quick way out of the herd, but everywhere she looked the dead swarmed. She wasn’t even sure what way she had came from anymore. Desperate but trying to maintain her composure, she pushed through the walkers wherever she could, trying not to attract too much attention while also getting the hell out of there.

There was nothing. No one. She resisted the urge to call out to the others. How far had she been separated? 

So much for sticking close…

She didn’t have time to worry no matter how much her heart wanted to. Her time was limited as the dribble slowly began to turn to a downpour. A red puddle formed underneath her as her camouflage began to wash away. 

She bit her lip and forced her breath to remain steady.

They’ll notice me soon.

Find a way out, Clementine.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt grip of a hand on her shoulder.

[nenestansunsthings]

If your characters were in TMA, what would the statements they give be about?

short answer? being separated and thrown into contrasting but terrible situations involving different entities of fear. i don't know if you've spoiled yourself for the entities, but eun's is the vast, seb's is the lonely, and berry's is the spiral.

eun's is about falling and the feeling that nothing is solid or grounded. seb's is about being unable to find any one of the people he cares about. berry's is about the world seeming to distort itself around them.

long answer...

i'm writing statements.

.

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to stay with your companions?" Jon asked, eyes on the woman seated in front of him. "They looked rather... concerned, for you. You could always write down your statement, if you need to have it recorded today."

"That would be nice, yes." She sighed, her eyes turned to the dirt and worn cement of the floor. "But I'd rather not see the sun right now, if possible. I want a few minutes in the dark, and your workplace is underground. And I can't bring them down into this place with me. There are people in your written recording area. Sebastian needs people with him, and Berry needs stable company keeping them sane, and I... I'm not up for that right now."

"Alright, then." It was a surprisingly clear decision, he thought, for someone shaking like a leaf. Jon cleared his throat, holding out the tape recorder. "Statement of Doctor Eun Eru, regarding..."

"Regarding an anomalous market. And falling into the sky."

"... Statement recorded direct from subject, 1st February, 20██. Statement begins."

It took a moment for her to start to speak.

"I'm not... entirely sure where to begin with this. There's a lot of paperwork I'll need to file for this, and a lot of research to be done, and I... I'm very tired right now. I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to get back home without throwing up. But I feel like there has to be something to record what happened to me. To us.

"I can't say what exactly happened with Sebastian and Berry- their experiences were their own, after all, and their records are being made upstairs. But they came here with me. We were and still are here for a work trip of sorts. I'm an assistant, and the person I'm working with had to come here for business involving SC- sorry, a discovery regarding... pastries. Don't ask. Someone told the wrong secret. Either way, they'd both saved up a few vacation days, so they made the decision to come on the trip with me. We're not from England, any of us-- Sebastian's Russian, I'm from the Philippines, and Berry's American-- and I'd like you to understand that none of us have ever been here before. London is big. And it's loud, and it's so full of people, and it's so much warmer than my apartment back in Siberia that I just sort of feel... safer, here. I think we all did.

"So I feel like that's why we ignored the warning signs when we first found the fairy market."

Eru sank deeper into the understuffed chair she'd been provided, holding the tape recorder like it was an anchor.

"We'd been walking around London for a while when we found it. I can't begin to tell you the name of the street we were on, but when we saw something that interesting I took a picture of the street sign. Much easier than remembering it. It looked like there was a market of some kind going on there, with all these stalls lining the road and people of every kind selling things that looked so nice and welcoming and... warm? The whole place looked amazing. Of course, Berry wanted to go. And Sebastian, too, once he noticed the place. We were all just... immensely interested. I wish we hadn't been.

"Now, I knew immediately upon seeing it that the market didn't fit in. It looked like something straight out of a fairytale, for one, and there were littler things that didn't match London, like the stalls being on the sidewalks and only people being on the roads. There were some bikes, and some tricycles, but overall it was just... people. Nothing that would have run a crowd over. But it worked so well, and I'd been having a really good day, so..."

"So you went into the market?"

"So I went into the market." Eru sighed. "And that was when things started to feel weird.

"Remember how I said it felt like a fairytale? I meant it. I don't really like fairytales, Mr. Sims. They're... floaty, to me. Not quite grounded. Like you're seeing them from the perspective of someone up in the sky, watching a story unfold. It's not the way they're written or the characters in them or even the fact they're fantasy. It's just... they're light. There is nothing there to ground them.

"I hate that, just a little bit. It's okay in small doses, when you're reading a story to someone or imagining it play out, but on large scales like stepping into a market on the street... well, it's like walking on clouds. There is nothing there to catch you.

"That's what the market felt like.

"It was still pretty, and warm, and open, but despite that it felt like it was empty. The people around me never touched me. The people manning the stalls were unfamiliar. Everyone's voices were soft and- and wrong, like their words were being lost in the air. Sebastian and Berry didn't seem to feel exactly that way, weirdly enough. I asked them, both in the market and when we got back out. Sebastian felt the emptiness, but his was... realer. He says it was like being alone in a crowd, being surrounded by cold, uncaring people who didn't truly see him there. Berry felt the unreality, but it didn't feel so empty. They were being overloaded, with colour and people and light... Honestly, I don't know why we all felt it. Only that we did.

"So we made the decision to leave."

Eru shook her head. "Here is where I'm not sure things can still be provable, Mr. Sims. I'm well aware that your Institute doesn't take things that stray too far from the physical. Being lost for days or seeing monsters that are not there is acceptable, but dreams and out-of-body experiences and the like are not. I don't know if this crosses the line into that. If you like, I could stop."

"No, no." Whatever this was, the tape recorder was the only thing that would take it. There had been technical issues with the proper recording devices upstairs, after all, and he'd bet money that her companions' statements would go on to be the same. "Keep going."

"Okay. If you're alright with that." Eru returned to her statement. "At that point, I lost Sebastian and Berry.

"I'd been holding Sebastian's hand, I swear, and I was Berry had been dragging me around trying to look for an exit point, but then Seb slipped away somehow and Berry let go and I found myself alone in the market. Of course, I started trying to find them immediately-- God knows Sebastian would have some kind of panic attack if he lost me in a skip and I would never let Berry's daughter lose her only parent-- but they were not there. The only thing in that empty market that felt solid was me. And even I had begun to doubt that. If this anomaly was affecting me somehow, would I even be solid? Or would I just become one of those- those people, who I couldn't touch and who I swore would pass like a cloud through my fingers?

"I didn't want that. I didn't want to become one of them. I didn't want to be that empty.

"So I ran. If the market was causing this, maybe if I got out, I could find them. I could get away from that anomaly. I could call it in and we could send a team of fie- of police workers or paranormal investigators or something, and I could find Berry and Sebastian and go back home and buy twenty weighted blankets and wear them for a whole day. I didn't want to be some name in the list of personnel lost. I didn't want to just disappear."

She fell silent. For a moment, Jon hoped- didn't believe, but hoped- that was the end of it. He hoped she'd say that she got out and found her friends and found the Institute to tell her story. Maybe that was how his story would turn out, too. Him, Tim, Sasha, Martin- maybe they'd get out of this place and away from everything that was going wrong.

"...It didn't work. Whatever the market was, it seemed to stretch on into infinity. There was no road that wasn't lined with stalls, and no people that I could touch."

Eru laughed. The sound rang out, scared and slightly desperate against the silence.

"So I ran into the whole mess, ran through a pair of stalls and into the building they bordered.

"The building didn't feel real, either. The floor nearly gave out under me, and what stayed still felt like walking on air. The windows opened out into the same open street, surrounded by people that were nothing. I ran up to the second floor, trying to see if I could find Berry or Sebastian in the crowd if I just looked right, but neither of them were there. The building stretched out the same way the market did, with no exits but the windows and the door leading out into the market and the stairs going on forever. I remember... forgetting that the steps could stop, and nearly falling when I ran forward and the floor was level instead of going up. I don't know how high I went once I passed the second floor. I...

"... I went up one last stairwell, and then I found myself on the roof.

"Is it weird that this made me relieved? I mean, the sky goes on as endlessly as the market did, and there would be no-one there to help me. But I was relieved anyway. At least the sky seemed like the one I remembered. The sky's always been empty. It's always just been open air.

"The sun was so bright in my eyes, Mr. Sims. I could barely see past it. I ran over to the edge, to see if there was anything past the market, but I couldn't see anything. Just endless streets and buildings and stalls. I tried to call someone, with my phone or by screaming- I don't even know why I bothered with the screaming- but there was nothing. Just- Just my voice, being lost in the air.

"Everything sort of came to a head there. I broke down. I was crying so hard I couldn't see, I couldn't think, and- and if there was anything else there I don't remember. I don't think there was. There was only the height and the sky--

"I...

"I felt the roof disappear. I felt the world disappear. It was mental, at first, like there was nothing but this endless cloud and air. And then... physical. The roof began to feel less and less solid, like I was sinking into it, like I was falling. I panicked when I felt it, and I tried to stop it, but then-!"

Eru shook her head, burying her face in her hands. Jon startled, reaching forward, but when he touched her she pulled away.

He swore it felt like his touch was going... through her, for a moment. Like touching a cloud.

But she still had weight, he could see it in how the chair sank under her and in how the tape recorder didn't fall through her. So he stayed still.

"... but then you fell?"

"But then I fell." She grimaced, forcing her voice to work. "Through the roof and into the sky.

"It was the sky. I know that. I could feel the sun, and the clouds, and the air around me, and when I looked down I couldn't see the street even past my tears. It was the sky.

"I fell for... a long, long time.

"It all blended together so much I can't tell you how long it was. I fell so far I could swear that it would all be endless, like there was nothing but whatever place the market had brought me into and that there would never be anything more. It was so empty up there that I felt like nothing against it. It was enough that I felt like I was nothing. Like I wasn't anything realer than the market and the people in it.

"And for a moment, I almost forgot the fear of it. It was like there was nothing but that want. I remember wanting, more than I feared the sky, to land. I wanted to be something.

"I'm scared I lost something up there. Something solid and real. I hope I'm all real. I don't want to be like... like that. I don't want to be nothing.

"But at least most of me landed. It was a soft landing. It hurt, but it was soft enough that nothing broke. I don't know how I landed, but something made me. I remember blinking, and- and the sky was still above me, yes, but someone had caught me."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you that," Eru said softly, an apologetic tone to her voice. "He, um... he wouldn't really like it. He wasn't the one who made me land, though. I... I think it was me who did that. But he'd come looking for me after we all disappeared.

"So we went to find the others. Berry and Sebastian. And, well... we found them in the end."

"How?" Jon asked. "Did they go through the same thing? Did they make themselves land, too?"

"I don't know." She pressed her hands together, revelling in the feel of it. Of being solid enough to touch. "But we found Berry in that hallway, and Sebastian on the sidewalk, and... and we went back to our hotel room. And cried. There was a lot of crying after everything."

Jon sighed. "... Thank you for telling me this, Doctor Eru. Is that all?"

"Yes. It is." Eru smiled shakily. "Thank you for listening, Mr. Sims."

"Could I see the picture you said you got of the street name?" Jon asked. "We can send someone to check up on it, maybe do some research-"

"Ah, here." She pulled out her phone. "Also, Mr. Sims? Could I get a transcript of this recording?"

Jon paused. "What?"

"I want to put the story together myself," Eru said decisively. "I want to be able to remember what I said."

"... Of course. I'll talk to someone about transcribing this today and send you a copy. Can I contact you through e-mail?"

"Yes, let me write it down-"

"Oh, right. Statement ends."

Jon clicked the recorder off.

[fadingcoast]

Death Of The Lie  ||  Chapter 20: Truth

AUTHORS: @fandom-and-feminism​​ & @fadingcoast​

Summary: Odin and his daughter Hela are the perfect conquerors of the universe. The nine realms fall one after the other into their clutch. After Odin takes a second wife and has a son with her, he doesn’t need Hela anymore. Hela abandons her father and ends up marrying Laufey, a sworn enemy of the Aesir people. Not long after, she becomes pregnant with Laufey’s child. Odin cannot let that son be born, but against all odds, the boy survives. Odin is forced to bring him back to Asgard to be raised as his own until he could make further use of him. The half-Jotun-half-Aesir boy grows up to look and act a lot like his mother, which disturbs Odin, and makes him treat the boy horribly. Odin’s lies are deep and complex, but one day the boy will find out the truth about everything he is.

PAIRING: None RATING: Teen

MASTERLIST

Feedback is always appreciated and reblogs are encouraged!!

.-

Chapter 20: Truth

“He may speak about the good of Asgard, but he’s always been jealous of Thor.”

Jealous.

Of course Thor’s friends would belittle his words down to jealousy, as if he didn’t have a point about Thor being reckless, and violent, and hot headed, and definitely still not fit to be king… no, he was just jealous. If his concern for the realm’s future denoted jealousy, Loki reasoned, then what did their boneheaded loyalty toward their arrogant friend say about them?

Loki scoffed and muttered curses as he walked, being mad at Thor’s entourage was better than to focus on the cold that still lingered. With a low grunt, he kicked the nearest pillar and muttered more curses. He breathed hard with his forehead against the hard surface, and looked down at his hand. It was pale white, as he had known it his whole life.

But, had it?

Loki closed his eyes and remembered the many times his frost magic went haywire, the blue that spread on the tips of his fingers.

A trick of the light. It’s because of the ice, and the cold, nothing to worry about.

His feet started moving again, shuffling on the tiles. It was as if something on the outside was guiding him, calling to him as it had in a million dreams he had tried unsuccessfully to forget.

You’re tired. You need to sleep. Take a bath. Relax. Breathe.

Loki shook his head as he trudged the steps down the Vault. His hands shook even as he pushed the handles to open the doors. There was a part of him that fought against this, that didn’t want to know, but Loki knew if he truly was what he thought, he couldn’t trust anyone else to tell him the truth. His footsteps felt wooden as he walked down the long hall toward the Casket of Ancient Winters, which was still on its proud pedestal. Its strange magic made Loki’s skin tingle the closer he came to it. It almost seemed to whisper to his subconscious, beckoning him to hold it.

Slowly he approached the Casket and raised his hands, hesitating for the space of a deep breath before grasping the handles on the sides and lifting the heavy relic to get a good look at it. Immediately its power spread into his arms and his skin turned ice cold.

Loki’s breathing quickened as he watched his flesh transform into that of a Frost Giant’s, complete with raised markings and blue scales that climbed up his forearms and spread all over his body. The very air in his lungs turned cold and the blood coursing through his pounding heart felt thicker. 

No one else had this reaction to the Casket. Everyone knew that without proper magical protection it would freeze all but a Jotun if they tried to handle it. Yet here he stood with it in his bare hands and it didn’t so much as make him flinch. There was no other explanation - he had Frost Giant in his blood. It was just as he had feared ever since the Jotun sentry had grasped his arm and negated the spell on his skin. 

His life was a lie. 

His family was a lie. 

All of it, every word that came from his mother and father’s mouth, it was all a lie.

Anger surged through him like a cold flame and a layer of thick frost spread from his feet to the surrounding floor. 

A thousand years. They’ve lied to me for more than a thousand years. 

The frost reached the nearest pools of water and froze them solid with a quiet cracking sound.

