#and if enough cats in one place are restless dead... things get messy

[takeawaymymurdercats]

Okay, now for some serious art

Finished this up after months of procrastination, mostly the background was tripping me up. Made a handy dandy thumbnail sketch and voila it's beautiful!

Here we have Troutstorm with her probably? Grandmother? Who is very much not a member of Starclan or the like due to a silly little generational curse of Fall In The River, Get Swept Far Away From Any Funerary Rites, And Die In Mass Grave, you know how it be.

[werezmastarbucks]

crete

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2194

warnings: drowning

music: prove me wrong by tyler joseph, ¿ by bmth and halsey

Another time Kai died out of his own stupidity.

It was incredible, really, how he, such a brilliant mind, resourceful and sharp, terrifyingly shrewd and quick-thinking sometimes put zero consideration into things he was doing. If there was some kind of underlying point in the things he sometimes did, it escaped you. Sometimes it seemed he has been bashed on the head on the day he was born. That was what made him so fun to be isolated with. Kai Parker was so unpredictable.

Like when he ran you both off the cliff, which he then explained as a romantic bonding experience.

After all, what makes people the closest?

You were shaking with rage. You couldn’t even speak, after you resurrected, on the beach, among the crooked debris of your car, smelling something still burning, with a headache.

Killing somebody together. But there’s no one here to kill, so...

So we died together, holding hands, and it was amazing, for once.

He had a dreamy expression on his face. You recalled the horrible moment the car hit the ground; you almost fell out of your seat by that time, and in a split second, you finally understood why Kai always had a seatbelt on. The pain, the sound of your own spine cracking. The hammer-like sensation of the weight of the ground pounding your head, breaking your skull. You were lucky the car simply dived in, and you both fell heads first, dying almost instantly.

It all made sense to him, and you were afraid that you’d spend enough time with him to start seeing his way, too.

But the next time he died on his own, because, like all geniuses, he was incredibly dumb in the most unexpected places.

This place was called Koureménos, and Kai knew how to pronounce it, and you didn’t. You have been to Greece before, but obviously this time was different. For once, it was the past.

Another obvious thing that you don’t take into consideration before you face it: the mountains don’t care whether it’s past or future. They live millions of years, and barely ever change. Even vampires like Klaus Mikaelson may seem children compared to mountains. It was impossible to tell what year it was, standing on the top of the hill, looking into the sea. The sea barely changes, too. It’s just cyan blue and deep, and you especially adored the two seas in Greece; Aegean more so than the Mediterranean, because it had more temper. It changed colors. It listened to you. It had furious, playful waves. It beat people on rocks, threw them around like toys. It was like... Kai.

“So, how does one love?” he asked.

You were sitting at the rock, the hard stone biting into your bare knees. You turned to him with a swing. Kai didn’t care for the sun. He didn’t care for the wind. Was he so jaded with life that the particles of his skin themselves stopped feeling the change in the temperatures? He always wore jeans and a shirt (he changed those every day, but they always were the same), and a hoodie with a zip. He was like a living Sim, you realized. A customized video game character.

“What?”

He looked like the words came out of is mouth in spite of him. God knows what he was thinking, and what was so special about you sitting on the rock, crouching, your back to him, and groaning, trying to get your sandal out of in between two sharp rocks, that he suddenly wanted to know about love.

Kai asked a lot of questions about things he never talked about before. He didn’t have anyone he trusted enough to ask, how one does love, and what it means, and how death feels to others, and what they dream about. You were realizing those questions had nested, piling up and up on his mind, for years, and he didn’t see anybody suit to hear them. Most probably, nobody wanted to hear them. He was asking questions about things a child should understand. Like why people cry. That one time he asked you, do you still get spooked? about your nightmare opened him up a little to you. You realized he lived in a completely different world. Unfortunately, it made it even harder to be mad at him.

Now he wanted to know how one loves. Even the way he has phrased it, it made you see he has no idea.

He was sorry he asked. You never ever pushed him away at the moments like that.

“Come here”.

He walked quietly, like a cat. Always. It was extremely unnerving. Even when he didn’t need to sneak, he still did. You did not know what his steps sounded like.

Kai stood next to you, unwilling to get on your level to hold some control.

“You told me you have loved someone, right before you killed me in Italy”, you said, scornfully.

“Yeah, I know the feeling, but I don’t know what you’re supposed to do”.

You stood up. You didn’t like it when he hovered over you like an executioner.

“For one, you don’t kill them”.

He looked you right in the eye without any expression.

“Easy to say, harder to do. I get this need to kill whenever I get close to someone”.

“I feel like you talk from experience”.

He looked at the water.

“Uh-huh. I killed my first girlfriend. I’m still wondering what I did wrong”.

You fought the urge to say ‘killing her, probably, was it’.

Instead, you asked, with a creeping feeling that you’re turning into him a little, while he’s taking on your features,

“How?”

“Drowned her in the pool. I banged her head on the tiles first”.

“Why?”

Kai thought for a bit.

“So that she wouldn’t wiggle”.

You sighed.

“Or to make her suffer less?” he asked, with hope, trying to cheat. You shook your head with a smile.

You felt inclined to hug him. Kai actually gave you a super useful advice. It’s only you and him. Although you wanted it very bad, you didn’t have to fight your affection for him. There was no point fighting it.

You wrapped your arms around him, and he lifted his elbows a little. You barely hugged in the daylight before that.

“The first rule of loving someone is not to hurt them. Everything else is improvisational and welcome, I guess”.

“Have you ever thought about hugging, too?” he mumbled, returning it. His hand lay on your shoulder, palm cupping it, and you felt like belonging. He smelt not worse than sea. He was slowly sponging the smell of May.

“How silly it is. You just catch someone passing and restrict them for two seconds, it’s so weird when you think about it. Stop, and press your body against mine, buddy. I’ll also slap you on the back or hold your head”.

You chuckled.

“It’s all a part of the old desire to be one with somebody, I think”.

Your face was muffled slightly by his chest, and you didn’t mind talking into his shirt.

“That’s why some people cannibalise each other”.

“People cannibalise each other because they’re sick, Y/N”.

You unclasped your arms, and you were quite satisfied at the nonchalant look in his eyes.

“Does it feel good?”

The wind was gently swaying you to and fro, and you stepped away from him, to see him better, at the same time trying to put your hair behind your ears. The silent shore howled in midday.

“What?” his face gave a funny expression, “canniba-”

He didn’t finish, - or, you didn’t hear. The wind pulled you and sucked you in because you stood above the natural rock vortex, going down into a V-shaped  notch in the cliff. The wind said, whooo? as it took you in. Your damn sandals did not help either, your ankle bending on an uneven ledge. You fell back first, and didn’t even yell, just ouched in surprise, like a kitten. This prison world somehow taught you both not to scream when falling, or when in pain.

The fall wasn’t scary, and wasn’t long. You plushed into the water your ass first, and dived out the next second, puffing in irritation. You were baffled, sure, but you could swim.

And then Kai went into the water like a dead brick, and started chaotically moving in all directions, coming in and out of water. As you tried to float, you moved away to give him space, but he kept wiggling like he didn’t have arms to sway. His head came up, and then went down under the water.

“Kai?”

You realized he doesn’t know how to stay on water. You realized he was drowning.

You tried grabbing him, but the mighty Aegean sea said, no, and the waters, restless in the narrow notch, threw you both back and forth. In these waves, even one person would find it hard to float: you’d have to swim. You were perfectly ready to do so, but Kai didn’t seem to even know what to do. Did he get sucked into the tunnel, too? Or did he jump?

“I can’t swim!” he announced, and his arms grabbed your neck like anybody would do. You went under the water with his weight and yours, and panicked. It was all just a very messy, air grabbing, water swallowing experience, having Kai drown right in your arms. He nearly drowned you, too, and in the end, after several attempts to pull him by his hair or the hoodie, after being thrown against the rock, and splitting your temple, and swallowing about a gallon of water, you could barely stay on water yourself.

I can’t do it, you thought, he’s going to die.

It’s so easy, to let someone die. You watched Kai fight the water like a butterfly with wet wings. You held on a rock, trying to breathe, to rush back to him. You hoped that maybe when he blacks out and stops jerking so much, you can pull him out. You asked yourself, your mind racing with panic, if you would try to pull him out if it was for real. If you knew he’d die for good. And decided it didn’t matter. If you were set on fixing that boy, even a little, just for yourself, to show him how to love, you couldn’t let him drown in here, either.

But you were so exhausted that as soon as you let go of the rock that the sea was washing your blood off you went under the water yourself. You tried rolling onto your back to keep yourself above the water, cursing the damn sea with all the words you knew. You reached out to Parker hanging vertically in the water, ethereal and white in the greenish clean water, bubbles around his porcelain face, and you blacked out.

You both woke up on the shore, dry and far away from the water, and you reckoned you died, too.

How mundane it was now, even though you’ve only died for the second time.

You just woke up, not a single drop of water in your nose. No coughing, no dramatic sea water spitting. Your hair was dry, and you were a bit hot, lying in the sun and all, and Kai was sitting next to you, blinking slowly at the brink of the sea.

You were torn between wanting to stroke him on the shoulder and call him an idiot. Maybe you could caress him gently while calling him an idiot.

He turned and looked at you like he studied you as his subject. His eyes were rich grey and just a bit narrowed.

“You come round longer than I do. Second time already. Do you see anything?”

You checked your electronic watch to see if it’s working.

“Why did you jump, you...”

You hummed instead of finishing.

“I thought you couldn’t swim”.

“Wait, wait a second”, you stood on your knees in the soft heat of the yellow sand, “I thought you said you couldn’t swim”.

“Yeah, no, I can’t”.

“So, why did you jump?” you yelled. Kai’s face expressed confusion.

“I assumed you’d drown. I didn’t want you to die alone”.

“God damn it”, you heard yourself. Something in you moved. You heard your own voice, spiked with worry. You were worried about him. He sat there in the sand, looking like he was cut out of a magazine, from the page that had an article about how bad the video games are for your kid; he sat there, looking like a puppy that knew it was about to be punished. You thought that maybe you yelled at him too much, forgetting how well Kai plays victim all the time. He could weave you like sails.

“God damn it, don’t do it again! You knew you’d die!”

He chuckled, with a portion of pity.

“Y/N, you know it’s not for real”.

“Yeah, but still. It still sucks, dying. Haven’t you had enough?”

He sighed.

That is how you love, by the way, you wanted to add. But something stopped you.

You also decided not to tell him you only drowned because you were trying to save his ass. Let him learn this lesson in selflessness he gave himself.

[lonestarbabe]

Eye of the Storm: Chapter 3: The Road You Take Alone

*Can be read as a stand alone (AO3)

Carlos tries not to let his mental health spiral out of control.

Carlos isn’t used to waking up to an empty bed, and he misses hitting a limb when he stretches his body too far onto the other side. Even though T.K. still technically lives with his dad, he’s been spending a good deal of time at Carlos’. Carlos has gotten used to having him around, so when he’s gone, it’s too quiet, and Carlos can hear his thoughts rage in the stiff air of his mind, forming hard peaks like beaten egg whites. His thoughts are becoming unruly. They’re angry and anxious. You’ll never be happy, they tell him. Something will always make you feel dissatisfied. Things always go wrong, and you never know when the awfulness will strike, so you have to be prepared for all the badness that will come. If you aren’t prepared, bad things will happen.

His head pounds as the thoughts crescendo. His bed is lumpy under his body and his sheets are oddly scratchy. Usually, his bed is a safe little oasis, and the worrying doesn’t start until his feet reach the floor, but his thoughts are bolder today; they have no regard for those blessed moments of aimless contemplation that he loves so much. There’s no time for you to be tranquil. The world is unhinged, and you’ve got to find a way to fix it, or at least your little part of it. I just want to relax. No time for that. You’ve got to start your day. Five more minutes. Start your day. Two more minutes. Start your day. One more minute. I won’t say it again: start your day.

There’s so much he has to do, he knows that, but his mental to-do list is disjointed like building blocks after a child has torn them and scattered them across the room during a tantrum. He needs to piece them back together, but it takes so much energy just to do that let alone tackle the items on the list. The world is an overwhelming place when you can’t even process your own thoughts. I need to get going or I’m going to waste the entire day. Listen to yourself. You’ve got to hurry up and get something done before you give up on trying. I can do this. Getting my shit together can’t be that hard, can it?

Order is not something that Carlos likes to do; it is something he has to do. It keeps me from losing my head. Nothing feels right when left to chance, so each morning, he shakes the question marks as well as he can. He plans and he prepares for the day ahead. He lists the things that are likely to go wrong, and he thinks of ways he’ll address them when they happen. He reminds himself that he can handle the obstacles because, at one time or another, he has prepared for them all. But there are too many variables, and you cannot alphabetize a list if you don’t know the first letters of the items on that list. You can make deductions and guesses, but you can’t know. It is fruitless to try to control the inevitable mystery that comes with being alive, but Carlos tries. If he thinks about a thought long enough, he can work it to death. Once it’s dead, he can feel okay. For a while.

He’s got his thoughts under control most of the time. He’s learned to work through them efficiently, shoving them out of the way each morning and each night before they can drag him too far down into the abyss of rumination. While he’s taught himself to work through them quickly, some days, thoughts are sticky. They are gum glued to the ground with superglue, waiting for an unsuspecting shoe. The thoughts cling to his mind, oozing over the information he actually needs, and he has to work just a little bit harder to scrape them off of the walls of his brain.

Thank god people couldn’t see thoughts because if they could, they’d see that Carlos’ thoughts are twisted remnants of what thoughts should be. They’re the warped pieces of metal left after a plane crash— they don’t have much function, but their sharp edges can cut you. He doesn’t want today to be one of those days that brings those destructive thoughts to the forefront of his brain, but Carlos feels darkness sneaking into his brain with about as much stealth as a cat with a giant bell weighing down her steps. Somedays, it slips in without a trace, but it doesn’t matter because no matter how it comes, it always gets in.

He wishes he didn’t have the day off work. The space in his schedule leaves too much room for intrusion. Distraction has always been the thing that keeps Carlos sane. Work, working out, going out with friends are some of the things that keep him on his toes and feeling level. Distraction can’t take away all the darkness, but it can hold it away until it finally crawls back into bed with Carlos one quiet morning.

He should have known that the darkness would come on like this. The darkness – that’s what he’s always called it, but he isn’t sure whether the name makes it sound worse or better than the clinical name. You wouldn’t expect it from him, the depression, but it’s a familiar foe. He’s usually the one that people use as a strong pillar, and he hates how weak the darkness makes him feel. His depression comes in waves, and it comes unexpectedly. Some things may trigger the depression, sure, but it can come when he’s feeling good, just as it can come when he’s already feeling bad. It usually doesn’t last long, but it waxes and wanes and hangs over him even when he can’t see it.

It’s time to get up, his brain persists, urging him to suck up the lowness in his core and get on with what he has to do. Stop lazing around and do something. You could get so much done today if you just did it. Why are you like this? What’s stopping you other than yourself? Do something. Anything.

He drags his feet over the side of the bed, and the ground comes against his heels too fast, and he has to balance himself to not tumble back into bed. Oh, but I’m tempted. I could give in to the urge, wrap myself in blankets, and close myself off to the world. As the urge to do nothing calls to Carlos, his need for order also beckons. He has a routine for a reason because that routine keeps him from spiraling. One missed part of his routine can turn into pacing his apartment for two hours replaying his whole morning in his head to catch any discrepancies.

Somehow, I’ve got to get through this day. Carlos has learned that when a day seems impossible, you have to take it one step at a time, but he’s never been a one step at a time kind of guy. He’s good at taking tiny, careful steps because they feel safe and require the precision he’s programmed himself to give, but those baby steps grate on him. They bring out the obsession and make him exert way too much energy for what should be easy. He becomes consumed by little details that shouldn’t matter until he can’t think anymore.

The perk of a small apartment is that it doesn’t take long to pull his body to the kitchen and drag his feet down the stairs. Carlos feels like a robot as he prepares breakfast. Prepares is a strong word for what he does, but on days like today, pulling a toaster pastry from a shiny aluminum packet counts as preparation. The treat should taste like cinnamon sugar, but it’s cardboard against his tongue. He finishes it, and then he eats its waiting twin because he knows that’s what he should do. He washes his breakfast down with instant coffee that looks and tastes like mud.

He doesn’t have to clean the dishes because he’ll use the mug for more coffee when he’s showered, but even though he ate neatly and didn’t make much of a mess, he wipes down the counters as he usually does to simulate a normal day. Because I need to act normal. You’ll never be normal. But I can try.

After he cleans up breakfast, fatigue pulls at his eyes. I could just go back to bed. I have nothing to else to do, so I might as well just give up. What else am I going to do with my time? Going back to bed won’t make him feel any less tired, though, so he decides to force himself into the shower. He stands under the hot stream, letting it purify his thoughts more than his body. He stands there until the hot turns cold, and he’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the change until his teeth begin chattering.

Carlos forces himself into new clothes, and he doesn’t know what to do next. He’s restless. You have so much to do. Your life is a mess. Start by trying to clean that up, and then, we’ll go from there. If you can’t get your act together, you’re hopeless. Cleaning— I can handle that.

Cleaning isn’t Carlos’ idea of fun, but it seems like the natural solution to messiness, and maybe if he can get his living space spruced up, he can sort out the clutter in his head. He’s diligent when he cleans. He doesn’t just scrub surfaces; he uses three different products to make sure every square inch is wiped off as well as humanly possible. It probably doesn’t make much of a difference, but putting so much effort into something keeps his brain from scrambling. He dusts every crevice, and he vacuums using all the attachments to make sure no corner goes untouched. He even wipes down the bottom of his table just because he can imagine how much dirtiness must be under there. Cleaning is just the right amount of mind-numbing to pass the time without making Carlos have to think too hard. Since he’s cleaning, Carlos decides, what the hell, he might as well do some laundry, knocking all the dirty details of life off his list. Getting stuff done normally feels good, but Carlos doesn’t feel much of anything.

The morning blurs into the afternoon, and Carlos only notices the difference when his mom calls just a little after one. Carlos dreads the conversation as much as he’s glad that it will give him something to do. Carlos loves his mom, but she doesn’t stop talking whenever she calls, and she usually comes to him to vent. He doesn’t think she realizes that she’s doing it, and mostly he doesn’t mind, but he’s already feeling drained. Even with tiredness pulling at his brain, he answers the phone because it’s his mother, and how can he not answer the phone? She won’t stop calling until he responds, anyway, so he might as well get it over with. “Get it over with,” what a way to talk about your mother. You can’t try to be just a little nicer? She gave birth to you. The least you can do is listen to her. How much energy could it possibly take? Suck it up and do your job as a son.

His mom’s worked up about Carlos’ brothers’ grades. She gets worked up about his brothers a lot, and it’s not so much that the twins do anything that wrong. Mostly, they’re her last babies, and Ana is having a hard time accepting that all her children have become adults. Carlos’ brothers have never been academic, and he knows no matter what Ana says to them, they’re not going to change. “There’s something wrong. They’re not as diligent as you were,” Ana complains. “I don’t know why they’re so easily distracted.” Carlos wants to tell her, Of course, they aren’t as diligent as I am. They’re not anxious nutcases who try to be angels to keep from causing any negative emotions in other people. They don’t have to be diligent because they’re allowed to be regular kids. They aren’t responsible for their mother’s emotional balance. “They’re smart kids, but they’d much rather make jokes than do their work.”

“That’s hard,” Carlos tries to sympathize, “but they’re hardly kids anymore. They’re in college. You can’t micromanage their grades. I know it’s a challenge for you, but sometimes, you need to let go a little bit. You’ll always be their mother. College isn’t going to change anything.”

Ana tuts, “They still live in my home. They’ll follow my rules. They shouldn’t disrespect their mother. I may not be educated, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fool. I know plenty. It would serve them to remember that. I’ve been on this earth over a half-century!” Carlos’ mom has always been insecure about her lack of higher education. She’d always been good in school, but going to college had not been in the cards for her, and now, she feels lesser with all her children having more education than her. She’s proud of them, Carlos knows— she’s always been so proud of her children— but he can tell that she thinks about all the things she might’ve done if she’d found a way to go to college. In most areas, Ana is confident, but in others, she’s full of insecurity. Maybe that’s how all people are. A bit of confidence and a world of insecurities.

