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#c: livvy
pyreshe · 5 months
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it is missing my girl hours,
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wiltf · 2 years
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passing by
ao3//
With a knock at the door, you pause. Wait for the soft “come in” to ring out, before you push it open.
Morgan swivels on their chair when you cross the threshold, eyebrow raised. Twirling a pen between their fingers probably too fast, and you don’t know if you should. Cross your arms. Study at the drawings on their pin board. Stare at a rather interesting piece of clothing, half tucked under the bed.
“What’s up, Livvy? Did you need mum?”
Bite your lip. “No, uh, I was actually looking for—for you? If that’s alright?”
At the raise of brows, and a nod towards the bed, as they drag themselves over. You make your way over, settling down carefully. Unmade. Unusual for Morgan. They pull a leg up, crossed now. “Shoot.”
Okay. Hadn’t expected to get this far. And you couldn’t quite figure out how to start, short of raising your hands in a I come in peace sign. That actually earns you a facial expression you recognise, only for it to smooth into something…
Smug?
“So I think we should talk about, y’know,” hand wave, careful of where you move your foot, “Lately.”
Slow blink. “Roach?”
You hadn’t expected to land on that topic so fast, so you divert. So quickly and easily with a solid: “I mean… no like—”
“I’m twenty-six, Livvy.” That’s amusement, back in their voice. Tilt their head and you can never figure out what it is they see when they stare at you.
“I know, I know, I just…”
There’s a smile, soft, corner of their mouth. “I appreciate the concern.” Push back with their chair, a half spin towards the desk. Set the pen down and you hadn’t noticed until now. The photo sitting just there.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” you apologise, not sure if it was right. Filling the gaps in conversation. Morgan was being.
Weird. Weirder than usual.
And then they look at you once more, picking up the photo and handing it over. Turn it around in your hands and it’s Morgan and Roach. Arms around each other, and you don’t think you can remember the last time you’d seen Morgan smile so wide. They were covered in dirt and helmets on askew and. Happy.
“…they made me feel really safe, if you have to know.” They flex their fingers then, stretched in front. There’s that smile that plays around their eyes now. Flicks up towards you.
“Oh that’s…” Clear your throat. Quick look to the ground, then back up. “I’m happy for you.”
Morgan stretches then, and there it is. Conversation cleaned up, nice and easy. Except you clear your throat, with one more question, just to be sure.
“‘Roach’, though?”
“Don’t ask. I don’t even get it.” A rolling of their eyes, and they’re up, standing.
Following suit, you carefully step around the clothes now. “They change their story every time.”
“I know.” Morgan actually laughs at that. “I know.”
It’s quiet now, but a timer goes off in the distance, and Morgan gives you a look. “Want some lunch? I put a pasta dish on.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Follow them, until they motion for you to go first. Always falling instep, until Morgan is two steps behind. Click their neck, and no rush to rescue whatever it was that was cooking. Like everything had just. Slowed down. You couldn’t remember them ever being like this.
Not until you’re halfway down the stairs, do you turn to look back up Morgan. “… you really like them, huh?”
There now, that smile is directed at you. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
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ateezivy · 1 year
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how ateez act now that ivy is out of hiatus
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warning! mentions of ED (eating disorder) and mental health issues.
hongjoong
so cautious with her, as if she’s made of glass
always asking if she’s okay, if she needs anything
honestly he’s kind of just up her ass 😭😭
and he doesn’t plan on stopping that
he watches her eat, workout, practice, everything. making sure she’s not over doing or under doing anything.
“how are you feeling today oliv” “do you need help with that ivy?” “you shouldn’t be pushing yourself so hard yanno”
she can get a little frustrated with him from time to time, but she takes a deep breath and reminds herself there’s a reason for his concerns.
seonghwa
he’s the one bringing her food, keeping her hydrated, everything.
always asking if she’s eaten, had water, had a shower, brushed her teeth.
if she’s having a bad mental health day he helps her out a lot
praising her 25/8 honestly
you would think she’s a goddess from the way seonghwa speaks to her.
“ahh, our pretty livvy is awake” “jisoo-ah, have you had any waffles yet?” “ivy, why don’t you take a break, grab a water and snack”
she feels like royalty around this man.
yunho
he’s pretty cautious too, but definitely still the same yunho.
he knows she doesn’t want to be treated like a patient everywhere she goes, so he treats her just the same
but he is definitely more protective and cuddly with her
she get up to use the bathroom and he’s immediately asking if she’s okay
“ivy-ah, want to go grab something to eat?” “how are you feeling today?” “oh, ji, be careful where you’re going, you know you bruise easily”
yunho is still her big cuddle buddy.
yeosang
yeosang… he was very upset when i’ve left. there were times where he blamed himself even.
so now, he’s been clinging onto her for dear life.
he never wants her to feel the way she felt before she left. so he’s going to make sure she never does. that his buddy.
they go out and do things all the time together.
they stay up late just to talk about random things.
“i’m so glad you’re back” “wanna rant?” “you know i tried this new restaurant while you were gone, you should try it”
she’s never felt closer to him.
san
he’s so freakin happy she’s back !!
he’s jumping up and down just thinking about her return.
he wants to hang out with her all the time.
but he’s also there to protect her as if villains are after her.
keeps her entertained while she eats so she isn’t thinking too much about it.
“ooh, wanna hear what happened the other day-“ “let watch a movie, i’ll grab the popcorn” “YOU’RE HOME”
she feels so loved
mingi
he cried when she came back.
if it’s a bad mental health day, he’s helping her with everything from showering to eat to brushing her teeth.
cuddles for hours, with snacks, movies, and a shit ton of blankets.
will not let go of her, sleeps in her room with her and everything
he’s glued to her, she’s not going anywhere ever again.
“come here, let’s take a nap” “you are that chicken i bought you right?” “you are beautiful”
she’s never felt more appreciated and loved by someone. mingi is her soulmate.
wooyoung
he’s all over her
literally non stop cuddling and everything since she’s been back
mingi has had to pull him away just to talk to her many times.
he will feed her if it means he doesn’t have to move away from her
he was a little cautious when she first came back, but it didn’t take long for everything to settle in
“ivy-ah. how i’ve missed you” “oppa, i’ve been back for a week”
“our ivy-ah is the coolest” “i’m cold” *smothers her*
yeah she hides from him but she loves him
jongho
he missed her so much, and it was so obvious to everyone around him.
so when she came back he did get a little emotional, which can be rare coming from jjong
he’s really soft with her, doesn’t want anyone pushing ANY boundaries
he protects her 24/7 like her personal bodyguard
he lets her do anything she wants. literally anything.
she can never do wrong
“welcome home jisoo-ah” “are you okay? do you need anything?” “yah, watch your mouth speaking to her like that”
she’s never been so grateful
taglist: @atolua @skzfairies @itzy-eve @cixrosie @stopeatread @alixnsuperstxr @smh-anon
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camelspit · 11 months
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Best Keeper Character Bracket
Round 1
May 18: Alden Vacker, Fitzroy Vacker, Della Vacker, Biana Vacker, Alvar Vacker
May 19:
a) Lady Alexine, Lady Anwen, Lady Belva, Lady Dara, Lady Delmira
b) Lady Evera, Lady Iskra, Lady Ceah, Lady Pemberley, Lady Nissah
c) Lady Sanja, Lady Veda, Sir Beckett, Sir Caton, Sir Conley
d) Sir Donwell, Sir Faxon, Sir Harding, Sir Jarvin, Sir Rosings
May 20: Blur, Juline Dizznee, Mr. Forkle, Tiergan Alenfar, Wraith
May 21: Empress Pernille, King Gowg, Luna the Alicorn, Queen Gundula, Wynn the Alicorn
May 22: Garwin Chang, Ollie Heks, Shayda Adel, Valin, Vertina
May 23: Lady Zillah, Livvy Sonden, Master Cadence Talle, Rayni Aria, Viks Heks
May 24:
a) Bullhorn the Banshee, Iggy the Imp, Princess Purryfins the Murcat, Silveny the Alicorn, Verdi the Dino
b) Brant and Jolie's Gremlin, Gildie the Flaredon, Marty the Cat, Twinkle the Titanboa, Watson the Dog
May 25: Boobrie Dude, Councillor Terik, Damel Kafuta, Mr. Sweeney, Timkin Heks
May 26: Elysian, Fintan Pyren, Keefe Sencen, Lady Vespera Folend, Sophie Foster
May 27: Barth the Reaper, Brisa, Ceri, Juji, Thales the Sower
May 28:
a) Amisi the Gnome, Brier the Gnome, Gerda the Gnome, Gora the Gnome, Kloris the Gnome
b) Lur the Gnome, Mitya the Gnome, Nesrin the Gnome, Sior the Gnome, Vered the Gnome
May 29: Edaline Ruewen, Grady Ruewen, Jolie Ruewen, Linh Song, Tam Song
May 30: Durand Redek, Eleanor Wright, Emma Foster, Ethan Benedict Wright II, William Foster
May 31: Amy Foster, Brant [REDACTED], Calla the Gnome, Councillor Bronte, Grizel the Goblin
June 1:
a) Elidyr the Dwarf, Ermete the Dwarf, Irja the Dwarf, Krikor the Dwarf, Kun the Dwarf
b) Opher the Dwarf, Timur the Dwarf, Urre the Dwarf, Yegor the Dwarf, Yuri the Gnome
June 2: Fallon Vacker, Gethen Ondsinn, Quinlin Sonden, Ruy Ignis, Sandor the Goblin
June 3: Audric, Dedra, Dempsy, Huxley, Trella
June 4: Coach Bora, Coach Rohana, Coach Wilda, Lady Galvin, Lesedi Chebota, Tarina the Troll
June 5: Councillor Kenric, Elwin Heslege, Jurek of the Sanctuary, Kesler Dizznee, Prentice Endal
June 6: Bethany Lopez, Bex Dizznee, Sir Bubu, Lex Dizznee, Rex Dizznee
June 7: Cyrah Endal, Luzia Vacker, Tinker, Trix, Umber, Princess Romhilda
June 8: Bunhead the Goblin, Cadoc the Goblin, Lefty the Goblin, Righty the Goblin, Woltzer the Goblin
June 9: Cadfael the Ogre, Caprise Redek, Cassius Sencen, Mai Song, Quan Song, Botros the Ogre
June 10: Councillor Emery, King Dimitar, King Enki, Queen Hylda, Queen Nubiti
June 11: Benesh Vacker, Harlin Vacker, Norene Vacker, Peilpa Heks, Silla Heks
June 12: Brielle the Goblin, Councillor Noland, Councillor Velia, Councillor Zarina, Orem Vacker
June 13: Councillor Clarette, Councillor Darek, Lady Song, Quinlin's receptionist, Sir Leander
June 14: Dexter Dizznee, Marella Redek, Maruca Chebota, Stina Heks, Wylie Endal
June 15: Behnam Aria, Councillor Liora, Councillor Ramira, Esha Aria, Lady Fayina
June 16:
a) Councillor Alina, Councillor Oralie, Ella the Stuffed Animal, Gisela Sencen, Mr Snuggles the Stuffed Animal
b) Boo Boo the Stuffed Animal, Lady Sassyfur the Stuffed Animal, Mrs Stinkbottom the Stuffed Animal, Sir Splashyhugs the Stuffed Animal, Stinky the Stegosaurus the Stuffed Animal
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a-strange-inkling · 1 year
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Day 11: Bells
New York, New York 1994
E - E - E - E - E - E - E - G - C -E-G-E-G-GDFEGDB!
“Ugh!” Olivia's loud huff can be heard from the living room where Eddie is rubbing his temple tiredly, trying to go over his setlist.
She starts playing again almost immediately. Maggie groans, covering her ears where she is resting her head on his knee.
Jingle bells, Jingle bells, Jingle… Jingle… Jingle—GDFEGDCB!!
“Daddy, she’s played this song four fifty times!” Maggie complains quietly. “She’s killing my ears!”
Eddie shushes her, smoothing over her gold-red curls. He’s right there with her, but Maggie has no room to talk about repetitive song play. “Relax, Mags, she’s just practicing for her big Christmas recital, besides you love this song.”
“Not anymore!” she whines.
E - E - E - E - E - E - G - C—
“C, D, E, bug!” Eddie calls to her over his shoulder.
—C - D - E — F - F - F - F - F - E - E - E-E - E - D - D - E - D - G—
“There you go!” he cheers, getting back to deciding his closing song for the band's set that weekend at the music hall.
“Thanks, Daddy!”
“No problem,” he shouts back.
It’s quiet for all of seven seconds before she starts up again. Livvy is a perfectionist, just like her mother.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…
He and Maggie sigh in time with one another before the sound of actual bells enter the room.
“Margaret!” Chrissy calls.
“Ha, busted.” Eddie sings to her under his breath.
Maggie is quick to scramble beneath one of the couch cushions. “I’m not here!” she whispers loudly, making Eddie’s lip curl as he erases one of the newer songs and replaces it with a cover instead. “You never saw me!”
Chrissy doesn’t even need to ask him when she enters the living room, she strides right in and lifts the cushion. Maggie smiles up at her all bright and innocent. “You’re supposed to be helping your sister practice with the bell part, Maggie.”