Odin. Frigga. Heimdall. The Einheri. 

Who knows who else.

Thor?

Loki’s hands clenched tighter on the Casket’s handles until they hurt.

“You were both born to be kings.”

Lies.

The iron grid that housed the Destroyer began to pull back but Loki ignored it.

They dare accuse me of deception when everything I’ve been told has been a lie?

“Stop!”

Odin’s warning carried to him from the entrance to the Vault and it was all he could do to stop himself from turning around and aiming the Casket’s power at his own father - if Odin even was his father. Instead he calmed himself and forced his voice to remain strong. He would give Odin one chance to tell him the truth. 

But only one.

“Am I cursed?”

Odin sighed. “No,” he answered, surprisingly calm. “Put the Casket down and we can talk.”

Still unwilling to relinquish the Casket just yet, Loki instead withdrew the frost around him with more control than he had ever been able to exert over it before. He stared at the swirling blue magic within the Casket and tried to think of the right questions to ask. Of everything he could have said, all the venom he could have spat at the man who raised him, Loki managed to narrow it down to the one thing he truly wanted to know.

“What am I?”

“You are my son.”

Another lie.

Loki placed the Casket back on its pedestal and slowly turned towards Odin, effectively forcing him to face the truth.  He heard the Destroyer's cage close back up behind him. As he walked toward Odin the magic began to fade from his skin and his pale complexion returned. 

“What more than that?!” he demanded, approaching the bottom of the golden steps until Odin could look him in the eye. “The Casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

Odin straightened his spine. “No,” he admitted quietly. “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple, and I found a baby. Small for a Giant’s offspring - clearly abandoned and left to die in the cold. Laufey’s son.”

A lance to the heart would have hurt less than those words. Loki’s head spun with centuries of stories that Odin himself had told him and Thor regarding the barbaric Jotun race - and all this time he was one of them. All this time Loki felt like an outcast for reasons he was never able to pinpoint, and was blamed for what he now knew was part of his own physiology, and therefore beyond control. A perfect recipe for self-hatred. 

“Laufey’s son,” he whispered, his hands turning cold. “And what of my mother? Had she no say in my fate?”

Odin quickly cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “It was a time of war,” he reasoned. “Laufey had not publicly taken a Queen. I don’t know who your mother is, or if she even lived through your birth. For all anyone knew, it could have been any random female he wanted to take.”

It made no sense to Loki. There was no reason Odin would have taken a Frost Giant runt when he had the Casket as his prize, and why Frigga and Heimdall and everyone else would go along with it without question. There was something Odin wasn’t telling him. 

“Why? You were knee-deep in Jotun blood - why did you take me?”

Shaking his head, Odin looked away. “You were an innocent child,” he insisted. “I couldn’t have lived with the death of an innocent child on my conscience.”

“And yet it was by your hand that thousands of other innocent Jotun children were murdered that very same day,” Loki countered. “No, you took me for a purpose. What was it?”

Odin’s silence only angered him. He felt tears sting his eyes as he watched the man he believed for so long was his father stand there and stare at him, emotionless. How could Odin have nothing to say, after everything he had put him through? Loki’s fury grew with each passing second until he could stand it no longer. 

“TELL ME!”

Odin flinched but only let the break in his facade show for a moment. “I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day,” he said softly, placing his hand over his chest. “Bring about an alliance, a permanent peace… through you.” He shook his head minutely, his eye now looking at the floor. “But those plans no longer matter.”

Tears slid down Loki’s cheeks as he frowned at Odin in disbelief. His entire world was collapsing in on him and all Odin could come up with was a falsified hero story, a lie about wanting to raise the abandoned Frost Giant as his son to appease his own guilt when all he did was treat the boy like dirt beneath his feet his whole life? If Odin truly believed that Loki would buy his story, the old man was a bigger fool than anyone thought.

Loki allowed some of the venom he felt into his voice. “So I’m nothing but another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me?”

“Why do you twist my words?”

“Your words are empty! Lies! You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn’t you?!”

“I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

Now that the dam had burst, Loki couldn’t stop the words he so desperately needed to say. If it was the last thing he did, he would get the truth straight from the Allfather’s mouth. “Why, because I-I’m the monster who parents tell their children about at night?” Odin stumbled back and clutched his hand to his chest, but Loki did not relent. “It all makes sense now, why you favored Thor all these years,” Loki continued, climbing up the steps to Odin.

As Loki came closer to the top of the staircase Odin began to collapse, reaching wordlessly, helplessly, toward him. “Because no matter how much you claimed to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard,” he snarled. Odin fell back onto the stairs and his eye closed.

Only then did Loki see the sword of gleaming black glass in his hand. Quickly he vanished it and his hands hovered over Odin as though he would break him if he touched him too hard. With the tips of his fingers he felt the skin on the back of Odin's right hand. The magic that normally flowed through him was nearly nonexistent and his skin was cool to the touch. 

His Odinsleep had begun.

Asgard was vulnerable once again.

.-

Loki didn’t register when the guards came in to assist the Allfather. He didn’t even notice how he followed them to the King’s chambers, or when the palace healers took over. His head was spinning with everything that had transpired during the last few hours. How did something so simple turn into this mess? It was just a stupid joke! A silly ruse to ruin Thor’s day, to gain time, to make Odin realize that Thor wasn’t ready.

He saw Frigga come running in shortly after the healers had positioned Odin in his bed. She had tried to reach for him, comfort him, or maybe find comfort for herself. But Loki had recoiled from her touch. Frigga gave him a confused look, and waited until the healers had left the room to ask.

Loki sat by Odin’s bed opposite to the queen, and detailed everything that happened in the Vault, not bothering to hide the hurt and disappointment he felt, for she had lied to him as well. His whole world, everything he ever knew, was collapsing around him, and he was too tired to pretend anymore. They had been pretending for a thousand years after all.

“I asked him to be honest with you from the beginning.” Frigga spoke softly, looking down at her hands. “There should be no secrets in a family.”

Loki gave Frigga a stern look. “So why did he lie?”

“He kept the truth from you so that you would never feel different.” Loki scoffed at Frigga’s words. If Odin had made one thing evident throughout his whole life is that he hated the very sight of him for barely daring to be different. “You are in every way our son, Loki,” Frigga insisted, “…and we are your family. You must know that.”

More lies.

Not wanting to look at the woman he fallaciously called mother anymore, Loki stared at Odin. The King looked pale and lifeless in the cocoon his own bed made. The only source of light in the room were the magic baubles on the walls and the golden glow of Odin’s pod.

“He can hear you.” Frigga said. “If you should want-”

“How long will it last?” Loki interrupted her dryly.

“I don't know. This time is different. He has put it off for so long that I fear…” Frigga took a deep breath, tears were shimmering in the corner of her eyes. Loki’s expression softened as he reached for her hand. “You are a good son, Loki.” She said with a small smile that Loki didn’t reciprocate. “There’s always a purpose to everything your father does.”

Your father. Loki clenched his jaw at the words. They were never true. Frigga repeating them wasn’t going to make them true either. Loki could feel his anger boil again, the frost hovering on the tips of his fingers, ready to explode.

Not wanting to lose control over his emotions and his powers, Loki rose from his chair and headed for the exit. The clatter of armor echoed on the outside, and Loki’s heart stopped in his chest. Do they know the truth? Will I be sent away?

The Einherjar stood by the open doors, staring at Loki as the bowed and knelt. Loki was baffled, and held his breath as the captain of the King’s Guard entered the room carrying Gungnir. Before Loki could even think of what to say or do, the Captain knelt on the floor in front of his men and offered Odin’s spear - no, the King’s Spear - to him.

“Thor is banished. The line of succession falls to you.” Frigga said solemnly. “Until Odin Allfather awakens, Asgard is yours, my king.” The Queen stood and bowed her head as Loki reached out and took the spear from the captain’s hands. “Make your father proud.”

Loki closed his fists around the staff, gripping on it until his knuckles went white. The power radiating from Gungnir made his hands tickle with static, almost letting him know it accepted him as King. If only momentarily. This was his chance to prove himself, to prove to Thor, Odin, to all of Asgard, he was more than capable of doing this.

Make your father proud.

Those words were a sentence he could not escape. From now on, all eyes would be on him.

Make your father proud.

.-

<< Chapter 19  –  Chapter 21 >>

.-

@nikkalia @igotloki @xalgaliareptx  @christy-winchester @silverhart93 @claiming-loyalty-to-loki @honeybournehippy @unseelie1963 @mischievousbellerina @manager-of-mischief @angryowlet @thelittlestlittlecutiepie @moonlightprime

[fullmetaldevil-blog]

An Upset Stomach

This story was inspired by @zanzaflux ‘s “Fever” about Bendy getting sick and I wondered what would happen if Benny got sick.

There are descriptions of vomiting, but it is only ink so its kept pg 13.

Anyways I hope you ladies and gentlemen enjoy the short~

On with the show~!

Allison was out for a few days for a small part in a movie shoot while Tom had taken a few days off to be home for a well deserved vacation as well as to care for Benny. The toon was a bit bummed that Allison won't be home for a little while, but upon hearing that Tom was taking several days off to be home with him made him truly ecstatic. Benny more then happy to spend time with his father figure and Tom was more then happy to spend time with his little one, the man already plotting on how he should spend his vacation with his plush toy son.

Clouds hung low in the sky and despite the threatening look of the heavens there was only a small chance of rain. Seeing a clear opportunity Tom had decided to do a little fishing at a river 20 minutes from home. Benny had inquired about why the sudden urge for fishing since it was cloudy and that they should stay home, but his answer was that the bigger fish come out on cloudy rainy days or when it's dark out. The toon watched as his dad packed up two fishing rods, bait, and a cooler and loaded up the truck while he was urged to grab a raincoat and boots just in case.

The road was soon behind them as the duo headed down the highway to the forest a few miles away. Tom was thankful traffic was light due to the weather and could already spot the swiftly approaching mountains. Benny happily bounced in his seat when he saw the approaching tree line indicating the woods, causing Tom to chuckle at the excitement of the toon. Benny liked the little area that Tom and Henry discovered. It was a old quiet hiking trail that panned out to a small open area with a river that ran just beyond the tree line. No one liked coming to the spot since it was a solid 20 minute walk just to reach the site, but for the toons it was well worth it. The creeping oaks and towering pines created a perfect little hideaway encased by the soothing sounds of the river.

The 20 minute walk was spent with Benny eagerly asking Tom about what they were going to catch while riding on his dad's shoulders. Tom described all the types of fish that he and Henry spotted in the river and that at this time of year they should be more then plentiful plus if they were to catch any that he would make fish fry with them. He noted that the backfire is that patience catches fish better then haste and that once they got there that they would be spending a lot of time relaxing while waiting for the fish to bite since fishing isn't exactly a fast paced sport. Benny nodded in understanding and was more then willing to wait if it meant getting a good meal, but his patience came to an end the minute their trek to the clearing and he heard the sounds of the water lapping at the rocks beyond the trees. He tried to wiggle off Tom's shoulders to bound up to the waters edge but was stopped by the man telling him to at least put his boots and coat on while he set up.

Tom positioned himself next to a large rock right by the rivers edge and dipped his bucket into the water leaning back using the boulder as a chair and with the bucket at his side he motioned for Benny to join him. Benny was swiftly at his side dressed in his little coast and boots and Tom showed him how to tie the bait onto the hook. When the bait was secured Tom showed Benny the motions of how to cast the line before casting his own and patiently waited for Benny to do the same. The toon not wanting to disappoint cast his line with all his might and nearly cast himself in the process. Quick thinking on Tom's part kept the plushtoon from ending up in the water so Tom resorted to holding onto him while the toon cast his line. The floaters bobbed up and down blissfully in the river and Benny took the moment to relax in Tom's lap while the two idly chatted away about little things simply enjoying the others company. Benny's line was the first to get a bite and Tom showed Benny how to reel in the fish and to handle them once caught. He had Benny hold onto the fish and the poor toon was getting slapped in the face by the fish's tail, tom intervened and then it was his turn to get assaulted by the upset fish as it smacked him hard right in the nose. After some fuss and nearly dropping the fish into the river the fish was placed in a cooler filled with water for later. Several more fish later and thankfully with not nearly as much resistance as the first one, the cooler was full of the fish which was making Benny's mouth water with the thought of all the fish fry they could make.

By the end of the day Tom had pulled the fish out of the cooler one by one taking photos with Benny to capture their capture on film. The man sized all of the fish up and tossed all the fish back in the river except for two of them. Benny whined at the loss of the potential meal and Tom chuckled telling him that baby fish are let go to mature and reproduce, while older fish already reproduced and are for only caught for their needs. In short 1 fish per person to keeps things fair and to not over fish an area. Benny understood and watched the man clean and prep the fish which earned a small look of disgust from the toon pulling more chuckles out of his dad at the toons reaction. Tom buried the innards which earned another round of questions from the devildoll. He was told that the body will break down and add nutrients to the soil to help plants grow as it was a part of the natural cycle of life.

The cooler was emptied except for the 2 freshly cleaned fish and Tom carried the cooler and rods while watching Benny run around the base of the oak trees collecting the bright fall leaves and a few acorns. Tom told him to leave the acorns out in a pile for creatures like the Grey squirrels to collect for the winter months since they would need them and the toon was more then happy to oblige. A sense of serenity swept between the two on their journey back through the woods. Benny asked many questions about the forest fauna and landscape while Tom did his best to answer his questions. They occasionally stopped to look at smaller wildlife for which Benny learned that frogs scream when held scarring him and thus earning a squeaky toy scream out of him as well. Tom thought he was gonna bust a rib at hearing both the frog and Benny scream at nearly the same time and both nearly sounding the same. It took awhile for the man to calm his laughter and even more so to peel Benny off him after the encounter.

The ride home was spent with Benny singing in the car to the radio while Tom joined in on rare occasion with the promise that Benny never told Allison. The man was too embarrassed to admit that on the rare occasion he liked to sing, but found a small partner leaning into his side encouraging him to sing a little louder. The truck was a chorus of tunes as the pair lightly sang to some jazzy pieces until Benny lightly complained of being hungry, and Tom had to admit he couldn't hide his own hunger as his stomach at one point spoke louder then Benny's getting a small chuckle out of the toon and the man turning red. A quick stop at a fast food stand was in order and he pulled into a drive through to get a quick bite to eat. Benny didn't like the taste of the food since he felt something was off, but he was so hungry his didn't care and ate it anyways. Since Benny inhaled his food Tom opted to enjoy his slowly while he scooted down the road to home listening to the soft hums of the toon as he watched the world move along the road.

The truck came to a stop in the driveway and Tom stepped out pulling out the cooler from the bed of the truck, before he grabbed the fishing poles and bait Benny offered to take them into the garage while he headed into the house to start cooking the fish. The man consented and headed into the home while Benny slid the fishing equipment out of the truck and closed up the bed. He wandered out to the garage and felt a small pain in his stomach, but it wasn't a big deal so he ignored it and put all the equipment away before running back to the house. He was greeted by the smell of garlic and fish upon opening the door as Tom had garlic bread in the oven and was frying fish on the stove. Benny could hardly wait and set the table while the man worked and occasionally got his horns scratched as he passed by back and forth behind Tom.

