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babydarkstar · 2 years

Text

love has arrived

pairing: lumberjack frankie morales x wife!reader || rating: E (18+ only thanks) || warnings: PTSD mention, vietnam vet frankie, kissing, like mild sexual stuff at the end, fluff <3, also kinda housewife kink-y, and period appropriate shit (70s). frankie will always drink his respect women juice, no matter what era he is in, rest assured. || wc: 1.4k

a/n: LUMBERJACK FRANKIE!!!!!!!!! idk if lumberjacks were still a thing in the 70s bc of technology and i dont care. idk the technicalities behind lumberjack work and i dont care. this is my house and we’re breaking every writing law because i wanted to write about frankie chopping wood.

THIS IS DEDICATED TO MY DEAREST BELOVED @tuskens-mando WHOM I CONSTANTLY BOMBARD WITH MY NEVER-ENDING LUST AND LONGING FOR FICTIONAL MEN. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ANGEL BABY, YOU ARE MY SLUT AND I AM YOURS. THANK YOU FOR GETTIN FREAKY DEAKY WITH ME. talking to you gets my creative juices flowing like nothing else, and i have you to thank for so much of my inspiration. this quick drabble is for you👉👈(and there will be maybe a couple more small snapshots into their life)

song: can’t take my eyes off you - frankie valli but also sam cooke's (what a) wonderful world bc i said so

Thunk.

You turn the knob on the radio, hearing it fizz and crackle until you tune into the only station for miles that plays music.

Thunk.

The song is over before you can even sing the last verse, and the next one isn’t great. With a sigh, you click the power dial into the off position and turn towards the den, your mind on the turntable.

Thunk.

You couldn’t afford the latest and greatest. Just a simple turntable atop the stand Frankie built for it, with the records stacked and tucked neatly beneath. You grab a random one, and pull it from the sleeve without so much as a glance down at the cover, knowing you’ll like whatever it is. When the needle hits the first groove, you sigh at the crackle and turn it up when the first notes float through the house.

Thunk.

As you make your way back to the kitchen to wash your hands, you grab his pack of smokes from off the coffee table and bring them with you, tamping them down in your palm. Frankie’s been at it for hours, slamming his axe down into log after log, slicing wood into smaller and smaller pieces and stacking each one into a massive pile. You’ve taken the free time to straighten up, do a load of laundry, light a few candles, make dinner, and chainsmoke a handful of cigarettes off the back porch while flipping through your novel.

Thunk.

You know what this time is for him—therapy. Recovery, release, a fondness in repetition. It’s his job and still he takes a moment to do it for free.

Thunk.

One year and some change since troops withdrew from Vietnam. Three years since he was discharged.

Thunk.

You’re one of the lucky wives, one of the blessed who welcomed home a lover instead of a folded flag and a casket.

Thunk.

It didn’t help that it felt like half the country hated your husband.

Ka-thunk.

You had wanted to scream at the protesters lining the airport that he didn’t have a choice—you were on their side!

Thunk.

Fuck a war when you could have his loving arms around you instead, when you didn’t have to rub his back and cradle him against your chest every time he woke up shaking and screaming at night, when you wouldn’t have had to spend literal months waiting to hear if he’d stepped on a fucking landmine or if he’d live to see another day.

Thunk.

But you can’t waste your energy yelling at a brick wall. Not when your Frankie is still here, and not while you hope to someday soon have a little one on the way.

Thunk.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Thunk, ka-thunk, thunk, thunk.

The gentle, muted thud grows more frequent, and you lean to look out the window over the stove to find Frankie standing in the side yard, same place he’s been all late afternoon since he got off work.

He stands by a stump—no. A closer look at the wood near Frankie tells you he had wrapped a bungee cord around a fatter log, one the size of the coffee table. He drives the axe downward into the wood with a smooth, streamlined precision, each time hitting the log in a different place and each time taking a step over to adjust his position. The axe falls hard, the muscles in Frankie’s back straining and flexing against his red flannel with every swing of his arms—but he does not falter.

You note idly that he doesn’t have his jacket on, and note the bead of sweat causing his hair to stick to his brow beneath his fuzzy bomber hat. From what you can see, his cheeks are tinged pink with the bite of the cold, his jaw clenched.

Heaven, you’ve probably let him have at it for long enough—probably too long.

You grab his mug from the cabinet and pour him some cider from the bubbling pot on the stove, watching as he sets down the axe and goes about pulling the cord free with his gloved hands. When it releases, a ring of loose firewood falls in procession, and soon he’s grabbing handfuls of the pieces and turning to add them to his pile.

When Frankie’s finished he turns, and you catch his eye from the yard.

You hold up his mug with a sly grin, wafting the steam up to your face in a gesture meant to show him just how tantalizing and inviting the inside can be. He breaks into a quiet smile as he pats his hands off, fixing his gloves and shaking his head at your silly faces before grabbing his jacket off the fence post and crunching through the frozen leaves and fallen snow. He walks out of your line of sight and you turn to check the pies in the oven, a quick glance to make sure dinner is almost set.

When you hear the door open, you’re walking to the hall with his mug in hand, steam billowing into your face. A chill blows in as he closes it, and you watch his shoulders sag as he drops an armful of cloth-wrapped wood by the threshold to the den and begins the process of thawing out his bones.

“Been choppin’ wood all day, baby, don’t it make you a little tired?” you ask lightheartedly with a hand to his chest, pressing a kiss to his winter-chilled cheek.

“Never,” Frankie huffs with a smile as he drapes his coat over the rack, “‘Sides”—turning to accept the piping hot drink from your hands—“thank you, baby—besides—I’ve gotta keep you warm.”

With a grin, he grabs your head to pull you in and drops a careful kiss to your forehead, and you wrap your arms around him, breathing in his scent of menthol cigarettes and pine and cold and Frankie. Frankie blows the steam off his mug, his other arm draped over you as he rubs up and down your back.

“Miss me or somethin’?” he rumbles into your ear, pecking sloppily over your face until you squirm and bury your head into his side.

“A little,” you say, but the moment is ruined when he pokes at your side and pulls a shriek of laughter from you, causing you to duck under his armpit and slip from his grasp. You’re quick to dart back into the kitchen, noting that his prodding hand is not far behind as he chuckles and trails you into the warmth of the room.

You end up pressed against the oven, hands on the counter as Frankie comes up behind to move your hair away and drop a still-chilly kiss to the plane of your neck. He buries his cold cheeks into the warmth of your skin, basking in your scent and your supple body against him. A squeak and then you turn to look at him, noting he’s put his mug down in favor of sneaking his—thankfully warm—hands up the ragged flannel you have on.

When you reach up to fix his collar he’s already smoothing up your sides to palm at all the skin he can take hold of, and you give a quiet laugh that’s a burst of joy to his ears, “You spend all that time outside getting froze to the core just to have me thaw you again and again? Doesn’t seem fair.”

“Mmm,” he hums, one wide palm sliding up your back to cradle over your nape and draw you to him, where he nips at your lower lip, his mustache grazing over your skin, “Nothin’ my warm little wife can’t handle, hm?”

“‘Course not,” you whisper, then turn and guide him away from the oven, backing him into the counter next to it and granting him a scalding kiss, your tongue not shy when you dart it out and lick over his lips. As you press your fingers into his shoulders and down his arms, he wants to devour you—his hands glide beneath your breasts and rove over your hips in gentle but desperate grabs, a soft moan rumbling from the deep cavity of his chest and echoing into you when he licks back and tangles his tongue with yours.

Faintly, you can hear the soft beat of the music from the den, a sweet soundtrack to your little home.

—you’re just too good to be true…can’t take my eyes off you—

Before he can get those big hands under your pants, your kitchen timer trills out and you break apart, both pulling deep for air. Frankie, with his swollen lips and his pretty dark eyes and that hair you should probably trim, looks over at the little apple as if it punched him in the gut, and you chuckle, smoothing your hand over the fuzz of his flannel before stepping back to reach for the oven mitts.

“Dinner’s ready.”

|| tagging some ezra friends, some mutuals, some people who might be interested! ignore if not: @javierpinme @unlightsabered @drowsycomfort @chaoticgeminate @ezras-channel-rat @dinsangelx @fic-appointment @mishasminion360 @lovesbiggerthanpride @marydjarin @1800-fight-me @omgreally @mandosmistress @dar-manda-rjct @chronic-nosebleed @sweetpascal @moralesthots @c4psicle @lowlights @mindidjarin @mando-abs @pix-writes @biandreacly2cry @masteracewindu @doin-stuff @maradjarin @imtryingmybeskar @the-scandalorian @mir-osik @fentimochi @justanotherblonde23 @floraandfrost @cannedsoupsucks @javierpcna @endearinglyonfire @mswarriorbabe80 @marvel-and-mischief @bunnelbie @coni-martina @safe-teycar @cptuwu @beautyagegoodnesssize @autumnleaves1991-blog @ratfriend @babypedrito @littlepadika @pedros-mustache ||

#frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #anya writes #alexa play cant take my eyes off you #this could be fleshed out more for sure but i was rly excited to share it!#also i definitely have a million other things to be working on but this idea......it spoke to me #oh i just realized. this is my first frankie fic.#that ive posted at least #but yeah! yay me <3

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painless-innit-colourful · 3 years

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(Liveblogging ‘Tommy Faces His Traumatic Past’ stream)

'Hi I am currently thinking about that moment after Tommy asked Ranboo to leave after the Prison moment went badly, and he waited for Ranboo to go and then swallowed and let the atmosphere hang for a moment and held his totem in his main hand (I’m pretty sure; he was definitely holding it) and I am telling you, the shot of fear that went through me as I thought “No... He’s not gonna ask Tubbo to kill him, is he?” Now that’d be one way to overcome a fear of dying, holy heck.'

---

Rough edges, shining eyes, a heart of gold. He supposes there's a metaphor or a comparison that could be made there, but to be quite frank, he's sick of the poetic parallels and the dramatic ironies. It's not a tale spun of rhetorical devices and an audience: it's his life, and it hurts.

Appropriately, the skin on his palms is still tender from scrabbling at the walls of the mock cell, and he can feel every groove of the wood the totem's outside is carved from as he grips it firmly. He's doing away with the allusions and analogies and beating around the bush: there's no easy way to ask this, so why make it even harder?

It's going to be difficult. It's going to be painful. It’s going to be helpful in future. Just get on with it Tommy.

Ranboo vanishes up the ladder, and Tommy and Tubbo are left alone in their unused replica of the Final Control Room ('cause their dear friend Eret had a more accurate one). When he turns his eyes to his best friend, Tubbo's giving him a quizzical look. Tommy opens his mouth to begin, but fear stoppers his words, and no sound comes out. He holds fast to the totem and to his courage.

"Are you alright?" His friend's light touch to his arm leads him back. Right. Tubbo. Totem. Question.

"It didn't work." He says despondently. "I couldn't- In there, I couldn't keep it together." "Tommy-" "Look, Tubbo," Like a paranoid exile hiding in a cave, he casts another glance towards the ladder, double-checking that they are truly alone. "And you can't tell anyone this, but I need you to trust me, because I've thought a lot about this."

Tubbo's expression is unreadable for a moment, like his solicitude is elsewhere, like he's remembering something, and then he's back and he's squeezing Tommy's arm. "I trust you, Big Man." And Tommy can tell he's being earnest, so he pushes on. "What is it?" "We had the chance, back in that vault- We had the opportunity to slit Dream’s throat, and we didn't, and- And we agree on this right? Dream... Dream needs to go."

Tubbo seems to think about it for a moment, "You think the revive book isn't worth it?" "Tubbo, I-" If his words could stop clogging up his throat every five seconds, that'd be lovely. "Listen to me, I've been to- to the other side, and I've been here, and I've been in between, and- and I mean this, I would've rather- rather stayed there than be in between again." "Really?" Tommy nods curtly. "Really. It's not worth it." "Well, I'm glad you came back, even if it sucked for you." Lightly, but not without a hint of worry in his voice, Tubbo half-laughs. "That sounded selfish." And Tommy feels wretched about what he's going to ask him to do.

"Look, Tubbo," He clears his throat for good measure. "If I'm going to kill Dream, I can't get into the prison cell and panic. That- That could cost the whole operation, and I can't let that happen." "Tommy, you-" Tubbo cuts himself off this time, "Tommy, do you really have to do this?"

"Yes, I do." His quiet determination matches Tubbo's building exasperation. "I have to do this because he's- he's ruined me, he's broken me and I can't let anything else happen to this server because of our fighting." Their faces and feelings fall to the same resignation as swords impale them against the walls of a room very much like this one, as L'Manberg burns behind their eyelids every time they blink.

"Would you like to try again?" The reproduction of the cell, his tomb, beckons, but Tommy's mind is made up. "I can come in with you this time." A jolt of warmth emanates from his heart at the offer (he wishes it were that easy) and races through his bloodstream, momentarily soothing the aching feeling all around his body, from his head to his feet to his fingertips, and he feels practically like a person again for a few seconds.

"Actually, I- I want you to- Only if you- I won't force you but-" He's abruptly aware of a substantial volume of saliva in his mouth, or maybe he's just too scared to say it out loud. Tubbo waits, his fingers mussing with the end of Tommy's sleeve. "What is it?"

He raises aloft the totem so they're both looking at it, and then very carefully, so he knows he hasn't said it wrong, he says it: "I want you to kill me."