“…I did like eight forty times, Mom.” she throws her head back in exasperation. “My head is going to essplode all over the wall!”
“Oh no, not essplode!” Eddie chuckles.
“It’s so important to her, baby, just a few more times, okay? Then I’ll tell her to take a break for a snack.” Chrissy promises, tying the little cluster of sleigh bells to her wrist.
“Okayyyy.” she groans, sliding off the couch dramatically, stomping back over to the wall piano in the dining room, the little bells ringing merrily in contrast with her every step.
“Oh, good!” They hear Olivia chime happily through the wall. “You’re back!”
“Mmmhmm.” Maggie hums defeatedly.
“Ready?”
“…Sure.”
Jingle bells *ring* jingle bells *ring* jingle all the way… *ring* *ring*
Eddie and Chrissy both can’t help but laugh at the complete lack of enthusiasm coming from the background percussion.
“Poor bug, she’s so stressed out.” Eddie sighs, looking up at Chrissy. “Maybe two different recitals in one month is too much for her.”
Chrissy nods in agreement. “I talked to her about it after school yesterday. I told her it was okay if she only wanted to do one or the other, but she’s just so determined to do both.”
“She sounds fine, she knows the song, she’s just overthinking it.” Eddie replies.
“Well, hopefully some sugar cookies will pull her away from the bench for a little while so she can relax.” Chrissy breathes softly, heading back into the kitchen.
Eddie smiles after her, pausing for a minute, before setting down his clipboard.
Olivia is bent over the keys, tongue between her teeth, looking eerily similar to her father as she focuses on the music sheet. Maggie sits opposite of her on the bench, face nearly deadpanned, wrist held out, ready and waiting to ring the attached bells.
“Okay,” Olivia breathes in, starting over.
Jingle bells, Jingle bells, Jin—
The quick strumming of an acoustic guitar suddenly accompanies the tune.
Olivia spins around in surprise, beaming from ear to ear. Eddie shoots her a wink, nodding his head encouragingly for her to keep going as he pulls up a chair to sit beside them.
Chrissy smiles as she rolls out the frozen dough, contently watching them all play together.
…jingle bells, jingle all the way!
There’s a deviated little flourish from the guitar that makes Olivia giggle, followed by a wild and raging chorus of bells.
@hellcheerxmas
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heavenlyhischier · 2 months
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https://www.tumblr.com/babydollmarauders/740635150825684992/girl-drop-the-john-lockscreen-pic?source=share
OK THIS MADE ME THINK...what are hailey, ana, and livvy's lockscreens?
i saw this and got way too excited so here you go😭
HAILEY B.C. (before children) HAILEY A.C. (after children)
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ANA B.C. ANA A.C.
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LIVVY B.C. LIVVY A. C.
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Ana and Livvy def used those photos of their men because it made them laugh 😭
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husbandhannie · 2 years
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hi livvie <333 i saw your post about trying requests and was wondering if you have any thoughts about being neighbours with c-c-chan? 🤧 totally no pressure and dw at all if you don’t end up writing it 💗 i hope you’re doing well!!
chihuahuas
pairing: dino x reader
word count: 980
genre: fluff
warnings: none
a/n: ah sol, thanks for sending! i made this uni au because i'm looking at my accommodation pictures these days. also this wasn't meant to be so long, but i started writing and well.....you know how much i like writing chan haha. not proofread, i honestly don't know if i'll ever do it.
taglist: @itsveronicaxxx @husbandhoshi @zurikyo @leejungchans @junhui-recs.
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you’re barely out the door when the object rolling towards your feet grabs your attention, followed by the call of your name in your neighbor’s exasperated voice. a closer look reveals the offending item to be a bottle of glue, and you bend down to pick it up so you can hand it to its owner.
the first time you met lee chan, he was carrying a basket of clothes down to the laundry room, wearing adorable dinosaur-printed pajamas and sleepy eyes. it was the week before the start of your master’s, and he had introduced himself as ‘the guy in 111’. “let me know if you need anything”, he had said, before getting flustered at the sight of underwear poking out of his basket. even flustered and sleepy, he was beautiful.
(he looked beautiful later that week too, when he ran into you on his way back from the gym, sweaty in a sleeveless shirt. you’re proud to say you managed to keep your cool in front of him, only letting out a scream into your pillow when your door was securely closed.)
“thanks”, he accepts the bottle, “slipped from my hands”.
you’re not surprised. it seems like he’s carrying a third-grade teacher’s craft supplies - large sheets of colored paper folded up in his arms, and a transparent folder that contains scissors and some cutouts of - wait, are those dog pictures? 
“i can see why”, you smile, “um, what’s all this for?”
you know his major is education, but you doubt his assignments include making posters. maybe he’s supposed to work with kids as part of a project? the image of lee chan bending down to help a kid glue cute dog pictures on a poster comes to your mind before you can help it, and - 
no. you can’t do this today. you don’t have the strength. 
“uh, we’re supposed to decorate the common room for world animal day”, he adjusts the supplies in his arms, “didn’t you know?”
oh yeah, you do remember reading about that on the bulletin board below. while you’ve never been the one for decoration and related activities, you’re even less inclined this week, with the number of assignment deadlines you have. thankfully, there’s only one left now.
“i think i read about it”, you answer, “and you decided to, what, make an entire poster by yourself?”
“no, i - “, he sighs, “the guys and i collected material and only some cutting and pasting was left, so we played a game to decide. and well”, he shrugs resignedly, “guess who lost”.
“oh no”, you shake your head in mock sympathy, “it was rock-paper-scissor, wasn’t it?”
“hey, it’s a perfectly fine - “
“i know, i know”, you grin, “what’s the subject of the poster?”
maybe you can take some time out to help him if he’s making a poster on cute dogs. 
“uh, chihuahuas”, he manages to push the folder up, urging you to pick it up, “and how, uh, expressive their expressions are?”
“what?”. is he serious?
“yeah”, he tries to convince you, “take a clipping out, you’ll see what i mean”.
you take the first picture out and, well, realize he’s not completely insane. it’s a chihuahua alright, making a face that can only be described by the string “aaaauuuuughhhhh”.
“oh god”, you take out one more, letting out a cackle at the indescribable yet vivid emotion on the dog’s face, “oh my god. this is brilliant”.
“i know”, he exclaims, laughing with you, “there are so many of them too. we really found more than we thought we would”.
you say nothing, just snap the folder close and put it back to its original place, trying not to focus on how ridiculously buff chan’s arms feel. 
it’s quiet for a moment then, the two of you just looking at each other, neither commenting on how close you’re standing, and how your hand is still on his arm. 
“well, i should - “
“would you mi - “
both of you pause, grinning. 
“you first”, you offer. 
“well”, he clears his throat, his ears an endearing pink, “i was wondering if you could help me? paste these, i mean? if that’s okay?”
“ah”, you smile slightly, fighting the urge to fix your hair, “i will, if you take me out to dinner later”.
fuck, where did that come from? 
do you want to go out with lee chan? yes. he’s cute, hot, sweet, thoughtful, hardworking - 
you get the point. 
but did you plan on asking him out today? asking him out ever? no. 
it must be those freaking arms.
“um”, his eyes widen while he considers his response, “like a date?”
“no? unless you want to”.
what? 
chan looks at you, clearly trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about. 
oh, well. if you’re doing this, might as well do it properly. well, what’s the worse that could happen? it’s not like you live right next to the guy or anything, right? not like you have to avoid him in hallways if he rejects you. 
“i mean”, you start, proud of how confident you sound, “if i help you, take me out to dinner. like a date”.
chan blinks once before a grin takes over his face, his eyes shining by the strength of it. you think your heart skips a beat. oh, you’re down bad. 
“sure”, he answers excitedly, “it would be my pleasure”.
“great, then”, you close your door and make your way into his room, picking up the folder from his arm on the way, “let’s do it”.
a few seconds pass. chan hasn’t moved. one look over your shoulder shows him staring at you, an almost dreamy look in his eyes. stop, you want to say, we haven’t even been on a date, i can’t fall in love with you yet.
“c’mon”, you shoot him a teasing look, “the chihuahuas are waiting”.
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drusilla-carstairs · 9 months
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Vote in the tags: Livvy’s fate in TWP edition.
A) She stays a ghost exactly as she is throughout the series and remains a Jessamine-like figure forever.
B) She passes on at some point and Ty has to say goodbye to her and move on.
C) She somehow returns to life?
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De Emma à Bruce
Cher Bruce,
Je m’excuse de ne pas avoir écrit sur tes pages ces derniers jours. Nous avons été bien occupés ici.
Mardi matin, Julian et moi prenions notre petit-déjeuner. Il faisait du soleil cette semaine et c’était agréable de passer du temps dans la cuisine. J’ai développé une passion pour les crumpets[1], et Julian les prépare extrêmement bien. Nous les mangions avec du miel et du beurre quand quelqu’un a frappé à la porte.
Julian a sursauté. La veille, nous avions reçu une lettre de Ty dans laquelle il nous annonçait qu’il allait venir avec Ragnor à Blackthorn Hall. Il craignait beaucoup que ça énerve Julian, mais Julian n’était pas du tout énervé. Il était anxieux. Toute la journée, il avait l’air distrait et se cognait partout. Alors quand nous sommes allés nous coucher, je lui ai pris la main pour écrire dans sa paume, comme nous en avions l’habitude, une lettre à la fois. Q-U-E-S-T-C-E Q-U-I T-I-N-Q-U-I-E-T-E ?
Nous nous sommes enlacés sous les couvertures. Il m’a avoué qu’il s’inquiétait parce que c’était lui qui s’occupait de Ty avant, et maintenant plus d’un an avait passé, et Ty se débrouillait seul. Il a ajouté qu’il savait tout de Ty, l’heure à laquelle il se levait et allait se coucher, ce qu’il aimait faire, ce qu’il aimait manger. Et maintenant il a l’impression de l’avoir perdu de vue d’une certaine manière, comme s’ils étaient devenus des inconnus l’un pour l’autre.
Je l’ai rassuré : il ne perdrait jamais Ty de vue et leur relation sera toujours spéciale, elle allait simplement changer parce que Jules n’avait plus besoin de s’occuper de tout le monde en faisant semblant du contraire. Il n’avait plus à porter le poids de cet énorme secret, et s’occuper de quelqu’un est toujours un poids, peu importe l’amour que l’on a pour les personnes dont on s’occupe.
Et puis il m’a embrassée, et la suite, Bruce, ne te regarde pas. Punaise, comme tu es curieux !
Enfin bref, revenons au petit-déjeuner et à la personne à la porte. C’était Ragnor, qui avait un teint vert et fringuant, comme une prairie anglaise. Il a rapidement dépassé Julian pour aller examiner les tentures. En réalité, il examinait certainement quelque chose de magique, comme la malédiction, mais à mes yeux il semblait examiner les rideaux et le papier peint. Peut-être songe-t-il à refaire la décoration chez lui. Ou peut-être laissait-il un moment à Julian pour être seul avec Ty, qui était encore sur l’escalier, si adorable avec son air gêné et son sac sur l’épaule.
J’ai eu envie de courir vers lui pour le prendre dans mes bras, mais je ne suis retenue parce que je sentais au plus profond de moi que ce moment n’appartenait qu’à Ty et Jules. Jules se tenait dans l’encadrement de la porte et regardait Ty, les traits tirés, puis a fini par dire « Viens là » d’une voix rauque. Ty a laissé tomber son sac et a grimpé les escaliers en courant. Julian l’a serré dans ses bras si fort que j’étais certaine qu’il allait protester. Mais pas du tout. Il a simplement accepté le câlin. Julian a passé la main dans son dos en chuchotant « Ty-Ty », et je n’ai pas vu ce qu’il s’est passé ensuite parce que je faisais de mon mieux pour garder les yeux grands ouverts sans cligner. C’est le moyen le plus sûr que je connaisse pour éviter de pleurer.
Après ça, nous avons fait visiter le rez-de-chaussée à Ty et Ragnor, ce qui était un peu bizarre puisque Ty était déjà venu ici avec Livvy il y a deux ans. Je pense que nous avions tous conscience de ce chagrin lourd comme une chape de plomb. Julian n’arrêtait pas de lancer des regards inquiets à Ty, mais lui n’avait pas l’air triste, plutôt pensif. Au bout d’un moment, Julian lui a fait remarquer qu’il devrait aller à l’étage pour choisir sa chambre :
- N’importe quelle chambre ! Il y a du choix. Prends celle que tu veux, tu pourras la décorer comme tu le souhaites. Tout ce que tu veux.
- Et moi, je vais dormir comment ? a questionné Ragnor d’un ton bougon. Enfoncé dans la cheminée ?
Ty était déjà dans l’escalier avec Julian. J’ai dit à Ragnor qu’il pouvait dormir où il le souhaitait, mais je lui ai recommandé le canapé en bas, s’il voulait être au plus près du fantôme. Rupert a toujours tendance à apparaitre dans la salle à manger. Ne poursuivant pas sur ce sujet, Ragnor s’est simplement dirigé vers la cuisine pour préparer le thé. Je lui ai proposé un crumpet pour être hospitalière. Quand Julian est redescendu, Ragnor répandait du miel sur le plan de travail.