Once the fish was ready Tom pulled them out the oil and placed them on a paper towel to cool and get rid of the excess oil before checking on the garlic bread. He slipped on a oven mitt and pulled out the bread that was dripping with garlic butter and cheese. Benny was an instant barnacle on the mans leg making the man laugh as he moved around the kitchen with his demonic anklet. He was released from the demonic bondage as soon as the klink of the plate was heard on the table and Benny materialized in his seat. Tom swore it was like the toon teleported to food.

Appreciative hums drifted through the air accompanied by the crisp crunching sound of bread being broken and the fish being cut. Benny loved Allison's cooking, but something about Tom's cooking was just as good even though the man was simple in his usage of ingredients. The toon happily ate all his food slowly to savor the taste and chatted with his dad about little things. Once the fish was all gone Benny collected his dishes and slid them into the sink while Tom washed them before passing them off to Benny to dry them. The toon winced when his stomach pains returned gaining attention from his dad.

"Benny? You ok?" Tom glancing over his shoulder at the toon whom didn't look well for a brief moment.

Benny looked up at him and put on a shaky smile "I'm fine, just a little tired."

"How about I finish up here while you head off to bed?" The man gently removed the plate from Benny's hand and placed it in the cupboard.

"Ok. Good-Night then." Benny hugged him and slowly made his way down the hall to his room. He opened the door while clutching his stomach out of Tom's sight. He wandered up to his drawer and pulled out a long night shirt and put it on before burying himself under the covers. He didn't want to admit it out loud to Tom, but his stomach felt funny and was really starting to bother him. He didn't know what was going on but he hoped whatever it was would go away soon.

Tom breathed a small sigh at finally finishing the dishes and putting everything away for the night, the kitchen restored to it's former glory. Satisfied for the evening he retired to his room to grab his night clothes and changed in the restroom after showering and brushing his teeth. He practically threw himself onto his bed with giddy eagerness. Thoughts drifted through his mind as to how he should spend the following day with Benny since he was finally getting that vacation he always wanted and yearned to spend much needed time with his toon son. Should he go to the park? The museum? Hell even just doing simple projects with the toon always made him happy.

Tom was thankful more ways then one that Benny had a simple desire: attention. The toon never asked for much, but always enjoyed being included in on whatever was going on. Neither Tom or Allison liked excluding Benny from any activity and the couple had developed a silent agreement that if children weren't allowed to go then they wouldn't go. What made it all the better was how well behaved Benny is. They were able to go almost anywhere since Benny was always quiet and on his best behavior.

Tom quietly thanked whatever god or gods that may be at Benny's sweet and quiet nature. He knew he himself as a child was a bit overzealous when it came to some things which would explain Benny's eagerness with food, but as a child Tom was rough around the edges and blunt. The man chuckled at his youth of the days he spent running around driving his own parents up a wall with how energetic he was, but he wasn't a troublemaker. His chuckle grew to a full on laughter at remembering Benny running around in the woods on the way to and from the fishing and camping site. The plushtoon was acting just like he did when he was a boy and it was endearing watching a mini version of himself in a cartoon form doing what he once did a long time ago. Is this what it felt like to be a parent, if he could call himself one, watching your kids do the same things you once did?

His laughter slowly died down and was replaced by a large grin while Tom made himself cozy for bed. He knew his parents would be kill to meet Benny, but he didn't even know if his or Allison's parents were even alive any more since being gone for 30 years. He knew his mother would have a field day with the toon while his dad would most likely wish he got a hell spawn instead to make up for all the Grey's he put on his old mans head. That would be something that would warrant investigation: to see if their folks or family members are still alive, but that would be for another time. Thoughts of potential introductions and the family he missed passed through his mind as sleep slowly took him

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

In the early morning hours long before the sun rose and a time that would make many question one's sanity for being awake Tom rustled out of his bed awoken by deep gurgling sounds and groans that drifted through the home. The man had never heard sounds like that before in his life and immediately went on the defensive suspecting someone broke into his home. First things first, protect Benny, he's not gonna let anyone mess with his little one. Tom reached around the edge of his bed pulling out his trusty base ball bat and crept across the room to his door slowly opening it part way and looked around. Confirming the coast was clear and listening to the noises better, it was concerning that it was coming from the direction of Benny's room.

Double checking that the hallway was clear of potential assailants, Tom quietly and hastily made his way to Benny's room and grew more concerned with the fact that the noises were getting louder. He hoped it wasn't from the toon, but the more he listened the more he heard the familial gurgles the toon's Ragdoll form makes. God he hoped he wasn't having a nightmare. It was always safer to view Benny from a safe distance when he was having a nightmare and in Ragdoll form for fear of him lashing out. Allison usually hummed or sang which was a from of comfort to the devildoll and would carefully tread to him avoiding his trip lines to enter his protective cocoon of his threads. Tom hoped it wouldn't come to that and hoped it wasn't anything severe.

The man's rough hand gently rested on the doorknob to Benny's room and he pressed his ear against the door to listen to the sounds within the room. The room was riddled with gurgles and groans, but what caught him by surprise was the occasional squeaky-toy like whine mixed in. Benny never made that sound in Ragdoll unless he was hurt, spurring Tom to open the door.

The sight before him made him drop his bat staring in confusion. Benny was on top his bed out of his night shirt and seemed to be in a strange half state between Ragdoll and normal. His teeth were triangular and the stitching on his face looked like it had been pulled apart with the threads by his jaw completely undone. He had a little ink dripping from the right side of his face but not enough to cover his eye like he would in Ragdoll form. However his stomach looked exactly like Ragdoll's and the toon writhed around on the bed in agony in his sleep.

Ignoring the strange state of the demondoll Tom hastily went up to Benny and rested a hand on his shoulder and started to nudge him trying to wake him.

"Benny? Benny? Ben get up." The man nudged the demon slowly stirring him as a pie cut eye opened looking up at him. Tom was surprised to see that Benny's normally solid black pie cut eyes had a yellow iris just like his Ragdoll form. The devil groaned with a prominent frown on his face as his eye looked up at Tom sleepily. "Hey little guy, feeling ok?" Tom's worried eyes looking at his distressed toon.

Benny shook his head no and softly spoke from both mouths " My StOmAcH hUrTs."

Tom looked at the devildoll worried, he didn't know if toons can actually get sick since they are living ink and in Benny's case ink and fabric. He built the machine that made the toons, but even he had no clue about their anatomy. They did all the things a normal living creature did except basic bodily functions, their bodies just seemed to turn everything consumed into energy.

Benny's groans taking Tom out of his thoughts he looked back down and gently ran a hand between the devils horns. "Hey lets go to the kitchen. Ok?"

Tom's answer was a small nod and he gently wrapped a sheet around Benny and lifted him out of his bed cradling him. The toon offered no resistance and Tom was thankful that the stitching that made up the toons body seemed to be holding together. While traversing to the kitchen Tom could feel the toon twitch every now and then and the worst area was his stomach. The area since it was in the mouth form seemed to be constantly twitching and he could hear groans escaping the second mouth while his normal was silent. He didn't know what was wrong with the toon, but hoped to figure it out quickly. The man pulled out a chair and gently sat Benny down leaning him against the counter to help support him. Tom knelt down to further examine Benny's stomach since he said it was the source of his problem and gently unraveled the sheet to reveal his chest and stomach.

Benny's stomach looked just like his Ragdoll form, but on a much smaller scale. The jagged edges were twitching slightly and seemed to be the source of most of the groans and occasional gurgles. There was a small liquid oozing on the edges of the mouth between the small teeth that caught Tom's attention. He leaned down and realized that Benny was essentially drooling ink which was far from normal for the toon. He only expels excess ink from his stomach to revert back to his normal size, not to excrete the fluid at his normal size let alone to release the fluid at more then just a constant drip.

Tom stood back up and rested a hand on Benny's cheek causing the toon to open an eye looking up at him. "I'm gonna make some soup and hopefully that will help. Ok?" Benny nodded resting against the counter while Tom turned to try and make some soup.

Tom hastily paced about the kitchen to fix up a quick soup and was more then thankful Allison bought cans of ready made soup that could just be heated. He fetched a can of tomato soup figuring it was only liquid on the off chance the toon didn't want solids and poured its contents into the pot and placed it on the stove. Just when Toms hand rest on the knob to light the stove to warm up the soup he heard a small hiccups followed by the sound of a lot of liquid splashing against the ground.

He turned around to see Benny desperately trying to contain the fluids in his mouth and was using his hands to try and keep his stomach closed, but was clearly struggling to do so. His stomach spasmed violently causing him to loose grip on his stomach as another wave of the ebony liquid escaped in copious amounts coating the floor. The toon looked at Tom completely upset and in distress at the mess he accidentally made and was continuing to make. He started to cry while trying to keep from expelling more ink but was failing to do so. Tom realized the little toon is indeed horribly ill and is trying to keep from making a mess.

"Hey it's ok." Tom bent down to attend to the sick demon. "It can easily be cleaned up, no worries." putting on a smile for the devildoll while gently petting his head.

Benny looked at him with worry and tried to speak, but instead expelled a good quantity of ink completely rendering immobile until his body was done retching the fluid. He hated that he was having such difficulty doing the most basic of things without making a mess. Each time he expelled ink, his body was racked with pain and exhaustion as the fluid was being forcibly purged from his body. He didn't know what was wrong with him and that growing frustration only added on to his level of stress making him cry even harder. The only comfort he had was the gently coaxing massages or pats Tom was giving to his back to try and comfort him and one the toon was done vomiting he mumbled a small 'sorry'.

"It's ok." Tom rubbed his back a little more before getting a mop to soak up all the ink that had accumulated on the floor. Tom was used to the ink simply disappearing when he dumps the excess he accumulates it but this time round it lingered which was very unusual. Did cartoon logic not work when the cartoon character in question was feeling ill?

The mop made quick work of the spilled ink while Benny quietly cried sitting beside the counter. He wished for whatever was making him feel so bad to stop and for his pain to subside. Each time he lost more ink his pain and exhaustion only intensified and it very much reminded him of his birth when he had so little ink and had sustained so many injuries with no way to numb the pain. The mere reminder further fueling the growing frustrations within the toon while Tom looked at the little demon with pity and concern. He had never seen the toons get sick before and for him to expel such large quantities of ink can't be healthy for him, but it was also 2:30 in the morning and he couldn't call Henry for advice. The old animator was the only other person with a toon in their care and as one whom used to create cartoons he would have more insight as to what to do.

Just as Tom set the mop to the side of the stove and was working on getting himself a cup of coffee since it was gonna be a long morning the sounds of more liquid hitting the floor man the man slightly cringe. He turned to see Benny once again trying to keep from vomiting, but his stomach betrayed his mouth and a small waterfall of the ebony fluid poured out of him along with a banjo that clattered against the floor. Tom stood flabbergasted at the sudden introduction of the banjo. He knew Benny always carried the banjo in his hammerspace, but why would he suddenly reject it? Was it because his stomach was so upset it was disturbing his hammerspace causing the two to temporarily mix? The man toyed with the idea of calling Henry even more so, and hearing the clattering of a few more objects being purged along with a considerable amount of ink spurred him to pick up the phone.

----------Henry's House----------

Henry was sound asleep when the ringing of the phone caused him to stir. Who could be calling at this hour? The man carefully reached over as to not disturb the sleeping demon against his side and picked up the phone. "Hello?" he tiredly groaned into the phone.

"I'm sorry for calling so early in the morning. It's Thomas." the mechanic on the other end sounding exhausted and worried.

Henry lifted a brow and turned over to look at his clock squinting at the numbers before picking up his reading glasses to better view the numbers and mentally cursed the hour. "This must be good for you to be calling me at this hour of the morning."

"I'm really sorry, but it's Benny. The little one is sick." Tom sighed on the line. "I don't know what to do."

This got Henry's attention and the man sat up accidentally jostling Bendy whom mumbled in protest grasping onto the blanket pulling it back over himself. "Sick how? What's wrong with him?"

A long sigh was heard on the line from the clearly tired mechanic "Well he's vomiting a lot and I mean a lot of ink. I know the toons convert the food consumed into ink to sustain themselves and with Benny's appetite he, in theory has a lot of ink, but this is crazy. I've resorted to using water basins to collect the ink and have made many trips to the restroom to pour it down the toilet. What makes it worse is not only is he tossing up the ink, but he is dumping his guts literally and figuratively. His stomach mouth is also upchucking ink and I'm guessing his stomach is so upset that his hammerspace is getting thrown in the mix and he's upchucking stuff from it as well. I'm at my wits end, I don't know what to do other then clean up after him."

"Hmmm...well did he say anything or act strangely prior to feeling ill?" Henry scratched the back of his head as he pondered the information. It sounds like when any normal human gets a stomach bug and empties their guts having little choice but to let the illness run it's course. Though what about the toons? They aren't human and lack normal bodily function, so would they suffer from food borne problems?

"He briefly complained if his stomach bothering him after we got home from an outing earlier, but that was it." There was a big of a pause on the line before Henry heard the man tiredly groan. "And he just up chucked a violin, a sewing kit and some toys from his stomach."

"Well let me let you go to clean that up, but from what I'm hearing it sounds like he ate something that is making him sick. Perhaps you gave him something he isn't used to or maybe something was off, but either way he probably got a hold of some food that wasn't right. Though at the end of the day it has to run it's course and he will eventually stop on his own, but make sure you have ink at the end of it all on the off chance he runs himself too low. I'll swing by before work in the morning to drop off ink if you need some." Henry sat up and felt small nudging on his side to see a pair of sleepy pie cut eyes looking up at him. He petted Bendy and was silently urging him to lay back down.

"Well thanks. I'll take some if you got to spare. I don't know how much more he is gonna lose and I have a feeling I'm gonna be in for a long day." Tom sighed and a small chuckle was heard on the line "Thanks Henry and sorry for waking you."

"It's ok, just focus in Benny,he needs you and I'll see you in the morning" with that Henry heard the line cut meaning Tom hung up and the nudging on his side persisted even more so. He looked down to see Bendy was more awake and was now looking at him worriedly.

"Was that Allison?" The toon inquired.

"That was Tom" Henry scratched the space between Bendy's horns getting a hum. "Benny is really sick right now and Tom is taking care of him."

Bendy tilted his head slightly "What's wrong with him? Where's Allison? Doesn't she usually take care of Benny?"

"Tom said he is vomiting a lot. The little guy probably ate something that upset his stomach, but problem is since he has an internal hammerspace alongside his stomach he is also tossing up literal objects alongside the ink. I'm guessing Allison isn't home which is why he called for advice and I wish him luck. I'll pop by in the morning to drop off some excess ink just in case and to check up on Benny." Henry laid back down allowing Bendy to curl up against his side once more.

"Can I come too?" Bendy leaned into the man's side.

"Yeah sure pal, but be on your best behavior. Benny wouldn't be up for playing right now." The man covered the both of them back up.

Bendy laid his head into Henry's side and whispered “I'll be good. I'll wait till he's feeling better and make up for it.”

