#sending my condolences to Scar and his family

[lonesome-pear]

Rest in peace Jellie

[barefoothighlander]

hiiii i love your work so much and i was wondering if you could please do something angsty where the reader is dating ghost and on the team and something goes wrong? like to the point where they are MIA and presumed dead for months? but they are found and ghost is so relieved and can’t believe that they’re alive (can be female reader or gender neutral i don’t mind 💛)

been in my feels recently so here’s some ghost angst

warnings: violence, grief, mentions of death, small mention of scars & blood, mentions of ptsd, smoking, gn pronouns (reader call sign is fox)

“Where are they?” Ghost bursts into Prices office

“Soap got back 10 minutes ago”

“And what about Fox, are they back?”

“Not yet”

“Not yet? Did they call in?”

“Comms fell through half an hour ago”

“So they’re out there blind?”

Price huffs a breath, nodding to Ghost, his face drops, you had been on a recon with Soap and it was going well until the two of you got ambushed and had to call for evac, Soap made it to the rendezvous point where the heli was waiting but you weren’t there, the enemies swarmed the checkpoint, you made the call for them to leave you.

Ghost loomed around base for hours, waiting, changing the channel on his comms every minute to see if you were talking, but it was radio silent.

“Let me go find them”

“Absolutely not Simon, there’s hostile everywhere I’m not sending you out to get killed”

“With all due respect Captain, it’s not your call”

“If you leave this base I will have you sent home son, the best we can do is wait”

Ghost stands still, his eyes staring down Price silently begging him to let him leave, but Price stays stern. He walks to the deck, standing outside the base his his back against the wall, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and lighting one.

He stands outside for hours, willing you to appear, to be safe, walking towards him with open arms, but his view is clear. No one on deck, no vehicles pulling in, there’s nothing.

Two months pass, two months of silence, Price had called the mission to an end two weeks after you were declared MIA, Ghost went back to an empty home. Everything was too quiet without you there, the bright lights of the house dimmed without your presence, Simon felt everything slipping away again.

He’d never prepared himself for the day he’d lose you, he’d lost everyone, everything, the pain of living without you didn’t even compare to that of losing his family, he felt like someone had reached into his chest and ripped his heart out. He barely slept, staying awake every night praying you’d walk through the door, when he did sleep he dreamt of you, your face resting on the pillow just inches from his, he dreamt of just holding you.

The scent of your soap still lingered on some old clothes, he’d sometimes grab a shirt and just hold it to his skin, imagining it was you there in front of him instead of a piece of cloth.

Within the second month he had cut all contact with the team, ignoring their calls and texts, he didn’t care for their words of encouragement or condolences, none of it made up for the fact that you weren’t there.

He felt guilty, he couldn’t save you, he blamed himself thinking about how he should’ve been there, he shouldn’t protected you just like he’d done in missions before. He blamed Soap for leaving without you, even if it was your call, he would’ve never left you behind no matter the circumstances.

It was all too much, he didn’t have enough time with you, an eternity still would’ve been too short, everything in him ached and longed for you, he just wanted one more moment, one more time he could tell you how much you meant to him, how much he loved you.

He refused to pack your things, not out of denial but because he refused to let you be forgotten, wherever you were, you’d be with him forever. He always made your side of the bed, he kept all your mugs next to his just like you’d done years before, everything in his life still looked as if you were with him.

His hope dwindled with each day, every night you were gone was just a higher chance of you never coming home to him, he checked in with base every morning to see if there was any news, everyday was the same, you hadn’t shown up.

72 days had gone by since you went missing, presumed dead but they hadn’t identified your body, at 4am Simon was standing on the porch smoking a cigarette when the ring of his phone echoed through the house, he assumed it was some call in for an op, begrudgingly dragging himself back inside to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Is this Simon?”

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m with the Bayfield Emergency Hospital, we have a patient asking for you”

His heart dropped through his chest, he hung up his phone and rushed to his car, he was acting purely on adrenaline, every fibre of his being hoping it was you they found, that he wouldn’t arrive to someone else laying in a cot.

He’s speeding through the dark night, eyes darting around to check for police officers, there was nothing in the world that could stop him from getting to the hospital.

He pulls into the parking lot and rushes through the large glass doors,

“Where are they?”

“Who Sir?”

“The one that asked for Simon, where are they?”

“I need your full name”

“I- I can’t, please just tell me where they are”

“Sir I can’t let you in without the paperwork”

He slams his fists to the desk, “Please”

He sees two security guards from the corner of his, he retracts his palms stepping back, tears pricking his eyes as heat flushes his skin,

“Is he here yet?” A doctor asked, stepping through a sliding door

“Are you fox’s doctor?”

“Who are you”

“I’m Simon, are they in there”

The doctor looks hesitantly towards the nurse, “come with me”

His ears a ringing, the fluorescent lights above his head feel blinding as he makes his way through the series of hallways.

“They’re okay, a little banged up, it’s their mental state we’re worried about”

Simon looks through the small window on the door, you’re laying in the bed, your arms strapped to your sides.

“You can go in”

Simon takes a breath, nodding to the doctor before opening the door, he can see you better now, there’s cuts and bruises scattering your legs, dried blood on your skin all the way up to your neck, your face is flush, stained with tears.

“Fox?”

You turn your attention to him, shaking your head “No, no please, go away”

He moves towards you slowly, like a wounded animal as you thrash against your restraints, tears streaming down your face.

“Fox it’s me”

“Please, just let me go”

His hand ghosts over your arm and you flinch from the contact, Ghost turns to glance at the door before he takes his mask off, turning back to you.

“It’s me love, no one’s gonna hurt you”

“You’re not real”

He thinks for a moment, his fingers moving to undo one of your restraints as he kneels by your side, he lifts your hand to touch his face, your fingers trace over his scars.

“It’s me”

You let out a sob, Simon reaches to undo your other arm and pulls you into him, muffling your cries with his chest as he holds you.

“It’s okay, you’re home” He’s saying it to the both of you, your fingers clinging to his jacket.

He sits with you as you cry, his hands gently stroking your hair,

"I can't believe you're home" He whispers into your hair, his eyes watering as a small sniffle leaves his nose.

His hand holds yours close as you wait for the doctors to clear you, they tend to a few superficial cuts before letting you leave. Simon helps you slowly walk to the car, the ride back is silent, his eyes glancing over to check on you every so often before he pulls into the driveway.

You sit, staring at the house, he opens your door standing next to you, his arm extending to help you out before you make your way inside. It's all so familiar but different at the same time, everything is the same, the pictures on the shelves haven't moved, the flowers that sat in the vase now dried up and wilted, he kept everything the same.

"Let's go to bed" He says, his hands lightly cupping your jaw as he leans down to plant a gentle kiss to your forehead. You follow quietly behind him as he settles into bed, the mattress is soft under your body, a stark contrast to the environment you've been in for the past few months.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you into him as his chin settles on top of your head, you're breathing in his scent, the warmth of his skin enveloping you just like you wished it had for so many nights. Simon's heart aches with every sniffle you let escape, all he can do is hold you.

"I love you so much Simon"

He takes a deep breath, hip lips pressed to the crown of your head, "Don't ever leave me fox".

[tylertyless]

Rest in Peace, Jellie. Our queen will be greatly missed, may she live on in our Minecraft worlds, but more importantly in our hearts. Sending my condolences to scar and his family.

[dmwrites]

“Hey.”

“Evil, I have to tell you some bad news…” Impulse ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “We lost… the others. We went to do that backrooms job you were telling us about and… the gang all died. Except for me. I don’t know how I got away with my life, but…”

EvilNotion looked up from his computer. “I have a haunted house I need you to check out. I was hoping there would be more of you alive, but… you seem like a main character, plot armor kind of guy. You’ll be fine. Probably.” He slid a file across the desk towards Impulse.

“I- what? Did you hear me? I said they died!” Impulse said in confusion. “Skizz and… Tango and Joker.” he kind of coughed out that last part- technically, Grian and Scar weren’t employed by EvilNotion Paranormal Investigators Company, but Tango and Joker had to go out of town, and Grian and Scar had asked to come along, and they all thought it was going to be such an easy job…

“Yeah, I heard you. But ghosts won’t bust themselves- ha, get it, bust, because cu- you get it, I know you do. But regardless, I still have this job, and someone has to do it. So go. I’ll send the bodies and condolences to the families- do you have the bodies?” Evil looked over Impulse, like he had the head of Skizz in his pocket or something.

“Uh, no, unfortunately not, they were kind of… in pieces.” Impulse said awkwardly.

“Just condolences then.” Evil muttered. “Okay, so the truck’s all loaded up- see you later.” He looked back at his computer, the conversation clearly over.

Impulse stared at Evil in confusion. “No- Evil, I don’t know if you’re understanding me. It’s just… me… just me left here. We need to mourn! We need to… I dunno, plan funerals. And block Skizz and Joker and Tango’s numbers just in case a telemarketer tries to take it over or something, I dunno.”

Evil looked back up from his computer reluctantly, wearily, like he was the victim in this conversation. “No, I get that they’re dead, man. But work’s still gotta get done. I already booked this job while you guys were gone. I’ll hire some new guys, it’ll be fine. It can’t be too hard to find a couple of idiots with nouns and verbs for names. Get going, now, we’ll discuss things when you get back.”

——

It felt weird to be preparing to go into a haunted location alone, with no chatter or jokes slung about the truck. But Impulse had always been pretty competent at this whole ghost-hunting thing, and the motions were easy to him. He figured he should be mourning right now, but frankly he was still baffled by Evil’s indifference to the whole situation. Maybe he wasn’t such a great boss after all. They did always have a lot of pizza parties, but Impulse was beginning to wonder if that was worth not having healthcare. And weird indifference to employees dying, apparently.

But, regardless of the thoughts in his head, Impulse found himself at a small little woodland cottage that claimed to have a “malicious ghost” haunting it, just as the sun set.

“Right.” Impulse muttered, scanning through the file. “Ghost name… Vincent Goldstein. Easy, simple, okay.” He grabbed some equipment, as well as the keys to the house and headed outside. Almost immediately, he almost slipped on a half-drank can of soda, which was laying on its side and actively spilling out of the can.

“Wha- hello?” Impulse looked all around, the deepening shadows playing tricks with his mind, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. No one seemed to be around. “That’s… odd.”

Impulse went into the house, listening carefully at the doorstep for any footsteps or odd noises. There was nothing, so he continued inside, shining his flashlight around and making mental notes of anything that seemed odd. It wasn’t too long before he discovered an area that seemed colder and mistier then the rest of the house. He would normally have relied more on his EMF reader, but the thing seemed to have broken at some point, stuck on EMF five and making that annoying beeping noise. Either way, Impulse trusted his own capabilities enough to garner a guess that this might be the spot of the haunting problems, so he went to go get a camera and set up a few things. There were some items in his way as he went back outside, like a mug and a hammer, so he marked it down in his notes as a sign of paranormal activity. There was also a monkey’s paw in a desk drawer that he gave a wide berth to as soon as he saw it- he did not need such trouble on this mission, and plus, he didn’t have anyone to bother with it besides himself.

The monkey’s paw bothered him- it reminded him of his lost friends. He didn’t like the quiet they’d left behind, that’s for sure. Usually he had Skizz saying some silly little thing, Joker and Tango arguing, Grian singing, or Scar being scared down the radio. He tried to push down those feelings again, focus on his work. After, like Evil said, he could process all of this. But he had to do his work first.

Back in the house again, Impulse noticed a few more misplaced items, and wondered to himself if he’d missed a haunting. He was just setting up the camera when there was a sudden chill on his arm, like something ice-cold was touching him. Impulse looked all around. There was nothing there, but he was starting to hear what was either the wind or whispers. He stayed still, camera in hand, straining to listen-

Impulse’s phone suddenly rang, like a gunshot in the silence. Impulse screamed, both feet leaving the ground as he jumped, and dropping the camera he was holding. He scrambled for his cell phone and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Impy. So I was thinking about Skizz’s gravestone. Something like ‘he lived how he died: screaming. Also-“

“EVIL!” Impulse shouted, leaning against a chest of drawers weakly. “I am in the haunted house right now, you can’t just call a man out of the blue like that- I dropped my camera! Dang it!”

Evil clicked his tongue. “Does it sound like I care? Anyway, I was looking at the, uh, roster of who went on that backrooms mission… who are Grian and Scar? Last time I checked, Tango and Joker were not spelled that way.”

“I- uh- oh no, I think the ghost is messing with the cell phone service!” Impulse made some whooshing and static noises into the receiver. “Gotta go, see you later!” He hung up. “Yikes.” He said to the empty room.

He finished setting up the camera with no more distractions, although he was distressed to find the camera lens cracked right down the middle. He headed back to the truck and looked at the camera- it was placed great, but there was another mug covering up most of the lens.

“Darn it!” Impulse cursed, then paused. He’d done a lot of jobs, knew a thing or two about ghosts… he’d never seen a paranormal entity be purposeful in throwing household items around. Entities weren’t ever so purposefully annoying, just destructive.

Something was brewing in Impulse’s head, a thought he dare not get too excited about yet. He grabbed a spirit box and dashed back into the house. He stood, not in the hallway, but the middle of the living room and turned on the box.

“Is anyone there?” He asked, eyes fixed on the box. For a moment, there was the familiar heavy static. And then, clear as day-

“Dippledop?”

“SKIZZ!” Impulse shouted, almost dropping the spirit box. “Is that you?”

“Hey homie-buddy! It is me!”

“I’m here too, Impulse!”

“Where are youuuuu!”

“Scar? Grian? Oh my god!” Impulse sat down hard on the couch, holding onto the spirit box like it was the only thing in the world. “You’re here! You’re all ghosts?”

“Yeah, buddy!” Skizz said.

“We’ve been following you since we died in those backrooms.” Grian said.

“You scratch your butt a lot when you think no one’s noticing.” Scar remarked.

“Scar!” Grian chided him while Skizz laughed. Impulse laughed too.

“So, okay, you’re dead? All of you? And you’re all ghosts… man, I missed hearing your voices so much.” Impulse felt a tear sliding down his face. “I miss you.”

“We miss you too, buddy”. Skizz said, and he felt that cold sensation on his shoulder. They must be standing around him, but he still couldn’t see a thing.

“How- what can I do? How can I help you guys?” Impulse asked.

“We’re dead, Impy. You can’t help us.” Grian said.

“We just wanted to say that we’re here with you.” Scar chimed in.

“I wish I could save you.” Impulse sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I wish… oh.” He went silent, the only noise coming from the static of the radio. “I know what I have to do.” He stood up and walked over to the desk nearby.

“What’s he doing?”

“Impulse?”

“Woah, woah, Impulse, hang on, hang on, let’s t-”

Impulse shut off the spirit box and set it down on the desktop. He opened the drawer he’d opened before, and there it was, waiting for him with three fingers raised.

Impulse took the monkey paw in his hand and laughed, although it sounded hollow. He took a deep breath, and then another. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, but he savored the feeling, savored every sensation he could possibly have in this moment. Then, he licked his lips.

“I wish for life.”

Gashes appeared on his body at once, bloody and deep.

“I wish for life.”

Across his back and arms, he could feel gouges in his skin, his muscle.

“I wish for life.”

He gasped out one final time, and blood poured from his mouth. He fell to his knees, choking and coughing. He felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting, and looked up to three figures looking down at him. He smiled, something desperate and sad and happy all at the same time.

He collapsed to the ground, dead, just as his cell phone started to ring. Skizz reached down, blood dripping from his fingertips and tap-tap-tapping onto the phone screen, and picked it up.

“Impulse, it’s Evil again, do you care to explain why the fuck Tango just called me, sounding very much alive, and asked when the next ghost hunting job was? Did you seriously, actually have randos working the fucking job with you? Impulse? Impulse, answer me god damn it!”

“Impulse can’t come to the phone right now, he’s a bit of a sacrificial lamb. Oh, and it’s an shade, by the way.” Skizz rasped down the line, and hung up.