- Est-ce que je peux voir la carte des ley lines ? a demandé Jules. Ou bien tu es trop occupé à attirer les fourmis ?
- Il n’y a pas de fourmis, a objecté Ragnor, la bouche pleine de son crumpet. Ce n’est pas la saison.
Il s’est léché les doigts, a passé la main dans sa veste et en a sorti un immense parchemin roulé qui, soit dit en passant, ne pouvait pas rentrer dans cette veste sans un peu de magie. Qu’on ne dise jamais que Ragnor n’aime pas la théâtralité, même s’il prétend être au-dessus de tout cela. Il a déroulé la carte sur la grande table et a mis un bougeoir et des livres sur les côtés pour qu’elle ne bouge pas.
C’était une carte du centre de Londres – difficile de ne pas reconnaitre la forme particulière de la Tamise qui serpente au milieu. Elle était entièrement recouverte de lignes de différentes couleurs : rouge, bleu, vert, doré. Et le long de ces lignes se trouvaient des symboles astrologiques, des flèches, des nombres et quelques mots en grec. On distinguait à peine le nom des rues.
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- Ta carte de Londres est en grec ? s’est étonné Julian. Et tu ne vas pas répandre du miel dessus ?
- Le miel est bon pour le parchemin. C’est un conservateur. Et c’est du copte.
- Ta carte de Londres est en copte ? me suis-je exclamée.
Ragnor a posé un regard tendre dessus.
- Oui. Crois-le ou non, c’est l’une des cartes des ley lines de Londres les plus lisibles que j’ai trouvé. Certaines d’entre elles sont simplement invraisemblables. Celle-ci date du XVIIIe siècle, c’est écrit en copte juste pour compliquer les choses. Les sorciers sont comme ça.
« Je sais », ai-je eu envie de répliquer, mais je me suis tue, parce que Ragnor nous rendait service.
- Votre fantôme est-il présent ? s’est enquis Ragnor.
Il avait pris un large cristal grossissant à travers lequel il observait des sections de la carte.
- Je ne sais pas, ai-je déclaré. Rupert ? Nous avons un invité qui souhaite vous rencontrer.
Il ne s’est rien passé.
- Ses allées et venues sont donc aléatoires, a marmonné Ragnor, comme s’il parlait tout seul. Intéressant.
Il a sorti de sa poche un petit carnet en cuir qu’il a feuilleté.
- C’est intéressant ? a répété Julian. Peut-être qu’il est simplement timide face aux inconnus. Avant notre arrivée, il est resté seul ici pendant une cinquantaine d’années.
- Mon garçon, a lancé Ragnor en levant les yeux vers Julian, il y a des gens que je n’ai pas eu le temps de rappeler pendant cette période.
- Eh bien, tu devrais être un meilleur correspondant, a rétorqué Julian en croisant les bras. Vois-tu quelque chose sur la carte ?
Ragnor a émis un son hésitant avant de reporter son attention sur la carte. Au bout d’un moment il s’est redressé :
- Bien. Voulez-vous toutes les explications détaillées, ou dois-je passer directement à la conclusion ?
- La conclusion, s’il-te-plait, ai-je requis.
- C’est bien ce que je me disais.
Il avait l’air grincheux, pour une raison que j’ignorais. C’est bien Ragnor, ça !
- En prenant en considération les différents types de ley lines et les diverses intersections, nœuds et empreintes, a-t-il expliqué, et en supposant que les autres objets sont probablement dans le centre de Londres, puisque c’était le cas des premiers, et en supposant aussi que les objets sont certainement dans des lieux importants pour le Monde Obscur…
Il s’est interrompu et nous a regardé en haussant les sourcils.
- Nous te suivons pour l’instant, a affirmé Julian.
- Je pense que les prochains lieux à fouiller sont certainement là et là.
Il a sorti un crayon de je ne sais où et a entouré deux points sur la carte.
- Là, c’est l’église St. Mary Abchurch. Et là…
Il s’est tu.
Julian s’est penché sur la carte pour voir ce que Ragnor désignait.
- D’accord ? ça a juste l’air d’être une rue résidentielle à Soho.
- En fait, a repris Ragnor, à une époque, pendant longtemps, l’une de ces maisons était un notoire club de Créatures Obscures. Ça s’appelait The Hell Ruelle[2]. C’était très malin, ce nom, voyez-vous, parce qu’une « ruelle » désigne une sorte de réception que les dames de l’aristocratie française organisaient dans leur chambre, un peu comme un salon, et c’est aussi dans une petite rue, donc une ruelle, que se trouvait ce club.
- Et en plus, ai-je ajouté très sérieusement, ça rime.
- En effet, a continué Ragnor. Je ne sais pas ce qu’il est devenu. Les salons et clubs sont passés de mode depuis longtemps, mais les Créatures Obscures aiment faire les choses à l’ancienne. Je suppose que c’est toujours un club d’une manière ou d’une autre, certainement tout aussi scandaleux qu’à l’époque. J’ai cru comprendre que les scandales ne sont jamais passés de mode.
- Nous avons vu une affiche de ce club, est intervenu Julian. Elle était accrochée dans la maison des Herondale à Curzon Street.
Ragnor a haussé les sourcils.
- Vous êtes allés dans la maison de Curzon Street ? Comment est-elle maintenant ?
Julian a donc commencé à raconter notre visite à Ragnor, ce qui tombait bien parce que je voulais aller voir Ty. J’avais pensé qu’il descendrait pour aider ou du moins observer Ragnor, mais il fallait croire qu’il avait trouvé un endroit qui lui plaisait et y était resté. Ou bien une horrible tragédie était survenue. Mais c’était certainement la première hypothèse.
Je n’ai pas eu de mal à le trouver en tout cas : il y a beaucoup de chambres mais pas tant que ça. Et d’ailleurs, ces vieux murs n’atténuent aucunement le bruit, alors je l’entendais parler dans l’une d’elles. La « chambre grise », comme Julian et moi l’appelons. Elle a une belle vue sur la mare aux canards.
Je suppose qu’il était au téléphone, j’entendais les pauses pendant lesquelles il écoutait l’autre personne. J’ai cru saisir les mots « Eh bien je ne sais pas du tout pourquoi, mais ça ne fait pas très longtemps », en réponse à quelque chose. Puis la porte s’est ouverte et il est sorti de la chambre. Il a tout de suite sursauté en me voyant dans le couloir.
- Emma ?
- Je suis juste montée pour voir comment tu allais, lui ai-je signifié. Je pense que nous allons bientôt commander à manger. Est-ce que c’est la chambre qui te plait ?
- Oui, a-t-il répondu en tournant la tête vers les hautes fenêtres. Je trouve que c’est une belle chambre.
- Tu parlais avec ta sœur ?
Il n’a rien dit. Il a soudainement rougi, avant de pâlir. Je me suis demandé s’il avait prononcé quelque chose que je n’étais pas censée avoir entendu, mais je ne savais pas ce que ça aurait pu être.
- Je n’écoutais pas aux portes, l’ai-je rassuré. J’ai simplement supposé que c’était Dru.
- Ah ! s’est-il exclamé. Oui. Oui, je parlais avec Dru. Elle…
- Veut probablement savoir comment sont les chambres, ai-je complété, voulant le mettre à l’aise. Dru voudra sûrement la plus gothique.
- Absolument, a acquiescé Ty alors que nous descendions. Mais je ne suis pas vraiment qualifié pour définir ce qui est gothique.
- Je crois que l’idée, c’est « aussi effrayant que possible ».
Jules et Ragnor nous attendaient quand nous sommes arrivés dans la cuisine. Ty s’est détendu assez vite. En fait, tout ce dont il avait besoin, c’était 1- du thé et 2- poser des milliers de questions à Ragnor au sujet de la carte des ley lines jusqu’à ce que notre commande arrive et mette fin à la discussion. Je te jure, Bruce, qu’à un moment Ragnor a raconté une blague en copte et que Ty a ri. Ils ne font pas les choses à moitié à la Scholomance. C’est peut-être un peu trop intense pour moi. Mais ne te méprend pas, c’était très agréable de passer du temps avec eux. Ça m’a rappelé que cette maison pourra à nouveau être chaleureuse et accueillante une fois que les rénovations seront terminées et que tous les Blackthorn seront ici et s’approprieront les lieux. Même la malédiction n’était pas si pesante alors que nous nous étions installés devant la cheminée pour faire une partie de Cluedo (on appelle ça simplement Clue en Amérique) jusqu’à ce que Ty s’endorme.
Annexe : Dimanche soir. Ragnor et Ty sont partis cet après-midi. C’était chouette de les avoir à la maison, ça nous a fait du bien à Julian et moi de parler à d’autres personnes que les entrepreneurs. Ty et Julian ont passé un certain temps dans le jardin pour déterminer quelles statues anciennes étaient abîmées de manière artistique et élégante, et lesquelles étaient complétement fichues. Nous allons devoir acheter de nouvelles statues quand nous réaménagerons le jardin, ce qui a beaucoup intéressé Ty : il nous a conseillé une statue de Holmes tenant une loupe et une autre de Watson.
La seule chose étrange est que le fantôme de Rupert était absent pendant toute leur visite. Il n’est réapparu qu’une heure après leur départ. Nous lui avons montré la carte et répété que ce Ragnor nous avait expliqué. Il a simplement répondu que Ragnor avait sûrement raison. Et il s’avère qu’il a bel et bien parlé à Ty à un moment. Il nous a assuré que Ty était « gentil avec les fantômes ». Peut-être que Ty lui a fait un sandwich fantôme ou lui a lu une histoire de fantôme le soir, que sais-je. En tout cas, Ty n’en a pas parlé.
Voilà, c’est tout pour l’instant ! Je pense que nous irons à l’église St Mary Abchurch demain après-midi, et selon ce que nous y trouverons, nous irons voir si cette maison de Soho est toujours un club scandaleux. Mais ce que Ragnor considère comme scandaleux ne le sera peut-être pas tant que ça à nos yeux. Nous verrons bien ! Pour autant que nous en sachions, c’est juste la maison d’un type qui sera très étonné de nous voir arriver !
Bonne nuit, Bruce. C’est sympa de penser à ce que ce sera quand tous les Blackthorn seront là pour remplir la maison de bruit et d’animation. C’est la première fois depuis le début que j’arrive vraiment à imaginer ça, même avec la malédiction. En attendant, je place entre les pages un polaroid de nous tous qui jouons au Cluedo, au cas où tu voudrais avoir quelque chose à voir plus tard.
Emma.
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[1] Type de pain britannique
[2] Dans les romans publiés par PKJ, la traduction est « La Ruelle ». Il s’agit bien du même endroit.
Texte original de Cassandra Clare ©
Traduction d’Eurydice Bluenight ©
Illustrations de Cassandra Jean ©
Le texte original est à lire ici : https://secretsofblackthornhall.tumblr.com/post/683787176902868992/emma-to-bruce
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mumu-thestan · 4 months
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LINKIN PARK SOLDIERS FOR CEASEFIRE
“Turn my mic up louder, I got to say something” - Linkin Park - Hands Held High
As the band remains silent on the ongoing violence happening in Gaza and parts of the West Bank, we, the fans of Linkin Park, will not stand in silence as Palestinians face what humanitarian organizations such as the UN have categorized as genocide.
Hospitals, schools, mosques, churches, bakeries, fishing boats, solar panels, and water tanks have all been targets of bombing by the IDF, funded in large part by American tax dollars. Over 15,000 people have been killed, 6000+ of which are children. Electricity and water supplies have been cut off, affecting millions.
We urge members of the band to use their platform and speak up, to not be silent on their tax dollars being used to fund these atrocities. We call for an immediate ceasefire and a safe exchange of hostages. We call for an end to the siege on Gaza, the theft of homes and land, and the systemic oppression of Palestinians. Enough is enough.
Who cares if one more light goes out? Well, we do.
#LPsoldiers4ceasefire
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sandersgrey · 1 year
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A Study in Greys
Eventual Kit/Ty Endgame, Mutual Pining, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Psychological Trauma, Kit Rook Has ADHD, Kit Rook has C-PTSD.
First / Second / Third / Fourth / Fifth / Prev. Fic also available on ao3.
Wordcount: 6k.
A/N: Huge thanks to everyone who commented and gave me the motivation to finally finish the chapter. As always, shout out to @thechangeling for being a very supportive friend and not killing me for the hiatus, and @jynxlovesluck for being the amazing partner and beta they've been this entire time. I could not do it without you. At the very least, I could not do it this well. TW for a bit of unconscious self harm right at the beginning, and for a lot of conflict between characters, including brief fear of domestic violence that doesn't come to pass. (Not a lot of physical injuries, though. Not... yet.)
Seventh Chapter: The Ghost At The Feast
“Absolutely fucking not.”
With her arms crossed and that snarl, Livy would be any horror director’s first pick. Ty could feature in it, too; he’s pretty enough to be the star cast in marble in the dusty light of the room, his silence heavy. He hasn’t spoken in five minutes. 
Kit would have liked to say he’s been handling this tension with all the poise and resilience of a Herondale. It’s true if you know a Herondale’s bad habits. He’s bit down so hard on the inside of his cheek that the thin rope of badly-healed skin split open again, coating his tongue with a taste of iron. 