Henry chuckled and made sure the toon was properly tucked in before making himself comfortable and allowed sleeps sweet embrace to take him once more.

----------Back at the Connor's----------

Tom continuously paced back and forth as Benny continued to purge ink in massive quantities alongside the last few objects contained within his hammerspace. The toon long since stopped crying and had grown more frustrated with his bodies inability to cooperate and the constant convulsions, his growing anger made his ink boil and his body contorted to his Ragdoll form. Tom initially kept his distance at seeing Ragdoll sitting in the kitchen growling in anger digging his claws into the floorboards in frustration, but when his body was racked with a series of spasms and he upchucked ink his threatening manner melted to one of exhaustion. The man looked at Ragdoll with pity and a slight twinge of annoyance since now he was twice as large as his normal form meant twice the amount of ink decorating the floor. Tom inwardly groaned and grabbed his mop cleaning around the water basin which he was thankful caught most of the ink that had been expelled. Ragdoll looked at the man with sorrow and exhaustion in his eye making a small squeaky toy whine. Tom sighed and gently rested his hand on Ragdoll's head to comfort the demon, but retracted when the demon's body violently convulsed and started dry heaving. The urges and heaves continued on for several minutes and each time the demon looked more and more exhausted and Tom realized he was completely cleaned out of any and all excess ink he accumulates along with his items in his hammerspace. The dry heaving had taken it's toll and made Ragdoll start crying again since the heaving was more painful and exhausting then when he had something to reject.

"Hey it's ok." Tom laid his hand on the side of Ragdoll's cheek looking at the demon strait in the eye. "I've been this sick before and believe me it's no fun, but it looks like whatever was in you is gone and with any luck the urges will die down." the demon nodded sleepily and leaned into the man's hand. Tom looked at the sleepy demon and smile tiredly. Benny seemed to be finally done with the worst part of being sick and now all he needs is rest. “Wanna lay down on the couch?” Ragdoll shook his head 'no', but was leaning more and more and almost slid off the chair.

“C'mon.” Tom grabbed Benny by his right arm above the elbow since it was connected to his shoulder directly and urged the demon to stand up. Ragdoll's legs horribly wobbled beneath him as sleep was rapidly catching up to him and Tom resorted to pulling the demon forward and piggy backed the oversized devildoll on his back. The man groaned and grunted from the additional weight since Benny was heavier then he looked in Ragdoll form and he slowly edged towards the living room to the couch.

He laid the demon down and soon found he couldn't move away from him. Ragdoll's threads had completely wrapped around him during the move from the kitchen to the living room and now was slowly curling up around him. The grim fact hit Tom; at night Benny curls up with his plush toys and now that he is in Ragdoll from Tom is the toy. The man wiggled and tried to free himself of Ragdoll's threads, but the more he resisted the more the threads coiled around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Soft snores drifted from the deviltoon telling Tom that Ragdoll had finally fallen asleep and that he was going nowhere. The man chuckled realizing his situation and opted to simply get comfortable until Ragdoll woke up.

----------Several Hours Later----------

Henry and Bendy stood outside the Connor residence ringing the bell several times with Henry occasionally calling out for Thomas to answer the door. The man and toon stood in the doorway confused as to why the house was so still.

"Huh that's strange." Henry turned look behind him seeing that Tom's truck was still in the driveway. "His truck is here so he should be home."

"Well Benny is still home, I can sense his ink." Bendy set his bag down and hopped up on the windowsill to try and look into the home.

Henry scratched his head while looking back at the door. "Hey bud?" Causing Bendy to look over at the animator. "Wanna let ourselves in?" The man gesturing to the door.

Bendy looked at him in confusion till a little light bulb lit above his head in realization. He hopped off the windowsill and joined Henry at the door. He lifted his left hand that dripped profusely with ink as his body stretched and grew taking on his Ink Demon form. The now towering demon grinned as an inky portal opened up on the door and a wall within leaked ink connecting the two. Bendy held out his hand to Henry in invitation and the man grabbed hold after grabbing Bendy's bag and the two stepped through the portal entering the home. Henry shrugged off the excess ink from the portal while Bendy went back to his normal toon form looking around after retrieving his bag from Henry. The house was oddly quiet except for the ink splatters that looked like searchers had been slaughtered by the dozens all over the floor and buckets and catch basins littered the floor. Bendy lifted his hand the ink pulled itself off the floors and floated around and into the buckets and basins leaving the floors spotless. His reward was a pat and scratch between his horns extracting a small whistle like hum from him in gratitude.

Henry looked back up looking down the quiet halls of the home. "Now lets see where Thomas is."

Henry let Bendy lead since the toon always seemed to know where Benny was, and the little ink demon wandered towards the living room. Bendy poked his head around the corner and waved for Henry to come not wanting to shout. The man carefully crept down the hall and looked around the corner and the sight before him immediately made him seek out the family's camera.

Tom was laying on the couch asleep with Benny in Ragdoll form curled around the man like he was a toy, large inky threads kept the man from escaping Ragdoll's clutches. At least Tom was in a comfortable position laying on his back with Ragdoll's large head resting on his chest and the toon's body wrapped around him like a black blanket. Benny had a fondness for sleeping on people's chest or lap and it seemed that even in Ragdoll form he still had that habit.

Bendy stood quietly snickering while Henry returned with the camera and he quietly paced back and forth around the couch taking photos while trying to hide his own snickering. Bendy pulled out a few pieces of paper and used his ink to draw the scene before him on the off chance they wouldn't be able to get copies of the Kodak moment before them. When Henry finally finished up he motioned to Bendy to set the ink wells down while he returned the camera back to it's original location and making a mental note to call Allison for the photo's later with the hopes that Tom wouldn't find out. He returned to the living room with Bendy waiting for him and he quietly requested a sheet of paper to leave a note before they had to go.

Hey punk,

Bendy and I popped by to drop off the ink wells for you and you were sleeping like a baby. Benny looked like he was doing better all curled up on you making a perfect little picture. Anyways I'll call later to check up on the little one. See you soon,

Henry P.S Get well soon!: Bendy

----------An Hour Later----------

Tom finally stirred but still found himself trapped beneath the Ragdoll demon. A chuckle escaping the man as he looked at the demons sleeping face. It was always so strange seeing Benny's Ragdoll form and realize that under his warped and ruined face was still the little toy demon. He gently ran his hand on the left side of the toons face that was warped and the stitching was pulled open. His skin despite his menacing appearance still felt like soft fleece fabric and small amounts of ink dripped on his right side. He was surprised that despite the severe ink loss Benny's right eye was still obstructed from the ink that always dripped down. Deciding not to dwell on the matter he needed Benny up and off him.

"Benny, Benny, C'mon get up." The man gently patting the side of Ragdoll's face getting a small growl in annoyance. "C'mon" Tom moved his had to scratch at the base of his horns getting a low purring sound. Tom continuously scratched and nudged the sleeping demon getting either small purrs or growls depending on his action.

Benny curled around Tom tighter getting annoyed at the constant prodding not realizing that he was in his Ragdoll form and that his 'stuffed toy' was his dad. After awhile his purring turned to groans as he was slowly stirring and easing up his grip on Tom. The man in question silently thanking the heavens he was allowed to breathe a bit better since Ragdoll was squeezing him a bit too hard when he was annoyed with the disturbances to his sleep. Ragdoll lifted his head and slowly opened his eye finding that not only what his right eye obstructed, but the room seemed oddly smaller.

"How are you feeling?" A gruff tired voice sounded beneath him causing the devildoll to look down and realize he was in his Ragdoll form and was curled up on top of Tom.

Ragdoll squeaked in shock, which to Tom sounded hilarious given Ragdoll's normally garbled tones. The toon in question practically jumped off the couch trying to unravel himself, but only succeeded in tying himself up further with Tom unfortunately still in the middle being dragged along for the ride. Ragdoll staggered on his feet and bumped into the coffee table knocking Henry's note onto the floor under the couch while the ink wells threatened to fall over, but didn't. The demon shook his head whining trying to better wake up, but he was still feeling weak and was struggling to unwind himself around his dad.

Tom noticed Benny's struggles with his body and calmly placed a hand on top the panicking demons head to comfort him. "Hey it's ok. Take it one step at a time, you're still feeling under the weather."

Ragdoll nodded and focused on trying to retract his threads while Tom helped keep them from getting tangled. After a few pulls and unraveling Tom was freed of Ragdoll's coil-like arms and the toon was slowly pulling himself back together. Tom watched as for once Ragdoll didn't expel a good quantity of ink to revert back and simply shrunk in size back to his normal plushtoon state. Benny's legs wobbled and he swayed on his feet and was caught by Tom before he fell over. His reverting back to normal taking more energy out of him and he gave Tom a small shaky smile while looking at him with half lidded eyes.

"Let get you a little soup." The man pulled Benny into a warm hug cradling him, and stopped briefly when the 4 inkwells on the coffee table caught his attention. 'Huh. Henry must have popped by, but he didn't leave a note. I guess I'll thank him later' Tom thought to himself while he gathered up the inkwells and retreated to the kitchen. He was thankful that he was no longer feeling any spasms unlike several hours ago when Benny's body twitched uncontrollably with the urges to vomit. With any luck the worst had passed and he can now try and get something in him to make him feel better.

Tom cradled the toon and set the inkwells on the table before retreating to the stove warming up the soup to a medium temperature where it wasn't too hot and wasn't too cold. He fetched a mug from the cupboard and scooped a small amount of the soup into the mug and set it on the table after turning off the stove. Tom pulled out a chair and he slowly sat down with Benny still in his arms and uncorked an inkwell trying to hand it to the tired toon.

Benny was hesitant for fear of expelling the ink again, but he was so worn out and exhausted he knew he needed the ink to hasten his recovery. He tried to lift his hands to grab a hold of the bottle, but found it difficult to do so. His body was just too tired from reverting back to normal. Tom smiled warmly and lifted the bottle to the toons mouth and Benny slowly started drink the liquid. Tom was patient while he had Benny drink the ink wells slowly, the toon not even arguing with the man when he kept introducing more and more ink to him. Once the ink was all gone Tom set the last bottle down and followed up with the mug of soup. It had gone cold by the time they finally got to it, but Benny didn't care, unlike Bendy, Benny didn't care too much for the taste of ink. He didn't hate the taste but wasn't fond of it either and would have preferred actual food over the art supply.

Benny slowly reached for the mug helping Tom bring it to his mouth and carefully drank the liquid, it was just simple tomato soup. He took his time drinking the fluid all the while Tom patiently watched and waited. Once Benny finished the mug letting go, tom refilled it and held it up to him again. He shook his head 'no' and the man simply set the cup down and looked at the toon whom was starting to nod off again.

A glance up at the clock told Tom that it had been a long day. He spent hours cleaning and watching Benny wishing that his vomiting sessions would subside swiftly and that he would recover. The little toon nodding off in his arm was a gentle reminder to his own levels of exhaustion. Tom set Benny gently down on the chair and cleaned up the kitchen while the toon tried to stay awake but small Z's kept persistently popping up over his head and bursting every time he shook himself awake. Tom occasionally glanced over his shoulder noting the toon refusal to sleep and set to finish cleaning the kitchen as quickly as he could. A small chuckle escaping him at Benny's stubbornness.

The kitchen was laid to rest and Tom felt he should do the same. He turned to look at Benny who finally lost the battle with the floating Z's and was completely out like a light and thankfully looked more relaxed then his fitful night and morning. Tom gently lifted Benny up as to not disturb him too much and cradled the plushtoon as he headed for his own bedroom. Feeling that whatever was bothering Benny has long since passed and Benny would be fine in his own bedroom he preferred to keep the toon in his room with him so he could better watch over him. Better safe then sorry. The man strode down the hall quietly and reached his room opening the door with care and slipped inside.

Tom pulled down the blanket of his bed and carefully laid Benny on Allison's side of the bed before crawling in himself. Once he was on the bed one hand gently pulled Benny closer to himself while the other pulled the blankets over them.

Tom looked at Benny's sleeping face and ran his hand gently on his cheek getting a small smile from him. He didn't know what it really means to be a parent, but he felt like he learned a little more of it's meaning today. Watching Benny get ill and doing anything and everything in his power to help the little toon is what a parent does for their child. A parent is someone whom cares for the child with all their being even if they are or aren't related. Even though Benny was made with a little of his blood, at the end of the day Benny made him feel he could devote his all to the little plushdevil and that's what makes him his parent. He now had a better understanding as to why his own father had so many Grey hairs on his head dealing with him growing up. Children are the most stressful, joyful things in life and they make it well worth the ride.

[anxiousanimal]

The Ronan Lynch Visual Masterpost

This is late as hell, but here we finally go. Ronan is a very visual and very physical creature, so there’s a lot under the cut.

Summary:

Build: “Built”. Strong. Very tall - tallest of the gang.

Face: Classically handsome. Sharp, roman nose. Thin lips. Pale-skinned. Grows facial hair easily and often has stubble.

Hair: Keeps his head buzz-cut, but would otherwise have curly dark brown hair.

Eyes: Pale blue.

Demeanor/mannerisms: Purposely extremely intimidating 99% of the time. Very physical. Has five braided leather bands around his wrist that he chews on when he’s restless, which is often.

Other: Typically dresses in distressed designer jeans, black muscle T, biker jacket, boots. Purposely wears his school uniform as sloppily as he can. Elaborate back tattoo that is described as both lovely and vicious.

The Raven Boys:

Chapter 2:

Ronan slammed the car door — he slammed everything — before heading to the trunk.

Ronan hefted a gas can from the trunk, making little effort to keep the greasy container from contacting his clothing. Like Gansey, he wore the Aglionby uniform, but, as always, he managed to make it look as disreputable as possible. His tie was knotted with a method best described as contempt and his shirt-tails were ragged beneath the bottom of his sweater. His smile was thin and sharp. If his BMW was shark-like, it had learned how from him.

Unsympathetic, Ronan scratched at an old, brown scab beneath the five knotted leather bands he wore around his wrist. Last week, he and Adam had taken turns dragging each other on a moving dolly behind the BMW, and they both still had the marks to show it.

Ronan didn’t sound very interested, but that was part of the Ronan Lynch brand. It was impossible to tell how deep his disinterest truly was.

Ronan cast a glance back over to Gansey beside the car, doing what Gansey thought of as his smoker breath: long inhale through flared nostrils, slow exhale through parted lips.

Chapter 4:

Ronan and Declan Lynch were undeniably brothers, with the same dark brown hair and sharp nose, but Declan was solid where Ronan was brittle. Declan’s wide jaw and smile said, Vote for me while Ronan’s buzzed head and thin mouth warned that this species was poisonous.

Ronan’s expression was still incendiary.

One of Ronan’s eyebrows was raised, sharp as a razor.

Chapter 6:

The tallest of them knocked his head on the green cut-glass light hanging over the table; the others laughed generously at him. He said, Bitch. A tattoo snaked out above his collar as he swiveled to sit down. There was something hungry about all of the boys.

The one who’d hit the light was handsome and his head was shaved; a soldier in a war where the enemy was everyone else.

In the background, she caught a glimpse of Soldier Boy making a plane of his hand. It was crashing and weaving toward the table surface while Smudgy Boy gulped laughter down.