——

You may be asking, why EvilNotion? Well, this whole fic spawned from Impulse’s solo phasmo stream a little while ago, where he was waiting for the spirit to appear and Evil kept sending donos to scare him. That’s what the phone scene came from, and the rest of the fic followed from there. I feel bad that I made him a bad boss, but it did make it funnier lol

[starlightshadowsworld]

The thing about Dark Jason Grace is that he would never have supported Luke.

Jason's whole beef is with the God's.

In particular his father.

He owns that shit, he does not drag or bring anyone else into it.

It's why I say he gets Krios's throne.

Because no matter when or why, Jason makes it to his camp and he fights Krios.

He destroys him and shatters his throne.

That than reforms around him.

Jason may hate he's nothing but a nameless soilder to the God's, despises them for everything they've done to him.

But also what they are doing to the rest.

And he would never let his people down.

His legion recognise him.

The 5th cohort, in tears salute him.

Preator or not.

Traitor or not.

He is their leader.

And they will follow him to the ends of the earth.

And when he stands by Reyna he stands as her equal.

Even telling her he won't take this battle from her and she says don't be ridiculous, this is ours to fight.

Jason is Roman.

He is family.

And family don't leave anyone behind.

He's an enemy of Olympus and yet even some of them smile when they see him.

Hera can't go against her husband but theirs a fondness in his eyes when she lays eyes on him.

Minor deities respect him and he does in turn.

Jason bows before them, drops to his knees and uses their full titles.

Not getting up unless they allow him too.

He shows them respect they have not had for centuries.

He builds shrines and leaves offerings and only asks for safe passage through their domains.

He has won their favour time and time again and he does not exploit that.

At the same time Jason doesn't bow before his father.

He has never tried to get other demigods to join him.

He knows his very existence is a middle finger to his father.

He wears the scars of his defiance, the chains around his wrists and is branded a traitor for all to see.

Jason wouldn't wish that on anyone.

What Luke did joining Kronos infuriated Jason to end.

Athena asks why he didn't join him.

To that Jason snorts saying why would he stand against someone who only wishes to control him.

He doesn't trust the God's, why would he trust a titan?

Especially one who's lost to them.

Jsdon firmly declares that had he found him first he would have gut the son of Hermes like a fish.

Hermes says Luke died a hero and Jason just laughs.

"And that makes a life time of suffering all worth it doesn't it? His mother's sat around baking cookies, wandering when will her son come home but good for him."

"... How do you..."

"... Because that's what my mother was doing, cept the baking cookies was drinking booze."

"I'm sorry I had no idea... How is she?"

"Dead, but she's in the fields... Such a fair and righteous judgement for all the suffering in her life. Maybe we should kill Lukes mother so they can bake cookies in hell together." He says deadpanned, looking at the speechless Hermes in disgust.

"But sure no your serial killer creeper kid dies and I'm supposed to give a shit, sure."

That's not to say Jason doesn't feel sympathy for those who joined Luke.

He prayed on the lost, the weary, the vulnerable and promised them a paradise he was never going to deliver.

And so Jason sends an offering to Nemises in condolences for the loss of her son.

And the rest of the fallen, the unclaimed.

Jason admits Luke had a point in that but following Kronos was nothing short of foolish.

Jason smiles sadly at Percy's wish, he knows it won't come to fruition. He's lived too long, he's become far too jaded yo think otherwise.

But the flicker of hope burns in his eyes momentarily.

[coralinnii]

Riddle Rosehearts (Frankenstein monster!Riddle x apprentice!Yuu)

genre: horror, angst

note: mentions of d*ath, mentions of heavy medical crimes and illegal harvesting,

summary: He was a monstrosity. A freak of nature and you fear the man before you, even if he was someone you once loved.

series index

It was a one-in-a-million chance for this to be a success. He was called a medical miracle who survived through incredible odds.

The son of the renowned Rosehearts couple was caught in a deadly accident, leaving him with non-functional organs and severely damaged nerves. First responders were sure he would be dead by the time he reached his family’s private hospital. But, Mrs. Rosehearts announced that her son was alive and breathing. He made it.

…Supposed something made it.

“My love,” the redhead lovingly caressed your hands as you sat by his private room, as per his request. You fought the urge to vomit as you saw his stitches on his arms that pull the skin together. “Thank you for visiting me. You must have been busy”

Typically you would be, being the apprentice to Riddle’s mother in hopes to gain experience in the medical field. It was how you met Riddle and you two began a relationship without his mother’s knowledge.

“Of course, I would” you forced a smile to which the boy laying in bed responded with his own, his grey eyes crinkled along his smile which stretched the scarring across his face.

How you wish to believe this was your Riddle. Despite the burns and scars, he looked exactly like your beloved and he maintained the memories of your time together. But your mind was sending alarms in you, telling you to wake up from your delusions. He was not your lover, but a monster.

A monster you had a hand in making as you listened to your mentor’s commands to sneak into the morgue at night. You were driven by love and guilt to save Riddle no matter the cost. Afterall, he protected you during that fateful day which led to his condition now. So despite your oath, you helped Riddle’s mother in retrieving organs to replace the ones that her son was missing.

Heart, blood, lungs, skin, eyes. You discarded your own morality to desecrate your former patients in hopes to revive your beloved. His death, be damned.

You were as desperate as they were, but even Riddle’s parents could see your wavering resolve and threatened to destroy you should you tell anyone of the crime committed in their hospital. To them, you were just a scared apprentice not willing to go against the Rosehearts family, unaware of your own hidden motives to save their son.

“We just need to find more skin to hide the scars, and he’ll be perfect just like before” your mother whispered to you as she eyed the patients that came into the hospital that day, finding the right “benefactor”. You tried your best to help those who came to the Rosehearts hospital, looking to be saved. But now, they are donors, whether they realize it or not.

But, the Rosehearts were right. You were weak and your weakness was tearing you apart with every moment you spent with Riddle in his room. Your guilt ate away at you whenever he pulled you into a hug, where you can hear his heartbeat from the heart you stole. One of his eyes was from a young patient who recently passed. You remembered how that same patient laughed with you when you mentioned how her eyes remind you of your lover. Instead of grief, you gave half-hearted condolences to the family while planning your visit to the coroner’s office to falsify records of her autopsy.

“Love!” Riddle called out to you, bringing you out from your spiraling thoughts. “Why are you crying?”

The revived man reached out to wipe your cheeks, where you finally registered the wetness of your face and your stinging eyes. Weeks of dissociating yourself from reality has finally worked against you as you physically reached your limit. His hands felt different from what you’re used to. You recognized the skin of his hands as the same you scalped from one of your visits to the cold morgue.

Tears continued to fall as you broke down in your seat, as the panicked redhead tried to console his lover, oblivious to the atrocities done by you and his parents, the very people whom he trusts with his life.

He became a monster, and so did you.

[cantarella-if]

Hey Nik! I've been following your blog ever since the intro post made its way in my dash (which was last year!), and I wanted to say some stuff that I haven't, up until now.

Your blog is beautiful! It functions not just as a blog for Cantarella but also provides me with some really interesting knowledge about history which I love to read! Thankyou for making those posts.

Secondly and mainly, I absolutely love Cantarella! I never quite gave much thought to it before, but after reading the post about Rick's ancestry, I just realised how much thought, time and love you've put in this game! I mean you've tied actual historic figures to the characters of the game, and that's no easy feat! It shows you've done some solid research behind your character building and world building too. Cantarella in itself is a very interesting concept, I mean a lost legendary poison allegedly used many centuries ago? How did I not hear about this before lol. Your knowledge of history is really great too. It goes without saying that the lore behind your world and the plot looks really solid. And as if that wasn't enough, your story writing skills thus far have been brilliant too! The short demo with Vic and Rick was really good and leaves one wanting for more. All the RO reaction asks and the shorts have been absolutely fantastic as well.

Also, Victoria. She stole my heart and I'll be damned if I don't steal hers lol.

I know that this must be a hard time for you though, losing a pet always is. While not my pet strictly, there was once a small puppy who lived in my locality who was a stray. As a child I used to play with him all the time and a lot of families of the locality would feed him and provide him with drinking water as well. Me and my friends even built him a small shelter out of clay, bricks, jute bags and some old woolen clothes lol. He used to be very happy and energetic. Unfortunately one day when we were at school and nobody was watching over him he somehow made his way out of the colony and on to the main road, where he was hit by a truck.😔 I still remember being so sad that I wouldn't eat anything for a day. From whatever I've managed to gather from the blog, Gray-Gray lived a very happy, healthy, loved and long life. I think you should take some time to mourn and heal.

Sorry if I've bothered you! 😅 It was never my intention. Sending you love!

Ah yes, I've seen your name quite a few times before.

First of all, how could you possibly think something so sweet like this message would bother me?? This is one of the nicest messages I've ever gotten and made my day so much better! Well, except the puppy story - that poor baby! I'm sure he was very happy to have been loved as much as he was by such wonderful people as yourself and your friends.

I especially want to thank you and everyone else who sent their condolences for Grayson. I've read them all several times by now and am very grateful for every word. To be honest, I'm handling it pretty well. My hand being in so much pain from the bite takes my mind off of it and I keep telling myself that I'll never forget him because of the scars I'll end up with.

As for the story, I think Anne Rice said it best; she said "write the book you want to read." And so I am with Cantarella. I'm passionate about history as you can tell, and it means a lot to me that people are enjoying the little things I post, especially since they are so fun to write and research.

As a thank you for this message and making me feel so much better, you get an emoji tag, just like this blog's top followers and my hellsite friends!

[sweeethinny]

The Duke - Chapter 10

A.N: OK, let's go Thank you very much to the comments, really, I know it takes time, but I'm glad you're here always waiting for a new chapter for your understanding: everything in *ITALIC* is flashback, it's a chapter basically made up of that, it explains some things it was the chapter i waited the longest to arrive, i liked it in the end, i hope you did too <3 AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE

It was a cold night, it had rained that afternoon and the sky was cloudy, it looked like it would rain later in the morning, but Arabella was happy about that, as the damp, muggy weather made her sneeze every minute and her asthma was actually getting worse. She should visit a doctor soon. She continued to walk down the empty street, the hem of her dress was getting more and more muddy, no matter how much she pulled her skirt up a little, every time she stepped into a puddle the mud splashed and it was no use effort in trying to get that dress clean. She should have picked an older one to go out with, since she knew the streets would be dreadful after all that rain, not the brand new one she'd bought after working so hard. Was it just a piece of sewn fabric, why was it so expensive? There weren't even enough details or buttons to justify it. But if Isabel was telling the truth, the fabric had come from India, and that in itself had already increased the price twice as much, and Arabella knew that the woman would not lie to her… She hoped at least. As she walked the streets of Godric's Hollow, she thought about how another lonely night would be, and that maybe tomorrow she would send a letter to her great-aunt asking if she could stay a few days at her farm, just to have the company of other people besides the two her cats; Silk and Melindra. “Help!” The scream echoed behind her, and Arabella turned, startled, to see if anyone was hurt or what might have triggered that scream. It was a female scream, and it made her think that maybe a woman could be chased by some maniac, and even though she wasn't very strong, two women fought better than just one, so she ran towards the scream, not caring more about the mud splashing on her dress. Near Ms. Bright’s shop, there was a woman lying down and bleeding, her clothes torn and a baby in her lap. She looked scared, dumped near a ditch that had been made a few days ago to start building a fashion studio around the corner, the scant dress that still covered her was smeared with what looked like blood and mud, and Arabella thought she saw blood running down her legs. Whether it was an injury or something more disturbing, she couldn't tell. The woman held the baby tightly to her chest, wrapped in an old blanket as dirty as she was, and the poor child spared no effort in crying, looking more than scared. “I'm here, what happened?” Arabella ran to her, helping the poor girl to her seat, noticing that the poor baby was also smeared with blood, but she couldn't tell whose blood it was. ‘Come, come to my house, I can help you-’ "No," she cried, brown eyes startled and wide, as if they'd seen death a few feet away. “Someone is following me, I – I'm going to be killed, I know I will, my husband is after me and – you need to get the boy.” She lifted the baby towards Arabella. 'He's trying to kill us, he thinks the child isn't his, he thinks I cheated on him, and he's coming, I-' The woman stopped, as if she'd heard something, but then thunder made the Earth shudder. ‘Please save the boy, I beg you, he already tried to kill the boy but I was always on time, but now I feel like I won't be able to save him.’ “You must come with me.” Arabella pleaded once more, kneeling in front of the woman, trying to get her to rise. When she reached for her forearm, however, her hand was wet with blood, and the tear in the side of her dress let her see a hideous cut in her ribs, the blood running like water in a waterfall, dripping onto the floor and other parts of her dress. "I told you," she muttered, sobbing. 'I'm going to die, I'm not going to make it, I can't stand walking any longer, I managed to run away from him but I can't stand it much longer… Take the boy.' The woman lifted the boy again, who now seemed to cry even more, waking a few neighborhood dogs, as the sky glowed brighter, the earth trembling a few seconds later. "Take him away, don't let him die." 'How-how am I going to leave you here, I can't-' Another thunder shook the earth, and this time, the storm began to fall stronger

than the afternoon, the winds suddenly getting strong, which seemed to scare the boy even more. ‘He will get sick! Get him, take care of him!” As if on instinct, Arabella scooped him up in her arms, wrapping him in her scarf so he was a little warmer. Footsteps were heard nearby, and the woman seemed to despair even more. 'Go! Get Harry and go!’ “What's his name?” Arabella yelled over the noise of the rain, trying to understand what she had said. ‘Henry! His name is Henry!’ ---------------------- “Poor Duchess,” someone says, but all Arabella can see is the white flag atop the castle, an immense sadness shattering her chest into a million pieces. "Who could do something that horrible?" Another says, all paying attention to the newspaper that reports how Harry Potter, the Duke's eldest son, was found dead near a creek not far away. Probably killed by Death Eaters. “They're all nasty human beings!” A man said, looking horrified by the media descriptions, then looking up at the castle again. It's not that far away, it faces the mountains that end Godric's Hollow, separating them from another village, and it's positioned in a way that's seen from anywhere, no matter where you are, you'll see the castle and the huge towers, next to the flags that stand proudly on the masts. One with the English flag, the other with the Potter family crest. But today, both give way to white flags. The boy is dead. Arabella wipes the tears from her eyes and watches little Henry sleep in her arms, oblivious to the commotion. She sympathizes with the Duchess's pain as she looks at that little baby who nearly died along with her mother - Arabella knew that the woman's body was found lifeless the next morning - and remembers the time she too felt the pain of losing a child, of losing the one she loved most to Death Eaters. She kisses the boy's forehead, the pale scar of lightning makes him unique, and Arabella lets herself cry, thinking of the Duchess herself, and how they took away her right to fondle her own son. ---------------------- Arabella did not remember seeing the Duke in public since the incident two years ago. He smiles and nods, but she notices - because she's been there once too - that he's sick, that the gold-and-red scarf around his neck seems to have a lot of fabric left over, as well as his pants. She notices the dark circles under his eyes, and the sunken cheeks, but the man still smiles and waves at people. Henry was on her lap, yesterday he turned two, and Arabella doesn't know very well when he was born, but her neighbor, who is a doctor, said he wasn't much older than four or five months, so she decided that his birthday would be the day before they met, because she thought it was too tragic to celebrate the day she found him in his mother's lap half dead, but she didn't want to stray too far from the date. The Duke smiles and nods to a little girl on his father's shoulders, he is walking through the village as he usually does, something that brings him closer to the people who live there and keeps him in power. He's a good man, after his father, the best they've ever had for sure. He stops when he gets close to Arabella, and she smiles because she used to paint the portraits of the royal family until she had a problem with her fist and was forced to quit her profession, but the man never seems to forget the time she drew him on his 17th birthday. "I'm still waiting for you to draw me and my wife." He says, as he always has since she informed him that she had unfortunately been forced to stop. The man isn't charging her though, he smiles, and watches Henry in her lap, almost sleeping on her shoulder. “It's a beautiful boy.” She thought she saw a shadow in his eyes, but it was so fast she thought it was just her imagination. 'How old is he?' "Two years," she says, and now she's sure the man looks sick, because for a second he stops and stares at Henry, as if wondering what his two-year-old son would be like. Arabella knows because she used to do this. "My condolences, my Lord." "It's okay, I’m fine," the