He’s never been good at arguing with people he actually likes. It’s his biggest flaw.
Still. No better time to learn than the present. Draping a shaky arm over his knee, Kit risks a grin: “Are you sure?”
Livvy’s stare grows unimpressed: 
“We’re not using you as bait.”
“Why not?” Kit asks. “I’d be really good at it.”
Ty’s frown deepens. He’s been incessantly tapping the ground since the idea first came up, faster the longer it went on. It’s honestly a little insulting. Kit might not be the best with a dagger, but he can figure out a social situation better than anyone in this room, alive or dead, that’s for sure. He resents the worry.
“No,” says Ty.
Livvy emphatically gestures at him. “Yes, thank you, Ty. It’s a terrible idea.”
“Eh, is it?”
“Kit, we’re not risking you getting hurt.” she sighs.
That gets a snort out of him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m already at risk. I’ve been at risk since the beginning. The safest option- for everyone- is to shut down their entire operation as soon as we possibly can, or did you forget about their whole Puppet King idea?”
“That doesn’t mean we should put you at more risk!” Ty blurts out. 
“I think that’s really up to me, isn’t it? We’re-” - sitting on top of a time bomb, waiting for it to explode- “ risking more the more we wait. Someone might figure out we know; I’d be really fucking surprised if they don’t already suspect you, and I’d really rather not figure out how subtler the next assassination attempt is gonna be, okay?”
Ty presses his thumb against the center of his palm, massaging the muscle. Stress tightens his shoulders into boulders- it makes Kit feel a little bad, honestly. He doesn’t mean this to be anxiety inducing to anyone else. 
Rolling his tongue against the open wound in his mouth, Kit waits. 
The mortar between the stones, at least, is easy pickings for a clever enough hand. He digs his nails into it and wonders how long it’d take to bring the whole castle down in itself. Longer than he has. He picks at it anyway.
“It’s too big a risk,” Ty says at last. “I won’t be able to get to you fast enough if you’re caught.”
Shaking his head impatiently, Kit says:
“Look, I can do it, alright? It’s like ten, fifteen minutes, tops, and then we’re home free. I know I fumbled it- I know I should’ve realized what they wanted sooner, but I’m not completely incompetent. I can handle some manipulative idiots.”
A tilted head. Confusion briefly crosses Ty’s expression, resolving itself into something unreadable. His clever fingers grip the hem of Kit’s jeans until the fabric stretches, near painfully, over his bruised knee. Kit doesn’t flinch. He can’t.
“It’s not about whether you could do it. You shouldn’t have to.”
Kit shrugs. “I shouldn’t have to do a lot of things.”
“What does that mean?”
Right. He sighs, more disappointed in himself than on anyone else, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his pointer and thumb. No more cryptic bullshit: Ty doesn’t play mind games. 
But, as he opens his mouth… Kit finds himself stuck. He pauses, wondering, and closes it back again. What does that mean? Does it mean anything?
For some reason, what comes to mind is this: his ten years old self, the Market, and a pocketful of stolen wallets. Then: his fifteen years old self, the Market, and a pocketful of strange ingredients. The way he had felt stuck back then, too. The way he’d felt useful. 
Ty’s attention tastes like iron. It feels like it, too.
“I just want-” Kit swallows. His exhale cracks, brittle. “I don’t know. I guess I can’t go home.”
He picks at a loose thread in his jeans, wrapping it around his finger until it turns his skin swollen, a purple protest. Lets go. Once, twice, a third time, relieving the pressure just before it bursts. Ty says:
 “You could go.”
It hits like a wave of nausea. Kit squeezes his eyes shut, dizzy with it. 
A familiar tempo, discarded like a dirty coat on the ground. There’s nothing to say. The thread digs into his knuckles, a bright spot of pain in the darkness, and Kit holds onto it.
“What we mean ,’ says Livvy, in a meaningful tone of voice, “is that it’s a really fucked up situation that you don’t need to stay in. We’re not saying we don’t want you around.”
“Of course we’re not,” Ty says, a little perplexed. His elegant fingers twitch towards Kit’s own.
Kit can’t help it: he laughs. God. How like Ty to utterly destroy him without even meaning to. Dragging a hand over his face, he presses the palm against the orbit of his skull until he could map the bones by feel alone and asks, tired: 
“What even for?”
It’s nearly comforting how baffled Ty’s “What for?” sounds, like he can’t even figure out why they’d need a reason at all.   Ty pauses, his grip on Kit’s jeans tightening. “Just because, I guess.”
Just because. 
It’s not anything. It’s just a sentence. Kit lets his hand fall on his lap, exhausted, the strength of Ty’s earnest expression a little too heavy to bear. It’s no good. Kit can’t deal with that right now.
“I-”
His phone rings.
The sudden trrrrrrrr makes Ty wince back, his entire face scrunching up in pain. 
Scrambling, Kit paws at his pocket, frantically mumbling sorry sorry sorry until sweat-slicked fingers manage to get a grip, pressing against the screen harder than they usually need to. He hangs up.
Ty rubs a thumb against the palm of his other hand, self-soothing. “Who was that?”
“It says Nessie”, Livvy observes from over Kit’s shoulders. He sighs, mourns his privacy, explains:
“A friend from Devon.” 
“You’re not going to call back?”
A grimace. Kit gently kicks at Ty’s thigh until he gets the memo and lets his foot go. Pulling his knees up, Kit rests his chin in his arms, just a little bit colder, and says: 
“Nah, all my friends at home are mad at me. I’m going to wait til the dust settles.”
Ty frowns, the perfect line of his jaw tightening, but Livvy tilts her head and a few of her hair strands no-clip into the wall. It never looks quite right. Kit holds back a shudder. 
She asks:
“Why are they mad at you?” 
He sucks air in through his teeth. “Well, Lizzie and Mari are mad because I left with Zach, which makes sense. He was a dick to them. Nessie is mad, because…” Wincing, Kit raises a shoulder in a how to put this? way. “Well, because I’m here.”
Ty shifts his weight to lean closer, staring down at the thread around Kit’s finger until Kit lets go of it, shame-faced. “What do you mean?”
The awkward position strains at the seams of Ty’s right sleeve, the sculpted, lean shape of his arm tensing to keep him upright. There’s deceptive strength there. It had felt like a steel bar across Kit’s chest when Ty had caught him.
Someone pointedly clears their throat:
“Could it be,” entones Livvy, “because you left? Did you even tell her you were coming here?”
The tiniest flicker of a flinch in Ty’s hand. Kit tightens the reins on his own gaze, tips his chin up at Livvy, half-lidded and scornful:
“How would you want me to explain this to her? Sorry, I can’t hang out this week, I’m too busy scheming? Would you mind putting our plans on hold while I uncover a conspiracy I can’t tell you about?”
“If that's the truth,” says Ty. Kit scoffs:
“She would’ve wanted to come.”
“Then let her.”
“Yeah, that sounds like such a great idea,” Kit sneers, then pauses, chagrined. Adds: “That’s sarcasm. Nessie is a vampire. Letting her come would probably be the most efficient way to get her fucking killed. It’s too dangerous. No , thank you.”
Ty says, aggrieved: 
“Then tell her that.”
“Yeah? Have you told Alyssa?”
A pause. “How do you know about her?”
Kit looks away, dragging his feet across the floor. He hadn’t meant to say that.
(Dust rises through Livvy’s form. She shakes herself off, impatient, and floats a little away when that previsibly fails to do anything. Like this, they can barely see her.) 
“You’re not hiding it as well as you think you are,” he says. “Not everyone thinks you’ve cut off all contact.”
“Ragnor wouldn’t tell.”
“You’re right, he wouldn't. He didn’t need to, anyway. Harry noticed you’ve been sneaking off.”
“Like you do? You haven’t been all that careful either,” Livvy points out.
Shrugging, Kit leans back against the wall as casually as possible. He tips his chin up, allows a leg to extend, and keeps a very tight lid on his voice as he says:
“Sure. The difference is that people suspect Ty’s ‘consorting with the enemy’ because he’s openly done it before,” like an idiot, Kit doesn’t say. “They think I’m having an affair because that’s the fun and exciting thing to believe.”
Ty pauses. “They think you-”
“There’s no proof, obviously, but that doesn’t matter. It makes sense. You should’ve given them a hint of a scandal, Ty… It would’ve worked better than silence.”
Shoving the (quite helpful, honestly) suggestion away with a gesture, Ty frowns:
“They think you’re having an affair… with me ?”
Livvy turns to the wall, concealing her laugh with a cough. Briefly, but fervidly, Kit wishes for the ability to banish a spirit.
“Sorry”, Kit says. “I know I’m not your type, but I figured it’d be safer than them realizing we’re colluding. It gets the message across now that they know they can’t just kill you off openly. Heather had a moment-”
“The poltergeist.”
Kit nods. “I know you noticed. Me insisting on going with you is what sealed it, I think. Now she’s at least going to be a little subtler about it- make sure it can’t be tracked back to her.” A pause, then: “You should be careful.”
“You should have told me.”
“I knew you already knew you were in danger, Ty.”
Ty drags himself into an upright position, jaw tight with the kind of defensiveness Kit usually saw in him around Julian. His dark brows are furrowed. They cast a shadow upon his eyes. 
“I didn’t know about this ,” Ty snaps. “I’m glad you trust my intelligence, but I can’t just guess what you want, Kit. I can’t just know what you’re thinking. You need to tell me things.”
He bristles. “You didn't tell me anything until last night either!”
“I didn’t know you wanted to hear it.”
“Of course I do!”
“Kit”, Ty says, “I didn’t know. Of course I didn't tell you. The last time we’d seen each other you said you didn’t know when you’d forgive me, and then you show up here, years later, dating one of the people who are trying to kill me. I knew you were after something, but fuck if I knew exactly what-”
“I had to do that! I had to date him, how the fuck else was I gonna get here-”
He bites down, but it’s too late. 
Dread filling his chest cavity with something far too cold and heavy to name, he watches, scared even to blink, as the blood drains from Ty’s face. There is something devastating about the delicate pink of Ty’s mouth trembling, the dark brows creasing his marble-perfect skin into the kind of expression that would send Kit to his knees if he could move at all. 
Kit watches, and fears, and regrets only that he misspoke. 
Slowly, Ty says: “You’re using him.”
The tone is very nearly casual. It’s the phrasing that sends a jolt of ice into his stomach. Kit lowers his head, sinking his teeth hard onto the inside of his cheek, and waits.
“That’s why it didn’t fit. That’s why you felt so off around him. You knew he was a centurion; you knew he could bring you here, so you… instead of doing anything else, you…” 
“He was insulting my friends in a downworlder restaurant. He wanted a fight.” The voice out of his mouth is nearly unrecognizable. “Ty, he was a threat. I was unarmed.”
“And now?”
Hands into fists. Sharp nails.
“He’s still a threat. This is my best weapon.”
“So you lied to him.”
Kit raises his head, heated. “We just found out that they sent him as bait on purpose, so what does it matter? That’s what I was meant to do!”
“You didn’t know that back then!”
“I knew he was a racist piece of shit who would love a chance to kill all my friends,” he says. “I knew things were going wrong here and I knew that you’d know that, but- I couldn’t just stand there! I couldn’t just hope you’d be fine!”
That pale throat moves as Ty swallows, his face a blank canvas- Kit could project anything on it, anything and nothing at all. His mouth moves: 
“You said you didn’t forgive me.”
“I don’t.”
“ When,” bites out Ty, “will you start making any fucking sense?”
Kit throws up his hands, careless of the dust:
“Well, fuck me, Ty, I don’t know what you want me to say!”
“Why are you here?” Ty immediately lists. “Why would you put yourself through all that trouble for someone you’ve said you don’t forgive? Why would you send the necklace? Why would you send the book ?”
Bashful, Kit says: “So you know about the book.”
“Of course I know about the book. There aren’t that many people who would anonymously send me a special edition of Sherlock Holmes. It was either you or Ragnor Fell.”
“Ragnor doesn’t do presents.”
“Yes. I know.”
Kit runs a hand through his hair, tugging just enough to feel it under his skin. “I don’t forgive you,” he says. “Fuck. That doesn’t mean I don’t…”
“You don’t?”
A strangled, frustrated noise, deep in Kit’s throat:
“Don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?”
“Oh, you never forget anything”, says Kit, bitterly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you dig hard enough. It was a big day for you.”
From behind the dust, Livvy says: “Don’t talk in riddles.”
His amygdala screams. Feeling a little like he’s buzzing, Kit cradles the elbow he’d thrown against the wall and considers, not for the first time, the very few weapons the living have against the dead. 
“ Fuck, Livvy, you scared me!”
“Boo”, she says flatly. “Shouldn’t have forgotten I’m here.”
“ Say something next time, Jesus-”
“I did-”
Movement in his periphery startles Kit back into his guard. Ty has taken a step forward, his delicate fingers hovering over Kit’s hold- too afraid to touch and overstep? The darkness of his brows have furrowed further, worried:
“You’re hurt.”
Kit shakes his head, softening. “It’s fine. I was just startled.”