Chapter 7:

In the sickly green light of a buzzing streetlamp, Ronan had an unbreakable stance and an expression hard as granite. There was no wavering in the line of the blow; he had accepted the consequences of wherever his fist landed long before he began the punch.

Ronan didn’t even turn his head. A grim smile, more skeleton than boy, was etched onto his mouth as the brothers whirled around.

Jerking in his grip, Ronan jackrabbited his legs on the pavement. He was unbelievably strong.

Ronan twisted, all muscle and adrenaline.

"I wish," snarled Ronan. His entire body was rigid underneath Gansey’s hand. He wore his hatred like a cruel second skin.

Next to Gansey, Ronan’s hands hung open at his sides. Sometimes, after Adam had been hit, there was something remote and absent in his eyes, like his body belonged to someone else. When Ronan was hit, it was the opposite; he became so urgently present that it was as if he’d been sleeping before.

Ronan looked angry, but he was in the mood where he was going to look angry no matter what.

Chapter 9:

Ronan’s fingers were a compassionate cage around the raven’s breast.

"Well, hell, man," Ronan replied, with a savage smile, "you can’t just throw out Noah like that. "

In any case, he knew he was going to let the bird return with them to Monmouth Manufacturing, because he saw the possessive way Ronan held it.

Chapter 12:

Ronan caught Whelk’s eye and held it in an unfriendly sort of way.

Ronan kept staring at Whelk. He was good at staring. There was something about his stare that took something from the other person.

Both boys looked up at him. Gansey, polite. Ronan, hostile.

Gansey had no idea what Ronan had just said, but he was certain from Ronan’s smirk that it wasn’t entirely polite.

Chapter 15:

They filled the hallway to overflowing, somehow, the three of them, loud and male and so comfortable with one another that they allowed no one else to be comfortable with them. They were a pack of sleek animals armored with their watches and their Top-Siders and the expensive cut of their uniforms. Even the sharp boy’s tattoo, cutting up the knobs of his spine above his collar, was a weapon, somehow slicing at Blue.

Only Calla and Ronan remained standing, and they regarded each other warily.

Adam and Gansey glanced at each other. Ronan picked at the leather straps around his wrist.

It seemed right to leave Gansey for last, so Blue moved on to Ronan, though she was a little afraid of him. Something about him dripped venom, even though he hadn’t spoken. Worst of all, in Blue’s opinion, was that there was something about his antagonism that made her want to court his favor, to earn his approval. The approval of someone like him, who clearly cared for no one, seemed like it would be worth more.

To offer the deck to Ronan, Blue had to stand, because he still stood by the doorway near Calla. They looked ready to box.

When Blue fanned the cards, he scanned the women in the room and said, "I’m not taking one. Tell me something true first. "

There might have only been Ronan and Calla in the room. He was a head taller than her already, but he looked young beside her, like a lanky wildcat not yet up to weight. She was a lioness.

Ronan’s smile chilled Blue. There was something empty in it.

Chapter 16:

He found the lamp on and Ronan hunched on the bed, wearing only boxers. Six months before, Ronan had gotten the intricate black tattoo that covered most of his back and snaked up his neck, and now the monochromatic lines of it were stark in the claustrophobic lamplight, more real than anything else in the room. It was a peculiar tattoo, both vicious and lovely, and every time Gansey saw it, he saw something different in the pattern. Tonight, nestled in an inked glen of wicked, beautiful flowers, was a beak where before he’d seen a scythe.

Ronan lifted his head. As he did, the wicked flowers on his back shifted and hid behind his sharp shoulder blades. In his lap was the half-formed raven, its head tilted back, beak agape.

For several minutes, he watched the raven slurp down gray slime while Ronan cooed at her. He was not the Ronan that Gansey had grown accustomed to, but neither was he the Ronan that Gansey had first met. It was clear now that the instrument wailing from the headphones was the Irish pipes. Gansey couldn’t remember the last time Ronan had listened to Celtic music. Niall Lynch’s music. All at once, he, too, missed Ronan’s charismatic father. But more than that, he missed the Ronan that had existed when Niall Lynch had still been alive. This boy in front of him now, fragile bird in his hands, seemed like a compromise.

Ronan looked over his shoulder at him. He was sporting the five o’clock shadow that he was capable of growing at any time of the day.

"Shit, man!" Ronan said. There were three footsteps, very close together, the floor creaking like a shot, and then the shoe was snatched from Gansey’s hand. Ronan shoved him aside and brought down the shoe on the window so hard that the glass should’ve broken. After the wasp’s dry body had fallen to the floorboard, Ronan sought it out in the darkness and smashed it once more.

He turned to Ronan, who had painstakingly picked up the wasp by a broken wing, so that Gansey wouldn’t step on it.

With visible effort, Ronan pulled himself back, sorted himself out. None of the Lynch brothers liked to appear anything other than intentional, even if it was intentionally cruel.

The moonlight made a strange sculpture of Ronan’s face, a stark portrait incompletely molded by a sculptor who had forgotten to work in compassion. He did his smoker’s inhale, heavy on the intake through the nostrils, light on the exhale through his prison of teeth.

Chapter 20:

Ronan shoved himself from beneath the car and stared up at Adam. He’d let his five o’clock shadow become a multiday shadow, probably to spite Gansey’s inability to grow facial hair. Now he looked like the sort of person women would hide their purses and babies from.

Ronan smiled his lizard smile.

Ronan spit on the ground beside the BMW.

With a raised eyebrow, Ronan retrieved the phone from the roof of the BMW.

Ronan’s eyes widened. No matter what she said now, the phone call had been worth it for the genuine shock on Ronan’s face.

Chapter 21:

Ronan, the raven boy who was more raven boy than the others, was already installed in a window seat. He didn’t smile when he looked up.

With his fingers linked loosely together, elbows on his knees, Ronan leaned forward across Adam to be closer to Blue. He could be unbelievably threatening.

Chapter 23:

Beside him, Ronan was curiously muted, something about his posture defensive.

and Ronan had only his few knotted leather strands around his arm.

Ronan was staring at them, raw, as if he knew what had happened in the tree, even without attempting it himself.

Chapter 24:

"Weird-ass." This was from Ronan, but he said it as he chewed absently on one of the leather straps on his wrist, so the effect was minimized.

She barely came up to Ronan’s shoulder, but she was every bit as big as he, every bit as present.

Ronan retrieved his MP3 player from the BMW before getting into the passenger seat, and even though the Pig’s aftermarket CD player wasn’t really working, Ronan kicked the dash until a loudly obnoxious electronic track came on.

Chapter 25:

There was a flash of fangs from the passenger seat, but before Ronan truly had time to strike, they both heard Gansey call warmly, "Jane! I thought you’d never show up. Ronan is tutoring Adam in the ways of manual transmissions."

Without replying, Ronan climbed out of the car and slammed the door.

Ronan punched Gansey’s right leg down, his palm on Gansey’s knee. The engine wailed high and caught. Gansey drily thanked Ronan for his assistance.

Even Ronan seemed disquieted.

"I think," Noah replied, "you invite yourself." He was the first to step in. Ronan muttered angrily, probably because Noah — Noah — had more courage than any of them. He plunged in after him.

Ronan’s eyes darted back and forth as he scanned the text. Unexpectedly, he smirked. "It’s a joke. This first part. The Latin is pretty crappy."

The mirth had run out of Ronan’s face. He touched the words, traced the letters. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell.

"I don’t understand," Ronan said. He kept tracing and retracing the letters. He was badly shaken.

Chapter 26:

Ronan looked pained; polite was not his style.

Now Ronan looked even more pained, because this made him look ridiculous, and that was even less his style, but he tilted his head back to the treetops and said, "Loquere tu nobis?"

"They say they’ve been speaking to you already, but you haven’t been listening," Ronan said. He rubbed the back of his shaved head.

Ronan’s eyes darted to Blue. "They said they’re happy to see the psychic’s daughter."

Ronan’s expression was guarded, his feelings hidden.

"God, Gansey. If you paid attention in —" Closing his eyes, Ronan thought for a moment. "Cur non te audimus?"

"Sorry," Ronan said. He was concentrating too hard to remember to look cool or surly.

"Bling," Ronan remarked, kicking one of the tires.

Chapter 29:

Ronan was silhouetted in the doorway, one hand curled against his chest, the raven foundling hunched down between his fingers. He pulled a pair of silkily expensive headphones from his ears and looped them around his neck.

Ronan took in Gansey’s state and raised an eyebrow. "He’s out."

With a graceful shrug, Ronan slid out of his doorway and turned the knob on Noah’s door. 

"I don’t really care," Ronan said. He stroked Chainsaw’s head with a single finger and she tilted her beak up in response. It was a strange moment in a strange evening, and if it had happened the day before, it would’ve struck Adam that he rarely saw such thoughtless kindness from Ronan.

Ronan’s gaze held Gansey’s, solid.

Ronan’s posture was wound tight.

Ronan folded a hand over Chainsaw’s head until she quieted.

Ronan and Adam both glanced to Gansey at once. It seemed like there was nothing to be done or said. Even Ronan seemed subdued, his normal barbs hidden. Until they were sure what the new rules were, he, too, seemed reluctant to find out how otherworldly Noah could be when provoked.

Chapter 31:

Ronan was drinking and boorish in his room

Chapter 32:

It was Ronan, holding something under his arm. He cautiously lowered himself until he sat cross-legged beside Adam and then sighed heavily, as if he had been part of the conversation to this point and it tired him.

Ronan carefully bundled the raven into her cupped palms.

Ronan accepted the bird and stroked the feathers on the back of her head.

Ronan’s smile cut his face, but he looked kinder than Blue had ever seen him, like the raven in his hand was his heart, finally laid bare.

"Come on, Noah. A name." This was Ronan, head cocked, keen as his raven. "Who killed you?"

The raven was hunched far down into Ronan’s lap, and he held one hand over the top of her, protectively.

Chapter 35:

Ronan more than made up for Adam’s calm, though — he took up enough room for three people with his restless pacing.

"Barrington Whelk," Adam and Ronan replied in unison. They exchanged a wry look.

Chapter 36:

But Ronan, as the inventor of sly remarks, was impervious to them. His smile was ruthless in the glow from the dash.

There was quiet, and then Ronan said, "I better go feed the bird."

But he looked down at the gearshift instead, eyes unfocused. He said, "I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if Whelk had shot Gansey today."

Ronan looked away from the house, out across the black field. His hand worked on the steering wheel; something was frustrating him, but with Ronan, there was no telling if it was still Whelk or something else entirely.

"To do this," Ronan Lynch snarled, smashing his fist into the side of Robert Parrish’s face.

Grabbing Ronan’s shirt, Adam’s father propelled him back toward the double-wide. But it only took Ronan a moment to get his feet under him. His knee found Parrish’s gut. Doubled over, Adam’s father snatched a hand toward Ronan. His fingers passed harmlessly over Ronan’s shaved head. It set him back just half a second. Parrish crashed his skull into Ronan’s face.

The fight was dirty. At one point Ronan went down and Robert Parrish kicked, hard, at his face. Ronan’s forearms came up, all instinct, to protect himself. Parrish lunged in to rip them free. Ronan’s hand lashed out like a snake, dragging Parrish to the ground with him.

Chapter 39:

Ronan, still weighed down with the luggage, headed across the floor toward Noah’s room, saying "Ha. Ha. Ha" in time with his footsteps. It was the kind of laughing that came from being the only person laughing.

Ronan picked his teeth. "Me neither."

Chapter 42:

"Man, Gansey, what?" Ronan asked. He stood in the doorway to the stairwell, scrubbing his hand over the back of his head.

Chapter 44:

Without any comment, Ronan put his hands into his pockets and strode deeper into the woods.

Chapter 45:

Ronan hurled himself toward Whelk at the same moment that Whelk rose with the gun. Whelk smashed the side of it into Ronan’s jaw. Ronan’s head snapped back.

Chapter 48:

At the mouth of the access road, Ronan lounged beside his BMW with its hood ajar, acting as both roadblock and look out.

Ronan, still in the ruins, looked over his shoulder at them. In the dim light of the flashlights, the tattooed hook that edged out above his collar looked like either a claw or a finger or part of a fleur-de-lis. It was nearly as sharp as his smile.

The Dream Thieves:

Prologue:

The three brothers were nothing if not handsome copies of their father, although each flattered a different side of Niall. Declan had the same way of taking a room and shaking its hand. Matthew’s curls were netted with Niall’s charm and humor. And Ronan was everything that was left: molten eyes and a smile made for war.

Chapter 1:

and Ronan Lynch, ferocious and dark. On Ronan’s tattooed shoulder perched his pet raven, Chainsaw. Although her grip was careful, there were finely drawn lines from her claws on either side of the strap of his black muscle T.

And Ronan stood there with his hands on the controller and his gaze on the sky, not smiling, but not frowning, either. His eyes were frighteningly alive, the curve of his mouth savage and pleased.

Chapter 3:

Ronan leaned on the cracked black vinyl of the passenger-side door and chewed on the leather bands on his wrist.

Ronan shifted restlessly. The successful demonstration of the plane had left him hyper-alive. He felt like burning something to the ground. He pressed his hand directly over the air-conditioning vent to prevent heat exhaustion.

Chapter 5:

The exterior of this early-morning Ronan didn’t look at all like how he felt on the inside. Anything that didn’t impale itself on the sharp line of this sleeping boy’s cruel mouth would be tangled in the merciless hooks of his tattoo, pulled beneath his skin to drown.

He felt the cool wooden surface of the box in his hands, his ever-present leather wristbands sliding toward his palms.

Stalking to Gansey, he took the box.

Chapter 6:

Ronan's expression was petulant.

Blue pointed at Ronan, who curled a lip.

Ronan, however, was the one who had transformed the most. Though his casual position — arms crossed — remained the same, his shoulders were knotted with visible tension. Something about his eyes was ferocious and alive in the same way that they had been when he’d launched the plane in the field.

Ronan eyed the gift, one eyebrow raised in glorious disdain. Leaning back, he pulled one of the strands to reveal that it was a collection of wristbands identical to the ones he always wore.

He slapped a palm on Ronan’s shaved head and rubbed it. Ronan looked ready to bite him.

Chapter 9:

She plucked irritably at the leather bands on Ronan’s wrist, reminding him of Kavinsky’s strange gift earlier. It was not an entirely comfortable feeling to think of the other boy studying him that closely. Kavinsky had gotten the five bands precisely right, down to the tone of the leather.

Ronan rested his forehead on the topmost shelf. The metal edge snarled against his skull, but he didn’t move. At night, the longing for home was ceaseless and omniscient, an airborne contaminant.

He laid a frozen hand over her head, comforting her, though he was not comforted.

Ronan sneered at him, but his pulse heaved.

Chapter 10:

Ronan’s bedroom door burst open. Hanging on the door frame, Ronan leaned out to peer past Gansey. He was doing that thing where he looked like both the dangerous Ronan he was now and the cheerier Ronan he had been when Gansey had first met him.

“No reason. Just no reason.” Ronan slammed his door.