man says, and he winks at Henry, who hides in his mother's neck, before going off to talk to another woman. ---------------------- “Why are we different?” Henry asks, sitting on the table as Arabella tends to his scraped knee. 'We don't have the same eye color, and my hair doesn't match yours.' She knows he doesn't mean to be mean, he's just a curious and very intelligent child, that he's noticed the dissimilarities between them. She smiles, applying ointment to the wound. ‘Because you are my son at heart, and children at heart are sometimes not like their mothers at heart.’ 'What is a child at heart?' He agrees to be picked up by her, and Arabella leads them into their small living room, sitting on the sofa with Henry on her lap, looking at her with big green eyes gleaming with curiosity, black strands falling over his eyelashes. She needs to cut his hair soon. “It means that you were born from another belly, not mine.” She places a hand over her stomach. “But that's just what separates us, because my love for you surpasses any barrier.” Arabella smiles, kissing his cheek, and Henry seems satisfied with the explanation. 'I love you so much too, this size here!' He opens his arms as much as he can, and the demonstration warms her heart as always, making her smile and hug her son as tightly as she assures him that she loves him even more. | J. P | James was concentrating on the duels when Remus arrived. He was marveling at how well Mr. Figg dueled, neither shivering nor losing time when Mr. Rosier hit back one of his spells, and the man didn't even look tired. He had always found dueling an incredibly boring and dull part of parties when he was younger, accompanied by his father and seeing the men fall in a few minutes, James preferred the parties and the after, when the house was silent and dark and he could go out to meet some woman. It was at one of these parties that he met Lily, during a nighttime getaway he saw her jumping out the window. First he followed her thinking that she was also going to meet someone, and James being a curious young man that he was, he wondered what kind of man that woman liked to sneak with. Maybe he had a chance. But later, when he saw her come out of the house and run towards the lake nearby, James didn't understand. She didn't like him following her, of course, it had been a dumb idea and nowadays he was ashamed of his younger self's actions, but that's what got them talking for the first time. She smiled in embarrassment as he praised her ability to climb a vine. "James!" Remus called after him, cheeks flushed and blue eyes pained toward him. The first thing that came to his mind was that Lily was hurt, and that made him lose all interest in watching the Duel and made him turn to his friend in alarm. “What happened?” He tried to be as discreet as possible, trying to keep other men from noticing his splurge. Sirius did a good job of distracting two young men. "Lily needs you…and she asked me to take Mr. Figg too." Remus muttered the last part, making James frown and look at the boy on his left, who had finally won the duel. Rosier looked tired. 'Is it urgent.' "Is she hurt?" It was a valid concern, James feared his wife would get sicker now that she was surrounded by people, and maybe someone had said something to her and Lily had one of her fits again. ‘And why does she want the boy? Should I tell Arthur? ‘No, don't say anything to anyone, just come… We're in the dungeons.’ ---------------------- Henry did not know how to control his magic, and that distressed Arabella. If he was a Muggle it would be so much easier, she knew that, because when Henry made that poor boy float, and then made a flower vase explode, she knew she would have to explain a lot to him: Why couldn't he go to a proper college and why she didn't do magic like he did. Arabella no longer felt ashamed of being a Squib, she had accepted the condition and lived normally, or at least as she managed to, avoiding whenever anyone asked about it just to avoid people's prejudice. Some thought she was a

Muggle who had married a wizard, and that's why she knew so much about it. Others thought that she just hadn't had a chance to go to school, and that's why she didn't know how to properly control magic. "They made fun of me!" Henry said, annoyed, his eyes red from crying. “They said things—horrible things to me!” He sobbed, which made Arabella even sadder and more worried. His green eyes glistened with tears, staring at her for answers. "They told me I-I'll never be good at-at anything." He sobbed louder and louder, the scraped knee now forgotten, as if the internal pain was much bigger. She was about to cry with him. “Henry, honey, listen to me.” She took a deep breath, thinking that conversation had come earlier than she'd planned. ‘What they said is a lie. They don't know how to control their magic either, they probably won't for a good few years, and you're already good at a lot of things, of course you are, Henry. You're much better at putting together puzzles, and you're much faster too, I mean, you always win at the races.' Arabella smiled sweetly, smoothing his messy hair, thinking how unfair it was that such a sweet little boy already got to know this side of life. She wished she could just show the good side of life, and leave the thorns and stones for when he understood things better. Arabella wondered how her mother managed to do this so masterfully, because right now, she wanted to be able to hex the parents of those boys and force them to teach their children more respect for others. She wished it had been her who had been pushed and thrown out of the game, not her child. Her heart broke even more, feeling helpless. ‘Don't listen to what they say, ok? You're amazing, a very smart kid, and your future will be bright.” She promised, because it was true. Arabella would do anything for her son. ---------------------- Henry ran as fast as he could, passing through the trees and not even bothering with the branches that scratched his skin, he just needed to get out of there. He knew he shouldn't have pissed off those boys, but they were scaring another younger boy, and just because they'd now gone to that stupid school of stupid people, they thought they were even better than the rest of the people there. Henry wished he could go to Hogwarts, but his mother had told him that you needed to receive a letter, and that they were only sent for a few families - maybe if you're lucky you get the letter, she said smiling, even though the smile didn't reach her eyes. Arabella had never said this, but Henry knew he would probably never get the letter; he wasn't rich and he didn't have a father, and for some reason, that seemed to be enough to keep him away from others. He ran even faster when he heard loud laughter, he wasn't afraid of those kids anymore, Henry had grown up while they were in school, more than they were, but they had one advantage: magic. Arabella couldn't buy a wand, so he didn't have one, and even if he did, he wouldn't know how to use it. “You're a wimpy coward if your only way to fight is with magic…don't you know how to punch?” Henry had said to Jilian, the biggest idiot of them all. Henry wasn't very good at punching, but he was very fast, while when Greg tried to cast a spell on him, he ran off into the forest, barely noticing when his own magic created a dome around him, preventing any spells from hitting him. . ---------------------- “Why are we so different?” Henry asked, taking a seat beside Arabella as she kneaded the bread on the table. She looked at him, noticing that the boy was all sweaty and looking a little smudged with dirt. “How many times have I told you not to go into the woods?” She returned her gaze to the dough, continuing to knead. "It's quieter there." He shrugged, pulling his sweaty hair off his forehead, letting his scar show for a few seconds before hiding it again. “And more dangerous too, and you know it.” Arabella raised her eyebrows, scolding him. She'd heard horrible stories of people meeting a werewolf deep in the woods, and as much as she didn't

know whether or not it was true, she didn't want Henry to take any chances like that. He was only 13 years old, he should have been playing with the other kids on the street and not running into the trees. "Okay, I won't do it anymore." He sighed, but she knew he would break that promise the next time he had the opportunity. ‘But then? Why aren't we alike?’ "Henry, because you were born from another belly. I already said that" She placed the buns in the oven, washing her hands afterwards and looking up at him with a gentle smile on her face. "I met you when you were very young, you know this story." "But why can I make things float and you can't?" His green eyes stared at her with an expression much harder and more serious than she was used to, as if he would know if she lied. ‘Because not all of us are born doing magic. Some of us are good at something other than magic… It's something you need to be born knowing how to do, you can't develop it, just improve it.” Arabella swallowed, trying not to show so much the scars that had left on her. People weren't kind when they found out you were a Squib. He was quiet for a few minutes, looking at his hands as if he wanted to find the right words. The sun streaming through the kitchen windows illuminated his black hair, a few strands reflecting an almost red copper color that Arabella thought was beautiful. 'Can you never do magic?' He looked at her, and all the worry she'd ever felt, scared that maybe Henry would feel sorry for her or ashamed of her, drained and slipped out as his green eyes stared at her, full of affection and sadness. Not the same sadness that always came with grief, but as if he felt bad that he did magic and she didn't, as if he understood now why some people offended her and treated her differently. "No." She gave a half smile. "But I'm not sad about it anymore, I like who I am." And it was true. Henry nodded, still being silent for a while, seeming to absorb the information, then he got up from the wooden bench, walking over to her and hugging her. He was no longer her little boy—as much as he always would be her baby—Henry now almost reached her chest, and it wouldn't be long before he was taller than her. She hugged him back, enjoying this show of affection, imagining that a few years from now he wouldn't like hugs so much. "I love you," he said. ‘I love you very much too. Forever and ever.” Arabella kissed the top of his head, tightening her hold even more, as if she was afraid someone would suddenly take him away from her. ---------------------- It had been a long time since James had been in the dungeons, he didn't like going there, it was cold, wet, lonely, and it made him think too much. It made him think his son's things were there, in boxes organized as if they were just another mess and not everything he and Lily had ever dreamed of. It made him think of the pain that resided in his chest, the emptiness that nothing in the world had ever been able to fill. James hated the dungeons. Lily, unlike him, loved being there, she said it was the best place for her to think, and the calmest of all - 'It's where I feel that no one will look at me with pity, where I can think of my son in peace, you know what I'm talking about," she said when James questioned her about the surroundings. He knew, he understood her, James had changed into Prongs many more times than necessary, he did it every time the pain got too much to take. He walked down the stairs, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine, couldn't anyone make this place something less scary? After Remus left, James warned Sirius, who tried to pretend as best he could and further entertain the men who now looked curious to death, while he went to talk to Mr. Figg. "I need you to accompany me, but I need you to do this cautiously and discreetly," James asked, looking into those green eyes closely, trying to remember where he knew that expression. "I'll go ahead, meet me in five minutes at the entrance to the stone path, do you know where it is?" The man nodded, tucking

his wand into the waistband of his pants and straightening his robes. 'I'll let Arthur know I'll take you, just so he won't be worried, but I think you understand that you shouldn't say anything to anyone, right?' "Yes, my Lord." The man made a brief, discreet bow, and James grimaced, not understanding why that made him uncomfortable. Now James heard footsteps behind him as he walked through the dungeon, neither of them saying anything. Why had Lily asked Mr. Figg to come along? Had she found out something about the boy? Something bad? James glanced quickly over his shoulder, noticing that the man looked warmed too, his hands behind him and his back straight. Has something happened to Miss Weasley? Well, if so, Arthur would be called too, right? James broke off as soon as he reached the last room, the one he avoided the most, and the only one with lighted candles. The first thing he saw when he entered were the boxes, stacked against a wall, then he realized there were some of Harry's things on the floor, smeared with dirt and sticks, and James' heart missed a beat when he saw the Snitch Pajamas The gold one he'd bought when he found out Lily was pregnant was now all filthy and torn. Had they been attacked? Was that why Lily sent for him? Then he saw Remus, opening Lily's herb cabinet and looking for something inside, he looked worried. In the back, near the only window there, was Peter, all smeared with mud too, sitting on the floor with his hands behind his back, his red cheeks making him look like a child caught doing something wrong, and his rumpled clothes hinting that he had fought someone. Finally, sitting on the bench was Lily. Her dress was dirty too, but that wasn't what James first noticed, it was her red face, her pink cheeks like when she drank wine, her hands shaking as she poured something into the cauldron, looking more nervous than ever. "What's going on?" James glanced at the three of them, feeling even more anxious. "Lily, what the fuck is going on?" "Did you bring Henry?" James frowned at her calling the man by his first name, but nodded anyway, Peter sighed in the corner, looking almost terrified, not making eye contact with James for a moment. ‘Great, send him in.’ ---------------------- Henry knew he shouldn't be there, his mother had forbidden him, but he had nowhere else to go. Jilian had come back from his stupid school and he seemed more than happy to train some spells on Henry, and even though he had honed his punching technique, he couldn't compete with magic. So he ran into the forest. It was cold there, it had rained last night and the earth had turned to mud, and because of the tall trees the sun's rays didn't penetrate as much, and the whole environment ended up getting wetter than usual. Henry shivered as the wind made him wonder why he hadn't grabbed a jacket. He was sitting on the usual rock, it was close to the river that separated them from the Muggles, and it gave him a good view across the village. There were houses like the ones on this side, but they always looked a lot less colorful than the ones he was used to, and there weren't as many flowers and trees either, as if the Muggles were willing to clear every bit of land they found, leaving everything gray and monotonous. Henry had asked his mother if they could go to that side of the village, but Arabella had been stern to say he was forbidden to even think about going to the Muggles. He chuckled softly, thinking that if it hadn't been for the river that separated them, he probably would have managed to at least get there, curious as always. A noise startled him, making him jump and hide behind the rock, praying it wasn't one of Jilian's friends, as he would be at such a disadvantage. There wasn't much to run now, Henry had almost reached the end of the forest, and unless he took a chance and ran towards the darkest and scariest part, the other option was to jump into the river. And he wasn't doing any of those things. But when he didn't hear voices or anything to indicate they were people, he stood up,

watching a deer walking around, distracted by everything, as if nothing else mattered. Henry had never seen one this close, and he was a little fascinated by the animal, he understood why there are two deer on the Potter family crest. It really was a beautiful animal, and if he could choose, he would also want them emblazoned on his chest. Henry stepped out from behind the rock, careful not to startle the animal, trying to get as close as he could. “Hey,” he called, even though it didn't make much sense. The animal turned, eyes huge now in his direction. It had been a bad idea, he cursed himself mentally, imagining that that animal was too big and would probably kill him without a second thought… Did deer eat human flesh? Henry didn't know, but they probably hurt anyone who scared them and made them feel in danger. The animal approached, slowly, and each step made the boy's stomach turn and his heart race. Deer were fast, much faster than Henry was. He was dead. But when the animal's black eyes got much closer than Henry had ever thought he saw, the animal bowed, as if saying hello to him. Without thinking twice, he did the same, maintaining eye contact with the deer. Heavens, couldn't he be less weird? Bending over to deer, blowing things up without meaning to... Henry stood up after a while, being careful to do this as slowly as possible, still afraid the deer would decide to kill him then and there. But the animal seemed to have other plans, because he lay down in front of the boy, as if he were an adorable little dog. Henry sat beside him too, having no choice; he didn't have many friends, and he had nothing else to do, so why not? His ass got a little wet from the dirt, but nothing too uncomfortable. The deer shifted and brought its head closer to Henry's crossed leg, as if asking for affection, and the boy didn't wait for another move to do so, leaning his back against the stone and reaching out to stroke the slightly coarse fur of the animal For some strange reason, Henry felt comfortable doing it, as if he had done it before, it was something familiar that burned in his chest. But he didn't think about it much, just fell silent and watched the forest in front of him. ---------------------- "Lily, what's going on?" James asked, feeling uneasy as he watched the tension surround the room, Remus looked nervous and Peter avoided looking up, as if he was suddenly afraid to face one of them. Lily turned to James, her green eyes seemed to glow with hatred, her nostrils swollen, an expression he'd seen a few times over the years, but one that always scared him. "What... What happened?" Her shaky voice made him look at Remus again, the worry growing by the second. "Oh James." She shook her head, as if suddenly too much pain hit her, and he ran to her protection, opening his arms to hold her and protect her from anything that had happened while he was gone. "Guys, anyone…?" He glanced at his friends, but again, Peter didn't look at him. "Tell him, Peter!" Lily yelled, breaking out of James' embrace and turning to the man sitting on the floor, pointing her wand in his direction. ‘Lily, what the hell!?’ "No, James," She held up a hand, silencing him. "Tell Peter, tell him what you did to our son." His world stopped, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets as James stared at his friend, begging for all that was most sacred that he hadn't quite understood. Peter was his brother, his best friend, they met when they went to Hogwarts together, he was there when James needed it most, when they decided to become Animagus… Peter wouldn't do that, he couldn't! James doubted that one day the pain of losing a child would be replaced by another, that hellish emptiness that tore at him more and more inside, that made him not sleep well on rainy nights, that still made him walk into the boy's immaculate room and sit on the floor wondering what he should have done differently. He would do anything to get his son back, his boy. But the pain that hit him when Peter shook his head and lowered his head, making him