"What?" His adrenaline spikes; no turning back now. "I want you to kill me, and because I have this totem I'll be fine. I can't be scared of dying if I have a totem on me, but I still get scared of getting close, so I want you to kill me. Please." He tacks on hastily, opting to look at the sword at Tubbo's side so he doesn't have to meet his eyes.

"You... Where are you gonna get another totem then?" And Tommy squints at Tubbo for a second, because really, that's what you come out with after that? "I don't know, your husband?" Tubbo giggles a tad despite the concern in his eyes. "Excuse me, I'm the gold-digger here, get your own." And they both crack up, and some of the tension lifts from Tommy's shoulders.

"Okay, seriously, you want me to kill you?" The terse air settles between them as Tubbo's hand floats to his sword. "I- Yeah." "Because then you can't be scared of being close to death." "Mmhm." "So you want me to kill you, right now, right here?"

Tommy nods steadily, and Tubbo, still uncertain, unsheathes his sword. The blade isn't the sharpest, but it'll do the job. Tommy swallows thickly. "I- I trust you. If it were anyone else... Never."

He thought about how, whenever he'd asked to be hit earlier, it was Tubbo who'd stepped up to the plate. Certainly, it was true at the time that he'd felt the jolt of terror and pain, but he was always glad it was Tubbo. There was an unspoken promise in their shared glances, their short requests and careful responses.

“You know I’d never do that, right?” An echo of an old memory, from a less-than-ideal location. “I won’t turn on you or go insane like Wil and Techno.” “Mmhm… And I you.”

"Ready?" Tommy waves the totem around to illustrate, "This better not be a bloody decoy." Their shared smile is forced and wavering, flickering like a candle, shaking like fraying ropes, reaching for a hand that isn't there. The hand is on his shoulder, Tommy notes faintly: it steadies him as the sword pierces his gut, snatching all the air from his lungs. He's drowning in a sudden wave of 'Why here? Why the hell did we stay here?' as a familiar numbing sensation starts to wash over him like the tide, receding in parts and then coming back for more. The darkness entices him - the very same darkness he's been fighting to outrun all along, the same darkness that engulfs him and all his friends in his nightmares. Once, many moons ago, they were all blissfully ignorant of that shadow that stayed firmly three steps behind them and six feet below. Except now, at least for Tommy, death is a memory, and with a totem in hand, he rises to meet it.

Tubbo rips the sword out, and the body of his best friend crumples to the ground like paper disregarded and consigned to oblivion. His weapon hits the ground with a clatter and his sword arm falls limp, reluctant to acknowledge Tommy's blood on the blade as he watches, hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palms, as the totem in Tommy's hand starts to glow, golden light emanating from the emerald eyes and intricate details. About time. About bloody time.

It's pitch black, and the totem is gone. Tommy feels weightless. Tommy feels like a person made of pieces, loosely strung together like a marionette doll. Tommy feels helpless and alone, and quite possibly dead.

Make no mistake; there's also that perverted sense of comfort, ever-present as it seems. A welcome gift, he supposes, to what should be the rest of your eternity. He feels all his 'worldly worries' start to scatter, leaving him feeling so empty he's clawing at nothing to get them back. No worries, no troubles and no meaning. That is the lot of the dead. Yet, Tommy will not be one of them, not today.

Everything returns to him so quickly, it almost feels like he's having aspects of his personality thrown back at him with the force of bricks launched from cannons. Should he reach out to grab them, or should he let them go? The darkness begins to melt away, leading him back to a room full of chests and a friend, and for a second he imagines he hears a familiar voice tease: "You should take off your coat Tommy, you look like you're not staying."

The instant his soul is catapulted back into his body, instincts kick in, and his wobbling legs somehow get him halfway across the room before they get too tangled up and surrender. He doesn't bother cowering - it's Tubbo - instead, he chooses to pull his shirt up to his ribs. The entry site of the stabbing has healed, golden radiance under his skin like godly blood swirling away from the closed wound and leaving it the proper crimson hue of mortals. It worked. He's back. He's back.

Suddenly, he's hit with a force equitable to several small dogs and, oh, it's Tubbo. His arms rest wearily against his best friend's back as the smaller boy buries his head in Tommy's shoulder, folding him into his arms and cradling him tightly. "I- I'm ok- Are you crying?" His response from the shuddering mass of brown curls next to his head comes quietly, "Don't ever make me do that again." "...Okay. I won't."

Eventually, they break apart, Tommy noticing the red rims around Tubbo's eyes as he messes with Tommy's shirt. "Ah, dammit." "What?" He gives a tiny snort-laugh marked with tears. "I've put a hole in your d*mn shirt." He looks down at it too. "That's alright, long as you fix it." Consequently, Tubbo gives him a funny look, which he raises his eyes to meet with bemusement. "Yeah, right. I'll fix it, it's nothing."

Tubbo holds his eye contact for close to ten seconds. "You have..." He shifts across the floor to the left, putting one of the lights at his back, before reaching out and taking Tommy's face in his hands. "You have little flecks of gold in your eyes, dude." "I- What?" Tubbo drops his hands and nods. "You've got gold in your eyes now, boss man." "Does it-" He jumps to his feet, somewhat unsteadily, and strikes a pose. "Does it make me even more incredibly good-looking?"

Tubbo snorts. "Something like that. It's not bad, just... After-product of the totem, I'd guess. Which is interesting to know." He gets to his feet too, hand finding Tommy's side and holding on by a fistful of cloth. "Hey, how about, are you alright?" Tommy asked, picking the hand up and slinging it over his shoulder so they stood hip-to-hip, heads tilted up and down for each other’s benefit.

"I'm fine, just... That wasn't the most fun." Tommy ponders for a moment before responding. "I think I'd be concerned if it was." They chuckle a little. "No, but seriously man, thank you, for doing that." He says sincerely. Tubbo smiles back, all of a sudden seeming too tired to even stand, and Tommy stoops a little to catch him before he faints or something. "Just... did it work?"

Did it work? The darkness still terrified him, ripping the warmth from within him, and he wasn't totally expecting to go back there when using the totem. So, points for new knowledge discovered, perhaps? Despite all that, though, the look in Tubbo's eyes makes his mouth move on its own. He looks so weary.

"Yeah. I feel... less afraid now. Honestly." He tacks on, for the dubious non-believer by his side that could always tell when he was lying. "I... I can do this now." "...Okay."

#this was a real pain to edit lmao #anyway! the title for this one is 'help me be brave'#i wrote it on holiday in the lakes on my phone with a bad flu #so y'know #dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #clingy duo #dsmp fic #crim writes #please rb & comment! it means the absolute world

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i-prefer-the-term-antihero · 3 years

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do you have any tips in regards to getting started on a major chapter? i'm almost done with act one of my fic and chapter fifteen is SUPER important, but i look at the blank screen and i'm stuck!

Hey, thank you so much for your ask!! I appreciate the heck out of it!! 💜💜

So the thing that helps me the most is, unfortunately, not something that'll help you in this specific situation, but I'll still say it, in case it helps for future reference XD

Basically what'll happen to me, is I generally am very excited about major chapters. I'll be excited about them like three chapters earlier, and wonder if I should work on them. But I'll tell myself "No no, we're not there yet! It'll much more fun later if you wait now!"

But uhhh that's not true. What'll actually happen to me is when I finally get to that chapter I'll stare at the blank page and not even know where to begin, and not remember the wording or action I thought of in my previous inspired state. I'll feel so much pressure on the chapter and then it won't measure up to what I was thinking it would be before.

So the thing that helps me the absolute most with major chapters, is if I write them when I'm inspired about them. Even if it's three chapters away, if I'm inspired for it know, I'll write it.

That doesn't mean I'll be able to write the full thing three chapters away, but I'll write at least a skeleton of it to expand on later. Whatever scenes and notes I have, it helps the most if I write them the moment I have them. Because then I have something to use later.

I've found that pretty much every major chapter I waited on, I still feel lackluster about now. And every major chapter that I've written when I was inspired for it, I still think is great.

This next thing...I hate phrasing it like this because this is what everyone says...

But truly what works best is...just get something on the page.

This can mean several different things.

First and foremost this can mean, just write something for the chapter. You're unsure about the wording, but you know vaguely what you want to happen? Great, write that! Even if it's just some dialogue, or even notes to yourself, you're still writing something. Even if you think it's stupid, and it's definitely not how you want the final draft to go, if you write something, you have something to work with and polish later. (Either it won't be as stupid as you thought, or it will and you can feel compelled to improve it and make it not stupid XD)

Secondly this can mean, maybe you don't know how you want to start this major chapter, but you know how you want it to end, or some random scene in the middle? Great! Write that! You can figure out the beginning later. Just write what you have in your head now. (I absolutely have found that when I do this, the beginning flows easily later, but if I force myself to write the beginning first, none of it flows).

An addendum to this ^^ is that you can also purposely break it up into smaller pieces. If the whole is overwhelming, or perhaps just too jumbled, you can break it up into scenes instead, and work on them individually, and in whatever order you want, to make it easier on yourself and less pressure.

(I actually have a chapter of a fic I'm doing this with, that I'm literally posting in snippets because I was just that stuck on it)

Thirdly, you're stumped and can't work on this major chapter right now? Then work on something else! It can be something in the same universe, or something totally different. If you just start writing, perhaps that'll get you in the groove of things and you can pull up the chapter in a little bit, or you'll be able to figure out the chapter in the back of your mind as you're working on this other thing.

I think a lot of what happens (at least with me) with major chapters is that there's a lot of pressure that comes with them, and it makes them hard to write when all you have is a blank page. The more you can take that pressure off the chapter to be amazing, the more chance that it will be amazing.

I wish I had more advice for you, as that feels very lackluster, haha, and I'll let you know if I come up with anything else later!! But for now, I hope this helps!! And thanks again!! 💜💜

#asks #antihero asks #writing #writing advice #writeblr #writblr #ladynephthyss #writing asks

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quicksilversquared · 4 years

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Traps and Sneaks: Chapter 1 (of 2)

As the Guardian, it's Marinette's job to protect the Miracle Box and all of the Miraculous inside of it from evil. Obviously just sticking it away somewhere hidden isn't going to cut it, so Marinette makes a box to hide it in. A booby-trapped box. A very dangerous booby-trapped box.

And if a certain someone gets their thieving little fingers caught in it, so be it.

Having the Miracle Box just sitting around in her room was stressful.

Sure, Master Fu had left her the gramophone that he had hidden the box in when he was the Guardian, but it just didn't fit with her room. It stuck out like a sore thumb, very obviously not belonging to her. Add in the fact that Chat Noir and Hawkmoth had both seen it and knew that it was associated with the Miraculous, and only a crazy person would keep using it to hide the Miracle Box.

Despite the amount of pressure she had pushing on her from all sides, Marinette was not a crazy person. Yet, at least.

"So I know that I can't use the gramophone, but that doesn't solve the problem of what I can use," Marinette told Tikki, absentmindedly doodling on a piece of paper as she tried to brainstorm. Both gramophone and Miracle Box were hidden in her storage bench at the moment, but they couldn't stay there. "It needs to be hidden, and it needs to not stick out at all. Which, well..."

Master Fu's things don't qualify went unsaid.

"Well, you should make sure that it's locked away," Tikki told her. "And that it won't be possible for you to accidentally leave it unlocked. And then make sure that no one can accidentally stumble on it. And keep in mind that you babysit pretty often, so..."

Marinette shook her head. In her first night as Guardian, she hadn't been able to sleep at all (something that Tikki still didn't know, because she hadn't wanted to worry her kwami) and had spent the time brainstorming some initial changes that she would have to make so that she could handle her new duties without getting overwhelmed. One of the first things to come up was the fact that both Alya's sisters and Nino's brother didn't know the definition of privacy or not prying, and she was going to have all sorts of herbs and other ingredients for potions in her room. There really wasn't any way to stop babysitting Manon without questions, but Manon also wasn't over that often and it was usually during the day, when she could go to the park. "I told Nino and Alya that I can't babysit their siblings anymore, I'm just too busy. Manon will still be over sometimes, but I can make sure that we stay downstairs."

"Still, keep in mind that you have friends over pretty often," Tikki added. "So the point remains."

Marinette nodded, glancing back towards her storage bench. It did have a lock on it (which was a new addition, honestly), but it wasn't the kind that would re-lock automatically if she was in a hurry. Her friends wouldn't dig in it- or they didn't normally, at least- so theywouldn't notice if it was locked, but because of the whole not-auto-relocking thing, she would probably spend a not insignificant amount of time during fights worrying if she had remembered to re-lock it afterwards, and that would be a distraction. Especially if an akuma showed up near the bakery or worse, entered her room.

That bench had been thrown around more than once during akuma fights. If she forgot to re-lock it one day and that happened and the gramophone tumbled out, that was her secret identity spoiled. And that could not happen.

Maybe she could have a locked box for the Miracle Box inside of the locked storage bench, and then just move the emptied gramophone to storage? Then if she forgot to re-lock one of the two locks, it wouldn't matter so much. That meant that she would have to build a custom box for the Miracle Box to go in, but it wasn't as though she hadn't done that before, with her diary box-

Marinette froze. That was it! She could build a booby trap into the storage bench, to make sure that the Miracle Box would be kept safe. Or maybe it would be smarter (and easier) to build the trap into the smaller custom box that she was going to put together to hold the Miracle Box, which would then go inside of the bench. There would be less chance of someone (probably Manon) getting caught and hurt by a booby trap if it was behind not one but two sets of locks, and then she could build it into the box itself instead of adding it on later. Add on the fact that she would have to create some way to disarm the booby trap (preferably before she opened the box), plus the fact that it would be better to not have any visible alterations to her storage bench, and that made the custom box idea even more favorable.