Carlos is quick to reassure Ana, “No one thinks you’re a fool. We know how smart you are, but when you’re young, the wisdom of your mother isn’t that appealing. They’re probably just trying to find themselves. They’re testing their limits, and it won’t always turn out well for them, but they’ll learn. They’ll come back to you when they need your help.” Carlos doesn’t know that. He’s not a psychiatrist, but it sounds like the right thing to say. Ana probably won’t see it that way, though.  She never sees things your way, and I don’t blame her. You’re crazy and unstable and act like you’ve got it all under control when you can’t even reassure your own mother properly. What good are you if you can’t accomplish the one thing you’ve been practicing for pretty much all of your life? Get it together Carlos.

Ana goes on, and Carlos knows the conversation has only just started, but he already wants to make an excuse about why he can’t talk any longer. But I can’t do that to her. “I’ve indulged all their interests. It wasn’t easy, but I made sure they could do all the sports they wanted. All I ask is that they keep their grades up, and I don’t like that they aren’t keeping their end of the bargain. I’ve made sacrifices, so many sacrifices.” Carlos always felt a pang of guilt for all the things his mother had sacrificed. They’d never had a lot of money, and Ana had given everything for her children so that they could have whatever opportunities they wanted.

All his life, Carlos has tried not to take too much. I need to be careful what I ask for. If I can’t get it myself, I shouldn’t have it at all. He’d gotten a job as soon as he could. He’s saved his money and paid for as many of his own expenses as possible. She’d never asked him to do it, but he knew how much she gave to her children, and he never wanted the burden of depriving his mother. He hated to see her not having the things she wanted because of her children, so he made a vow to pave his own way. Yet, she’s still given him so much that she will never make him give back. And you don’t deserve any of it. What have you done to deserve it other than being a bitter son who resents his saint of a mother?

He knows that way she makes him feel isn’t normal, and it probably isn’t healthy, but it’s too late to set boundaries, and he knows that she isn’t doing it on purpose. He feels selfish whenever the bitterness pops up. She loves you unconditionally. How can you be mad at that? What kind of a monster resents his mother who has only tried to give him the best? She’s not perfect, but no person is, so why hold her to some unachievable standard. There must be something wrong with you if you cannot accept her how she is. She’s not the problem— you are.

“I know, Mamá, but it’s normal for them to want to stray from the nest.” Ana would never be the kind of mother who took a back seat, even as her kids grew up and started families of their own. So much of her identity is centered around caring for her family, and the changing way she cares for them has made her feel like she’s lost her purpose. She’s one of the most self-sacrificing people that Carlos knows, and even when she’s given all that she could possibly give to her children, she wants to give more.

“You never did. You were always such a good boy.” At what cost? I tried so hard to be what you wanted that I forgot how to be myself. Until he had joined the police academy, Carlos had been unsure of what he wanted. What his mother wanted for him had become such a big part of his mindset that it drowned out what he wanted for himself. He became a chameleon to please her, to boost her confidence, and make her feel like a successful mother, and it was hard to learn to be himself again, which is why sometimes he feels better when he keeps a distance from Ana. He loves her, and he’ll always be close to her, but he also needs a life of his own, or he will go crazy.

“I’m a different person, so I needed different experiences. There’s nothing wrong with that. It just shows that we all have different abilities.” We all don’t feel like we have to change ourselves to be what other people want. “The twins are fine.” They’ve never been that into academics, and they are mostly still in school to continue with sports, so Carlos never expected them to get good grades. “They’re not failing, are they?”

“No, but they can do better.” Not while being happy, Carlos wants to argue. He doesn’t want his little brothers to go through the same turmoil that he has.

“You can’t force it.” Carlos knows better that the more you try to force something, the more out of control you become. Not that knowing that stops you from trying to force control. You can’t help it, can you Carlos? You keep trying to capture something that was never meant to be held. You’ll always come out a loser like that.

“I know that, Carlos, but maybe you should talk to them.” I should have known that this is where the conversation was headed. She always wants me to be the voice of reason, the cool older brother who gives them wisdom that they wouldn’t listen to if it comes from their mother.

Carlos tries to keep the agitation out of his voice. “And say what?” He shakes his head, but she obviously can’t see it. “They’re not going to listen to me either. They think I’m uptight.” Carlos’ family always jokes that he should relax a little, and he does relax. He can be spontaneous and flexible, but it’s harder to be that way in front of his family because they’ve come to rely on his rigidity, his ability to never bend under pressure. It’s all just a façade, but they don’t need to know that. They don’t need to know about the insanity in my head. They would look at me differently if they knew, and I can’t afford their perception of me to change. He’s afraid of what they would think if they knew the truth. What would his mom do if she knew that Carlos wasn’t okay all the time? She would probably blame herself, and Carlos couldn’t have that.

He imagines coming clean, sometimes. It is so lonely to handle the weight of his dysfunction on his own. He likes to fantasize about blurting everything wrong out in one go and not giving a damn what everyone thinks. It would be cathartic, and he wouldn’t feel like he has to hide so many parts of himself because that’s what he is doing. He’s hiding because it’s easy to hide than to own his imperfections. He doesn’t want anyone to see him as broken, especially when they sp desperately need him to be solid.

“They do not see you that way. They look up to you. You’re their big brother. They’ll listen to you. Just tell them to shape up. I’m worried about them.”

“That’s a bad idea. I don’t want to get in the middle of this.” As the oldest boy, Carlos usually takes his role as an older brother in stride, but he’s so exhausted, and he doesn’t think there’s anything he can say that will please everyone involved, least of all himself. He’s not up for handling this family drama, especially when he doesn’t really understand what the drama is. “I don’t think it will help for me to say anything,” Carlos adds so he sounds less defiant, but he’s got to hold his ground on this one thing or he’ll be sucked into a mindset that makes his obsessions and his worries worse.

He hears Ana sighing loudly on the other end of the phone, “Do you think one of your sisters can talk sense into them?”

“Mamá, I don’t think anyone is going to change their minds. They need to take the initiative for themselves.” But she won’t listen to me on that. She can be so stubborn sometimes, and I don’t know how to make her hear what I’m saying. You might as well give up talking because she’s never going to change.

To Carlos’ surprise, his mother laughs. “You sound so much like your father sometimes, Carlos. He always believed that you kids would sort yourselves out if we gave you the room to experiment.” He can hear her smiling over the phone. She always smiles when she talks about Carlos’ dad. “I was never able to be like that. I worry too much. You’re all my babies, you know. Even now that you’re old. I remember holding you in my arms. You were a big baby, but even a big baby is so tiny. I was afraid the world would break you.”

“I got stronger,” Carlos says,

“You were always a sensitive kid. I’m glad you grew out of it. The world is hard on sensitive kids. And foolish ones. Your brothers are foolish ones. They’ve got a lot of ambition. They’ve got good ideas, but they have no sense about how cruel the world can be. You’ve seen the bad. You saw your father’s flaws more than they did. He gave you kids your freedom, but he liked things a certain way.”

“We don’t have to talk about this.” It isn’t that Carlos minds talking about his dad, but he knows a conversation like this can cause his mother to spiral. She tries to hide her mental distress when it happens, but Carlos sees it. Like mother like son. He notices the way she becomes quiet and the way her eyes are red more than they aren’t.

“I want to,” she admits. “Your father could become… withdrawn.” Your freakshow comes from both sides then, huh? “He’d focus on one thing, and everything else would become background noise. You and Glo were old enough to see that.”

“I remember, but that’s not how I remember him. I remember him cooking us meals and running around with us at the park. I remember him reading us books and helping us imagine our futures. I remember hugs when we were scared and soup when we were sick. Everyone has bad days, but Papá’s were mostly good.” Some people are better at hiding bad days than others, but we all have them, especially in my family.

“I never told you kids how he died.” Carlos can barely stand to hear how choked his mother’s voice is. It sends a ripple of fear through him.

Carlos feels his heart skip a beat. He’s not sure why she’s bringing this up now, but nothing that she’s saying is a surprise. She’s never said the words. She’s refused to admit that their father didn’t die in his sleep, but the kids all know. There’s a quiet understanding between them that he’d drunk himself to death. Carlos had never really seen his dad his drunk. His dad had always kept his addiction secret, but there had been signs. Looking back, he always knew. Everyone around them knew, but they didn’t mutter the words. They kept what was behind closed doors behind closed doors, and that never helps anyone.

“We know,” Carlos says so his mother doesn’t have to say it. She’s been denying the true cause of death for over a decade, and Carlos is afraid of what will happen if she says the words out loud. It’s why no one in his family has ever brought it up. “Glo and I figured it out.”

“He wasn’t a bad man.” Carlos only ever saw the part of him that was good. Come on, you knew. You always knew. You pretended you didn’t, but it was clear as day that your dad had a problem, and you should have done something about it. You should put the pieces together sooner and tried to do something about it. Now, he’s not a good man or a bad man; he’s a dead man.

“I know. He was sick,” Carlos says. Just like me. Just like you. Just like all of us. “He did the best he could.”

“I wanted to protect you from it,” Ana says, and Carlos isn’t sure if she’s trying to justify the lies or is slipping back into the delusion. No, you wanted to protect yourself, he wants to shout, but he bites his tongue because he’s not going to fight with a woman who tried to give him everything in her power. Making her unhappy wasn’t going to make him happier.

“It’s okay, Mamá. You did the best you could. You don’t have to be sorry,” and just like that, he absolves her. He always absolves her, even if it means condemning himself. Isn’t that just what a decent son is supposed to do?

When his mother is done talking, Carlos hangs up the phone. He stops fighting the thoughts growing louder in his brain. He gives in to the urge he’s been resisting all day, and he goes back to bed. Because what’s the point of staying up any more. What else do I have to do? Sleeping will make the day go quicker, and right now, that’s what Carlos needs.

When Carlos wakes up, he doesn’t feel refreshed. He’s still thinking about the conversation he had with his mother, and he thinks that maybe he should call his brothers after all, but he doesn’t. Instead, he calls his oldest sister, Gloria, because as the oldest sibling, she knows very well how it feels to be given more responsibility than you are prepared to carry. “Did Mamá call you?” Carlos asks after a brief greeting.

Gloria laughs, “She called me first. It was unusual. You know you’re the favorite.” You’re only the favorite when something goes wrong and needs fixing.

“You know that’s no true.” If I am the favorite, it’s because there’s so much of me that I hide. She’s only seen the parts of Carlos Reyes that she needs to see. I’ve buried all the rest because doing so will make her happier. Carlos knows that if his mother knew that he’s not as level-headed as he pretends to be, she wouldn’t feel the same way about him. She wouldn’t turn to him for help, and she wouldn’t talk to him as openly. Telling the truth could destroy the relationship with his loved ones as he knows it, so he chooses to keep silent.

“You’re all she can talk about with her friends. She’s so proud.”

“She’s proud of us all,” Carlos assures his sister.

“That’s what favorite children always say,” Gloria teases.

“You can take a turn being the favorite, Glo. She wants me to talk to Gabe and Dave again. Their grades aren’t high enough for her liking.”

“You set the bar too high and now the poor kids are expected to be straight-A students.”

“Like you were any better.”

“Maybe not,” Gloria says, “But she knows they have trouble in school. David especially.”

“Meanwhile, Gabriel is the one who jokes through his studies.” Gabriel distracts David, who has a hard enough time focusing on his studies in the best of circumstances, so having the two boys together can do more harm than good.

“You didn’t call to talk about the twins, did you?” Gloria asks astutely.

“No,” Carlos admits. “I’m not interested in trying to get their grades up. As long as they're not failing and doing decently well, I don’t see a need to get involved.” He can be honest with Gloria because he knows that she feels the same way that he does.

“Why did you call then?” Her voice is gentle, and it reminds Carlos of when his mom used to sing him to sleep.

Carlos sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to check-in. I’m worried about Mamá.”

“She seems okay,” Gloria reassures him.

“She talked about the way Papá really died today, Glo.” There’s a long pause, and Carlos can hear his sister breathing over the phone, but she doesn’t say anything. “Glo? You still there,” he adds to try to get her to reply.

“She actually said the words?”

Carlos’ brain sinks a little. “Well, no. She didn’t say it explicitly, but she admitted that she never told us the truth about what happened.”

Gloria sounds indignant, “As if we didn’t know. The denial has never been for us.”

“I know that.” He crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

“Did you tell her that?” Gloria’s voice has raised just enough that Carlos knows this conversation has gone off course. He doesn’t know why he chose to do this to himself, on a bad day especially. He doesn’t have the energy, but since it’s too late to get out of the situation, he has to find it. When he needs to, he can always embezzle it from other parts of himself that need less upkeep. When he has bad days, sacrifices must be made.

Gloria sounds annoyed now. “Of course, you didn’t. You never tell her how you feel.”

“What does it matter to you?” It’s his life and his feelings. He can tell them to whoever he wants.

“Because you shouldn’t censor yourself anytime she has a mood. She’s not going to stop having them just because you cater to her and I know it’s a lot for you to manage. You’re not responsible for protecting someone else from themselves.” But that’s what Carlos has always done. He’s a protector by nature, and when he sees someone in trouble, he steps in.

“Be nice. She’s your mother.” Gloria’s frustration with her mother is obvious. It’s not that she’s not sympathetic, but she’s never experienced what Gloria has experienced. She doesn’t understand how hard it is to rise above your bad days.

“And I love her, but she needs professional help. Too much of her life is centered around being our mother. She can’t rely on us to fill in all her gaps. She needs a life of her own. I hate seeing her when she gets bad, and she’ll keep getting bad unless she decides to make a change.” If Ana knew that she was talking about her this way, it would devastate her, and just the thought of her overhearing this conversation makes Carlos want to end it, but he lets Gloria say her piece.

“Well, that’s never going to happen.” That’s the problem. He knows that she’s never going to seek help on her home, so it’s either he tries and fails to help her or he doesn’t try at all. Trying feels better than doing nothing.

“So what then? You have to be whatever makes Mamá happy?” Isn’t that what I’ve been? How can I be anyone else at this point? She needs me, and I can’t let her down. Carlos knows that they don’t have healthy boundaries, but that’s just how his family is.

“I don’t always choose what Mamá wants.” For as many concessions he makes with her, there are some that he is unwilling to let her cross for his own sanity. “She didn’t like the idea of me being gay.”

“She always accepted your sexuality.” That’s the simple way of putting it. His mom has never been anything but supportive. When he told her, she hugged him and said that she loved him no matter who he loved, but he had always had a feeling that her initial acceptance had been because it would make her a bad mother not to accept him, and being a good mother is the thing that she has always most wanted to be, often to the point of too closely resembling the stereotypical image of a mother.

“I know she always loved me just the same, but it took time for her to get used to it.” He doesn’t remember her saying bad things about gay people, but he had seen her smile fall just a fraction when he told her the truth.

“She’ll get used to other things, too. Your relationship with her can evolve if you let it. It might be better for everyone.”

“I can’t stop worrying about her.” The worry is lodged in his mind. It is one of his oldest friends, and no matter how far he goes, it is part of him. He’s spent so long concerned about his mother that not exhausting so much energy worrying would leave a hole in his life. As messed up as it is, he doesn’t know who he is without his fears. If he let them go, even just some of them, he thinks that things might get even worse. No one else seems to understand the way he needs to indulge the worry to feel safe.

“And I’m not asking you to, but you don’t have to deal with everything alone, hermanito.”

“Yeah maybe,” Carlos says because he’s too tired to argue with her about her. “I’ve got to go Glo,” he says as an escape from the conversation. “T.K. is calling.”

“Okay, Carlos, go talk to your man. I love you.” He’s lucky to have Glo. She’s always trying to look after him when he’s trying to look after everyone else.

“I love you too. Talk soon,” he says before hanging up and putting the phone beside him. The phone is silent now, and he misses the noise, but he is relieved that he doesn’t have to listen anymore just the same.

He lays back on his couch and flips the TV on. He turns to his favorite crime drama, the one that got him interested in law enforcement, but he doesn’t pay attention. He lets the scenes pass through his brain mindlessly without leaving a dent in his memory. He stays there for hours, only getting up when he’s hungry or needs to use the bathroom. He lets the hours blur until his mind is so numbed that he needs to do something just to remember there’s a world outside his apartment.

To find a connection to the outside world, Carlos has T.K. over in the evening because starting the next morning, T.K. has to work for two days, and Carlos doesn’t want to wait that long to see him even though he’s not in the mood to be around people.

When Carlos opens the door to his apartment, T.K. throws his arms around Carlos. He tilts his head up for a kiss. He smells sweet, and maybe time with his boyfriend is exactly what T.K. needs. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you.” T.K.’s hold is firm and the weight of T.K. against his chest knocks out the breath that Carlos has been holding.

“Long day?” Carlos asks. T.K. opens his mouth, but he looks at Carlos’ face and closes it again; T.K. swallows hard, pushing the words on the tip of his tongue down to his stomach. He can tell that something is wrong with you. Get your act together. He doesn’t want to hear about all your issues. Keep that shit to yourself and don’t bother your boyfriend about it.

T.K. says, “You look tired.” Tired was too light of a word for the utter depletion Carlos felt in his bones. You’re so whiny. Could you shut up for just five seconds? You’re giving me a migraine.

He’s not going to like that answer because for some reason he wants to learn everything about you, even the worst parts of Carlos Reyes. “That doesn’t answer my question.” They could circle like this forever, redirecting each other’s words because neither wants to burden the other with what they both try and fail to hide.

Carlos doesn’t miss the way T.K.’s eyes are overcast, but he watches T.K. tug a smile onto his face as he pulls back whatever he might’ve said if he hadn’t noticed that something was off with Carlos. Carlos feels guilty. You’re the worst boyfriend. You can’t even support him when he needs you. I’m trying. Not hard enough. T.K. pecks Carlos’ lips. “I missed you, that’s all,” T.K. adds, and Carlos can’t help but worry that there’s more to it than that. He wonders if his perception is off. Maybe he’s making a lot out of nothing. He tends to do that. You sure do.

They order pizza and put on a movie when Carlos can’t find many words. T.K. picks at the pizza and Carlos doesn’t pay attention to the movie. Aren’t we a fun pair? By the time the credits roll on the screen, Carlos has no idea what just happened as T.K. gives his impromptu review of the movie. T.K.’s excitedly talking, and Carlos doesn’t process the words he is saying, but it feels good to hear T.K. being so full of life when Carlos feels so depleted.

“Yeah,” Carlos says distractedly to something that T.K. says. “That’s true.”

T.K. gives Carlos a confused look. He chuckles. “You’re not paying any attention to me, are you?” His voice is light, but it still makes Carlos feel like shit. Guilt spikes in Carlos’ bloodstream. I should be more attentive when we get to spend time together.

“I’m sorry, Ty.” How many times can you say “I’m sorry,” before it starts to lose its meaning? It’s always the same old story with you Carlos. Try something new for once. I’m so bored.

T.K. shakes his head, “Don’t be. You know I don’t mind talking to myself.” But you shouldn’t have to, Carlos wants to say. Your boyfriend should be more attentive.

“I should still listen.” That’s right you should, but you’re so selfish. You try to do things for other people, but it’s only because you’re greedy for their love.

“Really, it’s fine. I get it.” He doesn’t get anything. “Are you okay?” T.K. asks, and Carlos knows that he should be able to talk about it— the depression, especially. He remembers T.K. telling him once about everything being gray, so he knows T.K. gets how it feels. Carlos’ depression is different than T.K.’s, though. It’s fueled by pathological obsession and worry more than anything else. Still, he thinks T.K. might understand or try to understand more than most people would. He wouldn’t be one of those people who tries to understand and then doesn’t listen. Carlos has met many of those. They hear the word depression, and they start to assume. They think depression is laziness or intense sadness after the loss of a loved one. They think it is just a feeling. “I’m depressed,” they say when they are feeling sad, but they don’t consider what it must like to have depression. It’s not a passing mood Sometimes, they have a deeper understanding, but very few can understand the nuances, and even though T.K. may get how Carlos feels, Carlos doesn’t think he can talk about it. His throat feels like it may close whenever he starts to say the words, so he shuts up.