realize his hands were tied behind his body, came very close. His best friend… betrayed him? "Peter?" James pleaded, begged, for it to be a lie, for Lily to be mad. It was a lie! It had to be. "I had to, James... I... he made me." ---------------------- The weather was not so good, Peter realized when he Apparated, the sky was dark and windy like never before. He should have worn another cloak, this one was too thin and made him cold. And other gloves too, because now these were bloody and torn. Who knew a woman could be so strong? Peter dragged the woman's passed out body with him, feeling a little sickened by that when he realized her wound was getting worse with each passing minute, he needed to be quick. Leaving the body where no one could find it, he pulled a strand of her hair into the potion and then took it, the horrible taste of iron made him want to spit it out on the floor, but now there was no turning back, he would have to swallow and continue with the plan. Lord Voldemort had promised him a great reward in exchange for the boy's life, and for the first time in a long time, Peter felt important and wanted. It wasn't that Black boy who was chosen, or even Snape, no no, he was the one Voldemort thought capable of completing the mission, he thought he was strong enough. How long has it been since? He only stayed inside the Order because James kept him there, no one really wanted him there, not even Dumbledore, Peter didn't need him to say it to know, it was visible to everyone. For the old man, any other man could do the job better than he… Probably if Lily were there too, she would be chosen before Peter. Potter this, Black that, Peter was tired. Why didn't anyone realize he was also strong and smart? Well, now that was over, Voldemort had seen his potential and chosen him to do this mission, and Peter wasn't going to fail now. When he was fully transformed into that whore, he apparated into the castle, glad the potion didn't stop him from doing so. Stupid James should have put in better security than a simple spell. Peter had seen James that afternoon, he said that today was Harry's first night trying to sleep alone and that he and Lily were excited to see how he would react to the change, so the plan would be even easier to execute. As excited as Peter was at the idea of ​​being useful to someone, he knew he couldn't kill James, he had to really want to do it with all his heart. When he reached the boy's room, Peter looked around, noting the choice of bright, cheerful colors, the many teddy bears scattered around, the photos on the walls and in the frames above the dresser. Little Harry slept peacefully in his bed, wrapped in the pale blue blanket, looking peaceful, cuddled up with his deer teddy bear. He was a lot like James, Peter thought, watching the boy move his short legs like he was kicking something in the dream. He hadn't really thought about that part of the plan, he figured he'd have the guts to just take the boy and end his life right there, or in some alley farther along, but when Peter picked him up, being careful not to waking him up, that lavender scent invaded his nostrils and he watched the baby more closely. The boy looked helpless in his arms, like he wasn't even real, and if he wasn't watching the boy's belly rise and fall, Peter would think he was a doll. Voldemort would never know if he had killed the boy or not, and pausing to analyze the situation now, Peter also didn't know if he could kill the boy. He wanted to show that he was strong and useful, but a baby? Harry looked so…small. When he stirred, startling Peter, and seemed to be looking for something - maybe his mother's scent - he realized it was time to act, there was no turning back, it had to be now. And when lightning flashed in the sky, he cast a spell to prevent Harry from listening when he broke the glass to fake an escape, Peter waited for thunder to do so and then Apparated out of the castle, knowing that this was the best thing to do. There were two paths now, and he needed to think quickly

which was better, kill Harry and throw him in some hole, or give the boy to someone else. Of course he would risk this person recognizing the baby, but he would have to bet his luck on finding another baby like this for Lily and James to bury, or maybe even run to the Muggle village and find some woman there. It had to be fast, Harry would wake up any second and Peter didn't have much time after that. As soon as he spotted a woman a few blocks away and Harry opened his eyes in his arms, Peter acted without thinking, taking the knife from his pants pocket and opening a wound in his ribs, before starting to scream for help. ---------------------- James clapped his hand over his mouth, denying it over and over, not believing what he was hearing. No no no no. This had to be a lie, this had to be a lie. Peter would never do that, Peter was his brother, he would never… No, this could only be a joke. He could barely handle the pain right now, thinking he'd rather die than have to deal with it. It hurt so much that James thought he might start bleeding at any moment, his chest lacerated after hearing about it. He couldn't even feel angry. His boy, his little boy, whom he'd loved so much ever since Lily told him she was pregnant, that it made him want to scream from the top of the roof in so much joy… “I could kill you right now,” he said, after what seemed like an eternity, barely able to face the traitor. "But…" James shook his head, closing his eyes to try to make it hurt a little less, his father's voice resonating through his mind; "You must be careful with Peter," he said before he died. "Men like him are easily attracted to the side that shines the most." James had thought his father was delusional when he said that, thought it was the fever, but no, the bastard really was a weakling and a coward. Letting himself be attracted to those he once hated. If he really hated it. "I can't even look at you." James turned to Lily, who looked distraught to death at having to hear that story. He wanted to kill Peter even more for making her suffer like that. The traitor had been there the next day, helping with the searches, he had hugged Lily when she cried, told her everything would be fine. "James, give me your hand," asked Lily, her own trembling, reaching out towards him. 'Why?' "Lils…he could be lying—" She shook her head, telling Remus to shut up. "Give me your hand James." Now her voice was stronger, more determined, and her green eyes sparkled even more. He did so, letting her grab his palm and run the tip of the knife, causing the blood to drip and smear her workbench and floor, before finally dripping into the cauldron. “Lily, what are you doing?” But she didn't answer him, cutting her own palm and spilling her blood along with his, then looking over her husband's shoulder. She looked more nervous than ever, and her severed hand shook even more as she held it out to the man behind James. "Give me your hand, Henry." Her green eyes sparkled with tears, and James didn't know if the man did as she asked just because she was a Duchess, or because she was crying. "Yes, ma'am." He walked over and let her do the same thing with his palm, passing the tip of the knife and then letting the blood spill into the cauldron. The potion began to bubble fiercely, as did James' chest when he realized what Lily was up to. He had seen her make this potion a few times, and if his thinking was correct, then maybe he could vomit right there, his stomach churning and making him feel weak. James didn't want to get his hopes up, it only served to hurt when unrequited, but he was unable to hold back the urge and looked at the man behind him, and then at Peter, who now looked even more guilty, if that was possible. If this was another one of his jobs with Voldemort, James knew he would kill him right there, with his bare hands. Forget magic and wands, he would tear that mouse apart like a hungry lion. James turned to the cauldron again when Lily sobbed and he smelled the lavender scent all over the room, and the once gray

potion was now a pinkish hue, the three drops of blood seemed to dance in the middle of the liquid, before of finally meeting at the end, getting connected. "Harry." Lily turned to the man, but James remained frozen, watching the cauldron in front of him. They had never reached this result, usually the potion would explode or nothing happened, and the smell was never that sweet aroma that seemed to fill all the hollows in his chest, as if he suddenly felt no more pain. As he turned back, as Lily advanced towards the boy, James thought that maybe nothing would ever compare to this. "Harry," Lily repeated, but this time she touched him, and as if the boy felt it too, he lowered his green eyes to her. James remembered then where he knew that look… It was Lily's eyes. Her trembling hand went to his forehead, lifting the hair lying there, just to let them see the lightning scar marked into his skin. It was too much to handle, James didn't know how he was still standing, but suddenly he started to feel tears rolling down his cheeks and as if this was the last drop of water to overflow the bucket, he sobbed. He inched closer to Lily, wanting to take a closer look at his son, as if he was afraid this was a dream and soon he would no longer have the chance to memorize every detail of it. His boy… "You-" Harry trailed off, as if he was feeling like James and Lily, his chest filling up and all that emptiness seeming to finally heal. "My parents?" He looked at James, and it was as if time had never passed. He still had the same expression as that little baby James used to cuddle up to sleep on. "I knew I knew you from somewhere," James managed to say, his throat seeming to scratch with the effort it took. "I would never be able to forget…" He didn't mind the tears rolling down his face, but he tried to wipe the ones down Harry's face. "I would never be able to forget my son."

[whump-town]

Crawl Home

I thought to myself Hannah why are you so mean to Hotch? Hmm, well, I’m a self-destructive little bastard and he’s a self-destructive big bastard so I just think it’s fun to project onto him. Then I considered -- shit, why not take it out on Emily too? So, I did. 

Going to college hadn’t been nearly as difficult as leaving her soul, every good part of Emily Prentiss, behind her in Virginia. But there the pieces of her could be protected and here, in Europe working for Clyde, she can’t be sure she can offer the human parts of her that condolence. Then again, leaving for college had been leaving her mother. Freedom, at the time, she hadn’t known to its full advantage. Leaving Virginia is leaving the only family she’s ever known. The safety of girl’s nights, Dave’s expensive taste in bourbon, and the knowledge that if she had nowhere she still had them. Aaron’s couch where Jack calls her his favorite aunt and Spencer’s library so extensive she’ll never reach the bottom.

Emily is safer there with them.

The case is grueling, ripping apart wounds she thought healed and scarred over. It’s enough to make her consider calling Hotch. She gets so close, finger hovering just over her screen until she remembers that it’s probably three in the morning over there and she’ll probably wake him up. Stealing from him what little sleep he can manage and so she doesn’t call him despite the promise she made him just a few months ago. Looking into the vulnerability he’d laid out between them, needing her to be something unlike him, someone not consumed by this damned job that will take everything.

She took his hand -- rough and damp with his anxiety -- and said the words she knew he wanted to hear. Knowing that stepping foot on that plane, leaving them, was giving the job everything. It’s falling into the trap that nearly killed him and she’d watched it happen and still, she couldn’t stop it from happening to her.

Instead, she texts Garcia for a picture of Sergio and sends Dave a picture of her lunch so he can pride her on actually taking the time to at least try and eat. The food sets a little easier when he sends her some corny-ass text with an emoji he doesn’t really understand. To top it all off, Derek sends her a selfie from the bullpen where he’s actively sitting on Spencer and pinning him still for the photo. It solidifies her, the boost she needed.

See? she asks her reflection, she didn’t need to call Hotch. No need to admit defeat just yet. (and when he sends her a picture of Jack wearing the sweater she got him with the added detail that Hotch is wearing his matching one, she cries in her bathtub and reminds herself this is for the best). So this is what her freshman year roommate met by homesick…

“Clyde,” she announces, avoiding touching him as she slides past him. “After this case, I’m retiring. I’m going to go home and sleep for three days and then you expect my resignation. I’m going to go live in the Alps and hope a bear of some variation eats me after I freeze to death.” She says all this while she pours herself a cup of coffee. This is certainly a situation she’d mirrored with the likes of Hotch, Dave, Derek, and even Reid over the years. Where Clyde meets her with a raised eyebrow Hotch would have handed her his coffee and offered her a dimpled half-grin of agreeance. Dave would have taken her out for lunch. Derek would have hit her shoulder, stolen her coffee, and told her “toughen up, princess, it’s nearly Friday”.

Clyde takes a long pull from his own mug, drawing his eyebrows tight as the bitter, not properly steeped mess of his tea hits his tongue hotter than he anticipated. With a grimace he clicks his tongue, “you’ve got the vacation days.” He takes her by surprise, she wants him so desperately to be someone else. Reid’s bashful, not quite sure what he should say, face or Dave coming to sit on the edge of her desk until she caves and goes for lunch. But Clyde is Clyde is Clyde and he offers her a solution none of the others would have mentioned.

She does have time building up. Fall is rapidly approaching in Virginia and she could get home to see Henry and Jack before school. Spoil them with trinkets to show off to their friends. It’s her favorite season there and it would make great circumstances to steal one of Derek’s sweatshirts and escape with new recipes from Dave to try out. Enough time for so many girl’s nights -- her skin needs the reprieve and Garcia’s hand-picked face masks and JJ’s fantastic taste in wine. She needs to spend too many hours on Hotch’s office couch, listen to his deep baritone start to slur with Dave’s bourbon. To feel Dave’s crushing hug when they pour themselves into a cab and, like an idiot every time, the three of them bunch up in the backseat with her in the middle.

“I can see that look in your eye, Emily.” Clyde points right at her -- again, why does she expect him to be like them and just not profile her -- and he smiles with a shake of his head. “You’re going to go back to them, aren’t you?”

She takes her mug, solutes him with it, and walks away. Here, the rules aren’t the same. There is no Hotch standing over her shoulder, sending a glare in every direction, as the permanent reminder that there is a rule against inter-team profiling. But, that’s the catch. They’re not like her over here. Clyde has no secrets and she’s a field of undiscovered bodies in shallow graves. It doesn’t take a lot to go tripping over her bones.

As she sits herself down behind her desk, she spots the flicker of movement she’s learned to associate with her youngest agent and she knows exactly what the other woman is bringing. She finds herself sighing, feeling that bone-tired Hotch always looked (oh God, she hopes she doesn’t look like that). Why are there so many twisted fuckers in the world? She just wants to take a moment to enjoy her coffee.

“What is it?”

The poor woman coming into her office is taken aback but not entirely thrown off. “We found him.”

There goes her fucking coffee.

“Where?”

She’s going to hug Reid for as long as he lets her and she’s going bully him like he’s her baby brother until his face is red. When she sees Jennifer Jareau she’s going to force herself not to cry and she already knows Henry will be as tall as her by now. He just got glasses -- how do they grow up so fast? She’ll laugh, unabashed and loudly when Derek lifts her off her feet. Squeeze Garcia just as tight as Garcia squeezes her. Let Dave kiss her cheeks and press her face into his jacket when he pulls her in. She’ll snag a hug from Hotch when she knows they aren’t looking and quickly wipe her tear away when he whispers that he missed her.

“Be careful,” Clyde advises around a mouthful of cookie. “Don’t need any more paperwork than I already have.”

She rolls her eyes because it’s funny when he says it…

“Prentiss!” The agents here don’t call her Emily. “Ok, ok, okay--” The shot comes suddenly, unexpectedly and it hits her and for a blinding moment, she feels nothing. Searing, like the brand Ian pressed into her skin and then consuming so quickly that all she feels is hot, intense pain all across her body. “Hold still.”

There’s a blonde woman leaning into her wound, failing despite her desperation to keep Emily’s blood inside her. She looks like JJ -- or maybe the sky is just dark enough and the beams at just the right angle or the blood is pumping so quickly from Emily’s body that her mind is starved. Maybe there isn’t a blonde woman, she’s a hallucination, but it doesn’t matter. Emily just wants to go home.

“Hey, hey!”

Derek. It sounds just like him, his voice and roughly the hand that shakes her shoulder grips at her flesh. She feels weightless, suspended by her hips as she falls backward. The haze of blood loss and shock shutting down her functions. Tears sting her eyes and she sees the people hovering over her -- the distinct lack of Reid’s nervous voice, the hand holding onto hers is neither JJ nor Derek’s -- and she knows she’s not going home.

“Stay with me, Prentiss.”

Will they come here she wonders. If this is it, will they bring her home one last time? She doesn’t want to be buried in Europe. She wants Virginia and the fall and home. She wants to go home.

“Hey, hey--”

She feels the cold sting of a hand across her cheeks but her eyes have sunk. Home.

She just wanted to go home.

[gloves94]

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 1

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: "You have everything you've ever wanted." "No." He said softly. "Not everything..." His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. "I guess not." She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes. 

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

"Uncle!" The young prince roared exasperated.

For once his uncle stood on the deck of the ship being quiet and distant. His eyes gazed out into the vast blueness that expanded so far you couldn't tell where the ocean ended and where the sky began. He wore a solemn expression on his face, both of his hands tucked inside of his sleeves. His eyes clouded with a rare sadness.

"I'm so close to capturing the Avatar! I'm going to lose his trail and we are losing precious time! I haveto regain my honor!" Prince Zuko barked. The dishonored banished Prince of the Fire Nation barked.

Iroh also known as the Dragon of the West, the retired general who had been disgraced at walls of Ba Sing Se remained pensive and let out a deep breath he had been holding.

"Why do we even have to go to the colonies?!" The frustrated prince threw his hands over his head.