Almost automatically, Marinette flipped her doodle-filled paper over and started sketching. The box she was going to make would have to be large enough to hold the Miracle Box, but fit closely enough that the Miracle Box wouldn't rattle around. Too tight, and she would have trouble putting it in and getting it out. She could use thick foam to line the inside, with grooves so that her fingers wouldn't have any trouble getting around the box to pull it out. It would be square, because- well, that was a fairly standard, non-descript shape. And maybe there would be a double lock on the box, too- the first one would open to a top compartment, which would just have some papers in it, maybe. The papers would hide the false bottom- well, as much as they could when the false bottom made up most of the box- and also throw off anyone who shook the box in hopes of getting a clue of what was inside. Then the lock inside would lead to the actual Miracle Box.

Now, for the outside of the box...what should it look like? She could go for the same sort of look as her diary box, young and fun and done to the best of her ability. Marinette could also try to go for something similar to the gramophone, with decorations and hidden buttons, but- well, that seemed like a lot of work, eating up a lot of time that she already didn't have to spare, and it would stand out. If someone found out that she was Ladybug, then if they stumbled across a box like that it would catch their attention at once.

And really, the same thing would apply if she went for a style like her diary box. It would be large enough and nice enough to draw someone's attention, and if there was something off about it- if it was oddly heavy or something- then that would be pretty suspicious.

Which left the option of making a box that looked sloppy, like something she might have made as a child or as a trial run when learning how to make boxes, but that was actually very solid. It would make sense to have it tucked away if it was an earlier project that hadn't turned out well, and if it looked flimsy- well, it wouldn't be something that most people would expect to be holding magical jewelry. Marinette actually had a couple boxes that she had decorated as a kid still sitting around, and- well, maybe they weren't the nicest things to look at, but they did a good enough job of holding beads and thread and whatever other art supplies Marinette needed organized.

And of course, they were also a good reminder to actually put things away once she was done with them, because Marinette wasn't exactly interested in having her earlier projects sitting out. So having the box that she was planning tucked away hopefully wouldn't raise any flags if anyone ever stumbled on it.

Smiling, Marinette considered the drawing she had just made. It was just an initial sketch, of course, and she would probably end up making some changes to it before it actually got made, but she was liking the idea more and more. Maybe making it would take up a good chunk of her already-limited free time for a bit, but that was just the price of being Guardian.

At least she had some practice making trap boxes. Sure, this one would be a step up, but it was hardly going to be going to be completely unfamiliar territory.

The box project had somehow rocketed from being a modified diary box to something much more in only a couple short days.

Marinette had pulled out a whole bunch of the kwamis to bounce the idea off of them and see if they could see any flaws in her plan, and they had very quickly brought up the point that Hawkmoth had a sword and might just try to cut his way through the booby-trapped box, bypassing the locks and whatever trap she came up with altogether. It wasn't like she was just dealing with Chloe and Sabrina again. Hawkmoth was a bigger bad, and had more tools at his disposal.

Even if he didn't have a sword, he would probably be able to get through. Marinette had seen her yo-yo's string cut through solid metal before, and Chat Noir had been able to smash a lot of things with his baton that- well, that would normally take a machine to crush like that. She had been pretty let down at that- what, did she just have to rely on doing a good job of hiding the box?- until the kwamis pointed out that Master Fu's gramophone box had been reinforced, using metal that had been enchanted by the Guardians. At first, Marinette had groaned, since she hadn't gotten that sort of training, but then she remembered one very important detail, one that somehow she had overlooked for too long.

With Feast defeated and the contents of its stomach returned to their previous places in the exact state that they had been in when the sentimonster consumed them, the Temple of the Guardians was back. The Order was back. Maybe she didn't have Master Fu as a mentor and a resource anymore, but she was hardly alone. And maybe they spoke different languages, but surely magic could help them somehow.

And that was how Marinette found herself locked in her room (to keep nosy parents and surprise friend visitors alike out) while she transformed in front of a white sheet that she had hung from her wall, hiding any identifying details. She had reached out to the temple beforehand, messaging them on her yo-yo several times before she finally got through to someone and managed to set up a video-chat time. Now, she was just nervously waiting for the Guardian that had agreed to chat with her to call.

Hopefully they would be willing to help. Hopefully they wouldn't think that she was too young and immature to hold the title of Guardian. Hopefully they wouldn't say that she had to give up her role and someone else- someone trained- would take her place.

The kwamis didn't think that it was likely. Master Fu had approved of her, she was doing a great job, and the Guardians were hardly about to relocate to Paris to take over the fight, particularly considering that there was a pretty significant language barrier.

And then her yo-yo rang. Ladybug scrambled for a second, swiping her accept call button as quickly as she could. The screen display crackled for a moment, then settled to reveal a man who- well, who was clearly transformed with a Miraculous, but his outfit was styled after a monk's robes, at least from what she could see. It wasn't the kind of outfit that would be good for fighting in, but she supposed that if they were simply studying the Miraculous and their powers, it didn't really matter if there were dangling things that could snag or be grabbed.

"Hi!" Ladybug said right away, flashing what she hoped was a confident smile. "Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me! It's very much appreciated."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and the Guardian tilted his head, considering his- well, the screen on whatever weapon he got with his transformation. Then he started talking- or, rather, his lips started moving, but there was no sound.

For a long moment, Ladybug nearly panicked- was there something wrong with the connection?- and then the audio started coming through, slightly stilted and mechanical as the kwami magic translated his words, albeit with a small lag.

"Yes, hello! It is nice to hear from you, Ladybug. I am the Guardian Master Norbu. We have heard that there is some sort of Miraculous disturbance in Paris and that you are now a Junior Guardian. We would like to offer our assistance in any way we can. Can you give us a summary of what is going on there?"

"Of course!" Ladybug said at once, her mind already whirring as she tried to figure out how to best tell Master Norbu about what was going on. "So, Hawkmoth- a Butterfly user- started attacking Paris over a year ago. We usually get an akuma once every two or three days, though there have been some times when we get several attacks in a row. We've also had one time when Hawkmoth somehow gave himself a power-up and send out hundreds of akumas at the same time. He didn't attack for a week after that, so I assume that that took a lot out of him. We've also had a Peacock user attacking. She didn't come out until his big attack, and then only came out occasionally. Master Fu thought that the Miraculous might be corrupted..." She trailed off as the Guardian held up a hand, clearly wanting to say something.

"So there are two supervillains now... how many superheroes?"

"There's two of us on full-time," Ladybug said after a pause, making sure that Master Norbu was done talking before starting to speak again. "Chat Noir and I. We have temporary superheroes that we sometimes pull in when we need a boost. Or we used to, but Hawkmoth managed to find out the identities of almost all of them with an akuma. I'm working on finding new teammates, but it's not easy."

"Yes, I can imagine that it would be difficult to quickly assess who would and would not be reliable enough to trust with a Miraculous," Master Norbu agreed. "Here, we have years to pick out kids suitable for training, and then we can decide between those kids who is worthy of holding a Miraculous and joining our ranks. It is still hard to find people, and we have dozens of us and plenty of time to look around for candidates that meet our standards."

Ladybug tried not to cringe at that and ask what their standards were. Her "standards" really just consisted of people that she knew, who she knew would return their Miraculous when asked and who she could trust to fight alongside her. And even those standards hadn't always been met- Chloe wasn't someone she trusted at all, even before she went all dark-side, but she had just needed another teammate who knew how to use their Miraculous already.

"Anyway, I interrupted," Master Norbu apologized. "Do continue."

Quickly, Ladybug summarized the rest of their situation- the frequency of the sentimonster attacks on top of the akuma attacks, the reemergence of Feast and its defeat, and Master Fu's downfall. That brought them to where they were now, with her the Paris Guardian despite her fairly basic training.

"To tell you the truth, it sounds like Wang Fu managed to pass on the majority of what he had learned before the temples fell," Master Norbu told her once she was finished. "There are somethings, like translations, that take years to learn how to do with any sort of reliable accuracy and speed. And then of course repetition and practice will help things stick better than rushed lessons."

"Right." Marinette worried her lip, then decided to dive into the reason she called. She didn't know how long she would be left uninterrupted, so it would be best for her to dive right into the problem that she needed help with. "So the reason I reached out to you is because I'm currently trying to ensure the safety of the Miracle Box. It's being stored in my room, hidden in a storage bench. I wanted to make a box that could hold it, but- well, let me show you the picture I drew. I'd want the box to be locked and have two compartments, a top bit that'll just have papers or something, and then bottom that opens to where the Miracle Box would be. And then the top would have a spring, like this box." She set aside the drawing and held up her diary box. "If I reach in and pick up the diary, like so-"

The box snapped shut over her wrist. Ladybug waved it at the Guardian, then pulled out her key to get the box off.

"I can see where you are going with that," Master Norbu said, smiling. "It looks like quite the design. My concerns with it would be if it would hold up to a Miraculous weapon, and whether someone who got trapped in it would simply be able to wrench their hand out when it snapped shut. It might be an inconvenience, but unless the trap is going to do some damage..."

"The kwamis thought that the Order might be able to make some sort of enchanted metal to go in the box to keep Hawkmoth from simply slicing it open," Ladybug told him. "It's the reason I reached out, actually. That's not something that I would know how to make, but it sounds like it would be a pretty good solution."

"We can do that. You would need to either cut and shape the pieces yourself or give us exact measurements, but it is a straightforward enough process to put on the enchantment, if you know what you're doing. And we certainly do." Master Norbu smiled at her. "It's a good plan. Do you have any further ideas about perhaps upgrading the trap hidden in the box's upper portion?"

Ladybug leaned forward, leaning her chin against her palm and her elbow against her knee, thinking it over. At first, she wasn't coming up with anything, but then her mind drifted to the sort of things she had wished on Hawkmoth in her darkest, most frustrated moments, times when she was tired and angry and tired of dealing with Hawkmoth's nonsense.

And that provided a whole slew of ideas.

"I'm thinking maybe something like a bear trap," Ladybug said slowly, taking her chin off of her hand and reaching for a notebook. "One of those ones with the teeth. Except..." She tugged her phone over to her lap, googling bear traps. "They're not supposed to break legs, just hold them. So it might be a tougher hold than my trap box, but not damaging."

"Eh, some sharpening and a few enchantments will take care of that," Master Norbu decided, nodding his head sharply. "I have a few things in mind, actually. Though you would have to come up with some sort of release mechanism to make sure that you do not get caught in the trap."

Ladybug nodded. She had a few ideas already, modifications of her diary snap box's mechanism. She could try some of those and puzzle out something that would be safe for her using just wood before transferring it into metal form. "I can do that. I came up with the mechanism for my diary box, so I know how the basic version of the spring works and how I can maybe modify it. I'll start working on some prototypes right away."

"And we will get to work on the metal for you to use," Master Norbu assured her. He glanced back and off to the side. "And I think that is my cue to go, unless there is something else that you wanted to discuss right away?"

"That's all for now," Marinette assured him. "Thank you so much!"

"It is nothing. We are happy to help. Take care, Ladybug."

"Goodbye!"

With that, the call ended. Ladybug let out a long breath- oh, wow, she had still been jittery through that entire call- and closed her yoyo, releasing her transformation. As the last sparkles faded, she turned around and started taking down the sheet she had hung as backdrop before she could forget.

Tikki zipped around her eagerly. "So? How did it go? Did they agree to help? Did they have any suggestions?"

"It went well," Marinette told her, smiling as she pulled the last corner loose and the sheet fluttered down into her arms. "And yes to both of your questions. Master Norbu agreed to make the enchanted metal right away. And he did suggest that I modify the booby trap, actually- now, it's gonna have knives."

Tikki could only blink, taken aback. "Good god."

It was all too easy to swing by a hardware store across the city after a weekend akuma attack ended there. Marinette picked her way through the store, familiar enough with the layout that it didn't take long at all for her to figure out what she needed for both her box and for her prototype spring trap.

There were a lot of gears and wires and screws that were going to be involved, and she was going to have to look at her lock mechanisms to see how she could ensure that it would all tie together and never fail on her. But she had gotten a lot of things to play with so that she could hopefully have something to report the next time that she checked in with Master Norbu.

And then it was time to start the trial-and-error process of making the snap mechanism.

It was difficult.

There were moving parts everywhere, it seemed, and connections that had to be just so. Pieces for the different components kept getting tangled up, wires and gears snarling and coming to a stop before they could do what they were meant to.

"Maybe you should break the trap down to its separate parts," Tikki suggested. "There's the lock, the connection between the lock and the spring, and then the spring for the trap."

"And the extra thing that I wanted to put in, to lock the bear trap in place when it closes, and how that would tie into the lock release," Marinette added. "Which will have to be cast in the enchanted metal. Everything that will be exposed from the top will be. But as long as I have the pieces, in theory we'd be able to cast them? I'd assume so, at least. I don't really have any experience with metalworking." She tipped her head to the side, considering the mess of gears in front of her. "Breaking it down into those steps makes sense, though. Then I can figure out exactly where things are going wrong."

"Exactly!"