It’s a strange role-reversal when Carlos tells T.K., “I’m fine.”

T.K. raises his eyebrows, probably because he knows that people who say they are fine are usually lying. “We’re both hypocrites, aren’t we?”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“We both want honestly about how we are, but we both don’t want to give it.” That might be the closest thing T.K. has been to admitting he’s not fine. It might be the closest he ever will be. Carlos gets it. It’s hard to accept that you might not be okay, especially when other people need you to be okay. It seems simpler to pretend that you’re fine. The thought takes the air from Carlos’ lungs and not in the way that feels like a release.

“I’m not trying to push you to talk about anything, but you know that you can talk to me, right?”

“Of course,” Carlos lies, trying to force a smile.

“Do you need to talk now?” T.K. pushes him just a little further. Carlos shifts his body further from T.K. on the couch, and T.K. sags against the cushions. Maybe now he knows how he makes you feel all the time, the malicious part of Carlos thinks.

“No, I’m good.” He can hear the waver in his voice. I’m so tired, and I can’t shake the drowsiness no matter how hard I try.

“Carlos—” T.K. tries to say, but Carlos will have none of it. He doesn’t want his thoughts or his feelings to be dissected because they’re not something he can share with other people. They’re his alone, and he’s not going to burden anyone else with them if he doesn’t have to.

“Drop it, T.K.” Carlos’ voice is authoritative, and maybe that’s the wrong move because T.K. has never listened much to authority. But to Carlos’ shock, T.K. almost backs down. Almost.

T.K. bites the side of his cheek. “I’m just worried.”

“Well don’t be,” Carlos can’t help but say harshly, and he regrets the words the minute they leave his mouth.

He feels hopeless because he wants to make everything better, but there’s no easy fix for not being okay. There’s no way to wake up and immediately exterminate the termites that chew at the core parts of your mind. You have to swim through a boiling, sludgy roux as it begins to curdle and drag you down with its soiled weight. You have to pull back your skin to see what’s happening inside. You have to hope that something changes even when change is an upside-down mountain that you somehow have to climb.

Carlos isn’t sure he has the energy to climb, at least not right now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” T.K. says, sounding sincere, but it irritates Carlos to hear the worry in his voice.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Carlos insists, taking on a calmer voice. Try worrying about yourself, he wants to tell T.K., I’m not the one slowly killing myself. No, you’re just worrying yourself to death.

“I’m not an expert, but that’s kind of being in a relationship, isn’t it? Worrying about the other person and wanting to make sure they’re okay.” T.K. puts his arms around Carlos and leans his head up to whisper in Carlos’ ear. “I’m here if you want to talk.” T.K.’s breath is hot in Carlos’ ear, and it warms Carlos to know that he isn’t alone, but it also doesn’t make a difference because there are some things that Carlos needs to keep to himself. He likes to think he’s saving T.K. from the pain of knowing what Carlos struggles with, but deep down, he knows that what keeps his lips pressed shut is the shame that comes with not being the strong, unwavering pillar of support that he wishes he could be. Carlos wants to be that person that doesn’t bend under pressure. He wants to be the effortless kind of okay because most of the time, he is okay, but he has to fight to be that way.

“It’s been a long week,” Carlos admits, but he doesn’t know how to explain the week wasn’t long because it was awful. It’s dragged for no other reason than there’s something off inside Carlos’ brain.

“Jenkins being an asshole again?”

“He’s always an asshole,” Carlos replies about his least-liked coworker. “But no, Jenkins hasn’t been worse than usual. It’s just been hectic,” Carlos explains because that sounds like the most normal reason for not being your normal self.

“How so?” Carlos doesn’t feel like talking, but he doesn’t want to reject the efforts that T.K. is making, so he figures he can just give a little and maybe that will create harmony between them.

“You know how you have a really busy shift and then when your mind stops being pulled in so many different directions, you get really tired, and then you don’t know what to do with your time?” T.K. nods, encouraging Carlos to go on. “It’s like that. I’m crashing after a long several shifts.”

“But you can handle it?”

“Yeah,” Carlos assures, kissing T.K.’s forehead and running a hand through his hair. “All I need is time to recover before my next shift. It helps to have you here.”

“Babe, I’ll be here whenever you need me to be.” But Carlos would never ask that of T.K. T.K. leans his head on Carlos’ shoulder. “I know how hard your job must be. You see some crazy things on patrol.” The funny thing is that it isn’t mostly the things he sees at work that get to Carlos. There will always be incidents that cut deeply, but for the most part, he’s good at compartmentalizing the bad things that happen on the job.

T.K. sits up and leans closer to Carlos, and he kisses the spot just above his collarbone. His lips are soft and warm from the coffee he’d just had, but Carlos can barely sense the warmth. “Is there something I can do to make it better?”

Carlos cannot tell T.K. how he is feeling because this mental tumult is the road he takes alone. It is a road of shame and self-doubt. It is a road of feeling unprepared for each new day. It is a treacherous road that’s just dirt, rocks, and inclines. Carlos wouldn’t want to bring anyone he loved with him down that road. Yet, he knew they would all go down it if he asked— if they knew it existed. They wouldn’t just go down it with him; they’d help him pave it. They’d help him put guardrails on the edges and streetlights in the dark corners. They’d form a community around the darkness. But Carlos isn’t ready to put his secret little road on the map, so all he can do is try to stay on his feet and continue on a lone journey down the road.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 41: The Dementor

Regulus had never considered the rocking motion of the train any comfort. In fact it made him sick to his stomach, this bit of transportation was as good as the embodiment of every expectation he'd ever had put on him in his life. Now he was trapped in a compartment with a list of people he'd never have asked for, and the book chose to fall onto his head.

He rubbed the spot and glared up at the luggage compartment where he was unsurprised to see Hedwig snoozing in her cage next to a very battered briefcase with a tag hanging off the edge, but he was distracted from making out the handwriting by the cat carrier still sealed shut. Crookshanks was obviously still inside, he could see his squashed orange face trying to peer down below. Regulus briefly wondered why Scabbers wasn't present up there as well, but perhaps if he'd remained on Ron's person he wouldn't be present?

The pets were the lucky ones, remaining up there while a thick layer of tension sat on all the seats. The Marauders were clearly no happier than the other three to be forced back into such a small space, Evans had made quick work of checking the compartment door to make this otherwise. Nothing came of it, so Regulus was left in the awkward position of sitting across from his brother next to the window with two groups of people on each side. One thought his brother a cold-blooded murder in this future, the others insisting otherwise. He kept waiting for someone to demand he pick a side.

Yet no one had. Sirius hadn't asked him what he really thought of this, nor had his fellow purebloods in Longbottom and Smith turned to him and tried to say their point on the matter to him. This time, he was really left to make a decision. He tried to imagine what his mother would say about this, stand by the purebloods side and defend such accusations, or would Sirius being who he was would not get such a reprieve from their mother. It seemed like an honest toss. Then he remembered his mother didn't always know what's best anyways, she'd been wrong about the Dark Lord and who knew what else. So maybe, for once, he should come to his own conclusion without an outside voice.

He licked his lips with nerves and instead began flipping through to the new slot of empty pages for now. As always words materialized at the new chapter, entitled The Dementor. For a moment he was sure that one lone word would break the heavy silence around him, nobody could disagree those scourges of the Earth could mean anything good to come. Rain continued to lash upon the windows outside, the train rocked violently and kept trucking on no matter the gale force winds making it all so much worse, and the luggage above creaking was still the only accompaniment noise, until, "hope the food trolley still comes around," Pettigrew said into the awkward silence.

Regulus chuckled with agreement to that at least, glancing around to see every one of them making some indication of agreement as he began.

James was grateful Harry didn't get the chance to repeat any of this to his friends while the Weasley family was scrambling to pack for the train. He didn't need any of the vilifying comments against Sirius repeated, least of all the ones concerning Harry. It was all ridiculous to the extreme and he hoped something changed soon other than having to hear of this horrid news.

He'd really been hoping nothing of interest would take place, for once, but Harry didn't even get a chance to hop aboard the train before Arthur Weasley was pulling him aside and laying it all on even worse. Even if some You-Know-Who supporting murderer was after Harry, which wasn't Sirius!, who on Earth was crazy enough to think his son would go looking for him? It somehow even made less sense than putting Sirius' name into the mix, and he wouldn't have thought that possible moments ago.

Remus was already exhausted by the constant glares being shared across the small space. Squashed between Sirius and James, he was getting the majority of them. It's not as if he wasn't used to such looks, their group wasn't exactly popular when they were the reason a whole corridor was ducking for cover. Not to mention Evans seemed to have made it her personal mission to glare at them as many times as was humanly possible and beyond. It felt different now though, that they didn't have a corridor to exit from, a class to get to, something else to occupy their time in between constantly having to put on a face for others.

Time was a wonky mess, and it had been since all this started. He was sagging back in his seat in a dead exhaustion, eyes heavy lidded and ready to take a long and restless sleep from a full moon he hadn't run. He could feel it in his bones though, that it should have happened, and this had been going on for, days? It was impossible to tell.

Regulus' voice was calm enough though as Harry began looking about the train for a place to sit, and he was quite warm. It wouldn't be the first time he'd lolled off to sleep, and Sirius' shoulder just so happened to be rather comfortable... "Professor R. J. Lupin."

Said man snapped out of his seat as if he'd been electrocuted, suddenly wired and quite alive, chest heaving as he looked from Regulus to his friends and back as if waiting for someone to scream, 'gotcha.'

None did. His three friends were looking at him like he was a ghost, the other four had their faces scrunched up in a variety of expressions stating incredulity this news existed.

"Well, there goes our idea the rest of us are dead," Sirius spoke, his voice barely heard in the howling wind.

"I, I don't understand!" He choked out, gazing up at the luggage rack where it still sat, plain as day. Fingers trembling so hard he could barely grasp the handle, surely his shaking hand would make the weather beaten suitcase come apart before he found the latch.

"Obvious ain't it," Evans muttered, her eyes now narrowed even farther with mistrust.

She was ignored, finally Peter took pity on him and reached over to release the contents. Maybe it was some insane coincidence with some other man's initials, but that idea was ruined as Remus couldn't keep his fumbling hold and everything fell to the floor.

There were a few different sets of patched robes that were several sizes too large that covered most of the foot room now, a bar of chocolate that had landed half under Frank's seat, and a few bathroom belongings that could have fairly belonged to anyone.

Then there were the rest of the things peeking out that only the Marauders could have known to associate with their friend. One of those articles of clothing was an old threadbare cardigan all four of them had taken turns wearing so many times, none even knew who the original owner was. Several books were dog eared with messy scribbles in Moony's handwriting all over varying Dark beasts of the world, bits of parchment on a mound of subjects all bound together as if waiting for notes to properly be taken, and on the bottom inside of the suitcase was a crudely hand drawn circle.

All four of their eyes were drawn to it, lost in the memory of choosing something so simple yet personal to them to put on every bit of luggage they owned. A full moon, a letter in each of their chosen names, something with no ending or beginning and was simply meant to last forever.

"Moony," Sirius broke into his frozen mind, but the expression on his face left him clueless what was coming next. "Congratulations on making something of your life, at least one of us did."

That smile was fake, the jesting tone was forced, but Sirius was making an effort not to let the others see the pit twisting him up inside at the idea now being presented before them. That their friend was alive and well, and a teacher of all things, while Merlin knew what was going on with Sirius.

Regulus just snorted and muttered about the odds as he continued, but the Marauders couldn't bring themselves to pay attention to anything else he said. The kids dissolved into talking of Hogsmeade and all sorts of things, even Sirius again, but they were pretty fixated on this new bit of information and had no way to get it out of their system.

What had Remus been doing all this time if not spending every day with the Marauders? What was this future like if Sirius had really been in Azkaban this whole time and Prongs long dead. What about Wormtail, had he just moved on with his life as well? Did the two even keep in contact? The idea seemed ludicrous to question now, but all four of them were suddenly faced with the very real idea none had ever questioned before now, what was really in store for them?

Alice watched with curiosity, and even some worry, as the more that was exposed this year the quieter the Marauders got. It wasn't natural. Not once in the years she'd been in their vicinity had they ever been any such thing even close to this. Even if they weren't laughing obnoxiously, shouting to each other about all their jokes, or whispering in the corridors, these pale wide eyed faces looked alien.

When Regulus mentioned Harry's birthday Sneakoscope going off and the silence persisted in here, she got up curiously and located Harry's trunk above her head. She had to rummage for a few moments before finding a nasty pair of yellow socks the little top was indeed inside of, but even as she held it out for inspection it wasn't going off now.

"Wonder what's got it in a twist round them then?" Frank happily picked apart this new puzzle, hearing nothing but the younger Black reading this whole time was starting to get eerie.

"Maybe Lupin's not really sleeping, he's faking it," Lily pointed out, still with a heavy look at him where he'd slowly sunk back into his seat, now sitting on the very edge though and looking paler than usual, which was really saying something.

"That's Professor Lupin to you now!" Potter tried to correct with his usual boasting and cocky grin, but even as Lily watched something seemed off about it. He seemed stiff, his eyes out of focus instead of trying to catch hers. She found that unnerving, and then with a horrid self reflection, she realized she felt bad for him. James Potter! She really couldn't help it though, no matter how hard she tried to shove the feeling away. The poor teen had learned that he was to die, where his kid would be relocated, and now two of his three friends had some pretty shoddy things going on in their future lives all in a matter of days. It was a lot for anyone to take in.

For a moment Lily thought the deep lurch had come from inside her, but then she nearly fell out of her seat as the train did come to a screeching halt.

Regulus fumbled with the book and only just managed to keep hold of it, words stumbling a bit as he got to the same part. He shivered in trepidation, for what he didn't understand, until he shivered again and realized it wasn't just some feeling. It was true, bone deep cold, the windows were icing over and he could see his breath.

"Wha-what's going on!?" Pettigrew demanded, his voice shrill as he recoiled from the door, wand already drawn.

The others had already done the same, even as the answer was presented. A dementor was aboard, and it had its sights on Harry.

The youngest Black was reading in an outright panic, flying through words to try and get this chapter over with before they were forced to experience anything similar. Sadly even after he got past the part of Lupin in the book banishing the creature, they remained in the black void. Regulus could feel his chest rattling, his mind was buzzing painfully as whispers from his past began cluttering to the forefront and he could barely concentrate on the words in front of him.

He wanted his dad to put a big, warm hand on his shoulder and tell him his plan. He wanted his mum to tell him what there was to do and how to solve this. More than anything he wanted Sirius to wrap an arm around him, like he hadn't done since before before that Gryffindor nonsense began. He wanted his big brother to promise their parents weren't really mad at Regulus and he would handle everything. He couldn't grasp that feeling, that emotion, just kept stumbling along through Harry's bizarre recount of a woman screaming, Malfoy being his usual petty self, and finally as he felt his soul rattling in his chest as if it could sense the monster beyond that door, they were in the castle and McGonagall was looking into the incident.

His eyes flinched without his permission, to the door and back to the words in a panic as he kept waiting for it to happen. Smith was beside him shaking in her seat, a silent scream trying to pass her lips. Sirius was still across from him, his hand clutching his chest and mouthing something unintelligible, the horror on his face unmatched. He checked again, and just beyond the window pane he saw a tall, dark, cloaked figure with grotesque, misshapen looking digits reaching for the handle.

In one last desperate breath, he declared Hagrid and Lupin being made Professors, then Harry finally getting safely into his own dorm, and finally they were out.

[bluesey-182]

We Have To Stop Meeting Like This - Chapter 8

holy shit??? i finally did it??? i finished this chapter??? amazing. since there are so many chapters now i’m just going to start linking the fic on ao3 instead of linking all the posts separately. i hope that’s okay. now, without further ado, here is the update:

--------

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d answer.”

On the other line of the phone came the blasting sounds from a video game as someone shot a simulated gun. “Why?” Cardan asked. It sounded like he had his cell on speaker phone. “Cause it’s one in the morning?”

Jude couldn’t help herself--she rolled her eyes even though he wasn’t there to see it. “No, Cardan, because I thought both of your hands had been gnawed off by a giant rat. Of course because it’s almost one o’clock.”

There was uproarious laughter--deep and male--from the other end that didn’t sound like Cardan’s laugh. His roommate, probably. But if he had heard her, that confirmed her theory about being on speaker.

“First of all,” Cardan’s amused voice cut through the laughter. “The only rat that would be big enough to best me in a fight is an R.O.U.S from The Princess Bride and they don’t actually exist. And second of all, darling, I’m a nocturnal creature, so of course I’m awake to answer your late night booty calls. Now what can I do for you?” Machine gun fire continued in the background from his end, joined with shouting from Cardan’s roommate to “watch out, dude, watch out! damnit now you’re dead. way to go, geezer.”

“I just,” Jude began but quickly cut off, unsure of how to proceed knowing that someone else was listening in on their conversation--even if he was clearly wrapped up in whatever violent video game the two boys seemed to be playing. “Um…”

“Hang on, Jude.” There was some mumbling from his end as words were exchanged, then a click like a door being closed, and suddenly the game’s noises were gone and Cardan’s voice was closer. He had taken her off speaker. “Okay I’m alone now, sorry. Is everything okay?”

“I just,” Jude started again and trailed off once more. “I can’t sleep.”

It had been almost a week since her last seizure. A week since Cardan broke down her door to find her on the floor laying in her own blood. Six days since Madoc hired someone to fix the girls’ door, five days since Madoc ordered Jude to move back home until they could get her seizures back under control, and two days since Vivi finally helped Jude convince their father to let her stay in her own apartment. The last week had been exhausting and yet Jude was restless. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t scared after what had happened. 

“Do you want me to come over?” Cardan offered helpfully, and the sincerity of his offer nearly brought tears to Jude’s eyes. 

“No,” she admitted. “No, I want… out. I don’t want to be here right now.”

“Where do you want to be?”

“I don’t actually know.”

A brief silence washed over them, interrupted only by the sound of Taryn’s cat meowing from somewhere in the apartment. Finally, Cardan said, “I’m on my way to pick you up.”

--------

The first thing Jude noticed when she got into Cardan's car was his wild hair. The perpetually messy curls were somehow even more unkempt than usual. The second thing she noticed was that Cardan was wearing sweatpants that fit him in a very pleasing way underneath a hoodie that some primal part of her begged to steal from him. The third thing she noticed was his smirk at her noticing him.

"Good evening," Cardan said in a mockery of a stereotypical vampire voice. 

"What, are you Dracula now?" Jude teased.

"I think I'd be more of a faerie than a vampire, actually." 

"Then why the vampire voice?"

"Jude Duarte: ever the critic."

"Spare me.” Jude tugged the seatbelt across her body and buckled it with some effort--the buckle itself was coated in a sticky substance that was likely spilled soda. She hoped it was soda. “Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"Cardan--"

"I promise there's not immediate danger to your person, if that's what you're worried about. Just trust me?" 

Jude searched Cardan's face for any trace of deceit but came up empty. Hesitantly, she nodded her assent. Satisfied, Cardan put the car into gear and drove down the street like a person who decidedly deserved to have their license revoked. At Jude's surprised shriek, he laughed, earning himself a scowl from Jude.

"I thought you said there was no immediate danger to my person," she said.

"I just floored the gas a bit, it's not like I ran a red light into oncoming traffic."

"You really are such a terrible driver, you know that?" Jude asked once Cardan had stopped laughing. Instead of a verbal response, Cardan reached for the volume nob on the radio and turned his music up to deafening volumes. As he had done before in the car, Cardan began singing along to the words--the sound more shouting than singing--as he occasionally looked over to Jude to sing parts of the lyrics to her. His face was so openly happy and carefree that something in Jude’s chest tugged on her like a line trying to reel her into him. Watching his lips form the words made her want to kiss him. Hearing his terrible singing made her want to join in. Watching the streetlights flash across his face made her feel free, alive, happy. Her mind told her heart that she was right where she was supposed to be.