"I already told you my dear nephew. I've received somber news. The sun has set on a dear friend Sencha's life. And so we must attend the service and show our respects to his spirit and his family."

"This is pointless!" Prince Zuko breathed out a cloud of fire, his exasperation boiling in the pits of his stomach. How he sometimes wished he could just shove his uncle into a sailboat and send him to out so that he could move on with his life and actually have a shot at regaining his honor. Why couldn't his uncle just go by himself?

Zuko was too blinded to see the pain in his uncle's amber eyes.

"Patience," Iroh sighed wisely and stroked his gray beard. "If you allow it, the howling wind shall carry you to your destiny. Who knows? You might encounter something interesting in the colonies."

The prince remained silent.

"Perhaps even the Avatar?" Iroh baited glancing at his nephew from the corner of his eyes.

Zuko gripped the railing tightly, his body tense. His uncle turned to look at him and flashed him a weak smile before squeezing his nephew's shoulder.

xxx

The prince's military vessel docked at the port of Yu Doa.

The city of Yu Dow was one of the first Fire Nation Colonies. It was known for it's unique architecture and surprising co-existence of Fire and Earth bending cultures as near equals. Because of this Yu Dao was the Fire Nation's most powerful asset and wealthiest colony. It was also famously known for having the finest weapon craftsmen in the world.

"This place is... odd," Zuko observed as they made away across the city.

No royal had set foot in the colonies since the war began one hundred years ago and it was safe to say that people from the mainland thought less of those from the colonies. Sneering at them, calling them colonials, and laughing at stereotypes.

The city was quiet, its citizens wore funerary colors and expressions of mourning. All windows were closed and shops were closing early.

"Of course, they are mourning their governor."

The Prince also noted how the people in the streets did not shy away from them like others would've back in the mainland. They neither bowed nor cowered with disrespect. The prince and his uncle entered the gates of the golden palace and were received by an escort who lead them inside the building. The architecture was a mixture of emerald green and square shapes typical of Earth Kingdom architecture with contrasting bold golden pikes, maroon carvings, and large figures and carvings of crimson and golden dragons on the walls which were typical of Fire Nation architecture and culture.

"General Sencha was appointed as the Vice Royal Governor of Yu Dao sometime after your grandfather Azulon rose to the throne. He was a brilliant general, brave, courageous, a good friend and also a worthy Pai Sho adversary," Iroh said with a smile as they were lead through a massive pair of intricately carved golden doors.

"His people, they mourn him. It's almost as if they care-" Zuko was interrupted. "They do," Iroh nodded. "Fire Lords don't often concern themselves with the Fire Colonies once they are tamed. Sencha took it upon himself to provide a life of equal opportunities to both Fire and Earth Kingdom citizens. Together they worked to build and grow the city making it the most powerful asset of the Fire Nation abroad. Because of that Yu Dao paved the way for its own culture and traditions to blossom. That's why this place seems so different to you."

For a moment Zuko thought about his grandfather, Azulon. Besides other aristocrats and the military it had been just another day when he passed. His people hadn't mourned him, he hadn't been missed by many. He certainly didn't miss him. The citizens of the Fire Nation didn't seem to care much for him, then again, he had been a cruel man. It was a drastic contrast to the ambiance in Yu Dao and the respect its people had for their passed leader.

It was then that they entered the heart of the governing room where the service was being held. It was dark and the room was barely illuminated by numerous candles which were burning at different heights. At the center hoisted above a bed of white arranged wild flowers and lilies lay a fine wooden coffin. There were few government officials and family in the private service. The disgraced prince and the retired general approached the front to pay their respects. Iroh knelt before the bed and meditated for a moment on his dear friend's memory. Zuko nodded his head in respect and he patiently waited for his uncle to stand. His eyes scanned the crowd as he attempted to distract himself, not wanting to linger his gaze on the coffin before him. It was then that a spot of red in the darkness captured his attention.

His eyes froze on a person with a hair color he had never seen before. He had never seen an individual with hair the color of fire. Auburn, red, maroon, he couldn't place his finger on the shade. The dim light made it even harder. She appeared to be around his age. Her blazing hair was wavy and reached down past midback, half of it up in the matter that was considered fashionable in the Fire Nation. Her expression was one of pure desolation as a woman whom he assumed to be her mother held her close while holding her hand.

"Prince Zuko!" Iroh whispered harshly elbowing him snapping him out of his train of thought. As he did the girl looked up and their eyes met. His lingered on her face for a second.

Her mother turned as did the man Zuko assumed to be her father. He turned his head sharply ready to walk away, but instead Iroh turned the opposite way and began walking in the way of of the Vice Royal family.

Xxx

"I-I think I need some air," gasped the girl as she took in a deep breath suddenly feeling claustrophobic. Her soul felt numb with the absence of her dear grandfather. She felt dizzy and partly nauseous. She had shed her tears and her eyes were dry from crying so much, over the past couple of days. Her nostrils felt irritated from blowing so many tissues. Her mom gave her hand a gentle squeeze and a sad smile before letting her go. She noted the two strangers that were approaching to pay their condolences.

Distraught she didn't bother in engaging with them or even checking out their improper attire. From the looks of it they were probably military from the Fire Nation mainland. She stepped out quickly suddenly feeling like she couldn't breath due to the stench of flowers, incense and burning candles. She in took a large gulp of fresh air when she reached the small garden outside the governing room. She sat on a stone bench that was placed before a small koi pond fountain and under a blossoming plum tree. Just a few days ago she had been sitting in this same bench with her grandfather. She had been holding onto his arm tightly, he had given her one of the plum blossom flowers, tucked it into her hair and was telling her stories about her late grandmother.

And now- he was gone.

She felt fat tears begin to swell in her eyes as her lungs felt heavy with woe. She had done enough crying. Death was part of life.

"Loss is part of life,"her grandfather had said to her sagely. "But nothing worth keeping is every truly lost."

Her tears certainly wouldn't bring him back. She sucked in a deep breath and sat up straight as an arrow, just as she had been taught her entire young life. Holding her head up with pride.

She didn't know how long she had been out here. Holding her breath, trying to hold it all together.

"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most beautiful and rare of all," a wise voice interrupted. Her ears had to be playing tricks on her.

It was her grandfather.

"W-What?" She turned bewildered.

Automatically a cascade of tears streamed down her unblinking amber eyes.

It wasn't.

She almost felt as if she had heard her grandfather. She wished it had been him. She sternly believed that those had been his words through a different voice. One that was unfamiliar to her. The man standing beside her was older. His hair was aged and gray and he was large. He seemed like a pleasant person carrying an air of peace and gentleness around him. The kind that his grandfather might've kept around for counsel or as a part of the governing cabinet. He was the one that had walked in late, with the boy with the scar on his face that had been glaring at her during the service.

"Blooming season can be powerful, glorious and intoxicating, but tragically short-lived," the man said wisely. "It is a visual reminder that our lives, too, are fleeting."

Who was this man that spoke in riddles with his wise tongue? Where had he come from?

"They also signify most important above all love." He reached down and with care picked up a lost flower. Lifting it up he offered it to her with kindness. Ceasing her crying the girl took the flower from the wise man.

"Thank you," she said quietly keeping her head lowered in respect.

"You must be Tsai, Sencha's granddaughter," it wasn't a question. He knew who she was. She nodded. The man lowered his head bowing before her. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Your grandfather was a good man, he was also one of my closest friends. Strange that he would pass on such a pleasant day," he commented raising up to view the clear sky above.

"My name is Iroh," he introduced himself. "I have come here with my nephew to pay my respects."

Tsai rose to her feet and bowed her head in equal respect. Of course she had heard of the famous General Iroh, the Dragon of the West. Afterall he had been first in line for the throne of Fire Lord just a couple of years ago.

"General," she acknowledged respectfully.

"There you are!" A woman of similar features to the girl approached the two. She wore a matching dark tunic and her hair was light brown and her eyes were a minty green.

"How embarrassing," she breathed. "I certainly hope Tsai wasn't bothering you with any nonsense General," her mother said as she wrapped her arms around her daughter's shoulders holding her close.

Being of Earth Kingdom decent Sanyu, her mother, had always been hyper conscious of her and her children's behavior. She couldn't afford for them to be shunned because of their Earth Kingdom heritage.

"Not at all," He smiled kindly. "And just Iroh, please."

"Has it-" Tsai turned asking her mother. She simply nodded. The body had been ignited in flames as it was customary in Fire Nation funerary tradition. Her expression twisted into a tormented one. "I really do apologize that you've come to visit us on such a somber occasion," her father stepped forward. It was the new Vice Royal Governor of Yu Dao. He had introduced himself as Azah. "It would truly be an honor if you could join us for lunch. It is not often that we receive such as esteemed guests. Specially royalty from the mainland."

"Uncle, send for the ship to undock. We don't have any more time to waste," a voice rudely spat into the conversation.

It was that rude boy who had been glaring at Tsai during the service. She eyed him warily as she approached her and her family in the plum-blossom garden. The governor's eyes narrowed at the royal's rude behaviors. Sanju seemed oblivious to this.

"Please excuse my nephew. We'd love to join you," Iroh nodded. "Tsai, have you introduced yourself to Prince Zuko?" Her mother spoke tensely slightly grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her towards the prince.

"Uncle-" The other protested.

"Zuko you're always talking about honor. We are going to stay and join our host the Vice Royal Governor and his lovely family for some tea and dinner." Iroh grinned cheekily as he grabbed his nephew's arms tightly and slightly shoved him forward towards the other teen.

Both were awkwardly pushed to face each other as their families observed the impromptu match-making meeting all with knowing eyes and discrete growing grins. Tsai's older brother Mecha snickered from the back, she wanted to turn and glare at him but was instead once again nudged forward by her mother who was glaring daggers at her and poking an invisible knife at her back.

Her grandfather had just died, could they cut the match-making and courtship some slack?

The prince stood half a head taller than her. Maybe he appeared to be taller because of the way he wore his dark hair, in a tall ponytail, most of his head was cleanly shaved off and Tsai realized that he hadn't been glaring at her. That's just the way his face was, it was stuck in a mean scowling mug with suspiciously narrowed eyes. However the most striking feature was half of his face, which was scarred by fire in an ugly branding on his skin. Of course she had heard stories and rumors about the banished prince. Most girls her age would giggle and say he was extremely handsome, other rumors said that he got his scar in a training accident. However, it seemed that his temper and infamous bad character were no myth.

"Tsai of Yu Dao," She bowed down her head lightly bangs slightly falling forward as she did. "It is an honor your highness."

xxxx

AN: Woooooooooo, this Avatar Netflix revival is doing things to me. I think I LOVE Zuko more than I did when I was watching the series as a child. I'm super excited to see where this story goes. I'm almost done writing it at chapter 30 and I've grown super attached to these two characters.

Let me know what you guys think and send me some love!

Best,

xxx

First: [Here] Next:  https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621143206633046017/sunburn-prince-zuko-2

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

[laryna6]

One of those ‘A Christmas Carol’-based fics with Saotome Eiji.

Kyousuke’s dad appearing warning of the demons of the Sanzu river and the measuring of karma that awaits the dead, and Saotome going ‘I must have fallen asleep/that’s a foreign Buddhist thing’ because of the... heavy pushing of a... propagandized version of Shinto as part of Japanese nationalism building up to WWII.

Instead of Christmas it’s Obon (a festival of Buddist/Confucian origin) ofc.

To fit with ‘the idea that people have to earn the right to live is effed up’ from the original, perhaps as a child he was sent to an orphanage bc his family couldn’t feed him? The additional damage of not knowing who your ancestors were in a culture practicing ancestor worship.

Other students of psychic research inviting him to hang out at the university but he wanted to get an officer position in the army, so needing to avoid undesirable elements.

Saotome’s present day obon, Kyousuke who was raised in China being taught about Shinto because as a half-Chinese person on top of an esper in an era of nationalism... they worry about the kid and he might be safer if he do all the ‘I am a loyal subject of the emperor’ signaling. Two of the espers in the unit canonically come from traditional priesthood families and have OPINIONS about what these motherfucking nationalists are doing to corrupt and twist everyone’s spirituality and traditions and their sense of connection to their families and their people and the land. Making shinto priests government officials?!

Saotome going they’re not proper LoyalTM to the army and Japan

Spirit #2 going ‘was the army ever loyal to them?’

Fujiko and her father discussing how their family is nobility and the need for the nobiiity to give up power and instead bring about democracy if Japan was going to escape being conquered and exploited by imperialists like the countries around them.

Fujiko going ‘but the warrior classes all got positions in the military, and now we’re a military dictatorship and Japan has just become one more imperialist power, it’s disgusting and her father going absolutely, and discussion of duty to their ancestors and their country foreshadowing Fujiko making a choice that according to traditional morality and the noble code of conduct was ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLY HORRIBLY WRONG to the point of disgracing her entire family line because what kind of people could have produced a traitor like that... but because of it in the modern day Japan is the second least awful country in how it treats espers.

Then spirit #3, and Saotome going ‘I’ve seen the precogs, espers going to war with normals, Kyousuke betraying the country/me to serve a queen’

And then it’s the younger queen and two other girls going ‘Minamoto we want to go to a festival with you’ while a harried man basically shoos them out the door with a broom and goes ‘go! Your families want to see you! Here are your boxed lunches and snacks for the trip’ and the girls are espers who use their powers to get to their normal families. the queen and her big sister get in a wrestling match over the cookies and only belatedly realize their mom’s eaten them all while commentating while they dress for the festival. another girl and her normal father engage in some police brutality towards festival pickpockets as bonding. the third girl, at least, is traditional and proper even if she’s performing a ceremony that comes from non-Japanese origins (and yet... it’s still a tradition that ties them to their ancestors and the gods and who they are, and Shinto says that tradition is sacred, it doesn’t say that traditions that first came from outside aren’t sacred)

The man is following his mother around as she chatters with everyone and gets up to shenanigans at the festival. ‘Father couldn’t make it again’ mentioning a grandmother who used to stay with him at these. Looking up at the sparks rise above the fire to send the dead home, lonely even though he’s surrounded by people in his hometown... and then he gets tackled by the three girls demanding he take photos with them while they’re all in kimonos

And then it switches to someone announcing That Bastard is finally dead. Far from the land he was born, with no one in the country he served who cares to claim his body ‘so we should send someone to pretend to be a relative’ and someone declaring that this is now a formal meeting because while obviously they all want to desecrate his grave, they are going to do it in an organized fashion that reflects the gravity of his crimes and pays respects to his innocent victims and continuing victims of that bastard’s legacy of murder and hatred. Eggs and toilet paper are not up for discussion is said with a pointed look at another man, who whines ‘big bro!’

This is the most diverse group of people Saotome has ever seen, people from all over the world united in their hatred of someone who gets referred to with several different languages’ curse words.

And then someone walks in and goes ‘here you are, okay, what are you up to? I’ve been raising kids for half a century, I know that when you’re all quiet and busy somewhere you’re up to no good’ and it’s Kyousuke. The guy who went ‘big bro’ gets his ear twisted, and whines ‘dad!’

It’s revealed that ‘that bastard’ is someone who hurt Kyousuke, who they’re protective of like the unit is (he still looks so young...) but when he gets it out of them he’s no! and there is a whine of ‘dad! He shot you!’ ‘I know’ *bullet scar revealed* ‘I’m the one he shot, so I get to decide what to do with him’

Kyousuke lifting away a sheet to reveal a body old and twisted and crippled. And Saotome’s. Kyousuke is blank an solemn... and sad.

Going through the Shinsosai funeral rites, all foreign Buddhist influences removed as he would have wanted, and maybe there’s a reason the people of Japan for centuries were happy to have Buddhists to help them usher their families into the next world, because he can see the weight of the kegare on him, how Kyousuke mourns him, is the only one who mourns him. Eventually a woman who treats Kyousuke as both an embarrassing younger brother and as a respected father comes to help, to cheer him up, even though she despises Saotome too, for hurting him.

A picture of the unit, in Kyousuke’s family shrine. ‘Now everyone in this photograph but Fujiko is dead... He took my family from me, but he, too, was family.’