Marinette considered the pieces sprawled out in front of her. After a moment, she pushed the majority of the mess to the side, pulling her faux-trap (made of wood, because that was easy enough to throw together) in front of her. That was the main part and the most important, so everything here had to be solid and perfect. If it wasn't, then any of her intended safety measures elsewhere would be useless. Like this, it was easier to see her pieces and how they fit together. All of a sudden, the path forward became obvious and Marinette flung herself into her work again, test-fitting gears and putting them in place. An improved spring mechanism came together in a flash, closely followed by the piece that would lock the trap shut, making it completely resistant to being pried open. Then there had to be a connection between that and the actual lock so that it could be disarmed when she unlocked the box properly, even if the unlocking happened after the trap shut.

It was a pity that she wouldn't be able to show anyone else her work, really. All of the moving parts- the majority of which had to be positioned so that they could be hidden- were an absolute beast to wrestle with and would definitely be worth some extra credit if she could show Madam Mendeleev. But that wasn't the point of the trap, and she had to make sure that she didn't do anything to make anyone suspicious about what she was up to.

Even if she could really use the extra credit in Math since an akuma attack had meant that she hadn't been able to study for the latest test properly.

"Don't forget to take breaks," Tikki cautioned as Marinette added a small piece that- when the box was unlocked and the trap was disarmed- would flip from showing the red side to the green side, just in case. She knew how much of a rush she tended to be in when she had to come get more Miraculous during akuma attacks, so the additional warning- or reassurance, whichever- about whether things were disarmed or not would be much appreciated, even with all of the other failsafes in place. "And don't forget your homework! I know you want to have a prototype ready ASAP, but you can't neglect your civilian responsibilities."

"No worries there, I'm all caught up," Marinette assured her. "I worked ahead on my homework while I was waiting for the Guardians to get back to me, and then I've been getting little stuff like readings done between classes." It was normally time that she would spend chatting with Alya and her other friends and classmates, but between the fact that she needed to not be letting herself get overwhelmed thanks to schoolwork piling up because of akuma attacks and the fact that Lila seemed to spend the time between classes holding court, it wasn't exactly a tough choice. She reached over, tapping the small calendar that sat on her desk. It was a new addition, but a useful one. "And I can see when I have things due, so they won't sneak up on me like they did before. I've learned!"

Tikki perked up. "Oh, right! I knew that. You're doing a good job, Marinette!"

"I try." Marinette flashed a smile at her kwami, then turned back to her work. "Now, to attach all of this to the lock..."

The making of the actual box came next, after Marinette was satisfied with her mock-up of the trap and how well it worked. A few small details had needed to be ironed out before she declared that step complete- it was absolutely critical that nothing could get jolted out of place if the box got knocked around, both so that the trap wouldn't stay armed by accident and so that the entire lock wouldn't jam up at some critical moment and refuse to disarm and open- and so Marinette's demo rig had undergone several rounds of rigorous shaking, knocking around, testing, and fixing.

But now it was absolutely rock solid and she could get to the next part. Making the box would be easy enough- a friend of her dad's owned plenty of woodworking tools, and he was willing to let her use them under his supervision, or, if the tool was deemed too dangerous for her skill level, he would listen to what she wanted and then do the work for her. All she had to do was have all of her plans ready, and then she could reach out and probably have that part done and over with in an afternoon. It would be easy-peasy. She had the time.

Or at least she would if she could persuade the Guardians that really, now was not the time for them to try to do long-distance learning to continue her training. Apparently they had held a meeting after her call to Master Norbu and were concerned about a Guardian in an active battle zone having had such limited training. Obviously it wouldn't be practical for her to move and join them, but they could send assignments. And they had sent assignments, with the clear expectation that she would complete them as soon as possible. And the number of assignments kept increasing, faster than Marinette could ever hope to finish them. There were readings and spells and potions and ingredients to learn the properties of and details about side powers that different Miraculous had, ones that became more available as users got more advanced but only in certain conditions...

It was all interesting information, and useful, but it was a lot, and it seemed like the Order was expecting her to read through and study everything right away. So Ladybug had to bring it up when Master Norbu called to check in with her.

"Okay, I can see where this information might come in handy and obviously it's a good idea to have a solid base to work off of and more information means more tools for me to use, but I don't have time to add extra lessons on top of everything else and still do the box, and I think that's a priority," Ladybug told the older Guardian. She had only managed to finish one of the 'assignments' that had been sent, and just looking at the others piling up was exhausting. Exhausting and stressful and anxiety-inducing. She didn't want to appear ungrateful, or as though she didn't appreciate the Order's efforts to get her better trained, or like she wasn't taking her role seriously, but hadn't she already given up enough of her free time and her life to the Miraculous? Was she going to be expected to devote her every waking hour- at least those not spent in school- to the Miraculous, too? "And if I try to get all of it done, I'm going to end up all stressed out, and that's not safe with the Butterfly on the loose."

Master Norbu considered that, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Yes, I can understand that. Trying to learn while stressed is less than ideal for retaining information, too. Would there be a time where you could do the lessons without overstretching yourself? Some are quite important. For example..." He glanced off to the side, picking up a stack of paper and flipping through it before landing on a particular page. "The potions are quite important, I would say. Particularly the one I picked out for you to practice. It is a healing potion, and would come in handy if you or Chat Noir got injured outside of the suit. Or if something went wrong with the trap and it ended up mangling your hand. It is a difficult potion, but I know you have made other ones before and that one would be particularly useful."

"Oh, I hadn't even seen that assignment yet." It felt terrible to admit, but the assignments had been piling up so much that it had been stressing her out more and more to even look at them. "I agree, though. That would be one to prioritize for sure."

"I can mark ones to prioritize," Master Norbu told her. "Ones that would be of immediate use and properly relevant to you. In our excitement over having a new Guardian to train, I believe that several of us temporarily forgot that you are in the middle of a battle zone and might not have the time for all of the regular training."

"That would be great." Ladybug let out a long breath, not sure if she was feeling more stressed or less. One or two lessons she could probably manage as long as the Order didn't expect them to be done right away, but if things were marked priority then maybe they would expect that she get them done quickly. "As for the others... I do have holidays from school. Summer holiday in particular would be the best for getting Miraculous lessons done. They're not coming up super soon, but I won't have to deal with other homework then."

"That will have to do," Master Norbu decided. "We do not want to add stress to your plate. No, I know that we want her to learn everything!" he called to someone off-screen. "But we cannot ignore Ladybug's other responsibilities, which are many in number, or her mental health. We will focus on the practical and the helpful, and those can be done when you have the time to spare. The Miracle Box's safety should come first, you are correct, as should your stability. Let us know if you have all of the ingredients you need for the potion. If not, we can arrange to get them to you when we have the metal ready for your box. Speaking of which- I am assuming that we are still waiting on exact measurements?"

Ladybug nodded. "Yeah. The guy who's helping me with the tools for the box might have more suggestions and that could affect some of the measurements. Probably not, since the measurements inside have to stay the same to hold the Zodiac Box, but just in case."

"Remember to account for the thickness of the metal inside," Master Norbu reminded her. "I would hate for you to get the box near completion and then have to redo all of it because of an oversight like that."

"Of course." She had been sure to ask them for the thickness of the metal for that exact purpose, and given herself a little extra wriggle room just in case. It wasn't much- and it would easily be accounted for by a little bit of extra foam- but it would make sure that her entire project wasn't destroyed by metal that wasn't quite the right thickness or a cut that was a few millimeters off.

"Good." Master Norbu looked pleased. "I'm glad that you're taking everything into consideration. Will you have the wood pieces finished soon? We have all of the metal enchanted and ready to cut and mold as soon as we get the word."

"Definitely," Ladybug assured him. "I was going to reach out to the guy I know who has power tools today. I just had to do this call first, and then I can see when he'll be available to help me with picking out the wood and using the tools."

Master Norbu's eyebrows rose. "Well! I do not want to keep you, then. I hope to hear from you soon, Ladybug."

"Of course!"

The wood pieces were cut, and all of the enchanted metal had been Portaled from Tibet to Paris. The metal sheets were just like Ladybug had requested, the gears cast perfectly- and even with a few extras, should one or two tumble off of Marinette's desk and get lost- and the bear trap parts all made and sharpened beyond belief.

Marinette shook out her hand with a wince as she glanced towards the finished knifelike blades of the trap. Her finger had just brushed against one of the sharpened teeth earlier as she was laying out the pieces, and it had cut her- not badly, but enough to hurt. Thankfully she had pre-made the healing potion and had been able to vanish the cut away to nothing but a memory in no time, but it was obvious that she was going to have to be very, very careful.

Thankfully, the Order had also made a leather guard to go over the teeth, just to make it a little safer to handle while she assembled everything. Otherwise, Marinette really wouldn't know how she was going to handle it well enough to make sure that everything was securely attached into place. Even with the guard on, she was going to have to be careful.

The inner box went together first, and then the metal layer on the outside. The shoddy-looking outer layer was put on top of that, hiding the metal altogether. That change in the design had been suggested by her father's friend, actually, and had been both so that the metal would be hidden and secret and to make it easier for her to put the box together.

It took a little bit to get the cuts for the keyholes all lined up, and then those- both the regular lock, and the 'mistake' lock for the trap- were inserted before the last screws were bolted into place on the box, holding the outer layer together firmly. Then, very carefully, Marinette started fitting the gears and connections together for the spring and the trap.

Thankfully she had told her parents that she had a Very Serious Project that she had to work on (for school, she had claimed) and that they were not to interrupt her, and if any of her friends came over unexpectedly to hang out, she wasn't available and they couldn't come up. The only thing that could possibly interrupt her now was an akuma.

"Does it feel good to have this be the final product?" Tikki asked as Marinette slotted another gear into place. "Knowing that once this is done, you're going to get to use it and not have to worry about it anymore?"

"I worry that I'll mess something up on this and that would be bad, but that's why I went to the dump and got all of that scrap wood." Marinette nodded over to the partially-hidden pile of wood- mostly old table and chair legs that she had collected. There was a lot of it, but that- and the fact that it would have been hard to explain to literally anyone- was the reason why she had used the Horse to go to the dump in the first place to get the scrap wood. "But yeah, it's going to be nice to see everything come together and not have that project hanging over my head."

Tikki smiled, then tilted her head to the side, considering the box. "I thought it would look- well, messier. I thought you said that you wanted it to look like a beginner's project."

"Yeah, but too messy, and it'll be pretty obvious that I was doing it on purpose. You'll see." Marinette checked her prototype again to make sure that she was doing everything right, then picked up the next piece. "It's a balancing act. That, and I didn't want to have to deal with splinters, which would have been the most obvious sign of a beginner project."

"Ooh, yeah, that wouldn't be any fun!"

"And it would have looked pretty odd, if my parents saw it," Marinette added. She frowned at the piece in her hand, then swapped it out for a different one, just a little smaller. "They know that Dad's friend does all of the cutting and helps with the sanding. Even if this was one of my earliest projects, they would know something was up if the pieces weren't cut right. Besides, splinters are fairly easy to fix- a regular square of sandpaper could probably help a lot, and even if I was younger and just doing the project for fun, I would do that much at least."

All of the gears and other pieces were together by lunch, when Marinette took a short break to actually eat something. As soon as she was done and her dishes were cleaned up, she returned upstairs to finish up the structure of the box itself and put the last bits of the trap together.

And then it was time to make the box look like a beginner's project.

"See, I have this putty that will go over the screws and hide them," Marinette told Tikki as she worked, carefully hiding each screw under a smoothed layer of putty. She would have to sand it down later, but that wasn't a big deal at all. "And then I have these really terrible nails that I'm going to be putting in. They probably won't all go in completely straight, and it'll look like they're the only thing holding the box together. Add in the fact that the outer layer of wood is really thin and cheap-looking 'cause it's plywood, and it'll look like I don't know what I'm doing."

"And the reason why the trap lock is crooked is because it's supposed to look like a mistake, right?"

"Exactly." It had hurt her inside just a little to deliberately put the lock in crooked- upside down and crooked, no less- but she wanted it to look like she had done a practice run with the lock on a bit of scrap plywood and then had to use the piece in her box. That way, she didn't have to worry about hiding the lock to disarm the bear trap somehow. Marinette finished the screw she was on, then flipped the box over in her hands, looking for any screws that she missed. "We're getting close, Tikki."

Tikki cheered, zipping around in a circle. "Great! And then the Miracle Box will be safe, and we don't have to worry about Hawkmoth enslaving any more kwamis!"

"Exactly." Marinette finished hiding the last exposed screw and sat back, examining her work. "Now that just has to dry before I can sand it and put any varnish on. While we wait- Tikki, can you pass me the nails?"

The box was done, and it was glorious.

Maybe it didn't look that way from the outside, with the uneven nails and obvious plywood visible under the splodgy, uneven varnish. But the bear trap inside was absolutely perfect- Marinette had spent a lot of time testing it, poking the box with her scrap wood both when the trap was set and when it was disarmed to make sure that everything was working right- and unless someone knew what they were looking for, they weren't very likely to notice the signs that the box wasn't quite what it appeared to be. The lock to the box itself re-locked automatically when it was closed, and the lock for the trap had to be re-locked before the key would come out, which ensured that she would remember to re-set it before she took off again.

The Order was duly impressed when she showed the box off over video call. Master Norbu had been joined by several other Guardians and they had watched as Ladybug showed off the box and the damage that it caused when she didn't disarm the trap before opening it.