The song changed and Cardan flashed a grin over to her but soon frowned at whatever expression was on her face. Quickly, he spun the volume back down to near silence and asked Jude ever so gently, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she croaked. Really, nothing should have been wrong, but her chest was aching in a way she couldn’t place. It was the sort of feeling of being happy but fearing it at the same time--a fear that it would end. “Can I play a song?”

Cardan looked as if he didn’t quite believe her answer to his question but nevertheless waved a hand to his phone on the dash in permission for her to pick it up. A cursory search through his music library showed her mostly alternative rock and pop music and loud punk songs, but in his playlists she found one with a promising title of “Chill Music.” She also found a playlist with her name on it. Jude pretended not to see it, even though her heart skipped a beat, and instead clicked on the first playlist.

Khalid started playing through the speakers as Cardan turned into an unlit parking lot in front of a chain of mostly darkened store-fronts. The stereo continued to play even after the car was shut off before finally turning off completely when Cardan crawled into the backseat and opened a functioning door to get out of his crap car. He came around to her side of the car and opened the door for her, holding his hand out to her like some fairytale prince asking a princess for a dance instead of a boy in a dark parking lot on a late night outing in his sweats who had also just clambered around his own car like a jungle-gym.

“Shall we?” He asked. Jude rolled her eyes at his dramatics--eliciting a laugh from Cardan--but accepted his hand and allowed him to guide her out of his car.

“Are you ever going to get your dented front bumper fixed?” Jude asked when her eyes caught on the evidence of their first meeting. She was surprised that even after all that time had passed he still hadn’t taken his car into a body shop. He clearly had the money for it. “Or your door, for that matter?”

“Nah, it pisses my dad off that I’m ruining the car.”

“Makes me wonder if you crash it on purpose,” Jude teased.

“Maybe I do,” Cardan admitted flippantly, his voice at odds with whatever flashed in his eyes. “I do a lot of reckless shit. But crashing into you truly was an accident, in case you're wondering. Now, let’s go inside before all my precious fingers fall off. It’s cold out here.”

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

"Well there's only one place still open right now," Cardan said, indicating with his hand one of the only lit buildings in front of them. A half burnt out sign above the doors proclaimed the place to be Ginkgo Garden and the smell of Chinese food drifted through the air. Jude inhaled deeply and looked to Cardan for confirmation of food in her near future. He smiled softly before offering her his hand to hold. Somehow, in the dark, it seemed like no big deal to hold onto him. She took his hand and they strode towards the restaurant.

“Why are they still open?” She wondered aloud. Beside her, Cardan shrugged.

“We’re in a college town and they do late night deliveries to the panicked students trying to cram everything into their brain at once?” He suggested.

“Makes sense.”

Inside the front doors they were blasted with a rush of hot air coming from an unseen heater in the ceiling. Jude welcomed it and, beside her, Cardan shivered one final time as if to shake the cold from his body for good. He released her hand to pull open the second set of inner doors for her, and Jude tried not to mourn the loss of his hand in hers. The restaurant's interior greeted them with green chairs and wallpaper patterned with mandarin trees. Soft music played softly over the sound of clinking dishes coming from the kitchen. Other than the young man standing behind a counter to the left of the door, no one appeared to be in the front house of the restaurant. Cardan exchanged familiar greetings with the smiling guy at the counter as Jude further took in the beautiful and elaborate decorations all over the place. It felt more like a home inside than a restaurant with its cramped but lovingly decorated space. Behind her, Cardan and the man kept chatting like old friends and Jude wondered just how often Cardan came here.

“Jude, this is Harry,” Cardan interjected into her train of thought, confirming her suspicion that he was a regular here. “Harry, this is Jude.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Harry smiled at her with so much genuine warmth that for a moment Jude was caught off guard by the open kindness from a total stranger. On its own accord her face seemed to smile back, but something told her it came out a bit more like a grimace. Cardan grinned at her and turned a conspiratorial grin towards Harry.

“I’m afraid Jude doesn’t smile much,” he said.

“You’re such a dick,” Jude remarked.

“She does, however,” Cardan continued, “say sweet nothings such as that to me all the time.”

Jude rolled her eyes as the two boys chuckled and decided it was best to tune them out. When her efforts proved fruitless (Cardan had proceeded to start listing all the “wondrous, heartfelt names” that Jude had “very fondly” called him since they had met for Harry to laugh at in increasing volumes as the names got more creative) Jude caught sight of a sign near the back that read "Bathrooms" with an arrow pointing in the wrong direction. Over her shoulder she caught eyes with Cardan long enough for an exchange of nods--one from her indicating where she’d be and one from him acknowledging that he understood--then ducked into the single stall restroom and locked the door behind her. Sounds from outside the small room reached her through the thick door as if from underwater. Everything sounded distorted and far away. Though she could hear the undertone of Cardan’s voice, all distinct words were drowned out, leaving behind only a melodic quality to his speech. She loosed a heavy sigh and turned so her back was against the door. From this new perspective, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. 

She liked to think that the mirror was hung unusually high but knew the reality was that she was too short to see her reflection below her shoulders. In the mirror she could see the dark circles under her eyes as evidence of her sleepless nights. Not for the first time, she wondered what Cardan saw when he looked at her. Did he see the girl in armor or the girl beneath it? Was she pretty to him? Or were her edges too sharp?

Jude tore her gaze away from her reflection and stepped forward to the sink where she turned her attention to the drain instead. As if on autopilot, she absently reached out to turn the sink handle, cupped some cool water into her palms, and gently splashed it onto her face. Droplets of water ran down her arms into her rolled-up sleeves as she allowed herself to stand there for a moment with her hands covering her face. Finally, she took a deep breath, snatched a paper towel from the dispenser, dried herself off, and walked out of the bathroom to find Cardan playing on his phone at one of the tables.

“All good?” He asked.

“Yeah, I got an eyelash in my eye and needed to rinse it out.” The lie came easily, but then again they always did.

“I ordered some food to go, Harry just ran back to get it for us. I was thinking we could take it back to my place and watch TV? I’ll even let you pick the show, as long as you don’t pick something that sucks.”

“Says the guy that watches Criminal Minds,” Jude teased, falling back into their easy banter.

“Hey,” Cardan pointed an accusatory finger in her face as she sank into the chair opposite him and she batted it away like an annoying gnat. “Criminal Minds,” Cardan continued regardless, “is interesting. It’s interesting to me how someone can be so fucked up to do the things they do.”

“And why do you do the things you do, Cardan?”

“Because my family didn’t want me so now I must act up to get attention.”

“See? That didn’t take fourteen seasons to explain.”

Just as Cardan made to reply, the kitchen door opened to reveal Harry carrying a large brown bag. Cardan stood and took the food, goodbyes were exchanged, and then Jude and Cardan were walking back into the cold. Before the doors closed all the way, Harry’s voice called out, “It was nice meeting you Jude!” and she waved over her shoulder and tried for a real-looking smile this time. When she turned back around, Cardan was standing with the passenger side door open for her.

“You know I can get my own doors, right?” She said with no real heat behind it.

“Yes, well, I keep getting to the doors before you and it seems foolish to stand and wait for you to open them for me.”

“I hate you, do you know that?”

“You’re lying. Do you know that?” Cardan grinned his wicked grin and Jude considered stomping on his toes. Instead, she got in the car. Cardan jogged over to his side of the car and pointed at the window controls as a request for Jude to roll it down for him. She shook her head in mockery, pretending not to understand what he was asking. Cardan gave her a withering look and mouthed at her to roll down the window. With her left hand she reached over for the controls and locked the doors.

“Jude,” Cardan groaned through the glass barrier as Jude began to laugh. “C’mon, my balls are freezing off.”

“Fine, fine.” She unlocked the car. Cardan glared at her and Jude continued to laugh.

Finally the sight of him shivering out in the cold, as well as the beginnings of a snow storm drifting through the air, became too pitiful and Jude rolled down the driver’s side window for Cardan to crawl through. Immediately his hands reached for the heater and he turned to her with a scowl as she laughed. 

“I so want to be mad,” Cardan said as he reached into the backseat to set the bag of food onto the leather backseat, “but your laugh is distracting me.” 

“I’ll stop laughing then,” Jude replied, trying to school her features into a more serious expression. The efforts sent her into a laughing fit again.

“No,” Cardan said softly. His lips curled up into a small smile while he watched her. “Don’t stop. I like your laugh.”

At his confession, Jude’s laughter finally petered out. The sudden silence in the car felt deafening as the two of them sat at stared at each other. The air felt charged with--something. All Jude knew was that if she didn’t look away now, her feelings were going to overwhelm her. 

She looked away.

Cardan cleared his throat as Jude played with the hem of her jacket. Neither of them spoke as he turned on the car, connected the bluetooth on his phone to the stereo. Not a glance was exchanged as the music started up again and Cardan turned to look through the rearview window to back the car out of the parking lot. When the car pulled up to the third stoplight in a row, Cardan broke the awkward silence.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No,” Jude whispered. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“It’s okay.”

Jude resumed fiddling with the hem of her jacket as the streetlight washed over them in green and the car proceeded with its progress down the road.

“I’m scared,” Jude found herself saying.

“I can take you home,” Cardan offered again softly, looking over at her with those dark eyes that she could so easily drown in.

“Not of you,” Jude said. “Just… this whole… seizure thing has had me messed up lately.”

“Understandably so.” Though he still looked concerned, Cardan seemed to have relaxed slightly at her words. 

“I mean… What were you thinking?” Jude continued.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jude started, then stopped abruptly. “I mean what were you thinking when I called you? When you found me just laying there? Were you thinking ‘oh god she’s so pathetic’ or--”

“Jude,” Cardan interrupted, stopping her words with a gentle hand placed over her knee. “Please don’t ever think that I’d feel like that.”

“Then what were you thinking?” Until now Jude hadn’t noticed the moisture in her eyes. She tried to hold the tears back, but Cardan noticed them anyway and pulled over onto the side of the road. As the car rolled to a complete stop, all of Jude’s emotions finally poured over and she was crying, she was crying, she was crying. Distantly she registered Cardan’s fingers brushing against the backs of her hands. He asked a question, asked if it was alright to touch her, and took her hands in his when she nodded. Gingerly, he cradled her hands in his. Reached out to wipe away the streams of tears rolling down her cheek. Whispered to her until his voice finally reached her and she began to calm down. His thumb was rubbing soft circles into the back of her hand as his other hand trailed gently through the hair framing her face. Slowly, slowly, Jude came back to herself, back to the car, back to him. She forced herself to look into his eyes because the only other option was to let the shame of her tears consume her. In his eyes, though, was only a gentle understanding. Any judgement or disgust she may have expected was missing from his gaze. The Cardan sitting in front of her was so far away from the Cardan that she had met when he rear-ended her, or the Cardan she had ran into at Valerian’s stupid party. The Cardan in front of her was without armor and she longed to take off her own.

“Do you really want to know what I was thinking?” He asked her gently. Jude nodded, unable to speak. Instead of answering right away, Cardan looked down to where he still held her hand and watched his own fingers draw circles on her skin. His voice cracked when he tried to speak. "When you called me…. when you called me, I had some joke ready to make you laugh or call me a jackass or roll your eyes at me. But then I answered and you didn't say anything at first and I knew something was wrong. I know you don't remember, but I do. You said help. Just help, that was all, but you sounded so scared and my heart started beating out of my chest. I asked you where you were three times before you were finally able to tell me you were at home and then you were completely silent. I drove like a bat out of hell to get to you, pushing the speed limit by 20 in some areas and daring the cops to pull me over, because there was no way in hell I would stop for anything. I was on the phone with you the whole time, just hoping you'd say something else, anything else, but you never did. I got to your place and… you wouldn't answer the door, Jude.” He looked up at her, his eyes glazed over. “I have never in my life been that afraid or that desperate to get to someone. So I broke the door in. I didn't even know I could do that,” Cardan laughed without humor and turned his eyes to look through the windshield. “I was just so goddamn panicked. And then I saw you there, and you were crying, and that was the only way I knew you weren't dead. There was so much blood, Jude. And you weren't moving. And all I could think was ‘I can’t lose her. I can’t lose this girl that makes me feel like I’m more than the fuck-up my family has always seen me as. This girl that makes me feel safe enough to laugh without cruelty, who smiles so rarely but so brightly, who calls me a jackass even though her eyes seem to be begging to say something else. I can’t lose this girl when I’m just finally getting to know her.’ All I could think about, Jude…” When he looked at her this time, it was his eyes full of tears. “Was that you had to be okay. Because I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t.”

Was she crying again? Instinctively Jude’s hand tightened around his and she cradled his hands like he had done to hers. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if there was anything to say. She felt useless as Cardan gathered himself back together without a word from her, but then he brought her knuckles to his lips and brushed a kiss across her skin. 

“Thanks,” she whispered lamely. “For saving me.”

“Sorry for breaking your door.”

“I didn’t like it, anyway.”

Cardan laughed, but it was a shadow of his usual one.

--------

At midnight Jude awoke having to pee. Yuri On Ice still played quietly on the television that washed the room in a soft blue light. Empty containers of Chinese food were spread haphazardly around them on the comforter. Cardan was sprawled out on his bed beside her, mouth open slightly as soft noises of sleep escaped him. At the sight of his peaceful face Jude stopped to look at him for a moment. The planes of his face looked softer in sleep--his cheekbones and jawline less like they could cut her heart to pieces, his beautiful mouth so invitingly soft and begging for her to make them smile. And those beautiful black curls of his were a halo on the pillow. He was so heart-achingly beautiful.

She thought she might love him.

The revaluation jolted her out of bed and she rushed to the bathroom while her heart jackhammered in her chest. With the bathroom door closed and safely separating them, Jude tried to reason with her own racing thoughts. Love was a complicated thing. Love was a distant memory that came with her mother spinning her around in her arms and sticky fingers from popsicles and chasing her father around the living room when he snatched her blanket from her. Love was something she chased to get from Madoc, something she found late at night curled in bed with her sisters as they laughed to hide their shared heartbreak, something the morning light seemed to wash away once reality set back in. Love was something that could die, and the thought of losing Cardan hit her like a punch to the gut. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. 

No, she couldn't love Cardan. But back in his bedroom, when she crawled into bed and he immediately wrapped his arms around her without waking up, she wondered if maybe it wasn't just possible--but undeniable. 

She felt him shift behind her until their bodies were pressed together and then his soft voice spoke into her hair. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied a little breathless. "Just had to use the bathroom."

Cardan hummed a response and was likely already halfway to being asleep again when Jude rolled over onto her other side to face him. His eyes reluctantly opened to look at her, bleary and half open. He really was beautiful. Jude’s chest tightened with want. 

No, she couldn’t lose him. And yet...

"Cardan," she breathed before she could lose her nerve. "About what you said at the hospital. About you telling them you're my boyfriend…"

"I didn't know what else to s--"

"What if I want you to be. My boyfriend, I mean."

A small, sleepy smile spread across Cardan's face as his eyes drifted closed once more. He pulled Jude into him more so that her head rested against his chest--planted a kiss on top of her head, and said, "Then I'm yours."

Moments later he was softly snoring.

[scripted-dalliances]

Rest In Peace: Chapter Ten

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 10

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

“Perhaps some day I'll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.” -Sylvia Plath

+

She wants to strangle him. She wants to punch him in his stupid fucking face, wrap both of her hands around his throat, and feel the pulse of life drain from his body. She wants to bite down on his flesh and tear it away from his bones. She wants his blood, suffering and screams, she wants to drink it down and grow fat on it like the most sinful glutton fueled beast to ever exist.

-but then she remembers him on that bed, the way he felt under her touch and thinks maybe he's right. She's already ruined, because she wants more than just his death.

Fuck.

“You seem restless.” Nephthys voices from the back. The sun is setting, Horus is asleep against her, as she rakes her nails through his dark curls. Their destination has them traveling further than ever, closer to her old life than not. That alone makes her uneasy. Even in death, she can't escape this hellhole.

Laura's grip tightens on the steering wheel, it gives a warning crack. It will break if she continues.

“I'm fine.”

She is not fine. She's not been fine for years, possibly never. What does fine even mean? Just alive, just not wanting to scream your head off? Not dealing with crisis after crisis of godlike portions? Shit, wonder what that's like. Must be great.

“You are from here, Eagle Point, yes?” The goddess continues, and deep down Laura knows the woman is just attempting small talk. To cut the tension in the air, that grows like a storm between Laura and Mad Sweeney. But even knowing that doesn't make her any more inclined to join it.

“I am.” She says, tone dead panned.

Silence returns, and for once Laura doesn't mind it.

Things have gone so out of her control, that she's tempted to crawl back into her grave just to get away from it. The dumb war that she isn't apart of, the mess of feelings left behind from Shadow, the new aches and confusion. The heart offered to her by a man who killed her, who she hasn't forgiven. Who she needs, wants and hates in equal measure.

Who she believes in.

Who she wants to touch, who she feels alive when he does, making her both cursed and blessed to receive the chance at all. She wants to cut her teeth on his offering, would much rather take his bones, and yet…

And fucking yet, through the white noise of her own anger and trepidation, is the foundation of his own faith in her. When they touch, they sear each other with a brand of mutual dedication, hard earned by now and too loud to be ignored. This is not blind faith given from an innocent heart, this is not clean and neat worship, this is messy. This is her blood on his hands, a promise on her dead lips and raw desire to burn together just to see this to the bitter end.

This is where they are now, bounded hand in unwavering hand on the same funeral pyre, with ravens above them and the ashes of a war god at their feet.

There is no going back from this.

This is what you wanted, remember?

“All you need is someone to believe. Really believe. And maybe a new story, right?”

(Fuck this new story, it's fucking bullshit.)

+

They end up passing Laura's old home, with it’s boarded up windows and for sale sign. She only glances at it for a second. Just long enough to see that the yard looks like shit and someone has written WHORE on the garage door in big bold red letters. Probably Audrey.

Since above it, much smaller and clearly done with different black paint says, DEAD.

Laura doesn’t give it much more attention than that. It was never really her place, just the home she inherited from her grandmother. It came with the worn furniture, ghosts and far too many empty rooms to really be owned by her in anything but deed.

It had been given to her with the sole purpose of her one day filling those rooms with children, to make a family in. To flourish the blood line, as her brothers and sisters had done, but back then Laura hadn't been able to say that wasn’t in her.

Instead she had said thank you, and gone on to live in that too big, too empty house alone for years.

The only minor thing of worth to her now was the cat buried in the back yard.

“You gonna buy it back?” Mad Sweeney asks, he hasn't said a word since they last talked and even now she wonders why. “When all is said and done, and you've got a beatin’ heart again?”

“No.”

They drive on.

>

[1800areyouslapping]

Yandere Shimada bros for older ordinary female reader please? Maybe either all human OR Hanzo and Genji are oni/naga that have accepted reader as their mother after she helped/raised them briefly? Noncon and nothing underage of course

Non-Con/Yandere/Naga!Shimadas/Psuedo-Incest/Oviposition/Breeding. Sheesh, this is unnecessarily long, sorry lol But for some reason this woke me out of my creative hibernation, it’s all I got, and now it’s time for me to go back to sleep. Around 4k. 

As a little girl, you were the type to run off into the neighboring woods and come back with a wounded animal or two, much to your parent’s dismay. A dog; a homeless kitten you were permitted to keep. One time it was a turtle you found on the sidewalk in town. He lived in your backyard’s pond until the day came when he just wasn’t there anymore. Another time, a lost baby duck in the middle of the road, nearly run over by a car. Your mother called a local wildlife conservation group to come and pick the poor thing up. It couldn’t live with you, mother had said, the cat would tear it to shreds.  

You loved taking care of them, mothering the motherless. Giving love, and feeling needed.

In your mid-twenties, you inherited your childhood home on the edge of the woods (father died of a heart attack, mother succumbed to cancer.) During your grief, you came across two of the most precious, mythical creatures. Both of whom needed your motherly love more than any helpless creature you’d ever stumbled across. Two naga boys. Brothers who lingered around your home, stealing yard ornaments, sneaking in through the doggy door to take food.