Chapter 12:

Today, Ronan grimly stepped through the great old doors and clawed some holy water from the font while the choir members narrowed their eyes at him.

Ronan snarled a smile at her.

He flicked holy water onto Declan’s face from his still-damp fingers. “What the hell happened to you?”

For a moment, disoriented, he had to hold in his breath. He knelt and put his head down on his arms. The image behind his eyes was the bloody tire iron beside his father’s head.

Ronan merely invested a look with as much contempt as he could muster.

Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work.

Ronan flipped out his car keys. “I was just leaving.” He allowed Matthew to perform a brotherly handshake that they had invented four years previously, and then he advised Declan, “Stay away from burglars.”

And this was how it started: Nose up to the light. Meet the driver’s eyes. Shut off the air co to give the car a few extra horsepower. Rev the engine. Smile like danger.

Ronan smiled thinly.

In the rearview mirror, he allowed himself the slightest of smiles.

Chapter 15:

and he was the boy with the most beautifully interesting car and the most savagely handsome of friends, Ronan Lynch.

Chapter 16:

Ronan leapt out of the car and slammed the door. The thing about Ronan Lynch, Adam had discovered, was that he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — express himself with words. So every emotion had to be spelled out in some other way. A fist, a fire, a bottle. Now Cabeswater was missing and the Pig was hobbled and he needed to go have a silent shouting fit with his body. In the back window, Adam saw Ronan pick up a rock from the side of the road and hurl it into the creeper.

Afterward, he turned to Ronan, who leaned his cheek hard enough against the top of the window to make a dent in his skin.

Ronan punched the top of the Camaro and turned his back to it.

Ronan said, “Move up, move up” to Blue until she scooted the passenger seat far enough for him to clamber behind it into the backseat. He hurriedly sprawled back in the seat, throwing one jean-covered leg over the top of Adam’s and laying his head in a posture of thoughtless abandon. By the time Declan arrived at the driver’s side window, Ronan looked as if he had been asleep for days.

Ronan’s voice was slow, petulant. His eyes, though, halfhidden in the dim, warm light of the Camaro’s interior — they were terrible. “I haven’t forgotten. ”

Chapter 17:

He floated above himself. The boy below him was locked in an unseeable battle, every vein standing on his arms and neck.

Chapter 18:

Ronan stood in the center of the room with his back to them. This Ronan Lynch was not the one that Gansey had first met. That Ronan, he thought, would’ve been intrigued but wary of the young man standing in the motes of dust. Ronan’s close-shaved head was bowed, but everything else about his posture suggested vigilance, distrust. His wicked tattoo hooked out from behind his black muscle T. This Ronan Lynch was a dangerous and hollowed-out creature. He was a snare for you to step your foot in.

Ronan’s posture didn’t alter at the sound of Gansey’s voice, and Gansey saw now that it was because he was already wound to the utmost. A muscle stood out on his neck. He was an animal poised for flight.

When Ronan turned, his eyes were shuttered and barred. His hands were also coated in blood.

Ronan allowed the weight of his blue-eyed gaze to rest heavily on Gansey, making him understand that he wasn’t getting another answer.

Ronan watched Gansey over the body of the creature — it seemed even larger in its death — and his expression was as unguarded as Gansey had ever seen it. He was being made to understand that this, all of it, was a confession. A look into who Ronan really had been the entire time he had known him.

Ronan’s smile was sharp and hooked as one of the creature’s claws.

Chapter 19:

Ronan flashed his teeth at her.

Chapter 21:

The annoying thing about Ronan was always that he was angry when everyone else was calm and calm when everyone else was angry.

He rolled his eyes luxuriously at her. It was like he merely absorbed her anger, saving it all up for when he needed it for himself.

There was nothing particularly sympathetic about Ronan just then, handsome mouth drawing a cruel line, eerie tattoo creeping out the collar of his black T-shirt, raven pressed against the side of his shaved head. It was hard to remember the Ronan who’d pressed that tiny mouse to his cheek back at the Barns.

Chapter 22:

Ronan hunched above him on the edge of the battered picnic table.

Ronan took one of Matthew’s potato chips and gave it to Chainsaw, who mutilated it on the table’s surface, more for the sound than the taste. On the sidewalk, a lady pushing a baby carriage gave him a dirty look for either sitting on top of the table or for looking disreputable while trafficking with carrion birds. Ronan reflected her look back at her after adding a few more degrees of shittiness to it.

Chapter 23:

He was clearly related to Declan: same nose, same dark eyebrows, same phenomenal teeth. But there was a carefully cultivated sense of danger to this Lynch brother. This was not a rattlesnake hidden in the grass, but a deadly coral snake striped with warning colors. Everything about him was a warning: If this snake bit you, you had no one to blame but yourself.

Ronan opened the driver’s side door of the charcoal BMW hard enough that the car shook, then he threw himself in hard enough that the car kept shaking, and then he slammed the door hard enough that the car shook yet more. And then he left with enough speed to make the tires squeal.

Chapter 24:

“Godforsaken puddle,” Ronan corrected from beside Gansey. As a pale-skinned, dark-haired Celtic sort, he didn’t care for the heat.

“Recourse,” echoed Ronan, but without real force. The water reflected the sun at his face from beneath, rendering him a translucent and fretful god.

Ronan aggressively jerked a cable on the back of the laptop.

Ronan began to laugh, and it was so unexpected that the spell was broken. He laughed as Chainsaw hurled herself into the air to circle where Blue had gone in, and he laughed as Orla let out a honking sound and cannonballed into the water. He laughed as the image on the laptop distorted with the rollicking water. He laughed as he stretched out his arm for Chainsaw to return to him, and then he sealed his lips with an expression that indicated he still found them all hilarious on the inside.

Chapter 27:

By way of reply, Ronan clasped one hand round Kavinsky’s throat and the other around his shoulder, and hurdled him tidily over the hood of the Mitsubishi. For punctuation, he rejoined him on the opposite side and slammed his fist into Kavinsky’s nose.

As Kavinsky climbed back up, Ronan showed him his bloody knuckles. “Here’s your substance. ”

Chapter 29:

He had gotten the spreading, intricate tattoo only months before, a little to irritate Declan, a little to see if it was really as bad as everyone said, and definitely so everyone who glimpsed the hooks of it had fair warning. It was full of things from his head, beaks and claws and flowers and vines stuffed into screaming mouths.

And when he fell asleep, he dreamt of the tattoo. Ordinarily, Ronan only saw bits and pieces of it; he had not seen the full design since he’d gotten it. But tonight he saw the tattoo itself, from behind, as if he was outside of his own body, as if it was apart from his body. It was more complicated than he remembered. The road to the Barns was threaded through it, and Chainsaw peered out from a thicket of thorns.

Chapter 32:

Ronan put a fist to his forehead.

Chapter 34:

Ronan rolled his wrist to flip his middle finger at Kavinsky. Muscle memory.

Chapter 35:

Ronan scraped a hand over the back of his head. He felt like his heart was collapsing inside him.

He watched as Ronan pushed off, pacing, hands behind his head, eyes darting down the road to see if any other cars were coming.

Chapter 37:

Ronan’s hands fisted.

Chapter 43:

His unflinching gaze was his second finest weapon, after his silence.

Chapter 44:

Ronan merely leveled his heaviest gaze.

“This,” Ronan said, pressing his hands flat against the warm metal of the car, “is a very shitty goldfish.”

He ran his hand across the elegant line of the roof.

Ronan’s smile was sharp as a knife.

Chapter 47:

Ronan leapt from the car.

And this, too, was bewildering. Because he was grinning. Euphoric. It wasn’t that Gansey hadn’t seen Ronan happy since Niall Lynch died. It was just that there had always been something cruel and conditional about it.

Not this Ronan.

He seized Gansey’s arm. “Look at it, man! Look at it!”

He released Gansey’s arm, but only to punch it. “I’m sorry, man. It was a shitty thing for me to do.”

“I said,” Ronan said, and now he grabbed Gansey’s shoulders, both of them, and shook them theatrically,

Ronan, however, was in no mood for introspection, his or anyone else’s. He ripped Gansey’s hands from his face. “Sit in it! Tell me it’s any different!”

He pushed Gansey down into the driver’s seat and draped Gansey’s lifeless arms over the steering wheel. He considered the image before him as if analyzing a museum piece. Then he reached in over the steering wheel and snatched a pair of sunglasses that were sitting on the dash. White, plastic, lenses dark as hell. Joseph Kavinsky’s — or maybe a copy. Who was to say what was real anymore? Ronan put the white sunglasses onto Gansey’s face and regarded him once more. His face went somber for half a second, and then it dissolved into an absolutely wonderful and fearless laugh. The old Ronan Lynch’s laugh. No, it was better than that one, because this new one had just a hint of darkness beneath it. This Ronan knew there was crap in the world, but he was laughing anyway.

Ronan shielded his eyes. “Me. Well, Kavinsky, actually. We’re taking all the energy from the line when we dream.”

“How was your party, man?” Ronan asked, kicking Gansey’s knee through the open door.

Chapter 52:

She didn’t generally enjoy petting, but she turned her head left and right as Ronan softly traced the small feathers on either side of her beak.

Chapter 53:

Ronan, chewing his leather bracelets, dropped them from his teeth and said, “There is no coming to terms with having three balls.”

Chapter 54:

He smiled nastily at her. She smiled nastily back. Both smiles said, I’ve got your number.

When Ronan didn’t flinch — the Gray Man couldn’t know that Ronan would rather do most anything than flinch — he continued,

Ronan still didn’t flinch.

For one moment, Ronan didn’t move. It took him that long to realize that the Gray Man was saying he had killed Niall Lynch. Ronan’s mind went perfectly blank. Then he did what had to be done: He hurled himself at the Gray Man.

Ronan slammed into the Gray Man’s stomach. He somehow managed to include several swear words in the blow.

Ronan slammed one fist into one of the Gray Man’s kneecaps and the other tidily into his crotch.

Ronan heaved himself up.

Chapter 59

He looked over his shoulder, elegant and dangerous, and raised an eyebrow at the middle-aged man sitting behind him. He waited. The man dropped his eyes.

Ronan put a finger to his lips. A smile snaked out on either side of it.

He put the car in gear and headed out of the smoldering downtown. He steered with his knee. Called again. Voicemail.

Ronan turned the key, threw down the parking brake.

Chapter 60

Ronan exploded in behind him, and if she hadn’t been able to tell from Gansey, she would’ve known it from Ronan. He was wild-eyed as a trapped animal. When he stopped, he rested his hand on the doorjamb and his fingers crawled up it.

Ronan glared at one of the speakers. It was playing something Blue thought was called “yacht rock.” He was more wound up by the moment. People were dragging their younger kids out of his way.

And then Ronan flicked the pill out of the girl’s hand onto the ground. She spit in his face and stalked off.

“That’s him,” Ronan said, already shoving his way through the teens.

Ronan grabbed Kavinsky’s throat, and for once, Blue wasn’t displeased.

Chapter 62

“Okay,” he snarled, grabbing Kavinsky’s arm, “We’re done. Where is my brother? No more. Where is he?”

He just held Matthew tightly, unwilling to let him go yet.

Blue Lily Lily Blue:

Chapter 1:

If everything around Gansey was soft-edged and organic, faded and homogenous, Ronan was sharp and dark and dissonant, standing out in stark relief from the woods.

Rising, Ronan went to stand starkly beside his mother and brother; Matthew, who had been waving his arms like a performing bear, stilled. Aurora petted Ronan’s hand, which Ronan permitted.

Ronan put his hands on either side of Matthew’s head, crushing the blond curls down, locking his brother’s gaze on his.

Matthew’s expression was pleasant and unafraid. His eyes were the same color blue as Ronan’s but infinitely more innocent.

Adam checked his battered watch. “My watch isn’t working.”

Ronan checked his expensive black one and shook his head.

Ronan looked as pleased as a pit viper ever could.

Ronan shook his head, but then, with a wicked smile, he began to sing, “Squash one, squash two, s—”

Chapter 3:

Ronan lounged in the passenger seat.

Chapter 9:

Adam was reading and re-reading his first-quarter schedule when Ronan hurled himself into the desk beside him.

“I can’t take it,” Ronan said.

Adam opened his eyes. “Take what?”

Take sitting, apparently. Ronan went to the whiteboard and began to write. He had furious handwriting.

Ronan’s dry-erase marker squeaked in protest as he jabbed down Latin words. Although Ronan wasn’t smiling and Adam didn’t know some of the vocabulary, Adam was certain it was a dirty joke. For a moment, he watched Ronan and tried to imagine that he was a teacher instead of a Ronan. It was impossible. Adam couldn’t decide if it was how he’d shoved up his sleeves or the apocalyptic way he had tied his tie.

Returning to his desk, he threw his feet up on it. This was forbidden, of course. He crossed his arms, tilted his chin back, closed his eyes. Instant insolence. This was the version of himself he prepared for Aglionby, for his older brother, Declan, and sometimes, for Gansey.

Ronan was always saying that he never lied, but he wore a liar’s face.

Instead, Tad turned to where Ronan was still reclined with his eyes closed.

Ronan smiled lazily. Without raising his hand, he said, “Heh. Noli prohicere maccaritas ad porcos.”

Chapter 15

He stepped out of the rain and into the shop; he had been hidden in the dark in his jacket and his dark jeans. Chainsaw clung to his shoulder.

Ronan smirked. He didn’t understand that Adam’s heart was actually going to explode.

A boot shoved Adam’s knee.

“Get up.”

Ronan prowled around the Pontiac, peering at the process inside with a disinterested lack of comprehension.

Ronan picked up a socket from the worktable on the other side of the Pontiac. He studied it in a way that suggested he contemplated its merit as a weapon.

“I’m not going to use it,” Ronan said, “to get some job with a tie —” He made a hanging motion above his neck, head tilted.

Ronan’s expression was cool over the top of the Pontiac.

Chapter 18:

Gansey’s eyes flew open just as Ronan hit the lights. He stood in the doorway, headphones looped around his neck, Chainsaw hulking like a tender thug on his shoulder.

Ronan’s chin lifted. His smile was sharp and humorless.

The smile widened and sharpened yet more.

Ronan pulled the fridge door open, shoving Gansey several inches across the floor.

Gansey tore them off as Ronan dissolved into manic laughter, which Chainsaw echoed, flapping her wings, both of them terrible and amused.

Chapter 19:

Ronan whirled and walked backward to face the shouter. He spread his arms wide. “Not now, Cheng. The king’s a little busy.”

The light that glinted off Ronan’s snarl caught Gansey’s eye, bringing him back to the present.

Ronan smirked at Adam.

He didn’t look at all Aglionby just then, with his shaved head and black biker jacket and expensive jeans. He looked altogether very grown-up. It was, Gansey thought, as if time had carried Ronan a little more swiftly than the rest of them this summer.

Ronan selected a large-caliber marker and leaned deep over the petition. He wrote ANARCHY in enormous letters and then tossed the instrument of war at Henry’s chest.

“Democracy’s a farce,” Ronan said, and Adam smirked, a private, small thing that was inherently exclusionary. An expression, in fact, that he could’ve very well learned from Ronan.

Ronan’s smile was thin and dark.