"That is quite well engineered," Master Lhami told Ladybug as she finished demonstrating and explaining how disarming the trap ensured that it wouldn't go off, even if the box got knocked around a bit. "I know Master Norbu mentioned that you are interested in clothing design, but clearly engineering would not be much of a stretch, either."

Ladybug ducked her head, hoping that she wasn't turning red. "Thank you. It- it was a challenging project, but I'm happy with the result."

"As you should be. I do not think that many people would have been able to come up with something like that, particularly if they had as many other things demanding their attention as you have had." Master Norbu smiled at her. "I cannot remember if I passed on the message, but our metalworkers were quite pleased with how exact and detailed your instructions for the pieces were. They appreciated not having to go back and forth to hammer out details."

Ladybug smiled wider. "I'm glad to hear that. They did a very good job. All of the pieces were perfect."

"It is a pity that the genius in the trap had to be hidden behind cheap wood and a poor-looking exterior, but I can understand the decision behind it," another one of the Guardians- not one that Ladybug was familiar with- chimed in. "Most people would not bother going after the locks on a box that looks like a beginner's project, and that is the important thing."

There were murmurs of agreement at that and nods all around.

"I know that a box like that would likely be the last place I would look if I were in a villain's shoes," Master Norbu added in. "Though I would still hide it well, which I know that you've already discussed doing." He smiled at her. "As far as first impressions go, Miss Ladybug, I think it's fair to say that you have exceeded our expectations."

"Thank you," Ladybug managed. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "I couldn't have done it without your help."

The call finished with a few more exchanges of pleasantries and a few suggestions of what she might find most helpful to look at next in her assignments. Ladybug ended the call with a smile and a wave, then hung up and released her transformation. Tikki flitted free, zipping eagerly around Marinette.

"Did they like it?"

"They loved it," Marinette assured her kwami. "They really liked my demonstration with the last of the chair legs, too. I think it really helped assure them that the Miraculous are safe and that I'm taking my role as Guardian seriously."

Tikki sniffed. "If anyone thought that you weren't taking it seriously, I would question their judgement! You've been very focused." She zipped around to perch on Marinette's desk, still beaming. "And now you're all done with that project! What are you doing next? Maybe you can take a small break from Guardian stuff and sew that dress you were talking about! I know you have the fabric, I can find the design-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Marinette laughed. "I'm not quite done yet." She picked up the box from its spot on her desk, heading over to her storage bench and opening it. Pushing aside the pile of presents inside, she tucked the box at the very bottom and covered it back up before closing the bench. That got locked, too. "The box is done and hidden, but I still have to clean up. There's a reason why I didn't put the Horse miraculous away earlier. If mom and dad see all of the splintered table and chair legs, they're going to have questions."

"Ooh, and questions aren't a good thing!" Tikki agreed, zipping forward to help. She started gathering up splinters, tossing them into the trash. "I'll help clean up. Then we can have a fun break before diving into the Guardian stuff again!"

Marinette smiled. "Now that sounds like a plan."

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #marinette dupain cheng #traps and sneaks

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kyidyl · 3 years

Text

Kyidyl Does Archaeology - Part 6

(yep, the rest of the parts of this are all under the KyidylCL tag, in case you happen across just this one.)

Rocks and...other stuff

Ok so here we are...we’ve arrived at my least favorite thing. Lithics. I’ll be honest with you guys, my disinterest in lithics means that I don’t have a lot to add here. But...I’ll do what I can.

So, first off, we’ve found *thousands* of lithics on this site. It is by far the most common thing we have. We’ve found broken tools, used up tools, intact points, fire cracked rock, like...the whole nine. One of the things you can learn from lithics is how far people were going to get their rock. For example, we have a lot of jasper in our lithics, so we know they were going up onto the nearby mountain because that’s where the nearest jasper deposits are. I *absolutely* am not the right person to go into a detailed account here, but I do know that they were going pretty far away to get their supplies - even over to the other side of the mountains. Or at least they were trading with people in closer proximity to those places.

I think what’s amazing to me is the degree to which they work quartz and quartzite. Here’s one of the points we found:

I’m pretty sure, if I’m remembering the things the Rock Guy told me correctly, that point is made of quartzite. Quartz and quartzite are very hard (7/7.5 on the Mohs scale aka the rock hardness scale.), so working them is difficult. I don’t know how to do it, but I know it must have taken either an impressive amount of brute force or an impressive amount of energy. Either way, it’s neat. Hell I found a piece of quartz the last time I was in the field (which I don’t have, or I’d show you.) that literally looked like it was cut like a gemstone. It’s more likely it came out of a geode but still, they did cool shit with quartz. Some of what we’ve found has been almost as clear as glass.

I’m aware that the style a point is made in (and everything that is, well, pointy...is a point. It includes spear tips, arrow heads, etc.) is indicative of the age of a site, but I don’t know enough here to go into it and we’ve already covered age in the pottery and digging post (it’s late woodland - early contact, c. 1300s - 1700s), so I’m just gonna show you some cool pictures.

First point that we found...

Same hole, another point. Probably both are arrowheads given the size. The one I’m holding up in the picture up there was probably a spear, not an arrowhead. Arrowheads are actually really small.

Here’s another weird rock:

It’s weird because that one in the upper right has that groove in it and is kinda squished. to me it looks like a tile, which would be really anachronistic to this particular site, and our Rock Guy assures me this is a natural thing, but these rocks have something on them I’ve been finding on a lot of the lithics: a red residue. You can see it pretty clearly on the top surface on the center rock, but it’s in the grooves on the right one too. These rocks didn’t come out of the pit with the red dirt, so it’s not like...red dirt from burning. To me it looks like ocre, but this is one of those areas where my knowledge base just comes up short and I need to wait for someone who knows more to look at them. But lets just say that I have this experience often where I’ll say something like “this looks like ocre” and people will be like “nooo, that doesn’t make sense” and then they’ll spend some time with the artefact and be like “hey look at this it looks like ocre” and I’m over here like....yes....I know....I told you that weeks ago...perhaps if I’d found a way to say it in a male voice we wouldn’t be having this conversation. x.x Aaaaannnnnyway.

Another kind of rock we have are fire-cracked rocks. Back in the day they used to heat rocks in the fire and then put them in pots to boil the water. They often reuse them, and after a few uses the constant “hot rock plunged into cold water” thing causes them to crack. It’s *extremely* common to find this all over the world. I saw it at the site I worked in England, too, when we were digging the Roman stuff. And it’s always kind of confused me because even though water boils basically instantly when you add the very hot rock, it would likely take longer for the rock to heat up than it would to just, y’know, boil the water, so why use the rocks? Then it occurred to me: because the rocks were just casually tossed into fires that weren’t being used for cooking. So you toss a few into the fire you’re using for warmth or for smoking or whatever in the morning and by the time dinner rolls around you just grab some rocks that’ve been in the fire all day and you toss them into a pot of water. Multitasking ftw! I would find some pics for you but I’m NGL guys, they just look like stones that’ve been cracked in half. People weren’t all that picky about the type or anything like that.

So yeah, that’s rocks, now who wants to see some weird shit? You, obviously, YOU want to see some weird shit.

Weird Shit

First up, because I STILL haven’t figured out why this is like this, we have this bone:

Ok honestly I’m only like 93% sure it’s a small piece of bone, but like...it’s definitely natural. It’s been burned for awhile but the weird part here is that IT’S GREEN. Now that’s not in and of itself weird - this is what happens to bone when there’s some metal nearby. It often leaves behind green staining on bones. But there was no metal in the ground here, and this thing was pretty deep. Below the civil war trench stuff. So I have no idea why it’s green like this.

This...thing. No idea what it is. Roughly a quarter inch long, metallic...looks like slag but, again, came out of a hole that was really too deep for us to be finding iron in (in this case, iron is a modern contaminant or something you’d only find in the top - IE, later - layers.). Meteorite, maybe? We’ve found some other weird stuff like this too but it was from much higher layers.

The back and front of a piece of bone that is too small for me to make a determination as to whether or not it’s human without like...a microscope. I don’t have one. I mean it probably *isn’t* human, but the color is right, soooo...IDK I just thought it was weird.

This is another small, weird, brown thing. BUT! it’s a different kind of small, weird brown thing than the other one. The other one passes the magnet test and fails to leave a streak when wet. This one fails the magnet test but left a brown streak on my skin when wet (no...I didn’t lick this one). So I’m pretty sure it’s a coprolite, but I’ve never handled them before so I’m not entirely certain. It looks like one to me, though (coprolite is very old poop. Poop is important bc it informs on diet and stuff. There have been literal fights and thefts in the archaeological community over coprolites.). This came out of one of the test pits and we haven’t dug over there yet so IDK.

This next bit is less weird and more cool.

This is a very small, very burned piece of bone but it’s cool for two reasons. One, see that long light-color diagonal mark in the lower right area of the top surface? That’s either a butchery mark or more tooth marks. I learn towards butchery becaaaaause....see how flat this is? That only happens when it’s been cut by people. Bones don’t break clean and flat like that, the crack or they splinter. When they crack they do it vertically because that is with the grain of the bone. This is horizontal, or across the grain. They have to be cut to look so flat. Here’s another example from the test pits:

See? Perfectly flat across the grain. This one has also been cut and burned. The white color of the two bones means they’ve been burned for a long time at a high temperature. All of the collagen - the soft stuff - gets burned off when you do it for long enough and at a high enough temperature and the minerals are left behind. Both of these images are macro images on bones that are smaller than an inch.

Ok, one more weird thing:

This is actually the back and front of a rock. It’s flat on both sides like pottery, but it tasted like a rock and it has no temper so...rock. But in that top image it has some kind of dark residue on it that almost looks like rust or paint, and the opposite side has small marks that look like cut marks or tool marks. I’m not sure what kind of rock it was, but it also had a dry, sandy texture to it. IDK it was just weird. The marks could just be damage over time to the rock (what we call taphonomic damage.), but the residue is pretty strange.

Anyway, that about wraps it up. I think that what I’m gonna do is start going through the uncleaned material I have downstairs (I got sidetracked by covid and the holidays. :P) and start posting what I found or anything out of the ordinary, if you guys want anyway. Thanks for sticking around through this long series of posts about the site I work at, and I hope you enjoyed it. As always, if you have any questions my askbox is open. :)

#archaeology #kyidylCL #science #cool stuff #real life #lithics #and mysteries

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leilabeaux · 4 years

Text

Learning

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2161

Summary: Ivar is able to learn more about Reader as her walls slowly comes down.

Author’s Note: I’ve been slow with updating anything. With work and all the things going on in the world, I’ve been much like the reader and preferred to stay in bed all time. Hopefully, I can get back into the groove because I do enjoy entertaining you all with the ideas that pop up in my head.

The Stolen Queen: When Heathen King Meets Christian Queen Lost The Secret Visit

----

The knot on the wooden plank across from you seemed to grow the longer you stared at it. You were lying in bed with your arm hanging off the edge and no intention of moving. It seemed like today was going to be the same as the rest. Your ankle was getting better and you could finally put some weight on it but that still didn’t give you enough motivation to step outside.

There wasn’t much of a point. You could only sit in silence with Arn so many times and watch as he sharpened his sword or gutted whatever animal you'd be feasting on that day. Even if he were more of a conversationalist, he knew no Saxon and there were only a few Norse words you could understand. You two were limited on the ways you were able to get your point across to each other.

Like a few moments ago when he plopped a plate of food onto the bed. He pointed at your lunch, acted like he was spooning it to his mouth before he crossed his arms and waited for you to make your move. You nibbled on a slice of meat just to appease the older man enough to leave you alone. Once he made his exit, you dropped the morsel immediately and went back to staring at the wall.

Your eyes grew heavy as you slowly drifted off for the third time that day. You spent most of your days asleep. Ever since the last time you ran off, you realized that it was only in your dreams when you could escape from these four walls, getting lost in past memories. Some good, some bad, and some that hadn’t crossed your mind since you were younger...

It was the sound of a clay pot crashing right outside your room that woke you from your nap. You stood on the tip of your toes over your pile of blankets to take a peek out of the window. The usual bustle of the marketplace was replaced with panic as people tried to quickly pack up their stalls. Mothers had their children in their arms as they ran from the town center.

The shouting from the other room had you hopping off your bed and quietly walking toward the archway. Your mother and Sigbert, her loyal guard and friend, hovered over the table, looking over the battle plans. The white paint on her face was smudged and now replaced with blood but you weren’t sure if it was hers or someone else’s.

Sigbert pounded his fist against the table causing one of the figurines to tumble onto the ground. “Dammit, Rasha! More than half your warriors are gone. We must leave while there is still time. I know King Wuldric would insist on your safe return to Essex.”

Your mother hung her head as if in silent defeat. Her braids dusted the table below her. “My people need their queen and that far outweighs any need of a foreign king,” her voice was just above a whisper. You had to poke your head out of the archway just to hear her clearly. “You need to return to Essex and you need to take Y/N with you. There is no one else I trust more with her life.”

“You cannot stop them,” Sigbert tried to reason with her one last time.

“Then I will have to die trying.” She looked over to you. “I’ll take comfort that my legacy will live on through her.” Your lip began to wobble when you saw her tears flowing, pulling the red and white coloring down her face. You’ve never seen your mother with such sadness in her eyes and you didn’t know why but it frightened you.