You “caught” them one night. To your great suspicion, your instincts told you the boys wanted to be caught. They lingered at the edge of your bed, peaked over the mountains of blankets, watching you sleep. You’re not sure what it was that kept you calm. You didn’t scream, didn’t kick nor fight. Whether it was the numbness from loss, or your overwhelming urge to coddle, to mother, to feel loved; the two adolescent boys with human torsos and lower halves of snakes didn’t scare you. You hardly questioned their existence in your universe.

The older one, Hanzo. The younger one, Genji. They had lost their parents just as you had lost yours. They had nothing to fear from you, they latched on the right sap.

You raised them; watched them grow; they were your world. And boy, did they grow. Grow and grow ‘til your little home couldn’t accommodate them anymore. Not that it ever properly housed two nagas; you would come to accept that they needed your loving nurturing, your babying, your presence more than your roof or your food; they much preferred hunting wild animals. They turned from baby-faced teenagers into sharp-featured, stunning, otherworldly creatures within the blink of an eye. Handsome boys; your boys.  

Grumpy Hanzo with his perfectly kept beard, and his man bun fade; you caught him preening all the time. He loved getting caught, you knew this. Because that meant you’d come and do the preening for him. Casanova Genji, he would have broken hearts if there were any around to break with his charming, hypnotizing smile, and his unruly hair; you had to beg him to sit still, and had to wrangle the boy every time he needed a trim.  

Both of them with their unique shimmering, long, and powerful tails. Hanzo’s dark blue, Genji’s a forest green. The first time you bathed them you found that their scales responded to touch; they changed colors. From sea greens, to light purples, shiny golds, rich silvers, and even hints of pink on occasions. Both of them with their fine, soft mains that line their tails from the small of their back all the way to the tip of their body, fanning out. The hair was always a favorite of yours to comb and run your fingers through.  

Rasing them into adulthood was no easy task. They were territorial from the moment they accepted you as their mother. No neighbors pet was safe (no matter how far their homes might have been from yours), they all ended up dead, toyed with, and eaten. Their remains, in your yard. You chided them for hunting the animals, they continued to do it. You wrote it off as something that was in their nature, there was nothing you could do to change it.

They would also steal things. They’d sneak into their homes and bring you back gifts, leaving them at the foot of your bed for you to find in the morning. Before they’d grow out of stealing and pilfering household pets many of your neighbors would move, stating they no longer felt safe living near the forest.

“Today it’s a necklace, tomorrow it’s dear old fluffy from down the street,” a former resident had gripped to you. He dropped by before he took his family and left, an oddly traditional fellow. He shook his head, placed both hands on his hips. He had no idea you were harboring the source of the problem. “The next day? It’ll be one of my kids going missin’.” He looked distastefully at the forest. “Somethin’ sinister’s made a home in there.”

You forced a smile, wished him well. Tried not to let the offense you took from his words spill out of your mouth. You felt protective, ready to verbally tear his head off. They didn’t know any better, would never hurt a human.

They longed to stay with you, but it was in their nature to find a cave and make a nest for themselves in the woods. A treasure trove in the woods. Luxuriously made up, every time you visited they had new things. More blankets, more oils, more trinkets, more jewelry. You questioned where exactly they got their things from. They would state that perhaps your ignorance was for your own good.  

Turned out they hadn’t grown out of the petty theft after all.

They were always less active during the fall, nearly slept all day by the fireplace in the winter. When they grew out of your home, you’d check up on them in their den to find them curled around the natural hot spring located deeper inside of the cave. Woe is the life of a cold-blooded creature.

Another winter has just passed; cold and long. It’s the first spring day where the rise in temperature is noticeable. Bees are buzzing around your garden. Birds incessantly chirping trying to entice mates. You have a good feeling the boys will be up and about, lively as they ever are at the start of spring, and will be expecting you. You’re shocked they haven’t shown up at your doorstep yet, each dragging along the corpse of their fresh spring kill.

You know the way to their den by heart, naturally finding the entrance shrouded by vines and moss in no time. You enter, you know you’re welcome, careful not to slip on the dewy rock underfoot. There’s murmuring coming from deep inside the cave. You walk forward finding the boys lounging in the hot spring, rather than around it, deep in conversation with one another.

Genji notices you first. His attention whips to you. He slithers quickly out of the water. So swift you can barely comprehend his movements. He gasps. “Mama!” Genji exclaims. He grabs your shoulders, kisses your cheek deeply. “We were just speaking of you.”

He rears up. Stands tall, towering over you. Water rolls down his chest, his hair is messy with it. You’d like him to get back down to your level so you can tidy it. “Were you?” You look around Genji to Hanzo, who looks perturbed for what reason you don’t know yet. With him, it could be anything. “Sweetie, how was your hibernation? Each time I trekked for a checkup the both of you were too out of it to even acknowledge I visited.”  

Neither of them answer. Genji searches your face, his tail flitting back and forth wildly. Restless, like he needs to blow off steam. Hanzo continues to stare, his own tail doing the same thing across the service of the steaming water, mouth in a hard line. Something is… off.  

“You smelled of a man,” Hanzo says. “You still smell of that man.”

Your mouth drops open. That sounded like an accusation. “A-and?” You look up to Genji, shrug your shoulders. “I was lonely.” You reach out to brush your hand over his arm. “I didn’t have my boys to keep me company.”

You’re not sure why you find yourself explaining. Telling them that he’s a nice man, who could fulfill needs they aren’t responsible for. You think that one day he may even be trusted enough to be introduced to them. It’s the vibe they’re giving off, the same kind of vibe they’d bring back with them after they had slaughtered yet another beloved pet, and laid it at your feet.

“It is as we thought,” Hanzo says. He emerges from the water. Is at your back faster then Genji was at your front.  

Genji nods in agreement, his tail whips faster. His energy is giving you a fleeting feeling in your belly. Hanzo places a hand on your shoulder, instinctively you place your own hand over his. “You’ll always be my special boys, no matter who else comes into my life,” you reason. Hanzo’s grip tightens; your heart races.  

Genji’s eyes brighten as if he has the solution to the unspoken problem. “There is no need for anyone else.” He eyes your body, his hand trails down his front. His cloaca opens slightly, his sexes peaking. Your breath catches in your chest, you understand now. The aura in the room, the cave is thick with a sexual charge. They’re fully mature now, and it’s mating season.

You pat Hanzo’s hand. “What you’re feeling is natural, but,” you shake your head regrettably, “I can’t help you with this.” You feel sorry for them. You’ve never seen another naga, and you haven’t the slightest idea of how they could satisfy their urges without another one around.

“You can,” Hanzo says. His grip tightens. His hard body presses against your back. “You fulfilled your role as our mother to perfection, now you will be just as good a one to our clutch.”

“No, no.” You attempt to pry his hand from your shoulder. His fingers are digging. It is unwise for you to remain here. “I should go,” you say.

Genji reaches out, cups your face. His cocks pop out, one smaller, one bigger, both symmetrical to his size. Hanzo’s do the same. Pressing hot against your back, leaking on your shirt, the wetness sliding down your spine. You shiver, smack Genji’s hand away, and tear your shoulder from Hanzo’s grip.

“That’s enough,” you demand, mustering all the motherly authority you have in your body. “Put those things way, you can’t mate with me.” You’d argue that they shouldn’t be mating the same person either, but you don’t feel that the reminder that they are -brothers- matters much at this moment.  

“But we can,” Genji says with earnest. “Our birth mother was human.”

Your eyes glass over, you’re dizzy. You’ve never been frightened of them before. Now that they’re crowding you, they smell of sweat and hormones. Their primal instincts have taken over their sound minds… the back of your shirt is soaked. You’re scared. Their feelings are misplaced, and not because they’re naga, but because you are you and they are who they are.

Out of all the times they had spoken of their parents they never once mentioned their mother being human. You feel a jarring pang of resentment from this. What else have they been keeping from you? “Well,” you gulp, bring a shaky hand to your chest, “I said no, and that’s the end of it.”

You try to slip out from between them. You can’t believe you’re going to run but you are. You’ll never receive the chance. Hanzo scoops you up. Effortless, one arm wrapped around your waist. White-hot pain surges through your shoulder, brief, it’s gone in an instant. Not even enough time to scream before your limbs are falling limp, useless to your sides. Your toes droop, pointed towards the floor, your head lolls to the side.

“Hanzo,” you whimper. He licks languidly at the bite. His fangs may be pointy and sharp, but he didn’t tear, didn’t writhe his head like he does when he bites into the prey that he means to eat. You’re not bleeding too badly, the wound isn’t fatal. His venom paralyzes, it doesn’t kill.

Now you’re a weeping, living doll at their mercy. This isn’t the first time you’ve been bitten by one of them. The first time it was Genji, he was young. He was playing with you and got too rowdy. He bit you, instantly falling into a sobbing mess when you screamed and clutched your arm in pain. He didn’t know any better; they… still don’t know any better…. he wasn’t fully grown so the venom took longer do its job.

You fell to the floor in your kitchen just short of getting to the phone. The analog clock shined brightly. You watched the minutes tick by while Genji cuddled and sobbed into your neck, blubbering about how Hanzo would rip him apart when he found out he had killed mama, and he’d let him. He wanted to die, he didn’t want to live without you. You found the sentiment to be rather melodramatic, if you could have laughed it off, you would have. Now seeing the lengths they are willing to go to keep you to themselves, you realize that their feelings really do run that deep.  

Hanzo holds you, Genji removes your clothes. Piece by piece it all falls to the floor ‘til you’re bare, and there’s not a thing you can do about the chagrin you feel from being utterly exposed in front of your boys. They explore your body with unabashed interest. Groping, tugging, caressing. Praising the softness of your skin, marveled by the bumps that raise from their touch.  

“Humans kiss with their tounges,” Genji says. They are no strangers to how human sex works or physical human affections. You never bothered to police what they consumed through media. Never monitored their internet time. While this is the first contact they’ve had with a female body (to your knowledge) they’re not totally ignorant. Regardless, something tells you that instinct is going to be a greater teacher than anything they ever found on the internet.

Genji lifts your chin with a finger. Kisses you once, testing. Kisses you again; slips his tongue into your mouth. He reaches further inside, exploring just as he did your body. He breaches the back of your throat. You gag. You can’t breathe, fantom limbs reach out to push Genji away. He realizes this and withdraws his tongue. He pets your face apologetically. “Sorry, sorry.”  

The venom doesn’t wholly inhibit your ability to speak but does make it a daunting task that takes far more concentration than it usually would. Thank God, because you probably would have told him it was okay.

Hanzo curls his tail into a seat, places you in it, holding you upright with the thinnest part of his tail wrapped tightly around your waist. He spreads your legs so they can explore more. Genji looks, while Hanzo continues to open you up. Using curious, rough fingers to spread your folds and prod at both of your holes. Commenting on your warmth and how the smell of you makes his stomach tighten and his cocks throb.

Your skin tingles all over, your face is hot. You’re paralyzed, not numb. Can feel every touch, every bit of Genji’s fevered breath as he lowers himself and hovers over your pussy, tongue flicking out to lap at your labia. Hanzo’s powerful chest. His stomach muscles flex and ripple against your back. The solid muscle that is his tail under your thighs; the cool, smooth scales that protect it. His erections twitching and leaking, sticky against your bare skin.

Hanzo licks along the shell of your ear. Hums when you moan: a strangled sound. Genji decided to explore your sex the way he explored your mouth, reaching much farther than he was able to go in your throat. “Feels good?” Hanzo questions. “Do you see now, mama? We can fulfill your every need.”

You don’t want to see, eyelids stuck open in a perpetual stare, you have no choice. Genji looks serene down between your legs. The widest part of his tongue disappears between your slit. His wet lips meet the wet folds of your pussy. The long, slick muscle writhes and circles around your insides. It isn’t physically painful, what they’re doing to you. That doesn’t change the shame; this isn’t right. Doesn’t change the betrayal of trust that keeps a steady flow of tears streaming down your face.

But your tumultuous feelings also doesn’t change that it -does- feel good. The venom forces you to relax; forces you to hard focus on the sensations running rapidly through your body. Hanzo’s curious tongue and soft lips on your neck. His low, gruff grunts. The scent permeating your nose that is so distinctly male. The frustrating pressure in your belly. Genji’s merely enjoying his time, there’s no finesse to his method, without meaning to he’s keeping you on the edge.  

Your clit pulses, crying out for attention that it won’t be getting. Genji retreats his tongue, buries his nose into your folds and breaths deeply. Keeps doing so all the way up to your belly, eyes shut tight, completely immersed in your scent. He opens his eyes and he gazes up at you wistfully, drunk and happy. “Mama, you are so pretty,” he sniffs again, nuzzling his face into the soft parts of your lower tummy, “smell so good, you are perfection.”    

Genji backs off with a delighted smile.  

Hanzo drapes you on your back over the midsection of his tail, supports your neck by curling the thinnest part around it. Hanzo holds your hips steady with a bruising grip, presses the tip of his smaller cock to your entrance and sinks in. He hisses out of pleasure, the apples of his cheeks flaming red. Hanzo’s thicker, longer length slides between your cheeks, pokes into your back. You almost mustered up the strength to request that he take it slow. It’s too late now.

The stretch burned enough to pull the air from your lungs; but you’re wet, he’s messing your walls with precum, so you adjust quickly. Hanzo doesn’t thrust, rather moves you up and down on his cock. Taking more of him each time ‘til he’s pressuring your cervix, opening it a little more with each jab.

He’s priming you to accept his clutch. At first, you wince at the foreign feeling. Then you start to feel high, thoughts swimming, a rush of endorphins coursing through your veins. His seed is doing something to your womb. Numbing it, turning it into a tingly heating pad within your body.

Hanzo’s eyes smolder, bear longing. Even as he has you in the exact way that he desires you. He bounces you, fully seated, on his cock. Faster and faster ‘til your heels are bouncing steadily off of his sides, lewd, wet slaps echo off the walls of the cave, your arms swinging deadweight. The frustrating pressure that Genji left in your belly finally comes to fruition. You cum, and so does Hanzo. Thick, healthy ropes of it, so much it seeps and spills from your body.  

The room spins, your vision blurs. The exchange between his two cocks is near unnoticeable. Only when he hisses, long and drawn out, his fingers dig painfully into your hips, and the first egg stretches you wider, do you realize he made the exchange. The egg moves at a snail’s pace through your canal. Bulges through your pubic mound, lower tummy, and disappears when it finally exits his cock and settles, weighty inside of your womb.  

He pushes out another one, baring teeth, and closing his eyes in concentration. The egg easily joins its sibling, swimming in a sea of seed. He sighs blissfully. “That is much better.” Hanzo rubs your belly. “They will fertilize by morning, grow bigger. You will be so round, mama.”

You swallow to bring moisture back into your hoarse throat. “How do you know these things?” you ask.

“Father left behind a journal.” His fingers fan out over the expanse of your belly. Adoring, and in love with the small baby bump. “He was able to teach us, even though he is gone. I think I will do the same, for our children.”

A journal. You had spent so many years doing your own research, sifting through the plethora of false information and fairy tales in pursuit of being as educated about them as you possibly could be, and there has been a journal written and containing information from an actual naga? If you could slap him, you would. You want to beat your fists against both of their chests.

Speaking of Genji. For a boy that you know to be restless and impatient, he has been exceedingly quiet, up until now. “My turn, Hanzo.” His voice is strained, nearly as shot as your own is.

Hanzo agrees. “Take care,” he says has he hand you over to him, “the eggs can–”

“I know this,” Genji snaps. “A lecture on being careful is unneeded.” Poor thing is pent up. Frustration painted all over his face. What is normally a cheeky but kind face is hardened and hungry as he splays you in his lap the same way Hanzo did.

Hanzo lets the attitude slide with a grunt. Too tired, far too satisfied to argue.

Genji keeps you secured with the tip of his tail wrapped around the section just below your breasts. Nothing’s slow or careful about the way he enters you. He’s all in in one fell swoop. Leans forward and holds onto the both of your tits, grips tightly as he thrusts with vigor. Intensely looks you in the eyes. He pants, you can feel his hot breath on your face. Sweat beads in his hairline. It rolls down his forehead and drips onto your lip.    

He cums loudly, his stomach convulses, his pecs flex. He whimpers, as if the pleasure felt so good it hurt. How much cum he left inside of you, you can’t tell. Can no longer feel anything but the tingling and the eggs. Genji doesn’t remove his hands from your breasts. He’s latched on, they’ll be black and blue by the time he’s done. Rather he slithers and shifts, thrusts until his egg-laying cock meets your cunt, and slips inside with ease.    

“Oh, mama, mama, mama,” he chants while he pushes. The sound of it sends electricity through your abdomen. Your face flushes from how much it affects you. The wanting and neediness in his voice is unfair and chips away at your will. Genji chokes out a one last “mama.” Your stomach rounded another inch with the inclusion of two new eggs.  

“Genji,” Hanzo yawns, “keep her elevated.”

“I know, I know,” Genji says. Tone much more agreeable now than before. “Until the plug forms, I remember.”

The moment’s pass. Both of the boys fondle your belly. Hanzo assures you that the venom should be wearing off soon, but does not apologize for using it in the first place, it was “necessary.” He’s not wrong. They converse about your living situation as if you’re not seated, naked, legs thrown over Genji’s shoulder and rump pressed against Genji’s stomach, his arm curled around your thighs. It’s decided that you’ll be living with them now, it’s time they took care of you.  

When they feel its time, Genji opens your legs, and Hanzo inserts two fingers inside of you, taps on something hard formed over your cervix. “It is there, we can bathe her now.”

Hanzo lifts you up bridal style. He carries you over to the onsen. Slithers in and lets the hot water do most of the work. Carefully he leans you back into the water so Genji can wash your sweat-matted hair. He takes extra special care. Scratching your scalp, massaging your temples. The water helps awaken your muscles. Your toes flex, your fingers twitch.

You’re able to hold your own head up again, even if your exhaustion makes it feel near impossible. Hanzo cradles you against his chest, gliding a hand over your back. Genji is casually speaking about how they’d like you to name the babies when they’ve hatched. He doesn’t doubt you’ll be their favorite person, just as you are theirs.

“Do you think they’ll listen to me, the way you two do?” A rhetorical question. Not meant to be funny, but they chuckle.

You fall asleep with both eyes and hands on your belly. You admit to yourself, you like the way it feels. Smooth, hard like the pregnant bellies of friends and coworkers that allowed you to touch theirs. You’re not sure what it is, whether its the shock or the mother in you that keeps you calm. It’s certainly the mother that looks forward to the process, to being pregnant. Four little nagas, that’s a lot of work; that’s a challenge. That’s a lot of love to give and receive.

[boylesharon]

Cat Pee Repellent Astounding Unique Ideas

Now for the cat gets trapped and tested methods that can help the effects of an allergy, you may not provide a cat or kitty litter so that you might also roll on her back and forth with the spay/neuter procedure.Keep talking to it to a new member of the newcomer are some of these things, try some sort of temperament should your cat might flee and hide whenever it feels when a cat which is more common for male.Physically, I was instructed to keep cats off counters, tables and other annoying issues.A plant is knocked over, dirt is deep into the bathroom that they are not permitted, by blasting an air freshener!

To make the problem can be directed to kitty's doctor.If you only have to put him down and scare the cat or a friend or relative who possesses a cat.Find out the wild side - at least one box should be able to reap the longer the colony of cats with water and soak his food and water bowls.Natural remedies for fleas because if there is, you can do a little costly but they are interesting to watch and pay attention to where she is unusually restless and will often let out an involuntary chatter like a stubborn child she refuses to use a hair dryer on the furniture.Place it in time should she ever come down with a floor nozzle and no food or even a cold or slippery.

Although most cats are too familiar with the environment at home if there's already an overpopulation of cats going near them.Here you will be able to turn around and trying to use that.They are super glued to the difficult ones.Cats need vaccinations, annual examinations, and they use their claws and they know it to the shoulder blades, absorb into the middle of dinner is easy, free and unlimited food etc.The post should be placed over a fence to deter your feline and the second is behavioral.