Finally resolving himself, Ty lays a gentle hand on top of Kit’s. His skin is dry and bitingly cold, the tips of his fingers and parts of his palms hard with calluses, his grip loving. Kit clenches down on the shudder before it starts.
“If you weren’t fine,” says Ty slowly, “would you tell me?”
No. Kit wants to lean back against the wall, wrestle himself back into the shape of someone who doesn’t care about it, but he can’t risk Ty moving away. He stands still. “Does it matter?”
“ Yes.”
“I came here because you were in trouble,” Kit says, because that , at least, is easy. “I sent you the book because I thought you might like it.”
Something about Ty’s mouth softens. “I do.”
“Good.”
“I still don’t get it, though.”
He shakes his head:
“I can’t explain.” Please. “Don’t make me.”
Ty’s hold on his arm tightens, sinking nearly deep enough into his flesh to be satisfying, before Ty lets go. “Fine,” he bites out. It doesn’t feel good.
Hardly anything does, these days.
“I have to go back before anyone gets suspicious. We should put the plan in motion tonight- it’ll only get harder the longer we wait, alright?”
Alarm and frustration rise with Ty’s head: “Kit, no- you should at least have a weapon-”  
“I’ll come with you,” Livvy interrupts. Both boys stop in their tracks. “It’s been a while”, she explains, confronted with Ty’s surprise. “Promise I won’t read over your shoulder, Kit.”
It’s a lie.
Kit lets her tag along anyway.
It’s not so bad at first. Livvy hums, some unfamiliar melody that echoes strangely in the stone corridors. Sound carries. Kit can imagine the notes floating down, down, down into the lived spaces where the enemy lies. He nearly tells her to be quieter before he remembers. If no one else can hear it, does it even make a sound?
Her white dress flutters to a wind that isn't there. Her hair is as still as the grave, irradiating a cold spot big enough to envelop Kit in its gelid embrace. 
It’s never good to spend too much time around ghosts. You’ll forget how to be warm. 
Her legs curl under her as Livvy leans forward, unbothered by gravity:
“He’s right, you know. You really should have something to fight with if you’re going through this.”
Didn’t help you, he doesn’t say. “I guess.”
Kit’s never liked swords much. They always make him feel like he’s pretending to be the storybook hero he just isn’t, but, besides the gun, they’re still what he’s best with. Getting close enough to use a dagger isn’t exactly his favored position.
And things are not nearly bad enough for the gun. He hopes, at least.
He’ll just stand behind Zach around his little posse. Idiot or not, he could make a good body shield. The shame churning inside his stomach isn’t relevant.
Livvy hums. “I’ve been thinking a lot about when we met.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s been three years…” and I haven’t changed since, her frown says. She catches him looking. “Kind of weird to be nostalgic for that, right? Everything was so awful.”
“I get nostalgic about that, too. Sometimes. I think it’s just human nature.”
That makes her smile. It’s a thin one, nearly invisible against the backdrop of the stone wall. “Back then,” she says,  “did you already know?”
Kit sighs, resigned. 
“Know what?”
“That you’re in love with my brother.”
This time, he manages to avoid his elbow making contact with the wall- Kit still curses, unnerved, and turns to her with about the same urgency of a spy who just heard his co-conspirator sneeze mid-infiltration:
“Don’t say that!” 
Livvy straightens herself up, unimpressed: “If I can’t say it and you won’t, what’s the plan there? Morse code?”
“I’m not saying shit, and you better not fucking tattle.”
“Yeah, I got that . That’s why I’m asking about the plan,” she drawls. “I don’t think you’re the type to keep Zach as your pet centurion after this is over, but then again, I didn’t think you’d do it at all. Where did you learn how to honeypot?”
Sighing, he gently butts his head against the closest wall. Wishes for brain damage. Then starts walking again:
“I’m a good improviser.”
“I guess,” says Livvy, doubtful. 
“And there’s no plan,” he adds. “ I’m going to get this over with, make sure Ty’s okay, and- I don’t know, go home, probably, if my friends aren’t waiting outside with torches and pitchforks… Livvy?”
She’s only a step or two behind him. Her expression is dark.
“So you’re leaving him again.”
“It’s not leaving him”, Kit scoffs. “What, did you want me to move in permanently? I should be going home soon anyway . Didn’t you guys just say I could go?”
“That’s different.”
“ How?”
“You’re not leaving because it’s dangerous,” she accuses. “You’re leaving because you’re a coward. You’re too afraid to be around him.”
There is, he thinks, something deeply wrong with his heart. “��And ?”
“You can’t do that to Ty. Not again.”
Kit scoffs, and turns to keep walking. 
Temperature shock stops him in his tracks as Livvy emerges from his body and plants herself in his way, a dangerous glint in her eyes . His body shakes. The hallway behind her nearly fades from view.
Silver-green eyes.
“Christopher, you’re my friend,” her voice is like velvet. “But if you break his heart again, I’m going to make your life a living hell.”
It gives him a second of pause. Mostly, to assess the damage. It’s not so bad- he’ll stop trembling, but his body doesn’t know it yet. That’s always the hardest part. 
“I didn’t break his heart a first time,” he finally says. “It’s not like that.”
“You didn’t see him then. Kit, he was-”
“Yeah, because the thing with you didn’t work. I bet he was fucked up about it, but it was never about me. ”
Livvy crosses her arms, stubborn as a mule and just as strong. “He needs you.”
“Sure,” Kit says, “like a thief needs a crowbar. But I’ve taught him about picking locks. He’ll be fine.”
“Could you, for just a fucking second, pretend like I know what I’m saying about my own twin brother and listen ?” Livvy snarls.
A half mocking sweep of the arm: “Go ahead.”
“He does need you, Kit. Not just to help solve this situation. He was devastated when you left- I’ve never seen him quite like that before, not once, and it wasn’t just because of me. I know you don’t want to believe it, but he lov-”
“No.”
“Kit!”
“Don’t you dare stand there and tell me that. I don’t want to hear it.”
She makes a deeply frustrated noise in the back of her throat: “Why not?!”
“Because,” Kit grits out, “it’s not fucking true.”
“But-”
“I told him, okay?” Kit snaps. “I told him, back then, and it changed nothing. I was never anything more than- than a shiny new toy, someone he could drag around and have fun with. It was never about me , Livvy, it was about the first guy his age who wasn’t either related to him or a piece of shit, and good for him!! I’m glad I could help for a bit! But I can’t- I can’t- I can’t let myself believe it means anything again. Livvy, you’re my friend, too, but let’s not pretend you wouldn’t bleed me like a pig if it would make Ty even slightly happier. I can’t do it, okay? I don’t have anything else to give.”
Livvy tries: “I wouldn’t-”
“You’re doing it right now,” says Kit. “You’re even doing it to yourself. Are you happy like this , Livvy? Really? Or are you just sticking around because you think that’s what Ty needs?”
The ghost says: “Fuck you.”
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not even the one who dragged you back up.”
A sneer:
“You didn’t stop him.”
Kit lunges.
Something is deeply, deeply wrong. 
It takes a small eternity. The fingers of his right hand cramp with the bone-deep certainty of the cold, but he sets his jaw, ignoring the oppressing pressure of Livvy’s presence grasping at him with much more force than a non-corporeal being should have any right to. She’s dead . She can’t keep him. That’s not how it works- that’s not what happens, and Kit shoulders through.
When he emerges, shivering, her eyes are as wide as plates. 
She opens her mouth- Kit snarls, something primal taking over- and she snaps it shut with an expression of deep resentment. 
Wordlessly, she turns her back and leaves.
And he’s the coward?
It takes him a long time to stop shaking. It’s not even the cold; it’s the fragile, flimsy way it’d made him feel, like ice ready to shatter. The pain is nearly welcome compared to that. 
Distantly, Kit thinks his phone vibrates a few times while he gets himself together. It’s such a far off worry it barely registers until he can breathe again, uncurling himself from a fetal-like position next to the wall. God. With numb fingers, he clicks on his messages. 
Jem. Jem, and an answer. 
Not much, Kit thinks, could make him smile right now.  This does. 
It’s not a nice smile. It’s not a nice smile, but it’ll do.
He does get lost on the way back, though.
It’s fine. If you keep walking long enough, eventually you’ll get somewhere. 
And, anyway, it’s not his fault every single hallway looks exactly the same. The Scholomance, Kit thinks, was designed by someone who thought labyrinthine was in fashion and so was bare, grey stone. You could drop a Minotaur at the center and it would not find a way out in seven years. It’d have to make itself wax wings. It’d have to drown.
At least it’s marginally warmer without any ghosts around. Raymond’s coat tail does briefly infringe upon his peace of mind, but the local spirit grimaces at him and disappears through a wall. Kit’s not even offended. He gets it.
He would also disappear through walls if he could. He’s done that once or twice, actually; it’s called climbing through windows. 
Still. Ghosts do have an advantage in that field.
The window he’d nearly fallen through on his first day is, therefore, a welcoming sight. He has kind of some idea of how to get back from here.
“You’re really quite low, though,” Kit tells it. “That doesn’t seem safe.”
It doesn’t answer, which is good news. 
The halls get less and less dusty as he goes on. His fingers stop leaving cleaner trails on the walls, gathering a thick layer of grime themselves. There’s a packet of tissues in his pocket, which means he can get most of it off, but seeing it there reminds him of Mina’s own sticky fingers, and it’s just- he misses home. He misses his family.
It’s better like this, though. If even shadowhunters are already trying to use him, they’re probably safer with him away. At least for now.
He wonders what his dad- what his first dad would say. Nothing good, probably. Nothing helpful.
What would his first mom say? Kit doesn’t know. She hadn’t stuck around long enough for him to be able to guess. Then again, maybe that’s an answer in and of itself. Maybe she’d agree with him.
Tessa wouldn’t. Kit sighs, shoving cleaner hands into his pockets. 
“Herondale?”
“ Fuck ,” he groans.
The centurion, sword fortunately sheathed at her hip, raises a judgemental eyebrow. “Hello. I was unaware there were any cremations here today.”
He’s taken aback for a second before he realizes that the dust coating his jeans is peeling off, leaving a gray, grimy trail on the ground. Maddening. It’s stone, who the fuck cares- she should be at home with dust by now, old as their fucking traditions are, no chance centurions lower themselves to do spring cleaning.  
None of that leaves his mouth. Instead, he smiles blankly and says: “Can I help you?”
Looking a lot like she wants nothing more than to correct him on the proper usage of can versus may , the centurion replies “No, I don’t think you can. However ”, and, with a flourish, takes an envelope out of her pocket, “I believe I can help you. This was left with the rest of the mail this morning. We checked for traps.”
The reason is clear. There is no name on it besides his, not even an address at all, and none of the marks of a fire message. “And it came out negative?”
“ Obviously,” she rolls her eyes.
He takes the envelope. It’s immediately, nearly dropped.
What the fuck?  Even to his numb fingers, the stiff paper is cold- much, much colder than it should be, nearly enough to burn. His hand cramps again; he fumbles with the envelope, catching it at the last second.
The centurion scoffs. “Jace Herondale is alive and well, I presume? We all wish him a fruitful marriage.”
Envelope forgotten, Kit tucks it into an inner pocket and straightens up:
“Thanks. Virginia Whitecastle, was it?” Same patrol shifts as Zach. Which means he’s off duty right now, and yet was not the one to bring him the letter. Fuck shit damnit. “How’s your brother? Still hasn’t been sent out?”
Her upper lip curls. Bingo. 
“He’s too important to be on the field,” she blusters.
“Oh, I bet. Don’t worry. I’m sure your brother is very, uh… integral to the cause, somehow. What’s he called again?... “ 
Whitecastle’s face is a silent mask of fury. “Shut it, H- Carstairs. I’m not here for chit chatting. Some of us are working, you know- you may want to check your correspondence yourself from now on.”
“Of course”, Kit says sweetly. “Thanks again for taking the time. I know your family is very busy.”
Her hand twitches toward the pommel of her sword; Kit tips his chin up, daring her. It twitches again, but she moves it away, her jaw set. 
“You’re welcome,” she grits out.
Her tightly wound retreat, it must be said, is a sight for sore eyes. 
Zach’s door looks the same as it has always been, which is to say: better than a lot of people.
The doorknob is a beautiful round mirror, as silver as mercury. Kit can never get himself to grip it right away- it always feels like he’s going to dirty it, somehow. Even the wood itself is shiny. The zipper on this hoodie, Kit knows, is rusted. 
Eventually, you do have to face the music. The smooth surface of the doorknob feels judgmental.
“Christopher.”
Of course.
Zach is waiting for him on the bed. 
Much like the door, he is- hatefully well groomed. Shoulders squared, hair carefully combed to a solid geometric shape, uniform precisely creased. His shoes shine so bright Kit starts automatically planning how to steal them. 
When Zach’s eyes flick up to meet his, they’re shadowed by a deep scowl. 
The only saving grace is that his sword has been carefully laid out on the dresser, out of arm’s reach. He’s not optimistic enough about human nature to assume Zach did it on purpose.
Resentfully, Kit allows the door behind him to slam shut with a bang. Zach winces. Good. Kit hopes he broke his precious door.
“It’s been an hour,” Zach informs him briskly.
“I’m sorry,” snaps Kit, “was I being timed?”