Then he grabbed the woman, teleported, and dragged her down with him into the ocean for purification.

...then Kyousuke goes to bully the man from before, who is arguing with the three girls about how yes, they are sleepy, Kaoru nearly flew them into the ground getting home, while making them all tea before he shoves them into their bedroom. When he turns around Kyousuke has stolen the cup that was supposed to be for him, and the man at first automatically raises his hackles, but then looks sympathetic.

Kyousuke looks away, annoyed and pouting, at sympathy from this person.

‘...If I try to comfort you you’re going to shove my head in the toilet again,’ the man says, getting himself another cup of tea.

‘Absolutely’ Kyousuke agrees.

Silence, and eventually Kyousuke says, ‘at first I thought you were his reincarnation, even though he would have been offended at the idea of him reincarnating. Then I found he was with the Comericans, had been since the war, and I thought, it would have been better if he was you. Not for the Queen. But for him. If I hadn’t failed to avenge my comrades back then, he could have moved on to a better life or the otherworld. Not been forced to live on a failure and a pawn in a foreign land, unable to return home. He was a proud man.’ Looking down at his tea, ‘when I met him again, he asked me to kill him.’

‘..in the precog, I know there’s a nuke on the way when I shoot Kaoru,’ the man says, and now Saotome knows where he’s seen him. ‘even though I want to kill her so she can’t leave again and I want it enough to kill her before she stops that nuke from destroying Tokyo, I still know that I have to die for this. I’m just getting the order wrong. I should die before I do that. Having to live with what I do in that precog would be a fate worse than death.’

‘That was why I erased his memories that day. He... there was no point in him continuing to suffer. None of us would have wanted that for him. I thought... didn’t he know our feelings? That we were loyal to him, that we didn’t mind dying for him? And then I saw that he truly didn’t recognize our feelings. Because he didn’t know what it looked like, to recognize when people truly cared for him. But he cared for us, and so when he thought that espers would turn against normals, that it was impossible for us to ever care for him... Those damn precogs. They broke his heart before he put a bullet through mine.’

‘Maybe... next obon?’

a shake of the head. ‘he thought it was too foreign. It’s fine, our comrades will beat sense into him in the afterlife.’ Kyousuke drank the rest of his tea.

‘..Some of the parts of the traditional ceremony... PANDRA loves you, but I think that would have made it hard to force them to cooperate,’ the man said. “I don’t want to hear words honoring him either, but you like to do things I don’t want.’

‘What, are you going to give me condolences for his loss?”

‘I can honestly say that I am very sorry he’s dead, because it means I will never get to strangle him,’ the man vigorously throttled the air, going from kind and patient to a man more than capable of shooting a young woman in love with him, and back, ‘from turning you from such a sweet, good little kid into the godawful brat I have had to deal with.’

Kyousuke snorted.

“Do you want another cup of tea, or a cup of milk?”

“Milk.” Kyousuke said, and when the man was on his way to open a white door, he began, “Utsumi-san said that he graduated first in his class, but he had no family and no background. The esper unit was his proposal, so when he told us that we could serve our country and be accepted, he wagered his own future on the chance that ours could be happy. Utsumi said later that he never trusted Saotome-Taicho, because he knew he didn’t truly care for us. I asked once why he didn’t warn us, if he knew that, but... Utsumi knew his heart, so he knew that Saotome-taicho also was different, was desperately wishing to prove he was valuable enough to accept. He knew what bait to dangle before us because it was the exact same lure that led him to the army. We all wanted him to have that happy future, along with us.’

[thychesters]

For the prompts, Batfamily cheering up Cass while she's benched from patrol with an ankle injury? Please and thank you! :)

Sometimes the BatCave feels bigger than she remembers, like a larger than life experience; it’s a scar cut into the earth deep below Wayne Manor, delicate tendrils branching out in each and every direction away from the main hub. Other times, like now, it feels smaller, cramped, and Barbara glances to her side to find Cass sat beside her, arms folded over her stomach and left foot propped up on one of the chairs Bruce has slowly been amassing as the family grows.

“Hanging out with me really isn’t that bad, is it?” Barbara asks, turning her attention away from the screen for a moment as she leans back in her chair, elbows resting on the arms. “It’s just a sprain, stop pouting like I’m getting ready to hack your leg off.”

Cass smiles a little at that, arms dropping as she leans forward to take in the spread of the screen, watching a live feed from Bruce’s cowl and the multi-colored markers dotted across the city landscape during a quiet night of patrol. Nightwing blinks back at them from the westside of Blüdhaven, and he sends Cass his condolences.

Red Robin is the first to return due to an early morning meeting in about five hours, and returns the wave Cass offers him as he dismounts his bike. Barbara catches the crinkle of a paper bag as he jogs up to their platform, and his eyes are bright even in the dim light as he approaches, maskless.

“Hey,” he says as he jogs over, to which Barbara nods before he’s handing the bag over to Cass. “Got you something.”

She takes it with a raised eyebrow, and then she’s peering inside with a grin and pulling out a pint of chocolate ice cream.

“Hmm, my favorite,” she says, glancing up at him as she brandishes her ice cream and the plastic spoon he left tucked inside the bag.

“Yeah, you said it was your favorite,” Tim says and sets about the process of removing the rest of his gear, left in a haphazard pile on the conference table.

“Nope,” she says as she pries off the lid of her ice cream. “You are.”

“I’m right here,” Barbara says at the same Tim says, “Oh man, I can’t wait to tell Steph. She’s gonna lose it.”

Damian is the first to return, bike left beside Tim’s, and his footfalls are a little lighter than his older brother’s as he darts up the stairs. He greets both he and Barbara with curt nods. He then makes a beeline in Cass’ general direction and lays claim to the chair beside her, folding himself into it after kicking off his boots under the table.

“The overall evening was boring, but after foiling a mugging on Hudson...” he starts, promptly launching into giving Cass a rundown on various animals he spotted along his jaunt through the Financial District. She nods thoughtfully around her spoon at his remark that the Manor “could likely use another cat, but it’s much too full of animals already,” and smirks around a mouthful of ice cream at Tim’s derisive snort as he plops himself down in the chair across from him.

Steph is the last to return, with much more fanfare than her two cohorts, calling to them all from the platform below and greeted in kind by both Barbara and Tim and an eye roll from Damian. Cass smiles at her, brandishing her ice cream; Steph gives her two thumbs up.

“Jealous,” she says, dumping her belt and cape with the rest of the boys’ gear. She snags the chair across from Cass, and then gestures for the bandaged foot to rest it in her lap. Cass is not to the only one to sneak a peak as the dressing is redone to find the swelling has gone down some, though the bruising remains. “Ah, looks like you just got out of an amputation. Next time I won’t be so kind.”

Barbara settles back as she watches the rest of them prattle on, engage one another in conversation that’s more banter than bicker, a small smile gracing her features. Maybe twenty minutes pass—every one of which Cass makes it a point to not share her ice cream—before Alfred comes down to join them with a tray of grilled cheese sandwiches, met by a disjointed chorus of small cheers and greetings.

Bruce reaches out to Oracle in the middle of Steph debating the merits of the cheese pull with Alfred and Tim reminding Damian to eat the crust. How is she doing? he asks, and Barbara glances back to find Cass smiling at her, at them, and she shakes her head. I think she’s doing just fine.

send in a bat-prompt!

[zillyeh]

The Worst Kind of Found Family (part 1)

Word count: 1381

Content warning: Voss is in this

Synopsis: After returning from a long, long time away from Delhon City, Salvad makes... an acquaintance. Or two.

Google Doc

    Returning to the city after so long was… almost bizarre. Louder in ways, quieter in others. Salvad’s old hive had been in a state of mild disrepair when he returned, but Tiger had no qualms with finding a dusty corner to make her nest. The cats… Had slightly more difficult a time adjusting, but he was sure they’d be fine eventually. Maybe after he’d cleaned any. 

    The cops had just… left the scene of his kidnapping as it was, which he was thankfully unconscious throughout. It felt like just another mess to fix. And dust, looking at the inches that had accumulated while he was away.

   Starting with himself had been a better choice, though. Showered, clean shaven, but needing a haircut badly was much better. Though, he wasn’t sure if he didn’t like the way his hair hung around his shoulders… how his curls framed his face. He had been pondering that in the mirror when his doorbell rang, scaring the absolute shit out of him. Eclair bolted for the door when she heard it, zooming across his hive like mad.

   “I’m coming!” He called when it went off again, glad he’d been able to at least get dressed. He felt a creeping anxiety about who was at his door as he crossed his living room. He didn’t really have any friends. Not that he thought would catch up with him, anyway…

   The troll at his door was about his height, give or take an inch or two. Teal and scarred to all hell, but handsome nonetheless. He stood with his hands on his hips, a relaxed smile touching his green rimmed orange sclera. His odd eyes lit up when Salvad opened the door in a way that made him… uncomfortable, to say the least.

   “Hiya!” He said pleasantly, “Salvad Aarika, right?”

   “...Correct.” Sal said hesitantly, keeping the door partially closed. He didn't quite strike him as cop… But… Close. 

   “Oh good.” The freckled tealblood said with a clap. “There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

   “Is that someone… you?” The urge to slam the door was strong, yet still too rude for Sal to cope with doing. Though the cats were trying to get past him... “If this is about my… incident a few months ago I’m not-”

   “Oh, no, no no no, no. Well, kind of, but-” Sal slowly started to close the door anyway, but was met with one of the teal’s fancy oxfords between it and the frame.

   “Hold on now, let me finish, my god.” He insisted, keeping his foot there. “I’m here to deliver a message and that’s it, but I figured it’d be nicer to say hi to the younger Mr. Aarika.” He slipped a letter in the gap of the door between two fingers. Sal was almost immediately overwhelmed by the flowery… painfully familiar scent of it. That was… Hameil’s favorite… 

   “I can’t go unless you take this, kid.” The tealblood insisted, wiggling it in Salvad’s face. 

   “Ugh.” Salvad snatched the gold and yellow envelope from his hand, greedier than he thought he would be to smell that cologne again. He turned the letter over in his hand, his own name elegantly scripted across the front and a wax seal with… his own symbol? holding the back closed. 

   “Who the hell are you, anyway?" Sal demanded, wrenching the door back open some. 

   “That’s in there too.” He said, taking a decent step back with his hands up. “Impatience really gets you nowhere, but given the circumstances I’ll introduce myself. Name’s Voss.” 

   “Voss.” Salvad repeated, flipping open the envelope to find a heavy, gold inlaid card inside, with that same loopy handwriting and golden pen.

   “Voschi.” Voss grinned, gesturing to himself. “Voschi Horjan at your service. Well, not yours, but you know.”

   Salvad stopped listening after Horjan, pulling the small, one sided card out. The only writing was on the front, but there was a perfume company logo on the back that Sal immediately recognized. 

Dearest Salvad,     First, my deepest, most sincere condolences for all you’ve lost so many months ago. I had intended to send this the night I’d heard, but you had already left by the time I’d had anything of value penned.    Second, I do hope this doesn’t catch you at a bad time. I’ve instructed Voschi to be delicate, as I am unsure how you shall receive this. If you would be so inclined, I would like to meet you out at one of my establishments tomorrow. 10 o’ clock. I do believe we have much to discuss, more than I could begin to describe on such a small canvas.       Do send darling Voss home with a response. I’ve included the name and address of my favorite café in the envelope as well. It's a bit of a ride from where you live, but I hope you’ll indulge me just this once, sweetheart.

All my love,

                       Amillo Aarika

   Salvad looked to Voss for some explanation other than the one he was thinking of.

   “You have got to be kidding me.”

   “Do I look the joking type, Mr. Aarika?” Voss asked, his lopsided grin not exactly giving off a jesterly energy.

    “You certainly aren’t “delicate,” Mr. Horjan.” Salvad scoffed, tucking the card back in the envelope. Voss snorted.

    “Voss, I beg of you.” He said. “Got an answer? I’m not allowed to leave til I get one.”

   “Not allowed..?” Sal looked between him and the letter, stepping fully outside so the desperate cats behind him didn’t escape. Voss nodded.

   “Mr. S- er, A’s orders, y’see. The old man’s dying to meet you for reasons I hope you can guess.”

    That was all but a confirmation to Salvad’s creeping feeling. That- He couldn’t have an ancestor, could he? That felt too… high blooded, for him. And if he was still alive… that probably meant…

   “This isn’t some elaborate prank, is it?” Salvad had just been in the middle of a… scandal felt wrong, but that had to have been how papers reported on it. Two highbloods dead and he's the only one who walked away? Anyone could be trying to do anything. 

   “He’ll be happy to know you’re cautious, at least.” Voss said with a sigh. He yanked his shirt up and out of his pants, pulling down his waistband enough for Salvad to see far too much of his lower hip. On which sat the overly familiar curve of his symbol. Stylized, of course, and intwined with the one Voss wore on his shirt pocket.

   “I ain’t get this for you, big boy.” He said, readjusting his clothes once Sal abashedly looked away.

   “Prove it.” Salvad huffed. What a way to attempt to prove himself truthful. Still...

   “Oh that one’s up to you, kiddo. Mr. Aarika ain’t opposed to a hive call either, but he figured here might not be the bestest of places, y’know? Answer? Place has drinks, ah, suited to your new tastes.”

    Salvad let out a long, exasperated sigh. What the fuck was happening? He slid the address out of his envelope. Hm… that was pretty far- almost the other side of the city- but it was a very public, busy street, if he remembered correctly. Who’s to say he’d make it there, though? This Voss character could be a stalker. Or a serial killer. Both. But… Did Salvad have anything to lose? Certainly not now. He’d come home, but what was even here for him anymore? The cats? Tiger? They’d sort out their food chain without him.

    Maybe Amillo could offer some… direction, if he was real. 

    “Whatever. Fine, I’ll be there.”

    “Great!” Voss said with another clap. “And, before I take my leave, might I just say the resemblance is absolutely stunning? I really couldn’t believe it when I saw your-” Voss very suddenly stood straighter, eyes rapidly blinking for a good five seconds before his posture relaxed again.

    “Uh, what was I saying?” He asked a little confused, a touch of bloodshot blue right around his eyes. He sniffed and wiped at his nose, shaking his marred head a bit. “Oh, right, Mr. Aarika will be thrilled to see you. Pleasure, Salvad.” Voss beamed at him one more time, clumsily skipping off the few steps up to Sal’s door.

    Maybe showing up tomorrow was going to be a bad idea...

[nalgenewhore]

A rogue storm had her presumed dead and stranded on the red planet. Left on her own, astronaut Aelin Galathynius has four years to make it to the next drop-site, some two thousand miles. Armed with her smarts and dwindling supplies, Aelin attempts to survive on an inhospitable planet, when the nearest help is only millions of miles away.

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Her question stared at them.

LTN: How’d the crew take it when they found out I was alive?

She typed a new one,

LTN: Are you there? 

Sartaq whispered to Gavriel, “She needs to know now.”

Gavriel swallowed, hard, and ignored the fact that his hands were shaking as he replied.

TNSB: We haven’t told the crew you’re alive.

TNSB: We need them to stay focused on the mission.

It took awhile for her to respond and when she did…

LTN: They don’t know I’m alive?

LTN: What the fuck is wrong with you?

LTN: Are you fucking shitting me right now?

LTN: If you are, fuck you, that shit’s not funny.

Uneasy laughter erupted across the room and Gavriel hastily answered.

TNSB: Aelin, please, watch your language

TNSB: This conversation is being broadcasted worldwide

LTN: Oh worldwide, really?

LTN: Worldwide can suck my fucking dick

LTN: I’m stranded on a fucking planet and my crew thinks I’m dead and you want me to watch my language?

LTN: Get fucked

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Manon walked into Weylan’s office with Asterin, a look of ‘I told you so’ on her face. He held up a finger and pointed to the phone, speaking into it, “Yes, ma’am. Yes, I agree. She’s under a lot of stress… we understand. We’re dealing with it… Thank you, ma’am.”