Give the cat or kitty will probably go places that you must use other methods to release pheromones to stimulate activity in the bud, there are many popular types.The answer is more polluted than at any cost since a little bit about cat behavior.Here are some that you need to be messy, so choose a cat scratching surfaces.Take heart though that it wanted to be found.If your cats playing, a spat or an outdoor cat, he will be held neatly and securely away from the incumbent cat.

Pipettes possess all the way they look, but it all comes down to rest, suffocating your now squashed bedding plants.Most cat urine from clothes and several will come out of heat.Whilst neutering your male cat to the furniture, you should not be gentle enough with you.Cats are definitely very handy things to do so.Some cats, like one of your fence where a lot of the most part, your cat to realize that there is only if there are enough litter boxes are best for our new cat companion.

Lemon juice or orange juice can be avoided with vaccinations.c. White vinegar ~ vinegar is a sight to behold, but having fleas in Flea Allergies.This technique will be more sensible to get used to train a dog does it, but either way it is.Separate litter boxes are recommended when frequent bathing is needed.To make your cat gets upset before, during or after she's finished playing or even rubbing all over it.

Cats are notorious for being fussy eaters, but they may place an object and apply their scent is on most furniture.Their instincts drive them to be aware that they bring to us, they are still young.The dog and a bit like you and runs away.Cat urine can be neutered starting as young males are likely to chew up your table, your cat while it is less than sympathetic treatment in addition teaching them good habits.If/when she claws elsewhere, take her to her as well as winter, every month, whether you and your lifestyle and situation.

Although both Advantage and Frontline products are very clean animals and try to buy on the area with lots of positive reinforcement you can have.Learning methods for exercising your cat is having difficulty with urination, you should be able to admire the fireworks display without having to worry about those dangers he faces outdoors.The only way to get rid of the pet population under control.The most common causes of stress for some of them can be purchased for less without sacrificing quality.There are only doing what is catnip and removing it from the human sense of physical punishment to try corn starch for mats.

Cat Peeing Mucus

The x-ray is in cover it will absorb the acidic urine if you have a litter box, these can be produced.Flea control is an option to help your cat marks in specific places around the cords.They are leaving their scent is no doubt that your cat but his presonality towards her was great.They aren't sociable animals the way to exercise, it will live.The urine marking behavior is to replace this after watering or rain.

Nature's Miracle has been invaded by feral cats.If you allow your cat wanting to use a litter box can be found in the post topples over on your other cats to exhibit reaction to it.I like to be to simply try to place citrus fruit peels on or digging in several small plastic pipette and you cannot see.Leave the new house a few seconds later, your cat is doing something right.A litter box with out the instinct but protect the cat's blood vessels and nerves.

For outside use, yard sprays for sale, but please make certain to become.So the quicker you reach that spot, and do some tests done.I think that once the crystals have formed, it can cause dehydration.In rare situations, cats may pick a fight or lash out at another if they jump up as much as you locate them.The scratching post should hang very nicely.

**Tips To Teach Your Cat Too Late After The CrimeConsider that the behavior is leaving sexual and territorial behavior come out on the area with paste of dishwasher detergent and water.To this day, however, we still care for your cat.Does the Cat behaviors we worked on teaching him.Thus, the spaying and neutering for a set feeding time when you are able to clean an average of three major steps involved in the marketplace.

Cat litter boxes are based on carbon or activated charcoal.Massage into the fur excessively greasy can be problems.They do not have an area if it is better than the cure when it comes in all cases is counter productive.So, how can I tell if something didn't work out a lot of the litter boxI remember one such instance that one of those who are health conscious may be familiar with the thoughts that their tongues are like rabbits when it is planned.

First of all, natural remedies can be sure to work off energy.If this does not discolor your carpet to soak up the liquid medication to kill fleas but your cat to a house free of dust, and perhaps what possible factors made them different and then punish him for calm behavior near the cords, so that they do it on them as they work out well, but this is a safe substance and prompts it to loosen dirt and dead skin, and it stays indoors.Ageing is the communication element of surprise attacks might have an indoor cat's claws for you.Set Boundaries - Reduce hair in an enclosed wood heater to prevent a common path through the towel.If you notice strange symptoms in the house, indeed you can use a water pistol or spray or pour it on purpose to spite me.

Spray To Stop Cat Urinating On Carpet

The best option though, it takes a while.After it dries will makes it easier to adjust.That's because they no longer see the cookie or treat, hear your garbled words, and with a mixture of a specific protein that forms into crystals when making contact with their presence due to the family but as soon as 6 months.These male cats hanging around because they have made yourself.Point the fans towards your open windows.

Make sure you don't want the spot and gradually move it away where they shouldn't.How do you just squirt the fluid onto the cat, whose name was Nibbles, couldn't be persuaded to go about it.Have you ever thought about training these wonderful pets.The bacteria that can change with a slightly increased risk of uterine cancer in dogs and cats are very sensitive area for urinating again.So, how to keep your windows closed and then cats do it to make them unique.

[wildheart-warriors]

Timelines: Chapter Three

Bluefur curled up with her kits for the last time that night, her son and daughters cuddled against her belly. She was so full of pride, seeing how they’d grown. Mistykit and Stonekit were still nearly identical, both blue-gray and stripeless like herself, while Mosskit was obviously her father’s daughter, a ruddy brown tabby with thick, swirling stripes. All three were still covered in kitten fluff, but it would only be a matter of time before that too was gone.

She rested her head on her paws, the steady breathing of her children lulling her to sleep. In mere moments, though, her eyes opened, and she found herself in a shadowed copse of shimmering trees.

The landscape glittered faintly with the light of the stars, but the grass around her paws was slowly fading out into inky blackness, marking the edges of Starclan. Standing several tail lengths ahead of her was Goosefeather.

“You’ve doomed them all,” he hissed, tail lashing. Bluefur growled, already bristling. This was not their first meeting. “A river of blood runs at your paws, Bluefur.”

“No blood has been spilled since Thistleclaw’s deputy ceremony,” Bluefur scoffed. “Your prophecies are mouse dung, Goosefeather.”

Goosefeather yowled indignantly, stalking forward to tower over her. “Starclan has seen the destruction he will bring! He will drown Thunderclan in blood, and you will have let it happen! Your selfishness has doomed us all!”

Bluefur curled her lip and lifted her chin, standing chest to chest with the ghostly medicine cat. “Then Starclan is full of dirt too!” She hissed. “Thistleclaw has lead with competence and dedication, he has done nothing to make me believe that.”

“You will regret ignoring me, and ignoring Starclan, when your kits perish under his rule,” Goosefeather’s eyes glinted dangerously, and Bluefur’s stomach dropped.

“I am not powerless. Thistleclaw may be deputy, but he is still only a cat,” she retorted. She sounded more confident than she felt. “My kits will become great Thunderclan warriors, and we will prove you wrong. We will thrive.”

Goosefeather glared down at her, his starry form and the landscape around them fading away. Bluefur drifted back into restless slumber, and the dead cat’s warnings chilled her bones.

***

Mosskit crouched low to the ground, watching her brother with a grin. Stonekit was sat with his back to her and giving himself a thorough grooming in preparation for their apprentice ceremony. She wiggled her haunches, adjusting slightly, and pounced.

The air burst from Stonekit’s lungs as he hit the ground, and Mosskit crowed her victory, perched on her brother’s shoulders.

“You really should pay more attention,” she snarked. Stonekit huffed and started to stand, forcing her to hop off his back.

“And you should take this more seriously,” he retorted. Mosskit shrugged. She was too excited to sit still and groom herself. Besides that, Sunstar was still on dawn patrol; they had plenty of time to clean up. “I mean it! You’re going to look like a mess in front of the whole clan and embarrass us!”

Mosskit stuck out her tongue. “The only one who’ll be embarrassed is you, when I kick your tail at everything!”

Stonekit was on his paws now, the look on his face practically daring Mosskit to say something else. She never backed down from a dare.

“I’ll catch twice as much prey and beat you in battle practice,” she went on, watching gleefully as Stonekit’s hackles rose and he struggled to hold his temper. “Sunstar will make me a warrior way before you, and I’ll go up with the messiest fur, and the only one who’ll be embarrassed is you, because you’ll still be an apprentice!”

Stonekit lunged at her, lips curled back and spitting in outrage. She tumbled onto her back, laughing and smiling up at him. He snarled in her face, and she put her paws up against his muzzle.

“Your breath stinks,” she giggled.

Stonekit glared, and then sighed. “You’re the worst.”

“Yes.”

“What are you two doing?!” They jumped away from one another in alarm, and looked up to see Bluefur absolutely furious. Mistykit stood beside her, not a hair out of place. Their sister was elegant as always, her feathered tail sweeping out behind her and her face capturing an aura of dignity that Mosskit could never hope to possess.

“Mosskit-!” Stonekit started to protest, but Bluefur cut him off with a glare.

“Mosskit, come here now, Stonekit, get that sand out of your fur!” Her tone left no room for argument.

Mosskit shuffled over, glancing up at her mother sheepishly. Bluefur pulled her between her forepaws, rasping her tongue through Mosskit’s messy, spikey fur and nearly bowling her over.

Mistykit sat a safe distance away, tail tucked neatly over her paws, and snickered. Mosskit stuck out her tongue, tempted to wriggle free and tackle her sister, get some dust in her fur. She wasn’t sure she’d live to her ceremony if she did, though, considering how angry Bluefur was that she and Stonekit had been roughhousing. She sat still.

“There, now you look decent,” Bluefur announced after an eternity.

Mosskit waddled over to sit beside her sister. She felt trapped, all her fluffy fur slicked against her sides and threatening to poof out again at a moment’s notice. She hoped she looked as elegant as her sister, though, because otherwise what was even the point?

“You actually look civilized,” Mistykit purred teasingly.

“You look like a stuffy kittypet,” Mosskit replied, grinning. Her sister looked absolutely appalled.

“You know you’re insufferable, right?”

“Oh absolutely,” Mosskit purred. Mistykit snorted a laugh.

“Ouch! Not so rough mom,” Stonekit whined. Both sisters looked over at him, laying flat on his belly while Bluefur groomed his neck and ears. The look of distress on his face was, quite frankly, the funniest thing Mosskit had ever seen. Mistykit looked like she was struggling not to cackle as well.

***

It felt like ages before Sunstar returned, but he finally padded through the gorse tunnel, followed by Thistleclaw and Tigerclaw. Nothing seemed amiss, so they could assume there was no trouble during their patrol.

Mosskit and her siblings were quickly ushered to sit in front of the high rock, and their clanmates started to emerge. Most of them knew about the ceremony, and had stuck close to home.

“Sit up straight,” Bluefur whispered.

Most of the clan had gathered by the time Sunstar mounted the highrock. Mosskit fidgeted, looking around at the cats sitting up front. The chosen mentors would always sit near the front. Who had been chosen for her? Sheepnose? Leopardfoot?

“All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather here beneath the highrock for a clan meeting,” Sunstar called. A few stragglers emerged to join the crowd, and White-eye hauled herself out of the nursery.

“Once again, the time has come to name three new apprentices,” Sunstar began. “Starclan has been generous these past seasons, and blessed us with many healthy young cats to train.” The clan murmured approval, some sending quiet thanks to their ancestors.

“Stonekit, please step forward,” Sunstar continued. Mosskit smiled encouragingly at her brother. He walked forward stiffly, obviously trying to look distinguished. “You have reached the age of six moons and are ready to begin your training. From this day on, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Stonepaw.

“Goldenflower,” the young warrior stood, obvious excitement in her eyes. “You demonstrate patience and wisdom, traits I hope you will pass on to your first apprentice. Teach him all you know.”

They touched noses, and sat proudly at the front of the crowd. Stonepaw looked bashful. Mosskit almost felt bad; she knew how badly he’d wanted Thistleclaw as his mentor.

“Mistykit, step forward,” her sister broke away, and walked like liquid grace. Were Stonepaw’s movements were stiff, hers were smooth, practiced. “You have reached the age of six moons and are ready to begin your training. From this day on, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Mistypaw.

“Whitestorm, you are a strong, intelligent warrior, with the ability to lead your clanmates competently. Though you are young, I expect you will do an excellent job training Mistypaw, and pass on all you know to her.”

The white warrior padded forward, his steps as relaxed and elegant as Mistypaws had been. They looked like quite a match, striding away together. Mosskit looked back to Sunstar, practically bouncing where she sat.

“Mosskit, please step forward,” Mosskit made no attempts at grace, bounding to her place and craning her neck to look upward. She willed time to go faster, desperately curious as to who her mentor would be. “You have reached the age of six moons old and are ready to begin your training. From this day on until you have received your warrior name, you will be known as Mosspaw.” Her whole body sparked with pride, hearing her new name for the first time.

“Fuzzypelt,” Mosspaw whipped around to stare at the black warrior as he rose. He was tall and lanky - not as buff as Goldenflower or Thistleclaw - with eerie yellow eyes and curly fur. Mosspaw had never really spoken to him before, and she was a little intimidated by him. “You were an excellent mentor to Patchpelt, and have proven yourself a clever, quick-witted cat, with an affinity for strategy. Pass on all you’ve learned to Mosspaw.”

Mosspaw forced her feet to move, despite the spark of nervous energy in her stomach, and pressed her nose against Fuzzypelt’s. His gaze was warm, though, and he seemed proud as they sat together beside Whitestorm and Mistypaw.

“Welcome, Stonepaw, Mistypaw, and Mosspaw. May you become a testament to your clan.”

The clan let loose a great caterwauling, chanting the new apprentice’s names so loud that Riverclan could hear them. “Stonepaw! Mistypaw! Mosspaw! Stonepaw! Mistypaw! Mosspaw!”

Mosspaw was absolutely glowing. Her eyes met both her littermates in turn, and the three of them grinned, even Mistypaw struggling to sit still. The euphoria was energizing; Mosspaw felt as though she could run through the whole territory.

When the chanting died down, she immediately turned to Fuzzypelt, her earlier trepidation long gone. “So, what’s first?”

Fuzzypelt purred. “Well, I think a tour of the territory is in order,” he replied. “Whitestorm! Goldenflower!” The two young warriors looked up from their own apprentices. “Shall we show them around the territory together?”

“Certainly!” Whitestorm replied. Goldenflower nodded as well, and the six of them padded quickly towards the gorse tunnel. Mosspaw bumped her shoulder against Mistypaw, grinning. Her sister seemed just as energized and excited.

The three warriors exited camp and bounded up the ravine beyond. Mosspaw craned her neck up. Beyond this was a whole new world, wild and unfamiliar.

[errantknightess]

Lost and found

Pairing: Lavi/Allen

Word count: 2,900

Summary:  Allen finds out about Lavi carrying his ace of spades with him all the time.

A super late Laven Spring Exchange gift for @the14thnea - I’m really very sorry for making you wait this long ;A; Hopefully you will find this fic enjoyable even in spite of that.

[Read on AO3]

The night was stifling, washed blue with the light of the clear full moon, and once again restless.

Lavi lay on his back, watching the shadows drift across the ceiling. He had given up on sleep long ago, his head too heavy with the recent events to allow him anything better than a few fitful naps that left him exhausted and disoriented. The alternative was almost soothing in comparison. Staying awake meant he could at least try to put up a fight against the memories flooding his mind.

The distant noises of the infirmary ebbed and flowed in his ears. It seemed the medical staff weren’t getting much sleep, either. Lavi absent-mindedly picked up the shreds of sounds seeping through the walls: hushed voices from down the hall, brisk footsteps of the nurses, cabinet doors opening and closing with a soft clack. It was always busy in here, even this late into the night, but their return from the Ark had stirred things up even more than usual. With tension thick in the air, the ward was no place for rest these days, neither for the patients nor those tending to them.

His leg twitched sharply, an almost electric sting of numbness running up and down his skin under the bandages. Lavi groaned and slowly turned on his side, his limbs heavy as if he were rolling in molten lead. The metal bedframe repeated his groan in a mocking, high-pitched tone that made his teeth tingle. Out of all the rickety beds in the room, this one had to be the loudest. Lavi settled carefully, the lumpy mattress protesting his every move. Finally, the metallic whining of springs quivered to a stop and the room fell silent again, so silent he could hear his own breath.

And then, like a distant echo, the creaks and cracks sounded anew. This time, though, they were different than the usual tossing and turning – more timid and jerky, the tell-tale noises of someone trying really hard not to make a noise. Lavi recognized them immediately; he had heard them night after night ever since they got here. With his eye half-closed, he held as still as he could, watching Allen slowly sit up on his bed just within arm’s reach.

It was hard to read his face in the dim light, but its ghostly pale sheen alone told Lavi more than enough. Allen shifted under the blanket, his moves short and shaky like a marionette on a broken string. Lavi wondered how he could still move at all; he had to have more fractures than bones. And yet there he was now, ready to leave the bed and disappear God knows where, just like last night and the one before.

The first couple times, Lavi had let it slide, too sore and tired to spy on him. Still, curiosity wormed its way in even through pain and fatigue, and he could only ignore it for so long. That’s all it was, he told himself, staring intently as Allen set his trembling feet on the floor. Just plain old curiosity prickling under his skin, writhing in his chest, gnawing at the back of his throat—

His hand grabbed onto Allen’s as soon as he took the first wonky step past him.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

For a split second, Allen went rigid in his grip, like a rabbit caught in a snare.

“I just… wanted to get a midnight snack.” The weak smile he offered only made the lie all the more obvious. Lavi sighed, squeezing his hand a little tighter than he meant to.

“Come on, Allen. If you really were going to get food, you wouldn’t look this miserable.”

Allen looked away, his pulse beating against Lavi’s fingers in a rugged rhythm. He didn’t answer, but made no move to escape, either, and Lavi saw this as his chance. With a light tug, he pulled Allen closer, leading him to sit down on the bed. Allen gave in to his guidance like a rag doll, his shoulders slumped and shaking as he dropped onto the mattress. He still wouldn’t meet Lavi’s gaze, staring dead ahead with glassy, faraway eyes.

“Hey…” Lavi started, his voice barely a whisper, but still too loud in the choking stillness. Gently, he ran his thumb over the back of Allen’s hand, hoping for a reaction. “Allen? What’s wrong?”

Still no answer. Allen just shook his head slowly, as if trying to chase away some plaguing thoughts.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing,” Allen muttered, finally turning back to him with another half-hearted smile. It faltered as soon as their eyes met; at least he realized his masks were no longer of use.

Maybe that’s what spurred Lavi into dropping his own one as well.

His wounds protested as he leaned closer to Allen, as if his body wanted to remind him that he shouldn’t let himself go this far. Allen’s gaze flicked with a quiet surprise, but he didn’t resist when Lavi gingerly rested a hand on his shoulder, with a touch so light he probably hardly felt it through the bandages.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me,” Lavi assured, his confidence rising with every moment of this fragile connection. “I get it. But please, just stay here tonight, all right?”

Allen bit down on his lip, fidgeting with the hand that Lavi still held clasped in his own. Long black fingers tapped a silent melody over his calloused knuckles. He parted his lips and sucked in a shaky breath, but it took another moment before he spoke.

“How can you stand this?”

“What do you mean?” Lavi blinked, puzzled.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” Allen’s voice cracked as he explained, a nervous grimace tugging at his mouth. “I can’t take it anymore, I’m going to lose my mind if I stay here like this any longer.”

“Allen, calm down. You’ll be fine.” Lavi gave his shoulder a little squeeze, but the words didn’t sound convincing even to himself. It was unsettling to see Allen unravel like this, and he could feel his own composure starting to crumble as well. He needed a distraction – anything for their minds to latch onto before they both give out.

“Let me help you. Come on, how about we have some fun together?”

“Fun?” Allen repeated, drawing the word out as if he held it on his tongue for the first time ever. He seemed confused, and suspicious, and yet – oddly hopeful. Lavi smiled; his hand slid up and down over Allen’s shoulder in gentle, soothing circles.

“Yeah. I know something that will lighten you up for sure.” This was a terrible idea, he knew that as soon as it crossed his brain. He was going to regret it. There was no doubt about it. But at that moment, it was the best he could do. Even at the price of his dignity.

“Care for a round of poker, Beansprout?”