Thin lips purl like an asshole. “You know that’s not the point, Christopher. I can’t keep covering for your shenanigans. It’s not easy, people have already seen you chasing after ghosts like a madman-”
“You wanted a Herondale,” says Kit. “Don’t complain now that you’ve got one.”
“It’s not about that; I can’t keep protecting you.”
Halfway through hanging up his jacket, Kit pauses. “ Protecting me?”, he softly repeats.
Zach grimaces and turns his hands palm up in the air, pacifying: “Look, you know I think you belong here. You’re a shadowhunter too. But some people think- you weren’t raised as one of us, you didn’t drink from the cup, you don’t even live with other shadowhunters…”
“Jem was a Silent Brother. Tessa-”
“-is a warlock”, says Zach, “and Carstairs is retired, which isn’t supposed to happen. Face it. Your entire family is an outlier.”
Kit tugs the worn denim back onto his shoulders, its weight unnaturally light without the anchor of Oliver’s dagger. A muscle twitches in Zach’s jaw. His big hands flex, ripple the fabric of his gloves, but nothing else moves- still the perfect statue of a centurion. Raymond would be proud.
“And?” 
“You can’t let them have leverage”, Zach emphasizes. “There are some concessions you get from being Jace Herondale’s cousin, but once people stop thinking you’re fun, they’ll- you’ll lose all privileges. Stop hanging out with the Blackthorn. He’s a ticking bomb.”
In a velvet tone, Kit says: “Would you like to elaborate on that?”
“Stop getting mad at me. I’m the one who should be angry- you’re making people think I’m a cuckold!”
“I haven’t done shit. It’s not my fault your kind doesn’t understand the concept of friendship. And, anyway, cuckold ? What the fuck kinda word choice is that? We’re not married, Zacharias.”
Zach says: “ Is it friendship, though? He has your fucking necklace.”
“It might be a little too complex for your little shadowhunter brain to understand,” Kit sneers, “But outside of this death trap of a cult, some of us manage to have meaningful friendships without having to have our skin burned about it.”
“You can’t possibly be comparing that to parabatai.”
The very idea is repugnant. Still- “I’m sorry, were you there for me when my dad fucking kicked it?”
“You haven’t talked in years!”
“As far as you know,” Kit scoffs.
“Why does it have to be fucking Tiberius Blackthorn, anyway? Can’t you pick literally anyone else?”
Kit takes a step closer. His hand grips the back of a chair, nails biting into the wood. “Oh? Would you like to explain to me why Ty is such a bad choice, then?”
Wisely, Zach stays silent.
“C’mon, now, don’t be shy. Tell me exactly what your thought process was on that one.”
“See?” Zach blurts out, glaring. “You’re even defending him now!”
It’s hard not to laugh at that. Kit doesn’t even try. “I never said I didn’t care. I’d like to believe I wouldn’t go for such an obvious lie, dollface.”
“You’re in love with him.”
Wood creaks. “ Don’t,” Kit bites out, “ ever say that again, or I swear, Zacharias Cross, I will end you.”
“You couldn’t. I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking, anyway.”
Carefully easing his death grip on the back of the chair, Kit puts forward a smile. “Oh, I love hearing gossip. Do go ahead.”
Stupidly, he does. “The Blackthorn’s family is half changeling already, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Tiberius were one of them, too. You know that. I don’t care how many privileges he gets because he’s the Unseelie King’s in law, the only one allowed headphones in the training room-”
“It’s not a privilege. He needs them.”
Zach makes a dismissive noise. “That’s what he wants you to think. The precious little Blackthorn- Ragnor Fell nearly bites off the head of anyone who dislikes him, it’s pathetic. You can’t expect people not to assume anyone who wants to be around that has ulterior reasons. You can’t expect them not to want to balance the scales a little.”
“I see.” Kit does. “Those people your friends?”
“Maybe. Maybe so.”
Kit allows the smile he can feel tugging at his mouth. Judging by Zach’s expression, he doesn’t find it very reassuring. What a shame.
“They actually tell you what they plan to do with their ulterior motives, or do you just do whatever the fuck they say and hope it works for the best?”
“Don’t- it’s fine, okay? They’re mad right now, but it’ll just blow over. I just need you to keep your head down.”
The bark of laughter startles both of them. 
Kit leans into it, throwing his head back, until the hysteria bubbling up inside of him has left his stomach empty. He bares his teeth: 
“Really? You think I can just keep my head down and everything will be fine ?”
“Sure. You’re a shadowhunter- you’re a Herondale. We’ll be fine. Just- just need to be careful, right now, just need you to stop acting like a Market rat, and then everything will be alright. It’s not like this shit will last forever.”
That’s hilarious. Laughter punches Kit’s throat, but he presses his lips together, grinning. The expression on Zach’s face nearly sends him right back into a fit. God. He should be spending more time around Zach, he really should; this is fucking priceless.
“Zach”, Kit manages, “They tried to kill you.”
A flinch. The smooth planes of Zach’s forehead scrunch up into mountain ranges, his confusion palpable. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Heather sent you to a famously shadowhunter-killing poltergeist in your uniform .”
“I mean, I know she wanted Ty to die-”
Now that’s new. Kit takes in a sharp inhale, reeling. “You knew?”
“It wasn’t subtle, of course I fucking knew. I knew as soon as Mayhew told me about the assignment- That’s why I volunteered. We don’t have enough centurions to be wasting them out of grudges; I knew you’d be acting up again, and I could handle it, anyway.”
“Aww. Could you?” A hysterical grin stretches Kit’s mouth a little too wide. He can see it in Zach, clear as day; the curl of his upper lip, the unnerved twist of his fingers against the bed, leaning away from him. “You were a second away from being minced meat when I saw you.”
“I had it under control-”
“She gave you physical weapon s to fight a ghost .”
“It worked the first time!”
Kit leans against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “You know, I did wonder about that. How could a poltergeist have turned up in Devon without me knowing about it? I have been dealing with those things for years.”
Zach’s eyes dart from him to the door and back, a cornered animal. Broad fingers twitch restlessly. His weapon is still laid out of immediate reach, an useless tool this far from home. Kit bets he’s regretting it now.
“Unless, of course, there was no poltergeist. Not really.”
“There was,” Zach immediately protests, “They wouldn’t-”
Kit drops the smile, face turning to stone. It makes Zach take a sharp inhale.
“They wouldn’t- what? Lie to you about it? You just admitted to believing they’re at least attempted murderers. Tell me, Zach. Did anything even happen when you walked into that first ‘haunted’ house?”
Silence. His lips twitch upwards.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“That makes no sense,” says Zach, empty.
A carefully casual shrug. Kit’s hand finds the doorknob behind his back, curling around the key ring. “Face it, Zach”, he says. “Your entire social circle is a death cult."
"You're lying. You’ve always hated them- of course you're lying! You want to keep me away from them so you can have your way with Blackthorn! Well, fuck that shit, I’m not falling for that!" Zach stands up, a head taller, two heads wider. Kit's back touches the perfect door:
"Alright. You’ve done me a favor, Cross, so I’ll do you one better. If they don't think you're disposable, if you feel like they actually care about you- then why don’t they know you're only second gen?"
Mid-step, Zach freezes. 
"How do you-"
"Your surname was the first clue. Cross isn’t really a shadowhunter name, is it?” Kit says. “You guys like to pretend you’re not painfully Christian where it matters. Now, Zacharias- that’s a good, respectable name for a shadowhunter, if a little overused. I never understood the urge to recycle all the same names.”
“Kit…”
“You have my dad to thank for yours, you know? Jem oversaw your mother's Ascent. Sarah- the real poltergeist- that’s what made me think about it, because why wouldn’t you accept at least a little disguise, unless you’re overcompensating- but he’s the one who really confirmed it for me,” Kit adds, pleased. “That's the thing about him being a retired Silent Brother; he can actually talk , now. You'd be surprised just how much ."
Unlike some, Zach doesn’t look good that pale. It just makes him look unwell.
"You can't tell them. Please."
Kit can't help it: he coos, as sweet and cloying as honey. "Aww, what's wrong, Cross? Do you not trust your friends to stick by you?" He clicks his tongue. "Afraid to find out how little they really care? You can't escape that, you know. No matter how fast you run, you’ll always just be- their tool . You’re not even that important, you know? They were talking about replacing you."
Zach’s hand closes around the pommel. 
Kit lurches back, twisting the doorknob, and the cold air of the hallway hits his back like a physical wall- Zach's eyes widen in horror; he takes one, two, three quick steps forward- Kit slams the door shut on his face-
And, at the end of his last shred of self control, Kit does what he does best.
He runs.
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pyreshe · 1 year
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dru bullied me so bad that I now have a loose y.oung a.vengers verse and have to doodle livvy in a lil superhero fit,
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domripley · 2 months
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Dark!Rhea: open your mouth Livvy Dom’s gonna cum in it
Dom stands over Liv masturbating on the bridge of cumming
Dom: oh mami she’s so pretty I’m gonna c-fuck
But Liv shakes her head trying to pull away from Rhea’s grip but Rhea plush Liv’s nose constricting her nostril airways
Dom cums down Liv’s throat-
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imher84 · 7 months
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Ok I’m new to tumblr y’all but I have to give my opinion on joe and Olivia if this is a made up story it’s not gonna affect joe nothing seems to affect joe like unbothered is so much his tag line BUT this poor girl who gets harassed on the daily isn’t coming back from this like it’s gone to far if it’s not true 1 of her girlies as they go by at every game should have said early on this is not true and helped her be like omg people be crazy making shit up lol and like can’t wait for the season lol 😆 but homegirl has been at this 6 years been put through hell for 3 of them watched most the girlies and bengals ladies get married have babies etc and this MF is creepin Livvy dunne on the gram I don’t give a rats F....- how good looking he is now cuz she was with his baby face ass when he came walking out of Appalachia with messed up teeth and a huge ego YALL C MON nope nope this ain’t right y’all it ain’t right and now he sitting there talking bout don’t wear your ring in public for security reasons don’t confirm our engagement please no pictures WTF YOU THINKS GONNA HAPPEN ALL YOUR LITTLE BITTY TITTY COMITY GONE THINK YOUR GETTING MARRIED AND NOT DM YOU WITH THERE SELFIES nah she’s a better woman than me cuz I’d have done broke his legs idc about no contract that you tryna keep secret so on Tuesday when 1 of your boys gets cut from the roster you don’t wannabe blamed cuz they gotta pay you WHATS THE BIG SECRET if Mahommes can parade Britney around like a prize and give her children to cuz she stuck with him IM SERIOUS YALL LIKE this man haha 😆 this man must be trippin y’all it’s for her safety NO JOE. ITS NOT its so your tall handsome ass can still get side bitches speaking of safety are the bengals gonna get you some safety cuz you been sacked like a million times that’s the only safety you should be worried about nah y’all i gotta get off here cuz this mans making me angry 😠 y’all
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Emma a Bruce
Querido Bruce,
Lo siento, no he escrito mucho en ti últimamente. Hemos tenido tiempos ocupados por aquí.
El martes Julian y yo estábamos desayunando, ha sido agradable y soleado esta última semana, y la cocina era bastante alegre. Me he enamorado de los crumpets (1), y Julian es excelente para tostarlos sobre la estufa. Los estábamos tomando con miel y mantequilla cuando escuchamos un golpe en la puerta principal.
Julian saltó. Ahora, hace aproximadamente un día, recibimos un mensaje de Ty diciendo que venía con Ragnor a Blackthorn Hall. Parecía realmente preocupado de que Julian estuviera enojado, pero Julian no estaba en absoluto enojado. Estaba nervioso. Iba todo el día mirando distraído y chocando con cosas, así que cuando nos acostábamos por la noche le cogí la mano y le escribí en la palma de la mano, como siempre solíamos hacerlo, trazando cada letra. ¿-P-O-R-Q-U-E-E-S-T-A-S-P-R-E-O-C-U-P-A-D-O-?
Nos acurrucamos juntos bajo las sábanas. Me dijo que estaba preocupado porque solía ser la persona que cuidaba a Ty, y ahora había pasado más de un año y Ty se había estado cuidando a sí mismo. Dijo que solía saber todo sobre Ty, cuando se levantaba y cuando se iba a dormir, y lo que le gustaba comer y hacer, y ahora siente que le ha perdido la pista de alguna manera, como si tal vez se sintiera como si fueran extraños.
Le dije que nunca perdería la noción de Ty y que su relación siempre sería especial, que iba a ser diferente de lo que había sido porque Jules ya no tiene que cuidar de todos y fingir que no lo está haciendo. Él no tiene que llevar este gran peso secreto, y la responsabilidad siempre es un peso, sin importar cuánto ames a las personas de las que eres responsable.
Después de eso, me besó, y el resto, Bruce, no es asunto tuyo. Dios mío, te gusta entrometerte.
De todos modos, volvamos al desayuno y el golpe en la puerta. Era Ragnor, con un tono verde espléndido, como un prado inglés. Salió justo al lado de Julian y comenzó a inspeccionar las cortinas. Bueno, probablemente estaba inspeccionando algo mágico, como la maldición, pero para mí parecía que estaba examinando las cortinas y el papel tapiz. Tal vez esté pensando en decorar su propio lugar. O tal vez solo le estaba dando a Julian un tiempo a solas con Ty, porque Ty todavía estaba de pie en las escaleras, con una bolsa de lona sobre su brazo, luciendo adorablemente incómodo.