He hung up and looked at Manon, “I just had to apologize to the gods-damned prime minister of Terrasen for Aelin’s crass language. What is it?”

“Aelin is right. It’s only going to get worse the longer we wait.”

“You’re only bringing this up because Gavriel’s in Perranth and can’t argue against it,” Weylan commented, a determined set to his jaw.

Manon made a sound of disgust, “I shouldn’t have to clear it with Gavriel or anyone else for that matter, not even you. It’s time, Weylan.”

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan was in the ship’s gym, raising himself to the bar and lowering himself again, sweat running down his body.

He had his earbuds in and the music stopped, Nesryn’s voice coming through, “Commander?”

Dropping to the floor and landing neatly, he grabbed the hand towel and wiped his face, breathing hard, “Go ahead, Faliq.”

“Data dump is almost complete,” she said, referencing the private emails and other things that the crew had been sent.

“Copy. Coming to you.” He entered the zero-gravity corridor, rendezvousing with Fenrys, “You look like you’re in a hurry.”

The man grinned a giddy grin, “Nehemia had her six-month ultrasound yesterday, she said she’d sent the pictures.”

Lorcan smiled easily, he was happy for the couple. “Tell her congrats for me and also send along my condolences.”

Fenrys furrowed his brow as he pushed himself forward using the rungs alongside the walls, “Why condolences?”

“Because it’s probably just set in that she’s having your child,” he laughed and easily evaded Fenrys’ poor attempt to hit him as the rotating craft synthesized gravity and they slid down to the rec room, where everyone had gathered.

Lorcan paused by Elide, where she was sitting curled on a couch with her personal laptop on her lap, to crouch before her and take her hand in both of his, murmuring words too low for the rest of the crew to hear.

Nesryn addressed everyone, “Dump is complete and sending out personals right… now. I don’t need to see Fen’s weird pregnancy fetish shit; I’m scarred for life after the incident.” The incident in question was when Nesryn had accidentally mixed up an email and had opened his and Nehemia’s rather… heated conversation. Rowan huffed a laugh at the memory and everyone shared a look; this was the happiest they’d seen him in the three months since they’d aborted the mission without Aelin.

Fenrys groaned, “I told you, second trimester hormones are a bitch.”

“Whatever does it for you, just keep me out of it,” she said, laughter in her dark eyes, “Oh, huh. There’s a video message from Manon, addressed to the whole crew.”

Everyone made their way over to the computer, crowding around as Nesryn clicked on the video.

Manon’s face appeared on the screen and the video began to play, her voice coming through the speakers, “Lani, this is Manon Blackbeak. I have some news to share, there’s no easy way to put this: Aelin Galathynius is alive.”

The knowledge hit the crew like a freight train at full speed and they remained in shock as the message continued, “We know that’s a big surprise and you’ll have a lot of questions but as for the basics: she’s healthy and alive. We found out two months ago and I was ordered not to tell you. We’re telling you now because we have reliable communication with her and a rescue plan. We’ll send you a full write-up of what happened but know that this is not your fault. Aelin has heavily stressed this: it is not your fault. Take time to absorb this, your schedules have been cleared for the next two days. Send all your questions and we’ll answer them. Blackbeak out.”

“She’s…she’s alive?” Elide whispered, voice barely heard.

Fenrys was the first to crack, a slow smile spreading across his face, relief in his eyes, “G-Money lives.”

Nesryn and Elide both huffed laughs and the latter wiped her eyes, shaking their heads. “She’s alive,” Nesryn confirmed, a ghost of a smile on her face.

They all turned to Rowan, his façade slipping enough that there was an upwards tilt to the corners of his mouth. “Holy shit.” The doctor turned to Lorcan, who had remained silent, “Lor?”

“I left her behind.”

Fenrys shook his head decidedly, “We all left, L. All of us.”

The stone-faced commander clenched his jaw, his brow furrowing, “You were following orders.” His eyes shattered and when Elide reached for his hand, he shifted, keeping his gaze on the computer screen. “I left her.”

The group traded glances, not sure what to say. Elide rested her hand on his bicep and without another word, he shook off her hold and exited the room.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Nesryn wasn’t paying attention and her wife could tell. The green-eyed beauty paused in her retelling of their teenaged daughter’s, Evangeline, first date. “Nes?”

“Hmm?”

Lysandra chuckled, “You still there?”

“Oh,” Nesryn sat up straighter and smiled sheepishly at Lysandra, nodding, “yeah, it’s just… been a long day. Weird day too.”

Her wife tilted her head to the side, her brilliant eyes missing nothing, “You okay? Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she said, her smile growing as a redheaded girl popped her head upside down in the frame, her citrine eyes pressed up against the camera.

“Mama!” Evangeline sat down on the couch next to Lysandra, the fifteen-year-old wearing Nesryn’s TNSB hoodie, the scarred-over slashes on her cheeks stretching as she grinned. She pressed her hand against the screen and Nesryn copied the motion, her eyes watering.

“Hi, my darling,” she whispered, “how are you?”

“I’m good. I miss you, Ma,” she pouted, but soon enough her lips pulled into that brilliant smile of hers again, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“I miss the both of you so much and I can’t wait to see you either,” Nesryn replied, the sight of her family so happy and healthy mending her heart, even if it was just a bit. “Evie, your mother tells me you went on a date?”

Lysandra and Nesryn laughed as their daughter’s cheeks went bright red, her scars stark white against her flushed skin. “…maybe.”

“Tell me all about it.”

“Are you sure? It was a boy,” Evangeline said, a wrinkle to her button nose.

Nesryn faked a gagging sound and inhaled deeply, “I think I can handle it.”

The joyful chatter of their daughter soon spilled from the speakers and Nesryn gave her wife a soft look, mouthing I love you as she let the perfectness of her two favourite people in the world wash over her and strip away the day’s events. 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

When Lorcan didn’t return for the rest of the night, the sadness that had erupted in Elide’s chest turned to anger and she sought him out, finding him in his bunk, staring at nothing.

He didn’t acknowledge her as she climbed up so she did what any sensible person would do.

She jabbed him in the side with her index and middle finger, finding the soft flesh beneath his ribcage, glaring at him when he cried out in shock and pain. He met her angered gaze with one of his own, irritation rippling in his dark irises beneath lowered brows. 

Elide shook her head, “Don’t know why the fuck you’re pissy with me now.”

He sighed, “What do you want?”

She raised a brow, tilting her head to the side and tracking his face with watchful eyes. “You’re being a dick and I’m not putting up with it so…” she made to leave, blinking back tears, but his hand shot out and wrapped around hers.

“Don’t go, I’m sorry,” he said, tugging her back into his lap. The bunk was already a tight fit for Lorcan, who at six-foot-four and two-hundred and ten pounds was at the maximum size restrictions to be an astronaut, so with Elide as well, it became even smaller. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that,” she murmured, twisting to straddle his lap and brush his hair back from his eyes. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because I left the woman my brother loves on a planet, with practically no way to survive. Fuck,” he muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. “I don’t- I love you so much. I can barely breathe right without knowing you’re safe and I… I can’t help feeling guilty for condemning her to death. El.” He opened his eyes and flicked his gaze down to her necklace, where his dog tags laid between her breasts. The weight of her mother’s wedding band hanging on his own necklace had never felt more pronounced. “She might die, alright? And if she does, it will be my fault and I just… I can’t live with the knowledge of breaking Rowan’s heart like that.”

He took a deep breath, not used to speaking that much all at once. Elide offered him a gentle smile and framed his face with her hands, her eyes searching his, “I love you so much. Right now, Ae is alive and healthy, ok? That’s all we need to think about right now. If she dies, it will never be your fault and yes, it will hurt so much – more than anything. If she dies, the whole crew will be broken. We’ll be there for each other and for Ro, too.” She pressed her lips to his, kissing him so softly, it was heartbreaking. “Ok?”

All Lorcan could do was cup the back of her head and kiss her harder, selfishly thanking every god that it wasn’t Elide in Aelin’s place.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: welp....now they know! and as always, lovies, comment/send me an ask to be added/removed from the tag list! 

@mythicaitt​ @kandasboi​ @schmlip-scribble​ @the-regal-warrior​ @westofmoon​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @rhysands-highlady​ @city-of-fae​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tangledraysofsunshine​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​ @flora-and-fae​ @queenofxhearts​ @that-other-pineapple​ @sleeping-and-books​ @superspiritfestival​ @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @chemicha​ @rowaelin-cressworth​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @candid-confetti​ @bat-wing-rhys​ @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear​ @feyrethedarklady​ @booklover41802​ @rowaelinforeverworld​ @jamesxdaisy​ @julemmaes​ @hellas-himself​

[bssaz97]

“Call Me Back Part 3”

*Wallwood, The Next Day*

Young Woman: Mister Denver, you have a vista or here to see you. They say they’re Beacon Officials.

Denver: Oh! Send them in please!

As the mayor’s receptionist opens the door two figures walk in. One is a older woman with whitening platinum hair and piercing emerald green eyes. The other is a young looking man with black hair, a tan complexion, and hazel eyes. Denver recognizes this as Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch and her assistant Oscar Pine from the newly reopened Beacon Academy. Standing up from his desk, Denver goes to greet the two visitors.

Denver: Ms. Goodwitch, it is a pleasure to see you in my humble village. How may I be of service to you.

Glynda: Thank you Mayor Denver for having us, I only wish it was under better circumstances.

Denver: Yes...I’ve been told about the investigation about the whereabouts of Mr. Arc. If there’s anything I can be of service to you, ask away!

Oscar: We’ve been told about the disappearance by a friend of ours, I’m sure you remember Ruby Rose calling you yesterday morning.

Denver: Oh yes, I remember that conversation very well, it’s honestly been on my mind for sometime. I’ve talked to Mr. Arc very briefly but he seemed very dedicated to his fiancé, she was all he ever talked about.

Glynda: If we may Mayor, would be able to remember any places that Jaune Arc was lodging at during his stay at the village, places he went, and people he may have talked to while in Wallwood?

Denver: Well I could give you the address of where he was staying but for who he talked to, you will need to ask around I’m afraid.

Glynda: That should start our investigation well enough. Thank you Mayor Denver we appreciate your cooperation.

Denver: My pleasure Ms. Goodwitch! I hope you are able to find him.

Both Goodwitch and Oscar leave the mayor’s office and make their way outside. After being given the address of Jaune’s lodging they go to the local inn and ask the owner for permission to investigate the room. Once the owner agreed they make their way up to the room assigned to Jaune during his stay and opened the door. As they expected the room was cleaned up and everything looked presentable for when new guests come to rent the room.

Glynda: Drat! Just as I thought they cleaned the room of any evidence by now.

Oscar: Not necessarily. (Walk to the middle of the room)

Glynda: Oscar, the room has probably been changed much to often for you to pick up anything from here.

Oscar:(Looks back at her) You’re probably right but I still need to give it a shot.

Oscar inhales briefly while closing his eyes, reaches behind him to grab the same old cane passed down to him by his predecessor for safekeeping. He raises it a few inches off the floor, then once the exhales he brings his cane down. Doing sends a green glow around the room for a brief moment, then recedes back to Oscar as he opens his eyes. He turns back to Goodwitch with a frown on his face.

Glynda: What did you see?

Oscar: Nothing to help our investigation, or help us find Jaune quicker.

Glynda:(Breathes in then out) Oscar, I know that this may be hard for you to hear but...I don’t think we’ll be finding Jaune Arc-.

Oscar: We will find him, I’m certain of it. I was able to sense where he was planning to go, the only problem was he would have to go along the Woodland Trail passage.

Glynda: I see. So it seems like we will need a larger search party than just the two of us.

Oscar: Nothing to fear though, I just contacted Penny awhile ago, said she was willing to help us out with eyes in the sky.

Glynda: ...Hmph.(Smiles) Sometimes I forget that you have a thousand year old mind inside that head of yours. Always thinking ahead.

Oscar: I try my best.

Glynda: Well come along, we’ll have better chance of finding him when we have daylight.

Oscar: Yes mam.

*Few hours later*

The group of hunters, volunteers, and a flying maiden spend a good part of the day looking for any trace of the missing Jaune Arc. Many were friends of his and Ruby; like Lie Ren, Nora, Blake and Sun. Other volunteer included some of the villagers of Wallwood who had volunteered to help with the search. The light of day was starting to disappear, as was many’s hope of finding any indication of where the blonde knight may have went. Oscar usual optimism was starting to fade into worry. They had search almost every part of this path and they couldn’t find anything. As we was getting a bit frantic in his search, he heard a noise from above. Upon looking up Oscar sees Penny descending to the ground.

Oscar: Please tell me you found something Penny.

Penny: (Struggles to look at his eyes) I...I did....But I’m afraid you won’t like it.

Oscar felt a dark feeling in his stomach and hope it wasn’t what he thought it was. Soon after Oscar told the group over comms that Penny something and soon began to follow after as she leads the way. The feeling in Oscar’s stomach starts to grow as he starts noticing the forest around them begin to look more... battle scarred. Eventually they follow Penny as she leads them to an opening in the forest...there truly was no words to describe what he was seeing.

Around them the entire scenery was cleared, but not from natural causes. There was a familiar smell in the air of battle. Trees knocked over or cut down, patches of ground where areas were scorched, and a very ominous crater. How could anybody have missed this, this clearing was very near Wallwood so why didn’t anyone take notice of fighting.

Sun: Gods. It looks like a war zone here.

Blake: How did nobody notice this, there’s no way that people didn’t hear this happen.

Oscar: We can ask those questions later, right now we need to see if Jaune was a part of this struggle or not.

Penny: Oscar...this isn’t why I brought you here.

Oscar: What?

Penny signaled him to follow him and once the go behind one of the trees in the middle of the clearing. Oscar sees Goodwitch standing there, with her glasses off and wiping her eyes with her free hand. They make brief eye contact and Oscar follows where she was looking at before....and wished he hadn’t.

Oscar:(Backs away) No...no, no, no, no, no... (Covers his mouth)

Glynda:(Walk over time her assistant and places her hand on his shoulder) I truly am sorry. I...I wanted to be weong too.

Glynda walks away from him as Oscar tries to process this as best he could but all that was coming to his head were memories. Cherished memories of his younger years when he first met team RNJR, Yang, Weiss and Qrow, how they began their journey to stopping a plot to destroy mankind. Many of these memories have Ruby and Jaune as focal points, the two being role models for him and soon became greater friends he could ever hope to gain. However, right now, he was staring at what was essentially the lifeless corpse of someone he had grown to call a brother. There were so many emotions coming over him, pain, anguish, sadness, anger, and all these things made him want to empty his stomach.

Oscar feel something taking his hand and looks down to see a black gloved hand encompassing his own. He looks at the owner and sees Penny with a almost misty eyed looking expression. She tightened her hold of his hand.

Penny: I’m sorry for your loss.

‘Loss’...it was at those words that he truly began to feel dread. It wasn’t just him that will suffer from this revelation. He can overhear Glynda giving the news to the rest of the group, and he could hear Nora practically struggling to get past Goodwitch’s semblance to see her fearless leader. It hurts his heart to hear Nora began breaking down into sobs as she tries to deny what she had been told. Once freed, Oscar can hear Ren taking hold of Nora as she crumbles on the ground. The others not much better, understandable as they knew Jaune longer and felt crushing grief as even Yang gave way to tears. It was then that a crushing truth that hadn’t occurred to him yet. ‘Ruby.’ Her fiancé was dead... how could he face her after she practically begged him and the others to find him and bring Jaune back to her. From this Oscar began groaning within himself and he too starts to give way to tears. Not only or his loss, but everyone’s. Especially Ruby.

*Two Month Later*

Ruby woke up from her slumber, once again to see a empty space in her bed, something she still found hard to grasp. Just two months ago she attended the funeral of her fiancé Jaune Arc. She had no words to describe the crushing pain she felt that day, only that it didn’t go away. A lot of her friends and family came to attend. Jaune’s family was there too, but she didn’t have the strength or the courage to face them. She didn’t feel she had any right to face them, feeling too grieved and ashamed of facing his parents. Saphron and Terra gave her their condolences, which was nice but honestly it didn’t make her feel much better.