Picking you up, she smoothed your hair back as she tried to stop your tears. “Y/N, Be not afraid, you’ll always be safe with Sigbert. He’s taking you home. Home to your king.” She pressed a kiss against your temple, holding you tight to her before passing you over to your new guardian.

As he carried you off to his waiting horse, you reached out your small hand to her, calling out for her, “Mama! Mama!”

You woke up to the bed shifting next to you. You peaked over your shoulder to find Ivar sitting next to you, picking at the food still left on your plate. Though most days you didn’t feel like seeing him, you didn’t feel particularly up to it today.

“Do you know you mumble gibberish in your sleep?” he questioned before shoveling your leftovers in his mouth. “Arn says you’ve stopped eating. Is something wrong with you? Do you need the healer?”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You turned your head away from him, focusing on the knot in the wall again. You heard the clink of the plate being set on the floor before the bed dipped right behind you.

“You know you can talk to me, you don’t have to be afraid.” His warm body was close to you as you felt him twirling your hair around his finger.

You could only laugh mockingly, refusing to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“You can. Anything you say here will not get you in trouble.”

You rolled over to face him, “Anything? Like I can tell how much I dream of climbing on top of you.” His eyes widened as you straddled his waist before you leaned down to press your forearm against his neck. “So I can slice open your throat or stab you in the heart.”

Your threat must have fallen on deaf ears when he smiled up at you, his hands slowly sliding up your thighs and under your dress, “Maybe if you get a hold of another chicken bone, you’ll get your wish.”

You smacked your hand on his chest in annoyance before climbing off him and the bed. Stomping out of the cabin to get some distance from him, you tried to not focus too much on the jolt of electricity that flowed through your body when his rough hands were on you.

You could hear him getting off the bed and the strike of his crutch hitting the ground as he made his way outside.

“Come with me,” Ivar ordered as he passed by you and walked over to his chariot.

You slowly followed him with your arms crossed in front of your chest, standing by and watching as he climbed in. You raised a brow when he held his hand out to you.

“You could walk along with me, my queen, but I think it’ll be faster if you ride with me.”

Pushing his hand away, you grabbed onto the side of the chariot and you pulled yourself in.

He chuckled as he grabbed the reins. “Still stubborn as ever, I see. Maybe nothing is wrong with you.”

---

It felt like it didn’t take long for the horse and chariot to break through the edge of the forest. The trees had cleared out, exposing the bluff that was in the distance. Ivar would come here when he needed to be truly alone with his thoughts but with trying to visit you and with his duties as King, there hadn’t been enough time to come back.

He had been away for some time, busy checking on the stronghold at York. He had hoped you’d be more welcoming to his presence when he arrived at the cabin instead he was informed by Arn that you rarely left your bed and were barely eating despite his efforts. Ivar thought that a change in scenery would heal whatever was ailing you.

When the chariot came to a stop, you made a move to climb out but he gently pushed you back before he stepped down and, once again, held his hand out to you. Rolling your eyes, you finally took his hand and his assistance in getting out from the chariot.

He propped himself up against a large boulder, watching you as you walked toward the edge of the cliff, taking in the view of the bay. You closed your eyes while you took in the ocean air, wind whipping your long curls around as you stood still.

Backing away from the edge, you started making your way towards him. “Is all of that down there your kingdom?”

Ivar tried to not be so excited that you were initiating the conversation for once. “It is. You sound surprised.”

“Well, with how boastful you are, I assumed it to be much smaller,” you smirked as you took a seat on the grass not too far away from him.

While he would have been content sitting in silence with you, there was a question weighing on his mind since he took you from Powys. “Why did you run away?”

“You let me go so I--”

“No, from your kingdom, from your husband.”

You continued to stare straight ahead as if you needed a moment to consider your answer, “I was tired of it. Tired of being his queen.”

Ivar snorted at your response and looked down at you incredulously, “You are an odd woman. You could ask any woman in Kattegat if they would want to be a queen and I don’t think one would tell you no.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be a queen. I didn’t want to be his queen. I don’t think I desire to be any man’s queen if they’re anything like a Fremund. I’d rather be a queen without a king.”

“There’s a simple solution for that. Just get rid of your king.” He suggested as he made a slow, slicing motion across his neck.

You laughed at what he was insinuating, “I can’t say that the thought never crossed my mind. I think I’d be dead if I ever tried.”

“When we first met, you said that he wanted you to be a proper queen. What would that be?”

“According to Fremund? One that is only seen and not heard. Just a piece of decoration in the room when he’s entertaining other kings or earls,” your voice was dripping with disdain. “My father once told me that iron sharpens iron. ‘A great king should have no intention of trying to change, control, or silence his queen. He should want her to be as strong and as outspoken as him because her strength is a reflection of his own.’ I learned early on in my marriage that my husband didn’t share the same views.”

Ivar didn’t miss the way you touched the side of your face as if you were recalling a bad memory. He wondered if your usual unwillingness to talk wasn’t just because of your need to defy or irritate him but that it was an ingrained trait.

You stared down at the ground, plucking the grass. “That’s when I started to run away. But his men would always find me. I became a prisoner in my own kingdom. He surrounded me with handmaids and his guards and decreed that I was to never be left alone.” You cut your eyes to him with an irritated look on your face. “It’s funny that I am so far from Gwynedd, yet his order still holds.”

He constantly wondered how he could convince you to accept your new home. But he now realized that your instinct was to run when someone tried to control and hold you back. “I think I owe you an apology, Y/N. Maybe I was mistaken to have you kept so close to the cabin. You should be free to explore the lands you live on or to even come back here if you wish.”

You looked pensive as you considered what he was telling you. “So I’m still your prisoner but with a larger jail cell?”

“You will be my guest. I’m giving you the freedom to roam and live as if you were a queen without a king. But you must understand I can’t leave you alone. It’s for your protection. I think we both know that you would get lost in the forest and die if you were left on your own.”

You nodded along in agreement. The furrow of your brow had him prepared for whatever clever comment was about to exit your mouth. “Why haven’t you punished me for going against you?” you wondered. “Fremund would have at least backhanded me for less.”

Ivar walked over to you, offering his hand to you. The sun was getting low, he was needing to get you back home. “Because I am not your husband, I’m not a weak king.”

Without any resistance or roll of your eyes, you placed your hand in his, allowing him to help you up.

He led you to the chariot with his hand at the small of your back. “And I can appreciate a strong queen when she’s right next to me.”

----

Endnote: The quote from Reader’s father is actually one I found from a quick google search. Here’s the actual quote:

“A king had no intention of trying to change, control, or “shut up” a queen. He wants his woman to be as strong and tactfully outspoken as him, with her own mind, because he knows, his woman’s strength is a reflection of his. Iron sharpens iron.”—ebrahim aseem

----

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon @ivarsgoddess @tsumamibaddie @akaward-potato @xbellaxcarolinax @kaitieskidmore1 @castielsangelsx

(Edited to fix tags. 😒)

#viking fanfic #ivar the boneless #alex høgh andersen #ivar fanfic #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #alex hogh andersen imagine

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Beside The Dying Fire (part five)

[DnD AU with the tour!verse]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count:

TW: Blood and gore, wound descriptions

---------------------------

After finally getting away from Holm and the Death Cloud, it was a long walk before the rolling green hills that characterized the north began to flatten out. Katherine and her companions stopped occasionally to gather water from clear streams and to rest, but then they walked again. They traveled south and east, hunting small game in order to supplement their meager rations and living off of the land.

Over the course of two days, their path led them to a lower elevation into rocky, broken terrain. Though it raised Katherine’s suspicions and filled her mouth with a bad taste, she was certain that they were going in the right direction. Before them was a fissure in the earth and a slim pass through which people were meant to travel. Katherine looked up at the overcast sky and shook her head.

Navigating down to the clearest path on the lowest part of the trail leading into the ravine was treacherous, especially with Catalina. Katherine worried over her getting down the slippery slope, with its loose rocks and shifting dirt, much to Catalina’s annoyance.

“I am FINE!” The Aasimar had barked, and then promptly slipped on an unsteady stone and nearly rolled down the remainder of the slope. Katherine managed to catch and steady her before she could fall forward and impale her stomach on a jagged rock.

“You are definitely fine,” Katherine said, assisting Catalina the rest of the way down.

“Hmph. Thanks.” Catalina said.

The entrance to the ravine’s cave yawned open to them, studded with fangs of stalactites. The rocky, uneven walkway was almost manageable compared to the steep, jagged paths Katherine could expect if they had tried to cross on either side. Whatever stream cut through these rocks had long dried up, which made going through them that much easier. Katherine lit a torch on a branch with a piece of flint, then traversed into the darkness with her companions.

The ravine floor was not especially difficult to walk across. Years of hard rushing water have carved a path through the rock and smoothed the stones underneath. But there was a sort of eerie silence that crept through the shadows, slinking after them with every step they took.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Catalina muttered, looking all around the tunnel. “Not to be a nun, but this place does not feel very celestial.”

Joan nodded gravely. “But it doesn’t feel very infernal, either,” She said, and rubbed her forearms as if she were trying to press down goosebumps. “It’s weird…”

Katherine flicked her ears and looked around. It was harder for her to catch traces of strangeness because of her wood elf bloodline, but even her own hair was standing on end. She didn’t like the feeling crawling over her; it didn’t feel natural.

The shadows of the ravine deepened the further they traveled into it. The sun penetrated the craggy rock formations overhead, but offered little of its warmth. The going got rougher underfoot, and it grew colder. They seemed to be going down.

“Did you live underground?” Catalina’s voice echoed throughout the cave, making Katherine jump.

Joan blinked up at Catalina. “Huh?”

“Did you live underground?” Catalina asked again.

“No?” Joan furrowed her eyebrows.

“Oh. I thought Tieflings lived in caves.”

Joan flicked her ears back, then shrugged awkwardly. “Maybe. I dunno. My village was kinda small.”

Katherine peered at Joan curiously, only just realizing that she didn’t know that much about her. The little Tiefling had been dragged along in this journey against her will, not that she seemed to mind. She was still very quiet, though, and kept to herself, probably because she was so used to it simply because of her race; Katherine had heard about the stories calling Tieflings demons.

“My bad,” Catalina said. She squinted through the darkness ahead.

Katherine and her companions took turns pointing out particularly perilous sections of the ground where twisting an ankle would be a matter of a single step. There were grooves and dips in the stone, pressing mercilessly into the arches of their feet as they walked along.

Ahead, the path widened into a kind of clearing at the heart of the ravine. This was the deepest part of the natural formation, and the light was all but extinguished here. Dread was still hanging over Katherine’s head like a silver sword.

As they walked up through a winding tunnel, the smell of smoke waved down at them. Light was slowly starting to return as the ravine began to open up again. But the sky outside the cave was dark and grey, signaling a storm, and wetness coated everything beyond the protective rocky overhangs. The dried out river beds were beginning to fill up again; Katherine wondered if the ravine would be flooded.

It was a perilous climb out of the gorge, but the three of them make it out onto a grassy field that has been reduced to more of a lake because of the rain. They spotted a city around a mile away, smoke whirling into the air from houses beyond a tall wooden wall, and headed for it, hoping for a place to rest.

A few soldiers were huddled around struggling fires, some dressed in spiky leather armor, others in the same peasant garb they were wearing when ordered to serve, most likely because of the city being short handed on fighters. They were all slimed in so much mud and grime that not even the rain could wash it away, and they all appeared very tired, but still jumped up with their weapons when they noticed the group approaching.

“You three! Stop there!”

Turning toward the voice, Katherine saw a half-elf woman striding through the murk in their direction. She wiped some rainwater from her eyes, twitching her small, pointy ears, and brandished a rake. Katherine took it as a blessing that Catalina didn’t burst out laughing.

“Chauback is under quarantine. What’s your business here?”

And then, without letting any of them say something, a smaller human guard piped up, “They’re the doctors! Look at the masks!” He had seen the animal masks buckled to their waists. “I told you they would come, Nasha!”

The half-elf, Nasha, paused, looking the three of them up and down again as she considered her next move. “Right.” She pulled her rake away. “Can’t be too careful. I need to clear this with Mayor Oron.” She glanced at them one last time, then hurried through the wooden gates.

The rain splashed around Katherine and her companions and dripped from their sleeves. They blinked at each other, clearly confused. Just as Catalina opened her mouth to say something, a human man came dashing over, almost losing his footing in the mud. He grabbed Katherine’s shoulder.

“Are you a doctor?” He gasped out. Then, not waiting for a reply, “Come with me. My friend needs medicine. Please.”

Catalina and Joan exchanged looks beside Katherine, but Katherine, sensing the man’s urgency, said, “This sounds serious. Let’s go at once.” without even really thinking it through.

“Thank you. Follow me.” He took off back through the mud. Katherine and her companions put their masks on and then struggled after him, keen not to end up with a face full of waterlogged turf. He stopped periodically to beckon them onward with an exaggerated wave.

Their short journey took them to a makeshift blacksmith’s table and extinguished forge. It appeared the smith was partway through the repair or creation of some crude pieces of chest armor when the rain cut the process short. The man ducked into a living quarter area attached to the blacksmith building, and the trio followed, vainly attempting to shake rain from their clothes before they stepped inside.

“Help him. Help Pava, please,” The human begged. “His leg… It’s not healing.”