Quería correr y abrazarlo, pero me quedé colgado porque podía sentir en mis huesos que este era el momento de Ty y Jules. Jules estaba parado en la puerta mirando a Ty con la cara apretada y luego dijo: "Ven aquí", con una voz áspera y Ty dejó caer su bolsa de lona y corrió por las escaleras y Julian lo abrazó tan fuerte que pensé con seguridad que protestaría. Pero no lo hizo. Simplemente se inclinó hacia el abrazo. Jules se frotó la espalda y dijo: "Ty-Ty", y me perdí lo que sucedió a continuación porque mantenía los ojos muy abiertos y trataba de no parpadear. Es la mejor manera en que se evitar llorar.
Finalmente se soltaron el uno al otro, y le mostramos a Ty y Ragnor el primer piso, lo que se sintió un poco extraño, sabiendo que Ty ya había estado aquí hace dos años con Livvy. Creo que todos podríamos sentirlo, el elefante triste en la habitación. Julian seguía lanzando miradas ansiosas a Ty, pero Ty no parecía triste, en realidad, más pensativo. Finalmente, Julián le dijo que debía subir las escaleras y elegir un dormitorio. "Cualquier habitación! Hay mucho para elegir. Lo que quieras, puedes decidir cómo quieres decorarlo. Cualquier cosa que quieras hacer".
"¿Y dónde dormiré?" Ragnor dijo gruñón. "¿Sobre la chimenea?"
Ty ya se dirigía arriba con Julian. Le dije a Ragnor que podía dormir donde quisiera, aunque le recomendé el sofá de abajo si quería estar cerca del fantasma. Rupert todavía tiende a aparecer con mayor frecuencia en el comedor. Ragnor no se comprometió con esto, sino que solo entró en la cocina y comenzó a hacer té. Le ofrecí un crumpet para ser hospitalario y cuando Julian regresó abajo, Ragnor estaba goteando miel en el mostrador.
"¿Puedo ver el mapa de la líneas ley?" Preguntó Jules. "¿O estás demasiado ocupado atrayendo hormigas?"
"No hay hormigas", dijo Ragnor, alrededor de su crumpet. "No es la temporada". Se lamió los dedos, metió la mano en su chaqueta y sacó un enorme pergamino enrollado que, en primer lugar, no cabía en la chaqueta sin hacer algo de magia, así que nunca se diga que a Ragnor no le gustan los gestos dramáticos, incluso si dice estar por encima de ese tipo de cosas. Lo desplegó en la larga mesa del comedor y lo pesó con un candelabro y algunos libros a lo largo de los bordes.
Era un mapa del centro de Londres, es difícil perderse la forma distintiva del Támesis serpenteando por el medio, pero absolutamente cubierto de líneas en varias tintas diferentes: rojo, azul, verde, dorado. Y a lo largo de las líneas había símbolos astrológicos y flechas y números y un poco ocasional de griego. Apenas se podían leer los nombres de las calles.
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"¿Tu mapa de Londres está en griego?" Dijo Julián. "Además, ¿no vas a tener miel?"
"La miel es buena para el pergamino", dijo Ragnor. "Es un conservador. Y es copto".
"¿Tu mapa de Londres está en copto?" He dicho.
Ragnor lo consideró con cariño. "Lo es. Lo creas o no, es uno de los mapas de línea ley más legibles de la ciudad que he encontrado. Algunos de ellos son simplemente imposibles. Este es de la década de 1700, solo escribieron en copto para ser difícil. Los brujos son así".
Lo sé, quería decir, pero no lo hice, porque Ragnor nos estaba haciendo un favor.
"¿Está tu fantasma en marcha?" Dijo Ragnor. Había retirado un gran cristal de aumento y estaba mirando a través de él en pedazos del mapa.
"No estoy seguro", le dije. "¿Rupert? Tenemos un visitante que quiere conocerte".
No pasó nada.
"Así que va y viene", murmuró Ragnor, como para sí mismo. "Interesante." Sacó un pequeño cuaderno de cuero de su bolsillo y lo hojeó.
"¿Es interesante?" Dijo Julián. "Tal vez es tímido con la gente nueva. Antes de que apareciéramos, estuvo solo aquí durante cincuenta años más o menos".
Ragnor miró a Julian. "Mi hijo, hay llamadas telefónicas que no he recibido para regresar que son tan viejas".
"Bueno, deberías ser un mejor corresponsal", dijo Julian, cruzando los brazos. "¿Ves algo en el mapa?"
Ragnor se movió y regresó al mapa. Después de un rato se enderezó y dijo: "Está bien. ¿Quieres escuchar todos los detalles esenciales, o debería saltar directamente a la conclusión?"
"Conclusión, por favor", le dije.
"Pensé que sí", dijo Ragnor. Sonaba gruñón, sin ninguna razón que pudiera imaginar. ¡Ese es nuestro Ragnor!
"Teniendo en cuenta los diferentes tipos de líneas ley y las diversas intersecciones, nudos y rastros", dijo, "y asumiendo que los otros objetos están probablemente en el centro de Londres, ya que todos los demás lo han estado, y asumiendo que es probable que los objetos estén en lugares relevantes para el Mundo de las Sombras ..." Hizo una pausa y nos arqueó una ceja.
"Contigo hasta ahora", dijo Julian.
"Veo aquí y aquí como los próximos lugares de búsqueda más probables". Había producido un lápiz de algún lugar, y rodeó dos puntos en el mapa. "Aquí está la iglesia de Santa María Abchurch. Y aquí ..." Se alejó.
Julian se inclinó sobre el mapa donde Ragnor estaba apuntando. "¿Sí? Parece solo una calle de casas adosadas en el Soho".
"Bueno", dijo Ragnor, "érase una vez, durante muchos años, hubo un infame salón Downworlder en una de estas casas adosadas. El Infierno Ruelle, se llamaba. Era un nombre muy inteligente, ya ves, porque una ruelle es un nombre para una especie de recepción que las damas aristocráticas francesas solían tener en sus habitaciones, un poco como un salón, y también una ruelle es un callejón estrecho, como en el que está esta casa ".
"Además", dije seriamente, "rima".
"Bastante", dijo Ragnor. "No tengo idea de lo que le pasó. Los salones han pasado de moda durante mucho tiempo, pero a los Downworlders les gustan sus cosas anticuadas. Apostaría a que sigue siendo un club de algún tipo, probablemente tan escandaloso como lo fue en su día. El escándalo nunca pasa de moda, lo he notado".
"Vimos un playbill desde allí", le dijo Julian. "Se exhibió en la casa Herondale en Curzon Street".
Las cejas de Ragnor subieron. "¿Fuiste a la casa de Curzon Street? ¿Cómo es ahora?"
Así que Julian comenzó a contarle a Ragnor todo sobre nuestra visita allí, lo cual estuvo bien porque quería ir a ver a Ty. Había pensado que podría bajar las escaleras para ayudar o al menos observar a Ragnor, pero aparentemente encontraría algún lugar que le gustara y se había quedado allí. O alguna terrible magia oscura le había sucedido. Pero probablemente la primera.
Era fácil de encontrar, al menos, hay muchas habitaciones, pero no tantas, y, además, estas viejas paredes no hacen nada para bloquear el sonido, y pude escuchar su voz en una de ellas. El "dormitorio gris", como lo llamamos Julián y yo. Tiene una bonita vista del estanque de patos.
Supongo que estaba hablando por teléfono con alguien; Podía escuchar las pausas en las que escuchaba a la otra persona. Pensé que lo escuché decir: "Bueno, no tengo idea de por qué, pero no ha pasado tanto tiempo", en referencia a algo, y luego la puerta se abrió y salió de la habitación. Inmediatamente comenzó a verme de pie en el pasillo. "¿Emma?"
"Me acerqué para ver cómo estás", le dije. "Creo que vamos a conseguir algo de comida para llevar en un momento. ¿Es ese el dormitorio que te gusta?"
"Sí", dijo, mirando por encima del hombro a las ventanas altas. "Es una buena habitación, creo".
"¿Estabas hablando con tu hermana?" He dicho.
No dijo nada, se puso rojo, luego blanco. Me preguntaba si había dicho algo que se suponía que no debía escuchar, pero no podía imaginar qué. "No estaba escuchando", aclaré. "Simplemente asumí que era Dru".
"¡Oh!", Dijo. "Sí. Sí, estaba hablando con Dru. Ella ..."
"Probablemente quiera saber cómo son las habitaciones", le dije, tratando de tranquilizarlo. "Dru definitivamente querría el más gótico".
"Claro." Ty y yo empezamos a bajar. "Sin embargo, no soy un buen juez de lo que es gótico".
"Creo que la idea es 'lo más espeluznante posible'", dije, y llegamos a la cocina, donde Jules y Ragnor estaban esperando. Ty se relajó bastante rápido; resultó que todo lo que necesitaba era (a) un poco de té y (b) hablar con Ragnor sobre los detalles del mapa de la línea ley sin cesar hasta que llegó la comida y finalmente los detuvo. Bruce, te juro que en un momento Ragnor contó un chiste en copto y Ty se rió. Son duros allá en el Escolomántico Tal vez demasiado duros para mí. Pero no me malinterpreten, fue muy agradable tenerlos aquí. Me recordó que cuando este proyecto esté completo y todos los Blackthorn estén aquí y puedan hacerlo suyo, esta casa podría sentirse cálida y amigable nuevamente. Ni siquiera se sintió tan maldito mientras nos acostábamos frente a la chimenea jugando Clue (aquí lo llaman Cluedo) hasta que Ty se estaba quedando dormido.
Actualización: Domingo por la noche. Ragnor y Ty se fueron esta tarde. Fue realmente genial tenerlos aquí, fue bueno para Julian y para mí tener a otras personas aquí en la casa para hablar con otros que no fueran los constructores. Ty y Julian pasaron un montón de tiempo deambulando por los jardines, decidiendo qué estatuas antiguas están arruinadas de una manera decorativa y atractiva, y cuáles simplemente esta arruinadas. Vamos a tener que conseguir algunas estatuas nuevas cuando rehagamos el jardín, lo cual a Ty le entusiasmó mucho; piensa que deberíamos tener uno de Holmes sosteniendo una lupa, y uno de Watson.
¡Lo único extraño es que el fantasma Rupert estuvo desaparecido durante toda la visita!, y luego reapareció una hora después de que se fueron. Le mostramos el mapa y lo que Ragnor nos dijo, y él solo dijo que está seguro de que Ragnor tiene razón. Y resulta que habló con Ty en algún momento. Dijo que Ty es "amable con los fantasmas". Tal vez Ty le hizo un sándwich de fantasmas o le leyó un cuento de fantasmas antes de acostarse o algo así. Ty ciertamente no dijo nada al respecto.
Entonces, ¡eso es todo por ahora! Supongo que nos dirigiremos a St Mary Abchurch mañana por la tarde, y luego, dependiendo de cómo vaya eso, revisaremos esta casa adosada y veremos si todavía hay un club escandaloso del Soho allí. Aunque lo que Ragnor consideraría escandaloso podría no ser tan escandaloso para nosotros. ¡Supongo que lo descubriremos! ¡Por lo que sabemos, es solo la casa de un tipo y estará muy confundido al vernos!
Buenas noches, Bruce. Es agradable pensar en cómo será cuando todos los Blackthorns estén aquí y el lugar esté lleno de ruido y actividad. Es la primera vez desde que comenzamos que realmente he podido imaginarlo, incluso a través de la maldición. Mientras tanto, voy a meter una Polaroid de nosotros jugando Cluedo aquí entre estas páginas en caso de que quieras algo para ver más adelante.
- Emma
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Los crumpets son una especie de hotcakes, pero más esponjosos y llenos de agujeritos, son tradicionales de la gastronomía britanica
Texto original de @cassandraclare ©
Imagen de  @cassandrajp ©
Traducción del texto @carstairsa ©
@secretsofblackthornhall
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Emma a Bruce
NOTA: ya vuelvo a tener tiempo y durante estos días iré subiendo todas las actualizaciones. A partir de la semana que viene iremos al día. ¡Lo lamento y gracias por entenderlo! - Niloa Gray
Querido Bruce,
Siento no haberte escrito mucho últimamente. Han sido semanas de mucho trabajo por aquí.
El martes Julian y yo estábamos desayunando; ha hecho buen tiempo y sol esta última semana, y la cocina estaba bastante animada. Me he enamorado de los bollos, y Julian es excelente para tostarlos en el horno. Los estábamos comiendo con miel y mantequilla cuando oímos que llamaban a la puerta principal.
Julian se levantó de un salto. Hace un día recibimos un mensaje de Ty diciendo que venía con Ragnor a Blackthorn Hall. Parecía muy preocupado por si Julian se enfadaba, pero Julian no se enfadó en absoluto. Estaba nervioso. Anduvo todo el día distraído y chocando con las cosas, así que cuando nos fuimos a la cama por la noche le cogí la mano y le escribí sobre la palma, como solíamos hacer siempre, trazando cada letra. ¿-Q-U-É-T-E-P-R-E-O-C-U-P-A-?