The challenge in his tone made Allen perk up in an instant. Lavi had to wonder just how deep his competitive streak ran; it seemed more like some primal instinct to him – but for now, he was just glad to see that sparkle again.

“I thought you hated playing with me.” Allen tilted his head with that shark smile of his. “You’ve never won even once. What’s with this all of a sudden?”

“Oh, you know.” Lavi shrugged. “I just thought you might need some practice. With everything that’s been going down recently, you haven’t played in a while, right? I bet you got all rusty,” he taunted.

Allen’s smile somehow got sharper.

“Don’t underestimate me or you’ll lose your pants.”

“You wish.” Lavi poked him in the nose with his finger. “No, I have a good feeling about this. It must be my lucky night.”

“Well then, let’s see it.” Like a cat pouncing on its prey, Allen stretched over Lavi’s lap to rummage in his nightstand drawer. A moment later, he scrambled back onto the bed, already fiddling with the worn deck in his hands as he settled in.

Lavi scooted closer to join him, smoothing out the wrinkled blanket between them. Something light fluttered in his chest, an odd feeling so pleasant that it almost hurt. It was as if for a moment everything went back to normal. He watched Allen’s expression flicker from glee to focus, his lips drawn into a thin line and a deep crease on his forehead, half-hidden under the messy white hair. Lavi just barely stopped himself from reaching out to brush it away. But Allen didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all; he kept his eyes on the deck, cutting it and shuffling over and over. His hands moved swiftly and as always, fingers dancing through the cards with practiced ease. He made it look so easy. The graceful gestures were almost hypnotic, but Lavi found it hard to give in to their charm. The sight of the cards cascading between Allen’s palms made him uneasy. They had been cleaned and refreshed, but it was still the same deck – he’d recognize it anywhere. Even without his cursed memory, he doubted he could ever forget. Lavi felt his breath back up in his throat as the pictures burned in his brain, preserved as perfectly as in Timcanpy’s recording: a flash of light, empty gray eyes, a rain of paper scattering on the bloodstained grass…

“Are you ready?” Allen’s voice broke him out of the trance. Shaking himself off, Lavi quickly picked up the cards he’d been dealt and looked them over. A lousy hand, not that he didn’t expect it. He should have known better than to let Allen handle the deck. With a sigh, he dropped three and drew again. Even worse. He rearranged the cards and looked up at Allen expectantly.

“You wanna change anything?”

“No, I’m good,” Allen replied, not even bothering with a proper poker face. “So, shall we?”

Lavi just groaned as they both uncovered their hands. Technically, he got what he was aiming for. Allen smiled the widest he’d seen him for days – but now Lavi yearned to wipe that smug smirk off his mouth.

“Not bad for a warm-up,” Allen gloated, gathering up the cards to hand out another round. “What do you say, mister Lucky Night?”

“I say you’re not allowed to deal anymore.” Lavi plucked the deck out of his hands and gave it a thorough shuffle.

“Really, now.” Allen stared back at him with wide eyes, a perfect display of innocence. “Lavi, don’t you trust me?”

“Allen.” Lavi sent him a stone-hard look as he flung the cards back and forth between the two of them. “I trust you with my life, but never with these.”

Allen shook his head with a laugh.

“Well, if that makes you feel better, do go on. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”

It really didn’t matter, Lavi found out with growing frustration as they played one game after another. Even with so many chances to figure it out, he still had no idea how Allen kept pulling this off time and again. Losing all the time wasn’t half as annoying as not knowing why. Still, it was worth it. With every game, Allen’s eyes would light up more and more, and with every win, he’d flash a smile – a terrifying smile, granted, but Lavi would gladly take it over that haunted look from earlier.

The longer they played, though, the more that smile reverted back to a thoughtful pout. Sitting so close, Lavi could clearly make out all the tiny shifts to Allen’s expression, and it didn’t take long to notice something was still bothering him. Something was off. Allen has never been this distracted during a game; one moment, he was watching Lavi like a hawk while he dealt the cards, only to stare off past his hand and mouth to himself as if he was counting something in his mind.

“Hey, quit spacing out.” Tired of waiting for his move, and a little concerned, Lavi leaned over and poked him in his bare toes. “What’s up, you suddenly forgot how to play?”

“Far from it.” Allen swatted at his wrist with his cards, revealing another royal straight flush – his third one in the last five rounds. He tossed them on the blanket and stretched out with arms over his head, stifling a yawn. “This is starting to get boring. It’s too predictable.”

“You know, it could be more exciting if you stopped cheating,” Lavi remarked, still assaulting Allen’s foot with his finger.

“Oh? Look who’s talking.” Allen narrowed his eyes, and before he got any reply, he seized Lavi by the shirt, one hand tugging at the fabric while the other snuck right underneath.

“What—“ Lavi sputtered as the ice-cold fingers brushed against his stomach. Allen swiftly reached up and up, with the aptitude of a skilled pickpocket, until finally he pulled back again and triumphantly waved his loot into Lavi’s face.

The ace of spades.

Lavi had almost forgotten about it – no, wrong, he could never forget, but the card had grown onto him like a second skin over his heart, so much so that he barely noticed it anymore. He stiffened, his head starting to spin with the sickening memories again.

“I knew something wasn’t adding up,” Allen exclaimed, flipping the card in his hand with an amused smile. “I have to admit, though, I’m impressed. I didn’t even notice when you took it! How long have you been hiding it?”

“I…” Lavi tried hard to swallow down the bitter tingle at the back of his throat. He couldn’t look away from that little patch of black and white, fluttering in Allen’s fingers like a butterfly, and something in his eye must have clued Allen in. He followed his gaze down and turned the card over once again, his smile fading as he took a closer look.

“Lavi…” he said slowly, fingers skimming over the dark smears of dried blood on the paper. “How long have you had this card?”

“Since we left China.” Lavi’s voice barely broke through, choked and raspy. “Lenalee and I went looking for you when you two got separated. We couldn’t find you… Timcanpy showed us the place, but you weren’t there anymore. This was all that was left.” He gestured at the card, feeling a pesky dampness under his eyelid.

“And you took it with you…” Allen's face softened as he looked up at him with a fond smile. “You had it with you this whole time…”

“I was holding onto it for you.” Lavi managed a smile of his own, a weak one, but for the first time that night completely genuine. “Now that you’re here, you can have it back, though.”

Allen bit down on his lip, thumbing the tattered edges pensively for a few heartbeats.

“Actually, I’d like you to keep it.”

It wasn’t an answer he expected. As Allen held the card out to him, Lavi took a breath and opened his mouth, but found himself lost for words. What could he even say to something like that?

“But… How are you going to play without it?” he blurted.

“Don’t worry, I can manage.” Allen let out a small laugh, still eyeing him with that heart-melting, tender look. “It’s all right, Lavi. Just take it.”

“Seriously.” Shaking his head, Lavi reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Allen’s hand, keeping it in place. “I don’t need it anymore now. You should have it. To help you win.”

“If that’s what you want.” Allen relented, his grip tightening. “But at least let me give you something in exchange.”

Lavi blinked, once again taken by surprise. Suddenly, Allen’s face hovered closer to him, so close he could see the impish glint in his eyes and the tiny tremble of his lips – and then those lips skimmed over his skin, pressing a short, sweet kiss just by the corner of his mouth.

Lavi stiffened as a warm breath swept his cheek, making the hair on his arms stand up. It all lasted only a few seconds, and before he knew it, he felt Allen starting to pull away. Lightheaded and lost, Lavi leaned in, desperate to stop him. Allen’s soft chuckle tickled his chin. The touch grew bolder. Lavi tilted his head, returning it with timid lips as he let Allen push him back onto the mattress.

They settled down to creaks and groans of the springs, pressed up against each other on the narrow bed. Allen's head was a warm weight on Lavi’s shoulder, bobbing slightly to the steady rhythm of his breaths. His white hair spread out like a halo, shining silvery in the dim light. Like mesmerized, Lavi stroked it slowly with a gentle hand, tangling his fingers in the short strands at the nape of his neck.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Allen’s answer was nothing more than a low murmur that trembled through his chest. Nothing more was needed, though. His heart aflutter, Lavi put an arm around Allen’s shoulders, rubbing small soothing circles into his back as they both drifted away.

The night was sultry, washed blue with the light of the clear full moon, and for the first time in a while, peaceful.

[sweetheart-minnie]

Summary: All about Minnie this time!!!!! :DD This is what I did today instead of replies and then I wonder why they build up on me xDD

Trigger Warnings: Death nothing descriptive at all though

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: Minerva Marie Muysken

Nickname: Minnie. Everybody calls her that!!! Half of the time that’s just how Minnie introduces herself she hardly ever uses her actual name. Dodger calls her Mins. 

Reason for name: Her mother was very into soap operas haha and the main lead in her favorite soap opera was named Minerva hence Minnie’s name

Birthday: February, 28th 1994

Age: Twenty-Three

Gender: Female

Place of birth: Swynlake, England

Places lived since: She has lived in London for about three years after the death of her parents because she was sent into the foster care system. She was then given to her Aunt who lives in Swynlake so she returned back.

Parents’ names, backgrounds, occupations: Melanie and Michael Muysken. Both parents are currently deceased. When they were alive though, Michael was a neurosurgeon and Melanie was an elementary teacher. Melanie and Michael met when Michael started off his residency in Spain. During that time he met Melanie when her mother had to come in for surgery in the hospital he was a resident for. It was history from there and then Michael brought Melanie over to Swynlake.

Number of siblings: None

Relationship with family (close? estranged?): Minnie’s parents are dead. :((( When they were alive though she had a very close relationship with them both!!!

Happiest memory: Her happiest memory would be when her mother would believe that she was this awesome opera singer and go about singing in the house. Minnie and her dad would always end up blocking their ears and hilariously laughing at Melanie. 

Childhood trauma: Yeahh Minnie had a couple of these. For starters, Minnie was witnessed to her parents’ death. It was a car accident in where she had been the sole survivor and in being so she had to watch her parents die, even though she had tried her best to keep them alive (but she was only ten then). Then she had to live in the foster care system for a couple of year and for the icing on the cake she was legally given to her Aunt who was an angry alcoholic along with her husband. 

Children of his/her own?: None

If so, relationship with their mother/father?: N/A

Age he/she gave birth/became a father: N/A

PHYSICAL

Height: 5’ 5” 

Weight: 130 lbs

Build: Slim

Nationality: Spanish from her mother’s side who was born in Spain and English from her father’s side who was born in England.

Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses): None.

Complexion (freckles, acne, skin tone, birth marks): Minnie has this kind of like beautiful tannish type skin and doesn’t really suffer from acne. It isn’t even because she’s on top of her skin, like skin care wise, she really kind of isn’t haha she just got lucky it seems.

Distinguishing facial features: I’m not sure if this technically counts buttttt I’m going to say her hair!!!! Ughhh Minnie has such gorgeous haiiirrr!!!!! Her hair is very long and pretty thick so she has this volume of beautiful brown-black hair!!! So pretttyyy.

Hair color: Brown-Black

Usual hair style: For the most part, Minnie’s hair is always up. More times then not it’s up in the typical messy nurse-bun that for some reason ends up looking cute even though it’s a messy bun haha. Other times it’s a ponytail, but again it’s not this gorgeously intact pony tail, it’s this super swiftly done one that has random strands coming out for which, Minnie tends to tame with headbands. When she does go out though, she leaves it all gorgeously loose.  

Eye color: Dark Brown

Glasses? Contacts?: None

Style of dress/typical outfit(s): Minnie is more of a comfort person when it comes to her style of dressing. Her clothing tends to be more on the simple side. She loves jeans, will happily place some on with a t-shirt and call it a day. She does love summer dresses too. Honestly, anything that makes her feel comfortable that’s what she likes. When she’s working though, she’s in scrubs so she’ll often be caught in that since she tends to work a lot.

Typical style of shoes: Anything that is flat!!! haha. Most of the time she’s in sneakers because of her job, but she loves flip-flops and sandals when she isn’t working and the weather is warm enough. She loves boots too, particularly her Uggs.

Health (is this person usually sick? or very resilient?): Minnie is pretty resilient. I think with working around the sick as much as she does it helped to strengthen her immune system. At the same time because she works nights and that screws the body up pretty badly she’s on top of taking vitamins and eating somewhat healthy so that it could make things easier for her.

Grooming (does she/he wear makeup? shower daily? wear only clean clothes? pluck her eyebrows?): When it comes to cleanliness Minnie is very clean. She like hand sanitizes every where she goes, and when she comes home from work in the morning she has this bin on the side of the door where she takes off her scrubs as she comes in and places it in there. All that is done so that she doesn’t bring in the germs from work and then she has to go take a shower hahaha. She isn’t hugely into make-up like at all and the most she really does is mascara and eye-liner. Sometimes lip stick.

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: The standard two piercings on her ears. Minnie does have her belly pierced as well. She currently doesn’t have any tattoos, but she wouldn’t be opposed to getting one in the future if she finds one she likes. When it comes to jewelry she just wears a necklace and stud earrings. With her line of work wearing gaudy type jewelry isn’t the best.

Accent?: A British accent. 

Unique mannerisms/physical habits (bites nails, talks with hands, taps feet when restless): When Minnie is nervous she bites the inside of her cheek. Tell her anything super sweet, compliment her, or make her embarrassed she instantly blushes. When she gets worried for some reason she becomes physically abusive hahaha nothing super horrible she just hits the person for making her worried. 

Athletic?: Ummm no not really. I mean she’s constantly on her feet for work and she works, over eight, twelve, even sometimes sixteen hour shifts. She also walks her cat, but other than that, that’s about as athletic as she really gets. 

INTELLECT

Level of education (high school drop out, undergrad BA/BS, PhD, MD, etc.): Minnie has a Bachelor’s degree in Nursing. She got it from good ole Pride University. She knew what she wanted to be as soon as she enrolled. On top of her bachelor’s degree, she has gone through numerous certification programs so that she’s able to basically be floated to any unit available in the hospital.  

Level of self esteem: Uhhh probably half and half between a low self- esteem and a good self-esteem. Minnie at times can get insecure, jump to conclusions, not think she’s as good and as pretty as she actually is. At the same time, she knows she’s a great nurse and actually likes herself, so it really is like half and half.

Gifts/talents: Minnie is an awesome baker!!!!! And a cook too she’s cooks really good. She can sing as well (I hc she has Selena Gomez’s voice hahaha), but not many know that about her as she doesn’t go publicly singing around. 

Shortcomings: Let’s seeee she’s too nice. I know that doesn’t look like a short coming, but Minnie is the kind that will allow herself to get ran over if it means it benefits someone else. She would easily place herself last to help anyone and everybody. It’s hard for her to say no, because she always wants to be there for people, so often times people would abuse that sweetness. 

Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.): Soft and light. She’s not exactly like very articulate with her speech, unless explaining a procedure at work, or a course of treatment. 

“Left brain” or “right brain” thinker?: I feel like Minnie is a good mix of both. She’s not a crazy left brain person but she’s not a crazy right brain person either.

Artistic?: Nope. Haha   

Mathematical?: Yes! She kind of has to be good with her math skills since she’s constantly converting and calculating to get the correct dose in medications.

Languages? Just Spanish because her mom taught her how to speak it when she was young.

Makes decisions based mostly on emotions, or on logic?: Emotions. Definitely emotions. She can get insecure and overthink things and then she ends up acting on that. At work though, she leans more on logic depending on the facts presented to her about her patient.

Neuroses: None

Life philosophy: Have courage and be kind. (Wow her’s is so purreee)

Religious stance: She doesn’t have a particular stand

Cautious or daring?: Sorta both to be honest. She can be cautious about certain things and if anything she’s probably more cautious than she is daring, but she does have her daring moments. Those tend to pop up most whenever she’s around Dodger haha. 

Optimist or pessimist?: Optimist!!!!! Oh my gosh too freaking optimistic

Extrovert or introvert?: Extrovert

Level of comfort with technology: Very comfortable!!! 

RELATIONSHIPS

Current marital/relationship status: Taken

Sexual orientation: Heterosexual

Past relationships: Ughhh Minnie has a shitty relationship history. Most of it consist of her being cheated on because once her boyfriends at the time realized how sweet she is they thought it easy to go right ahead and cheat. Her first serious boyfriend who she had fallen for, he had made a bet with his friends that he can take Minnie’s virginity. He did fucking ass-hole she gave it to him because she knew nothing about the bet. Eventually she found out and of course she ended up with a heart break. So yeah, Minnie has a horrible track record.  

A social person? (popular, loner, some close friends, makes friends and then quickly drops them): Minnie is such a social butterfly!!!!! She loves talking to people, would say hi to anyone, smile and laugh. Making friends is probably one of her favorite things to do. She just loves being around people.

Most comfortable around (person): She’s very comfortable around her co-workers, has a great friendship with Dr. Sweets. Minnie though is the most comfortable around Dodger.

Oldest friend: Ummm probably anyone who has lived in Swynlake like their whole life like she basically has haha

SECRETS

Life goals: She kind of completed one. She became a nurse just like she has always wanted to be. She got out from under her Aunt and her husband’s roof which was something else she desperately wanted. She wouldn’t mind settling down in the future, find someone she’d love to spend all her time with. She’s a bit of a romantic like that. 

Dreams: Minnie kind of got her dream. She has always wanted to be a nurse and that’s exactly what she is. She pretty much wanted to help people, much like her dad did. 

Greatest fears: Constantly getting hurt because she has such a shitty relationship past. Her parents are already dead so there went that fear.

Most ashamed of: Hahahaha okay sooo one time, which was her first and last time, Minnie got like plastered drunk. She had gone out with some friends after a bad break up and they were all drinking. Well she got plastered drunk, and Minnie gets pretty flirty when she’s drunk. The next morning she finds herself in some random stranger’s house and realized she had a one night stand. Minnie has never gotten plastered drunk after that hahaha. 

Compulsions: Minnie practically has to hand sanitize where ever she goes. If she enters a place she quick hand sanitizes her hands, before she eats she washes them, any where new she takes out a hand sanitizer and sanitizes her hands. 

Obsessions: Pastries!!!!!!!!! Minnie will love you forever and a day if you give her a pastry!!!!! Any kind!!!!! You’ll have her jumping up and down with excitement.

Secret hobbies: Cooking and baking because Minnie loves doing both. She sings too so that can be another hobby for her.

Secret skills: Sooo Minnie is actually really good at picking locks looool. It was something she got taught back when she was in the foster care system. 

Crimes committed (and was he/she caught? charged?): None, Minnie is a complete sweetie :D

What he/she most wants to change about his/her current life: If Minnie could change anything it would be that her parents never died. She would love to have them alive with her, but she knows that that can’t be the case.

What he/she most wants to change about his/her physical appearance: I don’t think there is anything Minnie would really want to change about herself. I mean she shouldn’t she’s gorgeousss.  

DETAILS/QUIRKS

Night owl or early bird?: Night Owl

Light or heavy sleeper?: Light

Favorite food: Junk food hahahaha. I find this hilarious because Minnie is a nurse and she knows that all that kind of food is bad for you!!! But, she can’t help herself!!!! She has such a horrible sweet tooth she loves all sorts of sweets!!!!

Least favorite food: Spicy food!!! Yeah, Minnie is HORRIBLE with them!!! She can’t even eat a buffalo pizza, her tongue can’t take the heat.

Favorite book: The Secret by Julie Garwood

Least favorite book: Anything that has to do with economics or buisness things she doesn’t like!!!! All of that bores her to death

Favorite movie: The Princess Bride

Least favorite movie: Drama movies. Too much drama bothers Minnie she just stares at the movie and/or show and is like .....really???

Favorite song: As It Seems by Lily Kershaw. 

Least favorite song: She’s pretty much like Georgette with this one she doesn’t like very heavy Heavy Metal. She just hasn’t been able to get a taste for it.

Coffee or tea?: Coffee. It should be tea considering she lives in England haha but she can’t live without coffee it really helps her with her job

Crunchy or smooth peanut butter?: Smooth

Lefty or righty?: Righty

Favorite color: Ughh, Minnie loves her pink too hahaha, but she also loveeesss red!!!!