On the small bed in the corner laid a shaky gnome man, blonde-haired and pale-faced. An unpleasant gash carved a jagged groove down his left leg. He let out a low moan.

“I’ve brought a healer, Pava. Everything will be well now.” The human moved over to Pava and took his hand, looking at the trio with nervous expectation.

Katherine moved closer to study the wound in Pava’s leg. The gash was deep, a zigzagged red tear in the man’s leg. It was inflamed dark crimson with fangs of shredded flesh and a maw that gargled creamy pus. It smelled foul, but Katherine had knowledge in healing from her life in the forest.

“I need honey,” Katherine said to the man. “And ginger.” She swung her head around to Joan. “Joan, run out and get me some old man’s beard lichen. It was out on the trees near the ravine. Do you remember what it looks like? I used it to wrap your wrists.”

Joan cast a dismayed look at the stormy weather outside, then nodded and hurried back out into the rain. The human man followed close after her, but with more urgency in his step. Catalina lingered in the room, shifting from foot to foot.

Once all the supplies were brought back to the house, Katherine began by slathering the length of the wound in honey. Pava cried out and gripped the bedsheets, but didn’t jerk away.

“What’s it for?” The human asked, glancing nervously over Katherine’s shoulder as she worked.

“Honey can flush out wounds and remove infections,” Katherine explained. “It’ll help clean the injury.”

The human nodded. “Thank you. Thank you so much. If he went in wounded, they wouldn’t let him…” He trailed off with an anxiety-ridden expression. Katherine looked back at him, but didn’t ask.

After scraping off the honey and cleaning the rest of the wound out with water, Katherine mixed ginger in with the strips of old man’s beard lichen Joan had brought. She wrapped the lichen around Pava’s leg, then dressed it in a second layer of fresh bandages to step back to admire her handiwork.

“That should keep the wound safe until it heals,” Katherine said. “Make sure to clean the bandages every few hours.”

The human nodded gratefully, vigorously shaking Katherine’s hand. “Thank you, ma’am. Thank you. Thank you.”

Katherine nodded and smiled, even if it couldn’t be seen under her mask, then walked out of the house. Catalina and Joan trailed after her quietly, saying nothing.

Nasha found them as they circled around blindly in the town square. The city was dull and packed, houses pressed together tightly, but with not many people out on the streets. There were a few wooden gates with white X’s over them, which blocked off entrances to alleyways. They were led away from those to a big stone house, where a nervous-looking firbolg was pacing around in a mess of leather strips and metal scraps.

“Mayor Oron,” Nasha dipped her head. “The doctors are here.”

The firbolg perked up, hitting his head on the low ceiling. He rubbed the top of his skull as he bustled over, gesturing for the trio to come inside.

“Come in, come in,” He said. “It’s a relief that you’re finally here. Chauback is in the grip of a pandemic we cannot explain. Hence the general summons for plague doctors. It’s running rampant and eating away at people I need.”

Katherine nodded her head. “We will do whatever we can.”

She missed the confused looks Catalina and Joan exchanged behind her back.

After speaking with the mayor, the three of them found the closest thing to an inn near the heart of the settlement, and its half-orc proprietress looked at their mask-clad selves with open disdain. She gruffly offered a place to sleep, a hot meal and a bath for free of charge because of their service in the village, but she didn’t seem very happy about the lack of payment.

The meal she offered was simple fare: vegetables boiled beyond recognition and a simple fish broth, but it was hot and therefore welcome. After they’ve eaten in a companionable enough silence, Katherine asked her about the illness in Chauback. She bristled at the question initially, but eventually answered.

The half-orc told them in clipped sentences about how the illness had been controlled at first, just peasant people at first, but then migrated into richer parts of the city. The rain and humidity didn’t help either. Chauback had become a stinking cesspool of a breeding ground for disease in less than two years.

After finishing their modest dinner they were offered a bath. The water was lukewarm at best and there was no soap to speak of, but there were some oils they all slathered themselves in. Catalina got to bathe first, then Joan, and then Katherine, and by the time she got into the bath, the water had turned murky and cold.

They were given a private room in the loft, close to the low-hanging sloped ceiling, and Katherine had to duck slightly to keep from hitting her head when she walked up the steps.

Joan was asleep by the time Katherine’s bath was finished. She was curled up on a straw cot, snuggled under a frayed wool blanket. Catalina was still awake and flipping through the spell tome Hans had given them. She squinted at Katherine when she stepped into the lantern’s glow.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” Katherine turned to her.

Catalina closed the book. “We aren’t doctors. We can’t help these people. What were you thinking?”

Katherine flicked her ears back. “I know some things. Faedi taught me how to treat wounds and what plants have healing properties.”

“But stopping an entire plague?” Catalina shook her head. “These people are going to die.”

“No, they’re not.” Katherine growled, clenching her fists. Catalina caught her mounting anger and furrowed her eyebrows. Katherine relaxed, letting her ears droop slightly. “I just--” She sighed. “I want to try and help people. Because I couldn’t help anyone in Ghent…”

“Oh,” Catalina said, understanding. “Oh, that’s what this is about?” She got up and hugged Katherine. “Kat… What happened in Ghent wasn’t your fault. You did your best.”

“I ran.” Katherine said. “I didn’t stay to help them, I didn’t make sure everyone was okay, I just ran away.”

“You stayed alive for them,” Catalina corrected. “And you’re going to be the hero for them. I just know it.”

Katherine looked into her warm dark brown eyes, then nodded. “Alright.”

Catalina bumped her head with hers. “I’ll stay and try to help here. We’ll do our best.”

“Thank you, Lina.”

“No problem, Kat. Anything for you.”

------

The next day was a mess of blood and gore.

Katherine, Catalina, and Joan saw dozens of patients, all worse than the last. One man had pus-filled boils bulging all over his body, and one woman’s leg seemed to be literally rotting while it was still attached. They had to cut that limb off, and the resulting scream was haunting, but the smell was worse.

Instead of blood, a thick, greenish-yellow liquid came pouring out of the wound. It reeked of decay and burbled endlessly from the severed leg. Joan had careened out of the tent to vomit.

But that wasn’t all. They got a patient swarmed with flies trying to lay their eggs in a gash on his leg, a patient with her skin peeling off in huge, rotting strips on her feet, a patient pox all along his belly, a patient with his face and neck bulging beyond belief.

It was awful. So awful.

When Katherine was getting some fresh air out of the rot-smelling houses, she noticed one of the wooden gates blocking off alleyways creaking open, revealing a hunched form draped in a ragged coat several sizes too big, its face mostly hidden by a matted scarf and a too-big cowl. It took her a moment, but she realized it was a high elf man.

She was not sure if he was coming for her or if he was simply moving on to a new haunt, but either way she felt an uncomfortable tightening in her stomach at the thought of facing this insane-looking person. She could barely tell what he looked like beneath all that clothing of his, but she caught glimpses of bronze skin festering with boils and disease. When he noticed her, the tips of his pointy ears peeking out of his covers perked up.

“Doctor,” He rasped, reaching out a peeling hand, and then Nasha from the day before herded him back behind the gate and locked it.

“Sorry about that,” She said.

“Who was that? Shouldn’t I help him?” Katherine asked.

Nasha shook her head. “No point. They’re too contagious and way too far gone. The best we can do is keep them away from everyone else. Come on, you need to get back to work.”

So, the day went on, and by nightfall, Katherine didn’t think her sense of smell would ever return to normal.

That night, Katherine heard whimpering in the dark. She got out of bed, and realized that Joan was crying in her sleep.

“Joan,” Katherine murmured, shaking the little Tiefling. “Joan, honey, wake up. You’re okay. Wake up.”

Joan gasped awake, her eyes popping open into wideness. She whimpered in fright when she saw Katherine looming over her and curled into a tight ball, coiling her tail in close and covering her hands with her head.

“N-no!” She squeaked. “P-please don’t hurt me!”

“Shh, shh,” Katherine stroked her frazzled white-blonde hair, and found that it was laden with sweat from her nightmare. “It’s just me, sweetheart. It’s Katherine.”

“K-Katherine?” Joan peeked out from behind her arms.

“Yes, sweet girl. It’s just me. You’re okay. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

Joan whimpered again; it was such a heartbreaking sound.

“Wanna sleep with me tonight?” Katherine asked.

Joan looked up at her, then nodded. Katherine scooped her up into her arms with ease and carried her to her cot, letting the little Tiefling curl against her.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” Katherine murmured, running her fingers through Joan’s hair. “You’re okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise. I’ll protect you.”

Katherine fell asleep that night with a strong maternal instinct bubbling inside of her.

------

“It hurts,” Moaned the half-elf man Joan was working on. The lightning bolt-shaped gash in his side wouldn’t stop belching pus and blood onto the young Tiefling’s claws. “It hurts…”

“It’s going to be okay, Erem,” Said the human woman clutching one of his hands. “They’re going to help you.”

“Alright, be gentle, Joan,” Katherine instructed. “Slather the honey on the wound. That’ll help draw out the infection.”

Joan nodded and began covering fingerfuls of honey into the wound. But along with the infection, more blood began to come out. And Erem started to whimper in distress, and then went very still and very silent.

“Erem?” The human began shaking the half-elf, but he did not wake up. “Erem?!” She whipped her head around to Joan and Katherine. “You killed him! You fucking killed him!”

“She must have accidentally cut a vessel with her claws,” Katherine said, glancing at the oozing wound. She noticed the human take out a knife and quickly put herself between her and Joan. “Woah, woah, woah! Calm down!”

“You killed Erem!” The woman screeched. “You murderer! Murderer!!”

Katherine and Joan backed up out of the house. People were starting to gather around them at the screaming, suddenly looking a lot more angry. Catalina bustled over with supplies she had run out to grab, confused.

“What’s going on?” She asked.

“You’re all murderers!” The knife-wielding woman howled, and Katherine could see that her mind was not all there anymore. Maybe it never had been. “I bet you’re not even real doctors! You’ve just been lying to us!”

The village got enraged when the trio hesitated. Whispers of curiosity turned into roars of fury and insanity. Suddenly, a lot more of them were brandishing weapons, and Katherine ordered Catalina and Joan to run.

They dashed through the city, down streets and across town squares, but couldn’t find a place to hide.

So, it was Katherine who shouted for them to go through one of the wooden gates.

The alleyway they ran into was dark and moist. Solid stone turned to mush beneath their feet, and the smell of rot that infected the rest of the city got a lot worse, so much so that Katherine could taste the decay when they breathed through her mouth.

A scant sliver of sunlight revealed a corridor of corpses and a river of rot running down the alley.

“Oh my god,” Catalina muttered.

There were so many bodies. So many pale white, limp bodies piled in the street. They were oozing, skin peeling, bubbling with disease. Flesh had burst open from illness, and liquidated organs were pouring down onto the stone below, becoming warm, moist homes for wriggling maggots.

With a jolt, Katherine realized several of the corpses were bearing the mark of Queen Jane Seymour- a white lioness.

“They’re breeding the disease,” Joan whispered. “That’s why they weren’t letting these people get help. They wanted them to get sick and die...or not die.” She cast a disturbed look over at a man who appeared to still be moving, even with his shoulders and thighs infested with larvae. “I think they want to use the disease to kill off more forces in the war.”

“This is horrible,” Catalina said. “How could someone do something like this?”

Before any of them could answer, a man yelled from behind, “They went this way!”

“Come on,” Katherine urged, and they all continued running, deeper into the depths of the disease.

“Get back here!!” Roared a voice from behind.

Joan yelped loudly when her hooves slipped in the slop below. She jolted up and dashed to the left, disappearing from Katherine’s sight. Katherine felt a wrench in her heart, but couldn’t stop to go after her.

Katherine and Catalina ran into a cathedral in a pavilion. There seemed to be an entire chunk of the city that was blocked off. They shut the door as quietly as possible and ran to the far back, hiding behind the raised dais.

“Never thought I would return to a church in these circumstances,” Catalina attempted to joke, laughing dryly.

“This is so horrible,” Katherine whispered, shuddering.

“I know, I-I know,” Catalina whispered. “We have to get out of here. They’re going to kill us.”

And then, with immaculate comedic timing, a huge, thickly-muscled blue arm burst through the nearby window and grabbed Catalina by the throat.

Katherine and Catalina both screaming as the mayor, Oron, climbed through the broken window and stepped inside the church. He held a wickedly-curved knife to Catalina’s belly, causing the Aasimar to tense.

“Don’t make another move,” Oron breathed down Catalina’s neck, “or I’ll slice her open and rip out the baby myself.”

“Don’t hurt her!” Katherine yelled.

Oron peered down at the bump. “What a stupid time to get knocked up. Do you really want the baby to grow up in a time of war?”

Katherine saw Catalina grit her teeth, trying not to move. She looked into her eyes, and they were flashing in panic.

“I would be doing you and it a favor by killing it,” Oron went on.

“You have no right!” Katherine growled.

“And you had no right to lie to me and kill my people!” Oron bellowed back.

“We helped you! We helped a lot of people!” Katherine said. “And you didn’t even deserve it! We’ve seen what you’ve done!”

Oron chuckled gruffly. “It was Henry’s idea. When he heard about our problem, he knew he could use it to his advantage in the war. Sending the infected to infect the enemy. A perfect plan.”

“You’re vile,” Catalina spat, then sucked in a sharp breath when Oron pressed the knife closer to her stomach.