How was she to supposed to get better after this. This wasn’t the first time she had a death of someone close to her; her mother, Phyrra, Maria. But honestly this felt much heavier blow. Be a after her mom, Jaune was the one fill her life with so much love and she wanted to spend every moment of it with him. But now he was gone....she was alone again.

Ruby: Why...why him...(Crying)

*Knock! Knock! Knock!*

Yang: Rubes? You awake?

Ruby didn’t respond just continued to cry into her pillow. Much too grieved to give her sister a response. However, Yang took this as a sign to enter and once she came in she saw the state of her sister, Yang looked down and sighed. Once Yang makes her way over to the bed she nudges Ruby’s elbow.

Ruby: Go away....

Yang: Rubes you gotta get up and do your exercises, you’ve been laying down for weeks on end.

Ruby: (Pushes her head closer to the pillow) Please just leave me be...

Yang: Look I know you really don’t want to but you got to get up, it’s not good to stay just sitting here while you’re in you last trimester. The doctor said so.

Ruby: The doctor can go fuck herself.

Yang was taken aback at Ruby’s plain unfazed use of a swear, as she almost rarely, if she ever used one.

Yang: Ruby....

Ruby: Yang please I... I’ll come out in a bit...just....leave me be...I don’t feel like doing anything right now.

Yang: ....Ok. Ok, I’ll be waiting down stairs for you ok. Just be there whenever you’re ready.

Yang walk away from the door and steps to the side where she could see Ruby remain unmoved on the bed. She knew that she wouldn’t go on much longer than this. Ruby needed someone to help her through her grief, but her inexperience witb this sort of matter, Yang knew there was only one person to help her sister out.

*The Next Day*

Ruby was sitting on the couch with a plate of crackers and pickles of all things, she’ll never understand why she craved them now but she didn’t care. Her hair had grown down to past her shoulders and was mostly unkempt. She was watching another rerun on the Holo-TV when she heard a noise.

*Knock! Knock! Knock!*

Ruby: Yaaaaaang! Can you get the door!

Yang:(From the Kitchen) I’m making your next meal sis! Sorry but you’re gonna have to get the door at some point! Besides you’re closer.

Ruby:(Groans) Fiiiiiinnneee! But for the record, I’m the one carrying two babies in me you know! So don’t blame me if I need to get my legs massaged again!

Yang looked in the corner of her eye to watch as Ruby stood gently up to stand on her feet and walked towards the door. Yang hid her smile, phase one was complete. Now she just needs to count on phase two to work.

Ruby walks towards the door at a moderate pace while holding the wall and makes it to the door slightly out of breath. Secretly cursing Yang for making her walk her all the way over to the door. She opens the door and to her surprise she sees someone who she hasn’t seen for a good few weeks.

Ruby: Dad?

Taiyang: Hey Sweetie, hope you don’t mind your old man dropping in do you?

Ruby: N-no, not at all come on in.

The two make their way inside her home and find themselves in the living room where Ruby originally found herself in, the only exception was her dad was there. For a few moments neither of them said anything, just comfortable with the normal silence.

Taiyang:(Clears Throat) Well it looks like you have a nice place around here. I know I don’t come by to often. Not since, well you know.

Ruby:(Looks down) Mmmph.

Taiyang: I see you decided to grow your hair out?

Ruby: Oh yeah, I don’t...haven’t had time to go out of the house lately. (Coughs) Would you like some water or anything Dad?

Taiyang: Sure if you’re offering.

As if she read their minds, Yang came to the living room and brought them two glasses of water.

Yang: Here you go! (Leaves to go back to the kitchen)

Taiyang: Thanks my little sun dragon!~

Ruby:(Giggles lightly) You know she hates that you still call her that.

Taiyang: Well I’m her father so I can still call her whatever I please. Doesn’t matter if she’s grown or not!

Ruby:(Giggles) ...So what’s this visit about?

Taiyang: What? Do I need a reason to see my baby girl as she’s about to have babies of her own.

Ruby: So there’s isn’t a particular reason why you’re stopping by.

Taiyang:(Scratching his neck) Well I didn’t say that....How are you holding up?

Ruby:(Breathes in) Fine. I’m as good as I can be. (Avoids looking at him)

Taiyang:(Tries to look at her face) You know sweetheart, you never were a good liar.

Ruby:(Stiffens) So...what if I’m lying. Is it so wrong to hide what I’m truly feeling...

Taiyang: No, no! Of course not. I understand why you’re feeling this way.

Ruby:(Looks at him critically) Do you? Do you really Dad?

Taiyang: ...More than you know.

Ruby holds her breath, in that moment she saw in her father something she hadn’t seen in awhile. Understanding.

Taiyang: Ruby...When I first lost your mother, I felt like I was stuck in place. Like I wasn’t living reality anymore and I was stuck in a dream that I never would wake up from. I didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere because I was afraid I would have to face the fact that...she was gone and never coming back. I have a feeling that you’re going through something similar right now.

Ruby: I.... I-It’s so hard to just...do anything anymore. Everytime I look at my scroll I feel like I want to pass out. I...was so angry when he didn’t call back... I-I ‘sniff’ what if I-I’m the reason he...I was trying so hard to talk to him that I didn’t even consider that he may have been in danger... I let myself be so stupid and think that he was the bad guy in that instance that I didn’t even bother to check up sooner on how he was doing! I-I killed him Dad! I didn’t call anyone until it was too late and now HE’S GONE BECAUSE OF ME!

Ruby brought her hands to her face, to cover her face as she wept intensely. Immediately Taiyang hugs his daughter into his embrace. Whispering sweet nothings to her, doing his best to comfort his grieving daughter. After nearly twenty minutes of crying Ruby had began to calm down or as calm as she could. Once she does, Taiyang takes his baby girl’s face in his hands and so she could see him for what he’s going to say.

Taiyang: Listen to me sweetheart, you are not to blame for what happened. You didn’t know and no one could have known what would happen. It is not your fault! I know it’s a hard thing to do but you need to have mercy on yourself.

Ruby: I don’t know how...it feels like in a deep abyss that I can’t crawl out of...I-I can’t do this on my own.

Taiyang: Ruby, you are never gonna be alone. You have me, Yang, and all of your friends who are here for you. They know you’re in deep pain but you have to let them help you to heal, even if it feels painful to bring up those hard moments.

Ruby: ‘Sniff’ Is...is this feeling ever going to go away?

Taiyang: That’s the thing about grief sweetheart...it never fully goes away. In time it lessens but at some points it’ll come back at full force. It’s something you are going to be battling for a long time. So...do you want to start fighting back?

Ruby: ....Yes.

Taiyang places a piece a paper in her hand that looks aged but still readable.

Ruby: What’s this?

Taiyang: Something I wrote down to help me during my tough days. I think you may need it more right now more than I ever did.

Ruby holds the piece of paper close to her and hugs her dad tightly, which he reciprocates.

Ruby: Thank you Dad.... I really needed that.

Taiyang: Anytime my little bud.

Ruby smiles she looks to read the message and she reads it out loud.

Ruby: “I forgive myself, I forgive my weakness, I forgive my my actions. I am prone to mistakes, I am not perfect, I’m only human. It is ok to feel sad, but I do not let my sorrow consume me. I am strong not for my strength, but to admit my weakness. But most importantly... I still love myself...as those who have loved me” ‘Sniff’ You wrote all this?

Taiyang: To be fair I did read a lot of books while you two were younger so I had time to make a summary of it.

Ruby:(Giggles) You’re such a dork!

Taiyang: Hey I’m your dad, it’s my job to be a dork at times. (Places his hand on her left shoulder) Anytime you feel the need to cry or talk things out, my door is always going to be open to you.

Ruby: Thanks Dad....hey did you spill some water on me when you hugged me from before?

Taiyang:(Looks to see his water glass on the table) Um...no? Why?...oh. Oh! Oh my gods Ruby I think your water just broke! Yang Ruby’s water broke we need to get her to the Hospital!

Yang: Wait really?! Shit! I’ll get the car ready!

Ruby: What?! (Looks down to see a large wet area in her sweat pants) Oh god! It’s happening right now?! I’m not ready!

Taiyang: I’m sorry little bud, but I don’t think those babies are going to wait. Come on just take my hand and we’ll get you there soon.

Ruby:(Following her Dad) Oh! I just got out of my funk!

-End of Part 3; will be concluded in Part 4 -

*Please don’t hate me! Another cliffhanger see you next time!*

[freshiegayboi]

Asking the Right Questions chap. 1

an older MCU fic of mine, but clearly one of the most popular fics I’ve ever written lol if you’re new and go snooping in my other content, don’t say you didn’t see the warnings

Tags: hurt Tony Stark, eventual Polyvengers, BAMF Jarvis, protective everyone, therapy positive, ABO universe (no lemons!), angst, hurt/comfort, Canon Divergence

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842203/chapters/44717005

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was cold in the shop, colder than the cave, colder than space even though just the thought of that seemed impossible. Space had been an empty void of nothing, absolutely nothing but ice and fear and the awful feeling of being so utterly alone. He’d been so afraid, when he’d gone through that wormhole and been suddenly surrounded by so much nothing. And he was afraid now, but for an entirely different reason.

His eyes flitted over the monitors, watching as Clint and Natasha laughed, Sam telling some story with his arms in the air, the three of them sharing quite a large meal of what looked like fried chicken tenders and biscuits, thick mac and cheese and an unhealthy amount of mashed potatoes. The very sight of it made his mouth water, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he wondered if there’d be any left for him to steal, after the others had gone to bed.

He felt the same old worry enter his thoughts; that he was letting them down by not interacting, by staying locked up down here all day and night and only coming out after they’d all were long asleep, disappearing before they came back out in the morning. Sure he was available when duty called, already suited up and out to wherever they’d been called to serve up some good ole UN style justice.

Still, some part of him was relieved to not see Steve or their newest charge anywhere in frame. He’d seen them in the kitchen and had quickly switched feed, unwilling to let his thoughts drift that harshly. Not that he had much control over them in the first place, but it was his last ditch effort in staving off that panic attack he’d been fighting off since Steve had come and told him the news.

New York seemed so long ago, and he and the rest of the team had certainly come a long way, eventually moving from the easily blown up Tower to the Compound that was a bit easier to protect. On the surface, it had concrete shelters for the occasional tornado, safe rooms for anyone that might need protecting, and an excellent system of rooms for various purposes. It also had enough space to hide away the population of at least two large cities in the catacombs underneath, not that Tony planned on advertising that unless absolutely necessary.

But New York was far away, the Chitauri and Loki so very far away, but then all the shit with Killian and Extremis had happened, and hadn’t that left its own scars on his psyche. Then finding all the Hydra outposts after Steve and Natasha had outed the tentacle ridden hide of Shield to the world, saving all the outed agents that needed saving, sending condolences to the families of the ones they couldn’t save. Tony had been… well, more than a bit pissed about the lack of foresight on that, but it wasn’t as if the two of them had very much time to consult him about it. (Sometimes he wondered who they could have saved if he’d been told, even a day or two before.)

And of course Steve’s old war buddy (that Tony was at least 89% positive had been more than a “buddy”) turned out to be a Hydra ghost that had a hand in at least 30 assassinations in the past 50 or so years. Steve wanted to go after him, find him, help him. Tony wanted to leave the damn guy alone, since it was obvious what he wanted was little more than the ones who’d tortured him for 70+ years to mysteriously end up with a bullet between their eyebrows, but Steve was Steve. He was a friend, more than a friend sometimes; he was the one Tony went to when he had his breakdowns and panic attacks and Rhodey wasn’t there to help and he just… couldn’t stomach being alone. Even when Steve did stupid crazy shit and Tony was left to pick up the pieces, Steve always, in the end, came to help him.

The main issue, the whole reason Tony had been hiding out in the first place, was that Steve had taken him aside, sometime after the first mission to go stake out an old Hydra base, and had informed him that he needed to tell him something. Something important, something that would probably change things.

Tony hated change, had hated it every time something big happened and everything changed, but this was Steve, and if he said it was important, then it was important.

Finding out that the old War Buddy, Buck Barnes, best friend of Captain America and lover boy of the Howling Commandos, the guy that his father would mourn with the others, the man they had just recently found out was still alive... he was the one that'd done old Howard in. Had killed his mother . And yeah, that changed things, it really did, but...

But then Sokovia had happened, Ultron had happened, and things got a bit patchy. Tony had new things to have nightmares about, Steve was in his room a little more often than usual, and even when Tony explained that he and Bruce hadn’t actually made Ultron, the team felt a little more distant than he remembered them being. He didn't have time to think about Bucky or what he'd done, who he'd killed , not on top of everything else that was running through his already crowded head.

And the Accords, hadn’t that been a shitshow. Steve had been against them, of course, worrying that the government just wanted more control over everything they did. Tony knew that they needed structure, needed rules, or Sokovia would happen over and over again. New York would happen again. Eventually Steve had come around to the idea, and when the bomb went off and killed the Wakandan king and they learned it was Bucky, well, Steve had backup when he went to go get him. (And even if the thought of seeing him made Tony feel physically ill, he went because Steve asked him to, had practically begged. Tony couldn't say no to that.)

Now Bucky was with them, safe and under protection by the UN as a POW that had been brainwashed into doing all the horrible shit he’d done over the last 50 years, on the condition that they'd get his head fixed. The Accords were in effect, Zemo’s plan had pretty much no effect at all, and the team was stronger than it’d been before.

And then… and then Tony had gotten the file on the Winter Soldier, compiled by FRIDAY, and had found that Steve had been telling the truth, that… that he’d finally found his parents’ killer. His mother’s murderer. He’d finally found out why they crashed that night, why they’d been found strangled when they should have survived the crash.

And he hadn’t talked to Steve since. He couldn't, couldn't look at him when he was so busy helping Bucky back on his feet, not when he felt his windpipe slowly crushing in and his chest filling with molten lead any time he was even in the same room. Hell, the same fucking building. He could smell the scent of the broken alpha when he went into different rooms, his own instincts battling with his absolute terror.

The smell of an approaching alpha made his hackles raise as he turned away from the monitors, his own synthetic pheromones leaking out into the room to let whoever it was know that he was on the edge, and not to be messed with. He watched the door to the elevator, waiting for tense seconds until it opened and Natasha walked through, a plate of steaming food in her hands.

She walked up a respectful distance, then raised a brow, the look perfected like only an alpha could do. Tony refused to turn throat, raising his own brown in question.

“Figured even our resident genius needed food. It’s damn good.” She lifted the plate in question, waiting for his permission to come closer and give it to him.

There was no question who the superior in this room was though, especially given extenuating circumstances. Tony finally glanced down, allowing her to finish her walk over to his desk, placing the plate heaping with chicken and biscuits on top of a mountain of mashed potatoes, white gravy covering it all on the desktop beside him. Then she took a respectful step back and he felt himself relax a little, even as his instincts begged her to come closer.

Something must have slipped through his mask of indifference, Natasha glancing at the camera feed before speaking again. “You know you’ll have to come out of hiding some time, medvezhonok. All of us do.” And with that she turned foot, face as placid as when she’d come in, and headed back to the elevator, leaving him to his steaming plate of goodness that was, unsurprisingly, the best fried chicken and biscuits he’d ever had. If he wasn’t currently avoiding the both of them, he’d have begged them to teach him how to make more traditional southern food. They seemed to have some kind of innate talent for it, despite being Brooklyn boys through and through.

Busying himself with blueprints for the next Starkpad and all the new projects that needed to be approved from R&D, he worked through until 3 in the morning, after which the stains of gravy and hardened scrapes of mashed potato had left a caked substance on the plate. Checking the camera feed he found no one about, no one lurking or otherwise awake. Which, it was 3 in the morning, it’d be strange if they were.

Sneaking upstairs, he put his plate in the dishwasher, grabbed the box of leftover chicken tenders, glanced back toward the guest rooms. Then headed back down to the shop.