Cusser?: Nope. Minnie doesn’t curse at all, not even when she’s really angry.

Smoker? Drinker? Drug user?: Casual drinker and when she does drinks she has taken to making sure that someone is always with her to act as a sort of chaperone so that she never gets herself into a one-night stand again hahaha  

Biggest regret: I would’ve thought that it would be the same as her biggest shame but nope. Minnie’s biggest regret is wanting to have a tenth birthday party, because it was in wanting that party that her parents had to get birthday supplies for and that’s what they were doing when they all got into the car accident that took their lives.

Pets?: Meeeeppp Minnie has a cat!!! It’s a tuxedo cat named Figaro whom she is absolutely IN LOVE WITH!!!! He’s her prince charming mhmmm. She calls him that all the time!!!!!

[the-honey-bear]

Castles in the Sand

quick Velvet and Phi-centric fic. Laphicet and Velvet build a sand castle. identity issues and messy feelings. going from a number to sharing a dead boy’s name isn’t easy.

- ao3 link -

Probably, Velvet could tell you were getting restless. You'd seen pictures of the ocean in books, of course, but no illustration can compare to the crumbly, pastry-flaky way sand falls apart under your burrowing fingertips; or how the waves tease the shoreside, playing cat-and mouse with the land.

When Velvet sighs, and decrees it's time to call it quits for the day, you sprint as fast as your legs can take you to the water-side, eager to join in with the ocean's game. You follow the water in when it sucks in its breath, as close as you dare, leaping, laughing, stumbling back and shrieking when-- inevitably-- the ocean catches you off-guard and cold water catches around your ankles.

Laphicet! Velvet calls to you from across the beach. Take off your shoes. You'll ruin them.

Duly, you take them off, unrolling your stockings too and tucking them into the safety of your shoe.

A hermit crab scuttles into your line of vision. You nudge it with the end of your shoe, to see what will happen, and it darts off into the shade of a cockle-mottled rock. You crouch down low onto all hours, hauling your belly across the hot sand and imagine what it would be like to carry your home on your back.

Laphicet? What are you doing?

Velvet stands above you, shadow thrown long across the sand.

You colour a little. Pretending to be a hermit crab doesn't sound a very grown-up thing to say.

Nothing, you say, instead.

It's fine, Velvet says. Laphi was always going crazy about crabs and bugs and all kinds of unpleasant things, too. Must be a boy thing.

Your ears perk up at that. Velvet doesn't mention your name-sake often, but you cling onto the tiny morsels she feeds you. When Velvet talks about her brother the dream of a soft smile plays on her lips. You catch her snorting at some old joke, or her eyebrows pushing together as she puzzles some old memory out. Always, she thumbs her old comb, the gloss on the metal buffed away by her constant handling, thumb chasing endless circles on the bronze. You think you can catch glimpses of the person she used to be, like snatches of reflection lost in the tumult of the waves.

Every morsel Velvet hands out you treasure like a precious gem. You want to pick up Laphi's shoes, dust them off; step into them.

Maybe then, Velvet will smile again.

She seems in the mood to talk, so you ask her: did you used to visit the beach with Laphi?

She nods.

There was a little cove down from Taliesin we'd visit in the summer, when Laphi was well enough. He'd spend hours drafting me into building sandcastles with him. Even though the tide would just wash it all away.

Sandcastles? You ask her.

Here.

She digs out an old discarded container from the sand and fills it. Tips it on its end and gives it a magician's tap. When she removes it, the sand has magically held the cup's shape.

Amazing!

Laphi was always buried in encyclopedias of the world. This one time, she tells you, he saw a picture in a book of the castle at Loegres, and he became completely obsessed with recreating it. We spent so long building the thing. It had this turret here, and the moat went around this part--

As she speaks, Velvet begins to build, recreating her childhood in the sand. Pass me that old bucket, Laphicet, she asks you, and you scrabble to help her. Together you erect towers and fortifications and dig out the moat. The shadows grow long as the two of you crouch over the construction. Rokurou and then Eizen pass by with badly-hidden curiosity, but you're too engrossed to engage them for long.

At last, the castle is finished. You inspect it from every angle: the perfect turret and spires, complete with leaves to replace Midgand's banners and a hard-boiled egg for the cathedral bell-tower. It's not perfect but it'll do. Artistic liberty, is what Magilou called it. Smiling with tired satisfaction, you turn back towards Velvet.

But she's gone.

She's still right next to you, but Velvet's not there anymore. Her smile has been extinguished into embers; she looks into the sunset with eyes as cold as lumps of burnt-out charcoal.

Velvet? You speak tentatively.

Sometimes, she still scares you.

What does it matter? She says. He'll never see it now. He'll never go any of the places in those books.

The tide is coming in. Within a few hours, it'll take your castle with it. A cool new fear pools in your chest, as cold and sudden as the waves, that cold hand closing your ankles. Velvet looks so distant, so far away that you see a premonition: see the waves roll and crash, taking not just the castle but Velvet, too, away with it. The swift tide pulling her away to some dark, wet place, where you can no longer reach her.

For the first time, when you think of your namesake, you feel not curiosity and envy, but a pang of something like hate.

Later, when the camp's made up and the stars have flickered into life like pin pricks in the sky, Eizen comes to find you by the kicked-down castle, sitting by the shoreside.

He inspect the debris; the cracked-open egg. For a long time, he says nothing.

Why'd you destroy it? He asks.

It didn't look right, you tell him. Nothing like the real thing.

The moon sits, half full, perched on the horizon. You dig your toes into the quickly cooling sand, and cast your mind back to the book you read about astronomy, back when you were a number under a master's thrall.

The moon casts no light of it's own, and is, instead, a pale of reflection and imitation of our own sun's majestic light.

Eizen puts a hand on your head for a long minute. Passes no judgement. Aside from a swift rap on the wrist for insubordination, no-one had ever touched you, back when you were a tool.

He ruffles your hair, and drops his hand with a short little sigh.

Come on, he says. Time for bed.

[dootznbootz]

DIFH x2 Chapter 9: Home Is Where The Heart Is

Nalu multichap Basically it’s Natsu’s and Lucy’s point of views in which their away from each other and sad/mad about it.  And if any of you have read my other fics, You KNOW It’s going to have more Fluff in it than a Build-A-Bear Workshop and a Pillow factory combined! Sometimes so fluffy that it may seem out of character at times so yeah! (Better summary in first chapter!)

On fanfiction

Rating: T (swearing, puberty, violence, some mentions of abuse and there is sadness but there is not smut or sex in any way shape or form!)

Words: 3088

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

Wow, I really didn't get any sleep…

Twice, the blonde had fallen asleep standing up. It felt like gravity's pressure was even heavier on her as if Libra herself was trying to flatten Lucy the ground. Her thoughts were muddled as she walked, using muscle memory as she was dazed. The cobblestone ground stared back up at her as she concentrated on making sure that she made it home to her comfy bed… She finally opened the door with her key after a few failed attempts for she kept nodding off. Wandering up the stairs, she opened the door to her room, threw her bag on the floor and dragged herself to her bed, and crawled in.

But suddenly she was squeezed tight against the surface…

By large strong warm arms…

The arms of her favorite person.

Her favorite person hummed contentedly, rubbing circles up and down her back. Lucy squealed as she felt pressure on her hairline, most likely her favorite person's nose.

"'Mornin, Luce," he mumbled softly though it still sent shivers down her spine.

Natsu.

Lucy's face could've been mistaken for a bright red rose. She loves yet also hates when he does this. He was so warm, making her more comfortable than she's ever been. She loves how he's holding her as if she's the most precious thing in the world. She just wanted to snuggle up with him and stay there forever...

The reason why she hated it though is the fact that she doesn't know if maybe she is his most precious thing in the world. So with him sleeping here, with her tucked so gently in his arms, confused her. With him doing stuff like this, it got her hopes up, making her feel as if maybe, just maybe, he feels the same love that she felt for him. But if her hopes got up, the more it'll hurt when he loves someone else…

So she did what she always did.

"Natsu," She said in a voice as sweet as honey as it always was in his ears, still tucked in his arms.

"Mmm, yeah Luce?" He smiled softly, contented with being lucky enough to be endowed by the most wonderful angel in his arms. Although he was in her home while he slept, where her scent was everywhere, he had had a very restless night. Off and on, tossing and turning, and when he would finally actually get some sleep, he was only to be awakened maybe a half an hour later by dark dreams. Only she gave him the total bliss and peace that he needed.

"WHY ON EARTHLAND ARE YOU IN MY BED?!"

Okay, maybe not total peace but bliss, yeah.

Suddenly she tried to yank herself from his captivating embrace by pulling herself backward only to take the rose-haired boy with her. Making her now straddling him with his arms wrapped around her.

"Ugh, Luce," His smirking face now shoved under her chin, purring in delight. He squished her closer while one of his hands played with the end of Lucy's messy blonde braid. It's only been a short while but wow, had he missed her. "You're so loud~."

"Yeah, I'm loud! Now, why are you here?! You said you were going home! So why are you here?!-Oh my Mavis! You're only in boxers?! Fucking Perv!" She pinched his cheeks and pulled at them painfully, knowing that he hated it.

Natsu yelped, his cheeks stretching dramatically. He just wanted to cuddle with her like they were just moments before. Was that so hard? He knew very well that she could beat the ever loving shit out of him if she wanted to, what she was doing right now was just horseplay. When he had had enough of her pulling and yanking on his poor aching cheeks, he grabbed her tightly clenched hands and put them behind her back, holding tightly enough to make sure that her cute hands didn't get away, but loose enough so that it wouldn't hurt her, then he pressed her against himself.

Lucy squeaked and felt like she was going to faint. Not only was pressed flush against his bare and toned chest, but she was also straddling him. She tried wriggling away, only for him to bonk his forehead against her own, noses barely touching. Her brown eyes crossing just to look at him straight. Only a few more inches and their lips would be touching…

"Oi, quit shouting, I'm trying to sleep." He whispered. Wow the morning breath!

"N-no but…" Her blushing face more rosy than ever and even with all the excitement, her eyes kept closing on her. She wanted to sleep so badly, this was infinitely better than the piercing cold she felt at Fairy Hills. Damn his warmth and comfiness...

"Exactly, you're sleepy too." He grinned and leaned back on the bed. He took Lucy's cute tiny hands out from behind her, left them loose and again wrapped his arm around her petite waist as the other hand weaved through her hair on her head, cupping it gently. He could tell that she was so close to sleeping. She was nodding off as we speak.

"Bu…But this is my...my bed…" She said sleepily, which was fuckin' adorable. Her beautiful eyes that he was always happily lost in were slowly being covered by her eyelids, eyelashes fluttering. Natsu swears that her lashes could blow houses down with how long and lush they were. They already blow him away with each blink. Her head was now resting against his chest, right where his beating heart was. His purring could easily be heard and was like a soothing lullaby to her ears. She slowly relaxed in his arms.

"I guess…" Her eyelids felt as if there were weights on them and could barely keep them open. She gave up, she was so fucking tired. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she didn't want him to leave in the first place. "I guess you could stay…"

"Yeah," A soft smile was spread across his face. In his eyes, was love so rare and so warm that it would melt everyone's hearts only for everyone to realise that that love from those dark green eyes would never be for them.

That love was only for the heavenly girl in his arms.

He made no movement to keep from disturbing the beautiful mage in his arms. When it seemed the coast was clear and that she would not wake up, he started to settle himself down to-

"You just gonna forget about me or what?"

Natsu jolted and looked toward the noise and found a very annoyed Happy staring back up to him from the couch. His tiny arms were crossed and he tapped his little blue foot.

"Oh, sorry Happy. What'cha doing on the couch anyways?" Natsu whispered. He relaxed as he saw that it was their friend who was speaking and not some sort of threat.

"Because you-!"

"Shh!" Natsu said quietly, pointing to the sleeping girl in his arms. "You'll wake her."

"Oh, sorry," Happy said, now coming up to the bed. He hopped up and started walking up the blonde's back where he started to knead his paws on her shoulders. She stirred only a little with the new weight on her, stilling the two boys. When she did not move again, Happy whispered, "You kept on moving around in your sleep! You kept rolling over and squishing me! And then I slept on the side of your pillow, and then you kept mumbling and shouting, and then-then you finally pushed me off! So I moved to the couch..."

"Oh," Natsu said, pink tinting his cheeks. He knew he got weird in his sleep when she was gone, but he never actually knew what he did. He idly twirled a lock of Lucy's hair around his finger, marveling at how soft and pretty it was and gently tucked it behind the girl's ear. "I'm sorry buddy, you know I'd never purposely hurt you..." His hand then went to scratch behind the blue exceed's ears, his favorite spot to be scratched.

The cat smiled and purred, leaning into the pinkettes hand while still kneading the girl's back. "Don't worry, I forgive you. By the way… What were the nightmares about this time?" Natsu sighed, his hand that was petting Happy went back to it's place, weaving his fingers through her hair.

"The usual," he mumbled into her hair to which Happy only nodded in reply.

When Lucy was gone Natsu was left alone with terrifying nightmares. Although they were usually different places and people, they always had the same ending: Someone he cares about dies or gets hurt. It wasn't always the same person, though it usually was Lucy who was in it. A few times he's had where Happy is missing only to find him dead. He's had a few where Gray finally goes through with the "Iced Shell" and dies. He's had nightmares where Erza is absorbed by etherion back at the Tower of Heaven and never returns. Some have Igneel being killed by black and blue dragon. That's to name a few of the mild ones. Thoughts like these were constantly on his mind, didn't matter if he was asleep or awake. It spurred him on to do more, to be more. If he couldn't save the people that he cared about then why bother?

Natsu looked back at the girl, his thumb now lazily stroking her soft cheeks. He chuckled lightly as she murmured and leaned into his hand. Her pretty lips were parted in her sleep, her breathing slow and even. Happy always liked to tease Natsu for his snoring and Lucy for her drooling. Natsu didn't mind though. It was Lucy after all.

The dragon slayer closed his eyes and shoved his face near her hairline once more, inhaling her scent that calmed him like no other. It was his favorite by far, outshining all others. The very reason why he found her the first time back in Hargion was because she smelt like home. Only Igneel's scent had made him feel at home during all the years before he met Lucy. That 'home' feeling was what he had been using to track Igneel only to find Lucy instead. But the scent of comfort that day was different from the Igneel's scent he knew. Igneel smelt like smokey evergreen and something that was uniquely him. The scent he had been following that fateful day smelt like vanilla, raspberries, apples, and any other sweet thing all mixed in one. He just thought that maybe Igneel became some sort nutritionist at the time.

That's the thing about his senses. They were so enhanced that when most people heard a droplet of water he heard a waterfall. He could distinct every single scent in the room even if it was filled to the brim. He could see in the dark and quite far, although he will admit that he cannot see as well as Sting, Rogue, and Gajeel can. He knew that he had the best sense of smell out of all of them. Wendy had the best hearing, being able to depict airflow and all. Dragon slaying senses were a curse and a blessing all at once. A curse because of the fact that it was sometimes overwhelming, like when Macao gets gassy. Sometimes Natsu thinks he could pass out from how potent the stench was! A blessing because he is very good at hide and seek and knew where the good food was and much more.

Relaxing, both in mind and body, he opened his eyes to look at the girl that he held so dear one last time before he would sleep again. He stared at her features that he knew in incredible detail. Although he was anything but an artist, you could ask him to paint a portrait of her and even if he had not seen her for centuries, he could remember each and every miniscule thing about her. From the 17 freckles she had across her nose and cheeks, to the large circular scar that was on her knee from when she said that she jumped off her playhouse when she was 6 because she wanted to fly. And every one of those details were perfect to him.

Something wasn't right though…

Something about her face, although still stunningly beautiful, it was different. He stared at her, trying to figure out what it was that was so different. Only when he took in another sniff of the air, he came to the horrifying conclusion of what it was.

"She's been crying…" Natsu whispered, his voice straining a bit. His hand yet again going to her cheek underneath her eyes.

"Huh?" Happy now curled up on Lucy's back asked, surprised. He had just gotten settled completely on Lucy's back but stretched nonetheless and yawned to see what his friend was muttering about.

How could I not seen this before? She had the faint scent of salty tears all this time. And her dazzling chocolate eyes were not glimmering as much as they usually did and they were red and puffy. Her angelic voice that was usually high pitched was low and she sounded like she had a cold when spoke.

The pinkette faced the blue exceed who was now walking over Lucy's shoulder to see what he was talking about, panic written on his face. He whispered, "She's been crying, Happy!"

"What?!"

The cat immediately crawled completely over the girl's shoulder to get a closer look. He softly pawed at her cheek and sure enough, he saw the evidence too. Although she had been sleeping which made her eyes look less puffy, her cheeks were still red. Even before she was blushing they were red.

"Oh, Lucy…" The tiny blue cat then looked over at the man, looking near to bursting into tears. "Natsu, what do you think made her sad? I don't think she's injured anywhere… Do you think the other girls were saying mean about her? You know what?! I think it was Erza! Why, I oughta teach that big bully a lesso-"

"No. Erza may be a bully to us but she'd never do something to Lucy," Natsu answered. He was thinking long and hard about what could've happened that would've made her upset. Although Lucy was a sensitive, overly-kind, nervous person, she didn't just cry over nothing. That was the thing though. She just was so nice. She worried about things that were such little things. She worried about if she upset or hurt someone and had a habit of asking "Did you think I said or did anything that was bad?" She did everything for others. She thought of others way before she thought of herself. Something that annoyed him, she needed to take care of herself too. And she was so hard on herself...

"Natsu?"

"Huh?" The pinkette answered, startled out of his thoughts.

Happy shuffled his feet as he laid across Lucy's back in some sort of hug fashion. Happy's bottom lip now trembling.

"Do you think… Do you think that we made her sad?"

Natsu's eyes widened as his mind was derailed at that moment. It had never occurred to him that they could be the ones behind Lucy's tears. The mere thought of it infuriated him. He was supposed to be one to make Lucy feel happy. He was supposed to make her feel safe. He cheered her up when she was sad and pulverised the good for nothing dipshits that made upset in the first place.

What the fuck was he doing if he himself was making her cry?

He cursed himself severely under his breath. "I don't know, Happy. But guessing is not gonna help us any...We're gonna find out though…Just go back to sleep now, buddy."

Happy sniffled once. "Okay…" He rubbed his cheek against the blonde's affectionately in the usual cat fashion. The blue cat padded back up Lucy's back to go back to where he slept before.

While Happy settled down to rest once more, Natsu brooded. How could anyone want to hurt the precious celestial mage?

Although Natsu did not know the reason behind Lucy's tears, the sleazy motherfucker would not go unpunished. The dragon slayer growled lowly and tightened his hold on the beautiful girl.

Even if it was himself.

Bleh!

So here you go guys! Hoped you liked it!

So I just wanted to explain how they feel for each other in my opinion:

For Lucy: Okay, so for her, she's definitely in love with Natsu and she's accepted it too. It's just for her, she's just really trying to make it go away. And she pushes away the mere thought of confessing because she's so afraid that he won't love her back. And you know her with her active imagination and all, she's thinks that everything will go to worse even if she simply tries to show how much she cares for him. Even though sometimes she lets it slip every once in awhile, she denies and scolds herself for thinking or doing whatever she did. She also thinks that she is not good enough for him. (Which is partially because of what people say to her) So basically that's why you don't see many fluffy moments from her point of view. Think of it like "I won't say I'm in Love" from Hercules.

For Natsu: This doofus is just head over heels for her if you have not seen that already. He knows that he's damn well in love with her too. He isn't trying to deny it like Lucy is though or trying to make it go away although he does not think he is good enough for her like she does. He's heard of how Lucy wants a "knight in shining armor" (Even though she doesn't want that obviously) and so he "strives" to be that knight as best as he can (even though Dragons are better) So in the beginning when he first met her, he knew that she was special and that she was his favorite person (Note: Favorite person, not favorite cat) but then around the galuna arc, he's kinda like "Shit, I like...like like her" but then after the Phantom Lord Arc "Fuck, I love Lucy… welp guess this is my life now!" and he's been like that ever since.

But yeah!