Ronan kicked a piece of gravel. It skittered across the bricks in front of them before skipping off into the grassy courtyard.

Chapter 20:

Ronan made a big showy sideways slide at the end of the drive — Adam silently reached up to hold the strap on the ceiling — and the BMW scuffed sloppily into the gravel parking area in front of the white farmhouse.

Climbing out of the car, he peered up into the branches of the plum trees beside the parking area. As always, Adam was reminded of how Ronan belonged in this place. Something about the familiar way he stood as he searched for ripe fruit implied that he had done it many times before.

Ronan found two black-purple plums that he liked. He tossed one to Adam and then jerked his chin to indicate Adam should follow.

Ronan moved through the dim expanse with ease, picking up a clock, a lantern, a bolt of strange cloth that somehow hurt Adam to look at. Ronan found a sort of ghostly light on a strap; he slung it over his shoulder to bring with him. He had already scarfed his plum.

As they moved through the old barn, Adam felt Ronan’s eyes glance off him and away, his disinterest practiced but incomplete.

Ronan dragged a metal tack box out from the wall and flipped up the lid with a terrific crash.

Adam could see it reflected in his blue eyes.

In the main room of the barn, Ronan took his time walking among the cows, pausing to look into their faces or cocking his head to observe their markings. Finally, he stopped by a chocolate-brown cow with a jagged stripe down her friendly face. He shoved her motionless side with the toe of his boot and explained, “It works better if they seem more … I don’t know. Particular. If it looks like something I might have dreamt myself.”

Ronan eyed it, but sideways, with his chin tilted away from it. He looked younger than he usually did, his face softened by uncertainty and caution. Sometimes Gansey would tell stories of the Ronan he had known before Niall had died; now, looking at this fallible Ronan, Adam thought he might be able to believe them.

Ronan’s expression sharpened. He held the dream thing beside the cow’s face. Light, or something like light, reflected off it onto Ronan’s chin and cheeks, rendering him stark and handsome and terrifying and someone else.

Ronan’s eyelashes fluttered darkly.

Ronan’s eyes were open; fires burned in them.

They regarded each other. Adam fair and cautious, Ronan dark and incendiary.

Ronan turned away, lashes low over his eyes, expression hidden, burdened by being born, not made.

Chapter 27:

and Ronan was pouring breakfast cereal from the box into his mouth

Ronan simmered.

This, finally, made it through the steel to Ronan’s heart. His head ducked.

Beside him, Ronan looked strangely hostile, Chainsaw hunched down on his shoulder.

Chapter 28:

Rolling onto her back so that she was looking straight up at Ronan’s disgusted features, she cooed, “Cut me free, raven prince.”

Ronan was still staring at the woman, aghast

Ronan held Chainsaw to his chest as if she were still a young raven, protecting her from the wind.

Ronan’s lip curled.

From the hall, Ronan shot a superior look at Gansey.

Adam and Ronan exchanged a wide-eyed look. Adam’s look said, What does that mean? and Ronan’s said, I don’t care; let’s get out of here before she changes her mind.

Chapter 29:

Ronan picked up a bottle of shampoo and tossed it in the cart Adam pushed.

“So I did, Parrish.” He continued down the aisle, shoulders square, chin tilted haughtily. He did not look like he was shopping. He looked like he was committing larceny. He swept some toothpaste into the basket. “Which toothbrush? This one looks fast.” He sent it plummeting in with the other supplies.

Ronan started to say something and then didn’t. He hurled a bottle of shave cream into the cart, but no razor. It was possible it was for him, not Gwenllian.

Ronan gripped the handle with the skittish concentration of a motorcycle racer and eyed the line between them and the BMW parked on the far side of the lot. “What do you think the grade is on this parking lot?”

With a savage smile, Ronan shoved the cart off the curb and belted toward the BMW.

Ronan lay on his back a few feet away. A box of toothpaste rested on his chest and the cart keeled beside him. He looked profoundly happy.

Ronan grinned.

Chapter 31:

Ronan crouched by the pew again, studying the list, his fingers running idly over his stubble as he thought. When he wasn’t trying to look like an asshole, his face looked very different,

Ronan flashed a cocky grin, pleased to have gotten a reaction.

But Ronan’s face held a challenge and Adam wasn’t going to back down.

He waited for Ronan to falter or wonder over Adam’s strangeness, but Ronan just straightened and rubbed his hands together. “Yeah, good. Good. Look, maybe you should go, though. To the apartment, and I’ll meet you after I’m done.”

Adam retreated to sit beside Mary as Ronan stretched out on the pew, rubbing out the dingy plan with the legs of his jeans. Something about his stillness on the pew and the funereal quality of the light reminded Adam of the effigy of Glendower they’d seen at the tomb. A king, sleeping. Adam couldn’t imagine, though, the strange, wild kingdom that Ronan might rule.

He looked up and found Ronan sitting cross-legged on the pew above them, his expression watchful. One of this Ronan’s hands was bloody, too, but it was clearly not his own blood. Something dark flickered across his face as he cast his eyes down to his dying double.

He saw at once a Ronan Lynch violently dying and a Ronan Lynch watching with cool remove. Both were true, though both should have been impossible.

He was trying not to look like he cared about watching himself die. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe this happened all the time.

Here was Ronan, dead, and ungrievable, because there was Ronan, alive and unblinking.

Ronan was quivering. Not from venom, like the other Ronan, but from some chained emotion.

Chapter 37:

Ronan climbing out of the passenger seat and knocking knuckles on the roof with teeth flashing

“Look at this,” Ronan said. With a jerk of his chin, he indicated Henry Cheng, who stood with a placard on the corner of the school green.

Ronan smirked in an unpleasant way.

Ronan’s smile was sharp. Now Gansey recognized the expression on Ronan’s face: arrogance. He had not been afraid for Adam. He had known Cabeswater would save him. Been certain of it.

Chapter 38:

Behind him was Ronan Lynch, his damn tie knotted right for once and his shirt tucked in.

Chapter 43:

We must find Maura, he thought as he climbed from the Camaro and started up the walk, Ronan dogging his steps with his hands shoved in pockets, Chainsaw flapping grimly from branch to branch to follow.

Chapter 44:

Both of the boys were unsettling

And Ronan Lynch looked like Niall Lynch, which was to say, he looked like an asshole.

They continued standing there, looking like a pair of horror movie twins, one dark, one light.

Ronan Lynch smiled then, too, and it was a weapon.

Chapter 46:

Adam and Ronan regarded each other, and then the pit. They looked winsome and brave, trusting of Cabeswater or of each other. They did not look afraid, so Blue was afraid for them.

Chapter 47:

“Ronan,” Gansey said sharply, and Ronan moved to stop her, binding her arms behind her without malice or squeamishness.

Chapter 48:

He stood as aloof as the elk, eyes wary and dark and foreign as he strode out of the dimness.

He stalked closer to her, and then he leaned to scoop up a loose rock from the ground. He tossed it underhand into the lake.

Suddenly, she felt arms around her, yanking her away from the lake’s edge. The arms around her were trembling, too, but they were iron tight, scented with sweat and moss.

For a moment they remained that way, Ronan holding her as tightly as he would hold his brother Matthew, his cheek on her shoulder.

He looked away, but not before she saw the tear he flicked from his chin.

Ronan laughed in an unfunny way. “Right, but seriously.”

He leveled a heavy gaze at her, the sort he normally used to bend Noah to his will.

Chapter 49:

She turned to find Ronan crouched down a few feet up onto dry land, arms wrapped around his knees, already waiting for the darkness to take him. When he met her eyes, he gave her an unsmiling salute before she turned back around.

The Raven King:

Chapter 3:

and crept down the stairs with his raven pressed against his chest to keep her quiet

overgrown grass lapped dew on Ronan’s boots

he shivered as he tethered his raven to the seat belt fastener in the passenger seat

Inside the farmhouse, Ronan switched on a few lamps to push the darkness outside. A few minutes’ search turned up a bucket of alphabet blocks, which he overturned for Chainsaw to sort through. Then he put on one of his father’s Bothy Band records, and as the fiddle and pipes crackled and fuzzed through the narrow hallways, he wiped dust off the shelves and repaired a broken cabinet hinge in the kitchen. As the morning sun finally spilled golden into the protected glen, he continued the process of re-staining the worn wood staircase up to his parents’ old room. He breathed in. He breathed out.

Ronan woke angry and empty-handed. He abandoned the couch to slam some cabinets around in the kitchen. The milk in the fridge had gone bad, and Matthew had eaten all of the hot dogs the last time he’d come along. Ronan raged into the thin morning light in the screen porch and tore a strange fruit off a potted tree that grew packs of chocolate-covered peanuts. As he paced fitfully, Chainsaw skittered and flapped behind him, stabbing at dark spots that she hoped were dropped peanuts.

“Brek,” said Chainsaw. Throwing a peanut at her, Ronan stalked back into the house to search for inspiration.

He pulled on muck boots and an already grubby hoodie and went outside.

and he allowed Ronan to stroke the short, coarse fur of his withers and worry some burrs out of the soft hair behind his ears.

He scattered pellets for them, too, and inspected them for wounds and ticks.

Ronan grinned at the thought, feeling suddenly silly and lazy and foolish. He stood, letting the day’s failure roll off his shoulders and fall to the ground.

Chapter 4:  

He was lying on his face in the dirt, his arms outstretched, his fingers digging down into the soil for the ley line’s energy.

He looked at her, somehow, although he was still all tangled up in his root-fingers and the ink branches growing from the tattoo on his bare back.

Chapter 6

When Blue climbed into Gansey’s black Suburban, she discovered that Ronan was already installed in the backseat, his head freshly shaven, boots up on the seat, dressed for a brawl.

“Get the fuck out,” Ronan said, but with admiration. “Sargent, you asshole.” Blue reluctantly allowed him to bump fists with her as Gansey eyed her meaningfully in the rearview mirror.

Ronan patted her leg. “I’ll be proud for you.”

“What?” snapped Ronan. His jealousy of Henry was visible from space.

The Henry encounter had left a ding in Ronan’s cheerful aggression, and now he snapped, “You could’ve just told me to handle this myself. My dreaming’s nobody’s business but mine.”

This silenced Ronan. He slammed himself back into his seat, looked out the window, and put one of his leather bracelets between his teeth.

Chapter 7:

Without any ceremony, he leaned in, scooped up the girl, and began to march towards the forest’s edge.

the particular knit of skin that Adam knew was Ronan’s frown just between his eyebrows;

They proceeded. It was hard to say how long it would take them to get to where Ronan’s mother lived – sometimes it took no time at all and sometimes it took ages, a fact Ronan complained about bitterly as he carried the Orphan Girl. He tried to convince her to walk on her own again, but she crumpled at once into boneless resistance on the forest floor. He didn’t bother to spend minutes fighting with her; he simply scooped her back up again, his expression cross.

Ronan glowered at the Orphan Girl, but it was obvious what the scowl really meant. His arms around her were protective.

It did not escape Adam how well they knew each other. The Orphan Girl was no random creature taken from a fitful dream. They had the well-worn emotional ruts of family. She knew just how to navigate his tumultuous moods; he seemed to know just how gruff he could be with her.

When Adam’s mouth quirked, Ronan’s expression stilled for a moment before turning to the loose smile he ordinarily reserved for Matthew’s silliness.

“Mom, are you here?” Ronan’s voice was different when he spoke to either his mother or Matthew. It was Ronan, unperformed. No. Ronan, unprotected.

She hugged Ronan’s neck, pressing her pale cheek to his pale cheek

Ronan put the girl down without ceremony.

Aurora looked gently tolerant, which clearly infuriated her middle son.

Ronan scowled at the trees as if they might give him the words to explain it.

Chapter 8:

Aurora said, “Don’t be sad, Ronan,” which made him look away from all of them, the set of his shoulders unmoving and furious.

Ronan, still and dark and very much real, closed his eyes.

Chapter 11:

He opened Ronan’s door just enough to confirm that Ronan was inside, sleeping with his mouth ajar, headphones blaring, Chainsaw a motionless lump in her cage.

This other boy stood. He was taller, sinuous, self-possessed. His hair was long and dark and curled, nearly to his chin. This was Ronan, before.

Ronan pelted across the sick white grass.

Ronan’s chest was shaking in airless, silent sobs. He had not cried like that for so long —

Ronan didn’t reply right away. Matthew couldn’t see him, but he was curled on his bed back at Monmouth, forehead resting on his knees, one hand gripping the back of his own skull, phone pressed to his ear.

Chapter 17:

Now Blue looked properly judgemental, which was about two ticks off from her ordinary expression and one tick off from Ronan’s.

Chapter 18:

So now he climbed out of the BMW, clucking to Chainsaw so that she’d stop trying to worry a seam free in the passenger seat, and scanned the lot beside the church for the tri-coloured Hondayota.

Ronan crossed his arms to wait, just looking.

Chainsaw flapped to where the tarot cards were laid out, beak parted curiously, and when Ronan silently pointed at her, she sulked underneath the car.

He allowed Ronan to lean in to compare his eyes – close enough that Ronan felt his breath on his cheek – and he allowed Ronan to study the palm of his hand. The latter was not strictly necessary, and they both knew it, but Adam watched Ronan closely as he lightly traced the lines there.

He briefly described how the corruption of the nightmare tree seemed identical to the corruption of his dreams, hiding his relative distress over the content of the dreams and the fact that it was evidence of a larger secret with an excess of swear words.

Ronan jingled his car keys. As if he was ever not in the mood to drive. He jerked his chin towards the Hondayota. “Are you going to lock your shitbox?” Adam said, “No point. Hooligans got in anyway.” The hooligan in question smiled thinly.

Chapter 19:

A hand gripped the wheel, leather bands looped over the wrist bone.

Ronan was absolutely silent and still, one hand resting on the gearshift, made into a fist. The music had been turned off. When Adam looked over, Ronan continued looking out the windshield, clenching his jaw.

Adam’s father just stood there, looking. And they sat there, looking back. Ronan was coiled and simmering, one hand resting on his door. “Don’t,” said Adam. But Ronan merely hit the window button. The tinted glass hissed down. Ronan hooked his elbow on the edge of the door and continued gazing out the window. Adam knew that Ronan was fully aware of how malevolent he could appear, and he did not soften himself as he stared across the patchy dark grass at Robert Parrish. Ronan Lynch’s stare was a snake on the pavement where you wanted to walk. It was a match left on your pillow. It was pressing your lips together and tasting your own blood.

Ronan spat into the grass – an indolent, unthreatened gesture. Then he rolled his chin away, contempt spilling over and out of the car, and silently put the window back up.

Ronan finally looked at him. Adam expected to see gasoline and gravel in his eyes, but he wore an expression Adam wasn’t sure he’d seen on his face before: something thoughtful and appraising, a more deliberate, sophisticated version of Ronan. Ronan, growing up.

Chapter 21:

Ronan didn’t reply, just looked at the ground. The green air moved all around him, tinting his pale skin, and the trees curved black and real around him, everything in this place looking like his dreams, or everything in his dreams looking like this place.

Ronan’s blue eyes flicked up to Adam.

Chapter 22:

Ronan shrugged, but it was a shrug from caring too much instead of too little.