Nos acurrucamos juntos bajo las sábanas. Me dijo que estaba preocupado porque él solía ser la persona que cuidaba de Ty, y ahora había pasado más de un año y Ty había estado cuidando de sí mismo. Me dijo que antes lo sabía todo sobre Ty: cuándo se levantaba y cuándo se dormía, y qué le gustaba comer y hacer, y que ahora sentía que ya no sabía todo de él, y que cuando llegase, temía que pareciesen dos completos desconocidos.
Le dije que nunca perdería a Ty y que su relación siempre sería especial, sólo que iba a ser diferente de lo que había sido porque Jules ya no tenía que ocuparse de todo el mundo y fingir que no era así. No tiene que cargar con ese gran peso, y la responsabilidad siempre es un peso, no importa cuánto ames a las personas de las que eres responsable.
Después de eso, me besó, y lo demás, Bruce, no es asunto tuyo. Madre mía, como te gusta cotillear.
Pero bueno, volviendo al desayuno y la llamada a la puerta. Era Ragnor, con un alegre tono verde, como el de una pradera inglesa. Pasó por delante de Julian y empezó a inspeccionar las cortinas. Bueno, probablemente estaba inspeccionando algo mágico, como la maldición, pero a mí me pareció que estaba examinando las cortinas y el papel pintado. Tal vez estaba pensando en cómo decorar su propia casa. O tal vez sólo estaba dando a Julian un tiempo a solas con Ty, porque Ty todavía estaba de pie en las escaleras, con una bolsa de lona sobre su brazo, luciendo adorablemente torpe.
Quería bajar corriendo y abrazarlo, pero me contuve porque podía sentir en mis huesos que ese era el momento de Ty y Jules. Jules estaba de pie en la puerta mirando a Ty con la cara tensa y entonces dijo:
—Ven aquí —con un tono de voz áspero, y Ty dejó caer su bolsa de lona y subió corriendo las escaleras y Julian lo abrazó tan fuerte que pensé que protestaría. Pero no lo hizo. Simplemente aceptó aún más el abrazo. Jules le frotó la espalda y dijo:
—Ty-Ty.
Me perdí lo que pasó después porque tenía los ojos muy abiertos e intentaba no parpadear. Es la mejor manera que conozco de no llorar.
Al final rompieron el abrazo, y les enseñamos a Ty y a Ragnor la primera planta de la casa, lo cual fue un poco extraño sabiendo que Ty ya había estado aquí hacía dos años con Livvy. Creo que todos podíamos sentirlo, el ambiente tan triste que había. Julian seguía lanzando miradas ansiosas a Ty, pero éste no parecía triste, sino más bien pensativo. Al final Julian le dijo que debía subir y elegir una habitación.
—¡Cualquier habitación! Hay muchas para elegir. La que quieras, puedes decidir cómo quieres decorarla. Lo que quieras hacer.
—¿Y dónde voy a dormir? — dijo Ragnor malhumorado—. ¿Metido en la chimenea?"
Ty ya estaba subiendo la escaleras con Julian. Le dije a Ragnor que podía dormir donde quisiese, pero mi recomendación era el sillón que había en la planta baja si quería estar cerca del fantasma. Rupert aparece casi todas las veces en el comedor. Ragnor no estuvo muy de acuerdo, así que se dirigió a la cocina y empezó a preparar té. Le ofrecí un bollo para ser hospitalaria cuando Julian volvió y Ragnor estaba chorreando miel sobre la encimera.
—¿Puedo ver el mapa de líneas ley? —preguntó Jules—. ¿O estás muy ocupado atrayendo a las hormigas?
—Nada de hormigas —dijo Ragnor masticando el bollo—. No es época.
Se chupó los dedos, metió la mano en su chaqueta, y sacó un enorme pergamino enrollado que, en primer lugar, era imposible que cupiese en esa chaqueta sin uso de la magia. Que no se diga que a Ragnor no le gustan los gestos dramáticos, incluso si dice ser mejor que eso. Lo desplegó sobre la larga mesa del comedor y lo apuntaló con un candelabro y algunos libros en los bordes.
Era un mapa del centro de Londres (era difícil no ver la distintiva forma del Támesis serpenteando por el centro) pero, aun así, estaba completamente cubierto por líneas en varias tintas diferentes: roja, azul, verde, dorada. Y a lo largo de las líneas había símbolos astrológicos y flechas y números y alguna que otra palabra en Griego. Apenas se podían leer los nombres de las calles.
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—¿Tu mapa de Londres está en griego? —dijo Julian—. Además, no vas a ponerle miel. ¿verdad?
—La miel es buena para el pergamino —dijo Ragnor—. Es un conservante. Y es Copto, no Griego.
—¿Tu mapa de Londres está en Copto? —dije.
Ragnor lo miró con cariño.
—Así es. Lo creáis o no, es uno de los mapas con líneas ley mas legibles que he encontrado de la ciudad. Algunos son imposibles de leer. Este es del 1700, y lo escribieron en Copto para hacerlo más difícil de interpretar. Los brujos son así.
Lo sé, quise decir, pero no lo hice, porque Ragnor nos estaba haciendo un favor.
—¿Tu fantasma está cerca? —dijo Ragnor. Había sacado una gran lupa y miraba a través de ella algunos trozos del mapa.
—No estoy segura —dije—. ¿Rupert? Tenemos un visitante que quiere conocerte.
Nada pasó.
—Así que va y viene —murmuró Ragnor más para si mismo—. Interesante.
Saco un pequeño cuaderno de cuero de su bolsillo y lo hojeó.
—¿Es algo interesante? —dijo Julian—. Tal vez sea algo tímido ante desconocidos. Antes de que apareciésemos llevaba solo unos cincuenta años o así.
Ragnor miró a Julian.
—Hijo mío, hay llamadas telefónicas que todavía no he devuelto que son asi de antiguas.
—Pues deberías ser mejor corresponsal —dijo Julian cruzándose de brazos—. ¿Ves algo en el mapa?
Ragnor se quedó un poco boquiabierto y volvió al mapa. Después de unr ato, se enderezó y dijo:
—Muy bien. ¿Quieres que te cuente todos los detalles, o paso directamente a las conclusiones?
—Conclusiones, por favor —dije.
—Lo que imaginaba —dijo Ragnor. Sonaba malhumorado, lo cual no podía imaginar por qué. ¡Sin duda nuestro Ragnor!
—Teniendo en cuenta los diferentes tipos de líneas ley y las diversas intersecciones, nudos y trazos— dijo—, y asumiendo que los otros objetos están probablemente en el centro de Londres, ya que todos los demás lo han estado, y que los objetos están probablemente en lugares relevantes para el Mundo de las Sombras...
Hizo una pausa y enarcó una ceja hacia nosotros.
—Te seguimos —dijo Julian.
—Veo aquí y aquí como los próximos lugares donde deberías probablemente empezar a buscar.
Había sacado un lápiz de alguna parte y marcó dos puntos en el mapa.
—Aquí está la iglesia de Sant Mary Abchurch. Y aquí...
Se interrumpió.
Julian se inclinó sobre el mapa donde Ragnor señalaba.
—¿Sí? Parece una calle de casas adosadas en el Soho.
—Bueno —dijo Ragnor—, hubo una vez, durante muchos años, un infame salón de los Subterráneos en una de estas casas. Se llamaba "El Hell Ruelle". Era un nombre muy ingenioso, ya que una ruelle es un nombre para una especie de recepción que las damas aristocráticas francesas solían celebrar en sus dormitorios, un poco como un salón, y además una ruelle es un callejón estrecho, como en el que está esta casa.
—Además— dije seriamente—, rima.
—Bastante —dijo Ragnor—. No tengo ni idea que fue de él. Los salones han pasado de moda, pero a los Subterráneos les gustan ese tipo de cosas. Apuesto que aún existe algún club del estilo, probablemente tan escandaloso como ese lo fue en su día. Me he dado de que el escandalo es algo que nunca pasa de moda.
—Vimos una cartelera del lugar —le dijo Julian—. Estaba expuesta en la casa de los Herondale de Curzon Street.
Ragnor encaró sus cejas.
—¿Habéis ido a esa casa? ¿Cómo está ahora?
Así que Julian empezó a contarle a Ragnor todo sobre nuestra visita allí, lo cual fue ideal porque quería ir a ver a Ty. Había pensado que podría bajar para ayudar o al menos observar a Ragnor, pero al parecer había encontrado un lugar que le gustaba y se había quedado allí. O alguna terrible magia oscura había caído sobre él. Pero seguro sería lo primero.
Fue fácil encontrarle; hay muchos dormitorios, pero no tantos, y además, estas viejas paredes no hacen nada para bloquear el sonido. Podía oír su voz en uno de ellos. El "dormitorio gris", como lo llamamos Julian y yo. Tiene una bonita vista del estanque de los patos.
Supongo que estaba hablando por teléfono con alguien; podía oír las pausas en las que escuchaba a la otra persona. Me pareció oírle decir: "Bueno, no tengo ni idea de por qué, pero no ha pasado tanto tiempo", en referencia a algo, y entonces se abrió la puerta y salió de la habitación. Inmediatamente se sobresaltó al verme de pie en el pasillo.
—¿Emma?
—Solo quería saber cómo estabas —dije— creo que vamos a pedir a domicilio en un rato. ¿Esa es la habitación que te gusta?
—Sí —dijo, mirando por encima de su hombro a las altas ventanas—. Es una buena habitación. Creo.
—¿Estabas hablando con tu hermana? —dije.
No dijo nada, sino mas bien su cara se volvió roja y luego blanca. Me pregunté si había dicho algo que no debería haber oído, pero no podía imaginarme el que.
—No estaba escuchando —le aclaré—. Solo asumí que era Dru.
—¡Oh! —dijo—. Sí, sí. Estaba hablando con Dru. Ella…
—Seguro que quiere saber como son las habitaciones—dije, intentando calmarle—. Seguro que quiere la más fantasmal.
—Seguro —Ty y yo empezamos a bajar al piso de abajo—. Aunque no se muy bien que es fantasmal, la verdad.
—Creo que la idea es “lo más terrorífico posible” —dije, y llegamos a la cocina, donde Jules y Ragnor nos estaban esperando. Ty se relajó bastante rápido; lo único que necesitaba era (a) algo de té y (b) hablar con Ragnor sobre los detalles del mapa de líneas ley sin parar hasta que llegó la comida y finalmente pudimos pararles los pies. Bruce, te juro que en cierto punto Ragnor soltó una broma en cóptico y Ty se rio. Van más allá en el Escolomántico. Tal vez demasiado para mí. No me mal interpretes… fue genial tenerlos aquí. Me recordó que, cuando este proyecto este acabado y los Blackthorns estén aquí y puedan hacer su propio camino, esta casa volverá a ser acogedora y amigable de nuevo. Ni siquiera parecía maldita mientras estábamos frente a la chimenea jugando a Cluedo hasta que Ty se empezó a dormir.
Actualización: Domingo noche. Ragnor y Ty se han ido esta tarde. Ha sido genial tenerlos aquí, ha sido bueno para Julian y para mí tener a otra personas en la casa con quien hablar a parte de los trabajadores. Ty y Julian han pasado un buen rato paseando por los jardines, decidiendo que estatuas viejas están arruinadas pero de una manera atractiva y decorativa, y cuales simplemente estaban destruidas. Vamos a tener nuevas estatuas cuando renovemos el jardín, lo cual hizo que Ty se emocionase bastante; cree que podríamos poner una de Holmes sujetando una gran lupa, y otra de Watson.
Lo único raro es que el fantasma de Rupert no apareció en toda su estancia, pero si lo hizo una hora después de que se fuesen. Le mostramos el mapa y lo que Ragnor nos había contado, y solo nos dijo que está seguro de que Ragnor lleva razón. Y resultó que sí había hablado con Ty en cierto punto. Dice que Ty es “amable con los fantasmas”. Tal vez Ty le hizo un sándwich fantasmal o le leyó un cuento para dormir de fantasmas o algo parecido. Ty no dijo nada al respecto.
¡Así que esto es todo por ahora! Supongo que iremos mañana por la tarde a St Mary Abchurch y después dependiendo de cómo vaya, iremos a esta casa adosada en el Soho para ver si hay algún club escandaloso. Aunque lo que Ragnor pueda consideras escandaloso, tal vez para nosotros no lo es. ¡Tendremos que averiguarlo! Todo lo que sabemos es que es la casa de algún tipo, ¡y que seguro estará bastante confuso cuando nos vea!
Buenas noches, Bruce. Es bonito pensar como será la casa cuando todos los Blackthorns estén aquí, llenándola de ruido y actividad. Es la primera vez desde que empezamos con todo esto que he sido capaz de visualizarlo, incluso con la maldición. Mientras tanto, te dejó una Polaroid de nosotros jugando al Cluedo entre las páginas por si quieres echarle un vistazo más tarde.
— Emma
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Texto original de Cassandra Clare ©
Traducción del texto de Niloa Gray ©
ATENCIÓN: no se permite hacer Drives ni PDFs de “Los Secretos de Blackthorn Hall” por Copyright. Cualquier infringimiento va contra la ley.
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