It was one thing to say it and another thing to see Ronan Lynch standing among the trees he had dreamt into being, looking of a piece with them because he was of a piece with them.

Ronan’s expression had sharpened.

Ronan spread his arms out, meaning clear. It’s not me.

Ronan eyed Adam, assessing his status.

They watched her slide straight into that pool of clear water, and because it was so transparent, they could see how far she plummeted into it. Without pause, Ronan leapt after her.

Chapter 23:

“Get up, Parrish,” Ronan said, gripping Adam’s arm. “We’re getting out of here.”

Chapter 27:

“Hey, Shitlord,” Ronan said to Gansey. “Are you weeping?” He kicked the side of Gansey’s shoe. “Sphincter. You asleep?”

“Whatever, man,” Ronan said, an eyebrow raised at Gansey’s fury.

“Quit screwing around,” Ronan snapped. Counterintuitively, him losing his temper meant that the argument was over. “Put your hands in your pockets.”

Finally, Ronan said, “Jesus God, Sargent. Do you have stitches on your face? Bad. Ass. Put it here, you asshole.” With some relief, Blue lifted her fist and bumped it against his.

Like Ronan, her attentive stare landed somewhere between sullen and aggressive, but the effect was slightly more uncanny when presented by a waif of a girl in muck boots.

Ronan raised an eyebrow.

“Gross,” Ronan said, which was the most juvenile response possible. But Gansey said, “Thanks for the input, Ronan,” with a proper look on his face again, and Adam saw how cleverly Ronan had released the tension of the moment. They could all breathe again.

Chapter 29:

And, to Gansey’s amazement, Ronan went as well, nearly making them both late as he scrounged for a complete uniform in the mess of his room.

Chapter 31:

Ronan shot him a cool look. He didn’t want to see Jiang’s face unless it was behind the wheel of a car.

Ronan slammed his locker. He had not put anything in it and had no reason to open or close it, but he liked the satisfying bang of the metal down the hall, the way it drowned out the announcements. He did it again for good measure.

Ronan wrenched his tie loose. “You working after school?”

Ronan pressed his hands into fists.

Ronan looked at Gansey entreatingly.

Ronan got back inside the car. He slammed the door. He opened it and slammed it again. He opened it a third time and slammed it another time before hurling the knob of his skull against the headrest and staring through the windshield at the turbulent clouds.

Ronan was already going to listen; this made him lay his head against the window and close his eyes.

Ronan picked angrily at his leather wristbands.

On the outside, the three Lynch brothers appeared remarkably dissimilar: Declan, a butter-smooth politician; Ronan, a bull in a china-shop world; Matthew, a sunlit child. On the inside, the Lynch brothers were remarkably similar: They all loved cars, themselves, and each other.

Ronan twisted the leather bands tighter and tighter.

Ronan flipped him the bird with swift proficiency.

Chapter 33:

When Adam had first met Ronan, he had found Ronan’s aversion to the fancy phone so complete that he assumed there must have been a story behind it. Some reason why, even in the press of an emergency, Ronan’s first response was to hand his phone to someone else. Now that Adam knew him better, he realized it had more to do with a phone not allowing for any posturing. Ninety per cent of how Ronan conveyed his feelings was through his body language, and a phone simply didn’t care.

Ronan and Matthew jostled into the kitchen from the backyard. They were noisy and brotherly, horsing around, impossibly physical.

Ronan, intense and powerful with purpose and joy;

A moment later, Ronan hooked his fingers on the doorway of the dining room, looking out.

Niall grabbing her, smiling, sharp and handsome, his chin-length dark hair tucked behind his ears. His face was Ronan’s.

But it was possible that what kept him was Niall Lynch, that older version of Ronan. The likeness was not perfect, of course, but it was close enough to see Ronan’s mannerisms in it. This ferocious, wild father; this wild, happy mother.

Adam looked up to see Niall Lynch standing in the doorway. No, it was Ronan, face lit bright on one side, in stark shadow on the other, looking powerful and at ease with his thumbs tucked in the pockets of his jeans, leather bracelets looped over his wrist, feet bare.

Adam watched how intently Ronan studied the seams, his eyelashes low over his light eyes.

Ronan sat back, his eyes closed, swallowing. Adam watched his chest rise and fall, his eyebrows furrow.

It was a long moment before Ronan opened his eyes, and when he did, his expression was complicated. He stood up. He was still looking at Adam, and Adam was looking back, but neither said anything

Chapter 34:

Ronan was on the roof of one of the small equipment sheds. It was as high as he could get on short notice without wings. He didn’t lower his arms. Fireflies and baubles and his dream flower were glowing and swirling all around him, and they kept sweeping by his vision as he gazed up at the pink-streaked sky.

Ronan lowered his arms and looked at the light Declan had snagged. He shrugged. Declan released the light back into the air. It floated right in front of him, illuminating the sharp Lynch features

Declan reached out and scuffed Ronan’s shaved head.

Chapter 36:

Partway through this, Ronan got up to pace.

Ronan’s expression, if anything, was betrayed.

Ronan plucked at his leather wristbands. “Whatever. I dreamt Cabeswater.”

Blue headed towards the kitchen and Ronan jogged on ahead of her, jostling her intentionally with his hip. “You asshole,” she said, and he laughed merrily.

Ronan, ferocious and loyal and fragile.

Chapter 39:

After Gansey and Blue had left the Barns, he leaned against one of the front porch pillars and looked out at his fireflies winking in the chilly darkness. He was so raw and electric that it was hard to believe that he was awake.  

They sprawled on the living room sofa and Adam studied the tattoo that covered Ronan’s back: all the sharp edges that hooked wondrously and fearfully into each other.

Ronan put Adam’s fingers to his mouth.

Chapter 42:

He had been watching something else, but Chainsaw had alerted him, and so now he turned, hands in the pockets of his dark jacket, and watched Adam approach. “Parrish,” Ronan said. He eyed Adam. He was clearly taking nothing for granted.

“Jesus weeps. You want to carry some hay bales? That’ll put hair on your chest. Hey. You poke me with that one more time —” This was to the Orphan Girl. As they scuffled in the grass, Adam closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Ronan was looking at him, as he had been looking at him for months.

Chapter 44:

The Orphan Girl’s thin cry caught Ronan immediately; he craned his neck to see her among the dark branches and pools.

Ronan skidded to his knees, his arms around her, and it hurt Adam, somehow, to watch how ferociously he hugged his little strange dream creature, and how she buried her face into his shoulder. He stood with her in his arms, holding her tightly, and he heard her saying, No, you did good, it’s going to be OK, we’re waking up.

Chapter 46:

Ronan sat motionless behind the wheel of the BMW, eyes fixed on some point down the road behind them.

Ronan did not roll down the window or look at him, so Gansey tried the door, found it unlocked, opened it. “Ronan,” he said. The gentle way he said it nearly made Blue cry. Ronan did not turn his head. His feet rested on the pedals; his hands rested on the bottom of the steering wheel. His face was quite composed.

This did not make a dent in Ronan’s expression. It was terrible to see him without any fire or acid in his eyes.

He took a breath through his mouth, released it through his nostrils. Slow and intentional. Everything was slow and intentional, flattened into a state of tenuous control.

Ronan’s eyes were still trained on the road ahead of them. A tear ran down his nose and clung to his chin, but he didn’t so much as blink. When Gansey said nothing else, Ronan reached for the door handle without looking, with the thoughtless stretch of familiarity. He tugged the door free of Gansey’s hand. It closed with less of a bang than Blue had thought Ronan was capable of.

Chapter 50:

Ronan addressed the steering wheel. “I’m aware of how dreaming works, Parrish.”

Chapter 55:

“You dumb shit,” said Ronan. His shirt was very grubby, and the side of his face had dried blood on it, although it was impossible to tell if it was his own.

Chapter 56:

Ronan had kicked in the previous tomb they had discovered, but he touched this one carefully.

“You can wait outside if you’re worried, Cheng,” Ronan said, but his bravado was thin as a spiderweb, and Henry brushed it away as easily as one.

The ceiling was low and hewn into the rock: Gansey had to duck his head a little; Ronan had to duck his head a lot.

Chapter 57:

But. Ronan said, “Then let’s do it. Let’s do it fast. I hate this place. It feels like it’s eating my life.” This vehemence served to focus Gansey’s clouded thoughts.

Ronan crossed his arms.

Chapter 58:

“No,” said Ronan. He didn’t say it in a protesting way, or an angry way, or an upset way. He simply said no. Factual.

Chapter 59:

Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam, pinning Adam’s upper arms against him. He was contained. “Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit,” Ronan said into Adam’s hearing ear, and Adam’s body sagged against Ronan, chest heaving.

Chapter 62:

So much of Ronan was bravado, and there was none left.

Chapter 63:

The demon kept pulling him unconscious, and in those short bursts of blackness, the dreamer snatched at light, and when he swam back to consciousness, he thrust the dream into reality. He shaped them into flapping creatures and earthbound stars and flaming crowns and golden notes that sang by themselves and mint leaves scattered across the blood-streaked pavement and scraps of paper with jagged handwriting on them: Unguibus et rostro.

Chapter 64:

Ronan flickered briefly back into consciousness, his eyes awash with black, a rain of flickering pebbles scattering from his hand and skidding to a mucky stop on the bloody pavement.

Ronan clawed briefly back to consciousness; flowers spilled out of the car in shades of blue Gansey had never seen. Ronan was frozen in place, as he always was after a dream, and black slowly oozed out of one of his nostrils.

Chapter 66:

“Get him,” Ronan started, and then had to gather himself to finish, in a snarl, “Get him off the road. He’s not an animal.”

Ronan crouched beside him, black still smeared on his face under his nose and around his ears. His dreamt firefly rested on Gansey’s heart. “Wake up, you bastard,” he said. “You fucker. I can’t believe that you would …”

And he began to cry.

Henry actually stepped back a step, so fierce was Ronan’s grief.  

Opal - a Story:

The UPS man had very bright teeth and grew hair right on top of his face nearly over his mouth, hair that was longer than the hair on Ronan’s head and nearly as long as the hair on Opal’s legs.

Ronan had been standing outside of his parents’ old room, one hand holding a cassette tape and the other clenched into a fist, and he’d been there for quite a few minutes by the time Adam climbed the stairs. Adam had taken the cassette from Ronan’s hand, working Ronan’s fingers loose and putting his own fingers between them. For a moment Opal, hidden, had thought they were going to kiss. But instead, Ronan pressed his face against Adam’s neck and Adam quietly put his head on top of Ronan’s head and they did not move for a long time.

While Ronan ran tap water into a glass and set it on the table like he might be able to smash a hole through the wood with it,

Ronan ducked his head under the table and caught her eye. “For God’s sake. Get a jar and go outside and catch twenty fireflies. Don’t come back in until you’ve caught twenty fireflies.”

She did not go back inside when she was done, because by this time Adam and Ronan had come outside — Adam first, head down, walking fast, hands stuffed in pockets, feet still bare, not looking back, and then Ronan, pausing to jerk on his jacket before following Adam.

What she could get them was that jar of twenty fireflies, which she released in Adam’s face as she scampered by him. He reared back while Ronan enjoyed the scenery.

Ronan paused to kick off his own shoes and stuff his socks in them. Leaving them by the side of the track, he continued alongside Adam with matching bare feet.

Adam wasn’t looking at Ronan and so he did not see the complicated expression that flitted across Ronan’s face, but Opal did.

They held hands and it all became less exciting.

Ronan accidentally started a fire in one of the smaller outbuildings, and although this started out shouty it ended up wild and joyful, with both Adam and Ronan hurling things into it while music galloped in the background.

Opal did not want to swim but Adam taught her until she was fearless, and then Ronan threw buoyant objects for her to fetch until he got tired of being on the shore. He had dreamt himself a pair of tattered black wings that did not quite hold him and he used them now like a temporary diving board, letting them lift him half a dozen feet over the water before dropping him with a muddy splash. Opal floated on her back and kicked her legs like Adam had shown her to do while the boys clung to each other in the water and then separated.

Good: Ronan spent less time in the long barn doing dreamstuff and instead spent time repairing other outbuildings and cleaning the house and typing away at the computer the lady had looked at, which meant Opal often got full days of him, only having to share with Chainsaw, who Opal resented hugely and sometimes daydreamed of eating. Bad: Twice Ronan got a phone call from his Ganseyfriend and both times he did not say anything to the phone, just listened to the ebullient patter on the other end and made grunting sounds in response. Both times after this Ronan went and lay down, once in his own room and once in Aurora’s room; the first time, he was very quiet for a long time, and the second time he held his parents’ photograph and cried a little without making any sound.

Instead she stumbled right up to the back porch, and to her surprise, she found Ronan already there. He hadn’t turned on the back porch light and so he was just another pillar holding up the roof until she got up close to him. The dreamstuff in him was unpleasantly fuzzing the same static it had been doing for weeks, and his face was cast in gray evening light and she didn’t like how he did not look exactly like himself, but she didn’t care enough to not walk right up to him and hug his leg. Ronan let her cling to him for a minute, his hand on her head, and then he said in a low voice, “Opal, could you get Adam? He’s working on his car.”

“Parrish,” Ronan said. “There’s—” He lifted his fingers to reveal that they were smeary with black, like black paint. No, not like black paint. Like the opposite of white paint.

Ronan shook his head, and as he did, a thin dribble of that same black escaped from one of his nostrils. It was coming out of him. The last time this had happened, it had come out of him and out of him and out of him while he twitched in a car, and it had come out of Opal while she huddled in the same car.

Ronan abruptly strode past her and Chainsaw, filled with such brisk purpose that both she and the bird reared back. But he didn’t pause; just opened the front door and went outside. Adam, Opal, and Chainsaw all hurried to follow him. The three of them stood in the dull, friendly light of the porch and watched Ronan. He was not on the porch. He was next to his car, which was on its wheels next to Adam’s car, which was on its blocks, and he had all the doors open. The little interior light looked like the single shining eye of some kind of creature, and it winked sometimes as Ronan moved back and forth in front of it. He was harvesting trash from his car, which he did very rarely — more often Opal would have to do it as a punishment — and placing the papers and wrappers into a bag. Opal did not understand why he was doing such a thing with such furious import. He never ate the trash harvest. Surely he couldn’t really believe the trash harvest would help him with the unmaking. But he continued to rip great handfuls of paperwork from its roots before stuffing it into a Food Lion bag.

“Luckily for you, looks like that isn’t going to matter.” Ronan threw his car keys in the direction of the front porch. They clattered and slammed against the topmost stair, where they remained.

It was not, so Opal turned back to Ronan, who sank down into the passenger seat of the car and let his harvest bag rest on the ground. Black was running out of his ears and soaking his collar, and between his parted lips his teeth were coated in it.

She clattered over to him, her hooves kicking up gravel. Ronan turned his face away, but she had already seen all the unmaking he was trying to hide from her.

Ronan replied sullenly, “I could.”

Ronan leaned back across the center console and snatched the driver’s side door. He slammed it shut and the chiming of the car finally stopped. “What is the point otherwise?”

Ronan sighed. He closed his eyes. “I liked it better when I said it.”