“Let her go,” Katherine growled lowly. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”

Oron laughed, opened his mouth to say something, and then gagged blood when a shard of glass went through his throat.

Catalina jerked away when Oron’s arms around her went slack, and she and Katherine watched as he tottered forward, gasping and gurgling as red oozed down his chest. They turned their heads to Joan, perched in the broken window, breathing heavily.

“Come on!” Joan shouted.

Catalina couldn’t climb through the window, so Katherine escorted her out the church’s front doors. They followed Joan to a back alley against the wooden walls that surrounded the city. There was a gap between the logs, chipped away from weather and wind.

“We can get out through here,” Joan said, pointing.

“Do you REALLY think I can fit through there?” Catalina said.

“You can try!” Katherine said.

Luckily, they were all able to wiggle through the gap with just a few minor cuts and splinters. Crisp, fresh air hit them in a tidal wave and they all breathed in a sharp breath of oxygen that wasn’t tainted with disease and rot.

“Holy shit,” Catalina panted after they dashed for a tree line. “That was…”

“Eventful,” Katherine finished. “God…” She pressed a hand to her forehead and shook her head. “Lina, is there a fire spell in that book?”

Catalina glanced at her, then nodded, understanding. She opened up the tome and flipped to a specific page. She muttered an incantation, formed a fireball in her hand, and then threw it into the walls of Chauback.

The city went up in flames.

After all, not everyone could be saved.

#dnd au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #six fanfic #six fic #uk tour six #tour katherine howard #katherine howard #tour catherine of aragon #catherine of aragon #tour joan on the keys #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: wounds #beside the dying fire

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noxtms · 3 years

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IN CHARACTER DATE : december 18th, 2020. SYNOPSIS : percy weasley is missing, harry potter’s grave has been dug up & word reaches dumbledore’s army that the dursley’s have been attacked. a piece of the puzzle falls into place. TRIGGER WARNINGS : mentions of death.

two warnings were issued before GINNY had taken dudley's hand. number one : hold tight, elbows in, be prepared for a squeeze. the grimmauld place ENTRYWAY was remarkably compact for what one would expect from the noble & most ancient house of black, and ginny didn't usually apparate in. her foot still managed to hook onto the dusty umbrella stand as she materialized, the space quite tight for two, and it clattered to the grubby tiles. number two : when i open the front door, don't scream. they'd yet to work out how to rid the downstairs hallway of the albus dumbledore spectre that rose from the filthy carpet and rushed towards visitors, though today was the first time in a LONG while that it didn't make her jump when it exploded into nothing. her - their? - focus was elsewhere. it would have been nice to be able to dawdle, to tell him about sirius black and how the whole gothic building belonged to harry, but everything felt like it was coming all at once, and aside from a small shhh as they passed the portrait of a darkly muttering ( but heavily curtained ) walburga, ginny remained quiet as she led his way through and took the stairs two at a time.

she was almost breathless when she finally reached the drawing room and it's signs of true life ( light on, low voices, the creaking of floorboards beyond ), though it couldn't all be attributed to the flights they'd climbed to get there. everything all at once, remember? her heart beat a hummingbird rhythm against her chest and she didn't hesitate when it came to pushing wide the door, leading them in to face the music. "HEY," her voice loud enough to demand attention, she doesn't pause to explain the presence of a muggle, "WE NEED TO TALK."

windows rattle something violent in their frames ( HERMIONE’S conscience is eased by the charm she’d cast upon them months ago ; the glass won’t break, despite the deathly rattle that may say otherwise ) but their howl unnerves her regardless. however, they’re merely an ominous soundtrack : duelling practive is a quiet affair at 12 grimmauld place whilst the weather beats against the window. she’s readying herself to cast alerte ascendare when the door bursts open / hermione doesn’t realise it, but ginny’s arrival signals a new kind of disaster.

dudley is strikingly familiar in a way that makes the violin strings of hermione’s heart pluck a strange beat ; he reminds her of simpler times, of harry and the hogwarts express / of a much smaller enemy. she’s seen him flitting around the ministry, never bothering to catch him. ( and she regrets it, never being able to ask him about harry as a child. perhaps she wouldn’t like the answer. ) silently, she’ll survey the pair of them ( an unlikely pair, she’s ready to admit ), watch the twists and turns of soured mouths -- panic builds just below her lungs, and her fingertips tingle.

“ginny? dudley? what’s going on?” it can’t get worse, it can’t possibly get worse.

it would be poetic if DUDLEY’S heart was beating out of his chest, or if the adrenaline running through him had made him breathless but, to be frank — his brain had switched off the moment he'd taken ginny's hand. so, the familiar but awful feeling of his entire body being compressed, squished like a little fruit, only put a determined, pissed off, sour kind of look on his face. something akin to the brat he had once been. and the shadow of a man lunging towards them and then exploding into dust left him with a muffled kind of yelp — the warning had slipped back into his mind just as he watched the umbrella stand clatter. the muttering only seemed atmospheric and suitable, and he was so tired, it was hard to question anything. this had all become a dream, really — dudley saw the newspaper article sat in someone else's hands, familiar photo blaring forth, and it was as if his entire body had slipped back into sleep. this had to be a dream.

dudley didn't realise he was still holding on tight to ginny's hand, just this side of potentially crushing it, until the door swung open and he stood opposite a myriad of ... surprisingly familiar faces. it's telling of the pure shock that his thoughts were solely occupied with the trivial worry that maybe he should let go.

"i—" his voice cracked from underuse, and it startles him, switches his brain back off track. dudley frowned, let his eyes flutter closed for a moment, before looking at ginny with a question far too big on his face — he knows he shouldn't put this on her, not with the news of percy, but he's beyond overwhelmed. all his mind can focus on are the minuscule details that envelope the room — the clothes people are wearing and the grooves in their wands.

even at the height of the war, GINNY had never felt exactly like this. back then, they'd known what the threat was - where it had come from, and where it would come next. hogwarts had been a warground long before the battle, yet by all accounts it had been a rather SMALL chess board. bearing the onslaught of a death eaters reign & rebelling against the carrow twins hadn't seemed easy at the time, but they had still managed to stay just two steps ahead. ginny knew, now, that they had taken that for granted. she'd have given anything to trade this day with one of THOSE - anything at all, to feel as if they were even capable of catching up.

his voice cracks and her gaze is drawn back to him, several realizations striking her all at once and ranging in gravity. dimly, she becomes conscious of their hands and the fact that they rest, still interlocked, between them. in the same instant, she becomes aware that along the way, in all her desperation, she let herself forget what had happened on any sort of conscious level. his expression - caught somewhere between lost & entirely devoid - makes her stomach plummet in a way that's all too familiar. she doesn't let go, her own grip turning vicelike as what seems to be an almost aggressive attempt at comfort.

"it's dudley's parents...-" her mouth felt dry & her palms sweaty, and her heart simply hurt. it's almost uncharacteristic for ginny not to lead with all guns blazing, and it's almost just as unusual for the dursley's to be referred to as anything but harry's aunt & uncle, but they weren't just that, were they? "they were attacked, it's all over the news. *his mum's been killed." she's addressed the room for long enough, and now her focus is back on dudley even as she gives another squeeze of his hand. encouragement, this time, to go along with wide eyed imploration. "it was bellatrix. she was...- dudley, you need to tell them.”

maybe he should be crying. maybe he shouldn't be feeling that distant relief when everything was going to shit – but when DUDLEY considered not ever having to circumvent a conversation with petunia again, there was less of a loss than expected. they were long past explanations and apologies and justifications, but with this, dudley realised : some part of him had still been expectant. some part of him had expected it to end differently to this. it was never going to end any different : one of them was always going to die and leave him with these unanswered questions, unanswered stutterings in his identity and soul, and it was always going to feel empty, in the end.

the second squeeze and his eyes shifted back into focus – away from the spider in the corner of the room and back to ginny's eyes and the fucked reality of the situation. he cleared his throat, moving closer to ginny, grip still too tight and really wanting to tuck himself just behind them – hide. hiding was too familiar to someone who wasn't him anymore, though, so he took a deep breath, and looked directly at the closest person who wasn't ginny.

"she..." dudley faltered, feeling that tingle at the back of his throat and underneath his eyes that indicated tears weren't far away – he didn't want to cry, not here, didn't want to be the weakling his father still thought he was, the weakling his father had swore and swore at over the crackling reception today. maybe if he aimed for a monotone. "she wanted harry's things."

of all the events that RON could have attempted guessing would happen today, this wouldn't have even made the list. this: ginny and dudley cutting through a dueling practice, their presence blowing through like the wintry wind pressing against the windows. though his grip on it tightens when they begin breathless explanations, ron lowers his wand. strategian mind runs in circles in an attempt to follow along. petunia, the only real remaining blood memory of harry, was dead. this should mean something, shouldn't it? he can't quite pinpoint the significance, but he does feel this deep, aching sense of unease. and amid it all, there's some pity for dudley, despite everything.

ron supposes that of course it was bellatrix's hand at play. this was her game, her move, and to her, they were all little more than pawns to be taken. yet when dudley speaks of her and harry in the same sentence, something red and cardinal roils within him. could they not leave harry be? could he not get some fucking rest, even now? all of it ( percy, the dursleys, bellatrix ) is like ripping open every stitch that was beginning to heal over the past five years.

he can't help but feel as though he's attempting to ask the wrong questions. even more, one that he might have an idea of what the answer might be. he speaks nonetheless. "what things, dudley?"

HERMIONE almost doesn’t recognize the rattled gasp that ekes out underneath a bated breath ; oh, she recognises the elusive hurt stamped deep in dudley’s eyes. reaching out to clutch at his wrist is an instinctive move, flesh warm against her own glacial group --- ( physical touch has always been a language of comfort, a reminder that the world is cruel but the flat of a hand is warm and real and that you’re NEVER TRULY ALONE ). “i’m so sorry, dudley.” and she means it, with every syncopated beat of a frantic heart.

nothing is still, though : hermione’s pulse is overwrought, a prominent vein etches itself into the thin skin of her neck, piecing the details all together has seem INANE before, forever heeded by chasmal gaps in an infeasible tale but whilst the wind roars its augural dirge, it all comes together. realisation is a horrible dawn across the fine lines of her countenance, and her grasp on dudley’s wrist tightens ( almost impossibly so, almost completely unaware ; her free hand quivers, entire frame sways with the frost - laced breeze ). words feel like they might be garbled, choked back ; instead, they’re crystal clear and weighted with inordinate dread.

“it’s the hallows, isn’t it? they’re LOOKING for the hallows.”

SIX YEARS ON, it was all harry, harry, harry. harry's aunt, killed. harry's cousin, left alone, left a pillar of remembrance. harry's things. merlin, they were even stood in HARRY'S house, a ragtag army pulled together out of the remnants of the one they'd been, running through murky water and trying desperately to catch up. it was easy to get lost in just the thoughts of it all, and GINNY had certainly felt the draw ( everything led back to that messy haired boy she loved, had loved, was in love with, still, and rather than share the RAGE a part of her, a small part, a masochistic little part, wanted more, wanted his memory, wanted to cling to it all even though it wasn't fair ) - but it was dudley who grounded her.

it was laughably unlikely even as it played out, before them. dudley's mum, a loss of so much more than what ginny could understand. dudley's safety, because she didn't want to know what would have happened if he weren't in THEIR world, if she hadn't found him, if he wasn't here hidden behind a fidelius charm & under their protection. ginny hadn't given anyone else a chance to show themselves. she didn't even spare a thought to kingsley or to the order. harry didn't know the man his cousin had become, he hadn't been lucky enough to, but ginny was positive of one thing : he would want her, them, to be the one to deal with this.

especially now. at first, all she can muster is a nod. it didn't matter how many times they'd THEORIZED downstairs about the search, this was a kind of confirmation that had left ginny feeling the same sort of chilled bone trepidation that had now been surely shared with the room. it doesn't feel like enough, though. ginny swallows hard against the lump in her throat. "yeah-... yes. no doubt now. the- his grave, first, and when what they wanted wasn't there...- they must've known about the dursley's. that they brought some of his personal effects to them.”

the instant ginny burst into the room, NEVILLE knew something was wrong. he recognized the look on her face- there was a way in which ginny’s eyebrows creased together when something was amiss. who he did not recognize ( but quickly realized who it must have been ) was the man standing beside ginny. it was serious, then. for her to have brought dudley dursley.

neville managed a smile, trying to catch ginny’s eye, to elicit what was wrong. in the old days of the da, they could communicate without words. they had needed to, as well. ( there was something nostalgic about those days, as horrible as they had been. at least, then, they had been shrouded by the walls of hogwarts, protected from the most serious of punishments by mcgonagall and the rest. but as neville’s eyes drifted to ginny’s face, he couldn’t help but notice the scar on her cheekbone, matching the ones on his chest that refused to fully heal. maybe not so much ).

but nothing could have prepared him for what she said next. the color draining from his face, neville stiffened, clutching his wand harder than he meant to ( the color drained from his hands as well ; it too became eerily ghostlike ). even twenty four years later : neville could not help himself from hearing his own parents screams’ flash through his mind, from replaying the invented memory of what their last moments must have been like. that it was not real ( he had not been there, when it happened ) did not make the memory any less visceral.

he swallowed, hoping it would dissipate the lump in his throat. “what do we do?”

a condolence lies on the very tip of her tongue, clinching NELLIE’S jaw in a tight, uncomfortable manner that didn’t suit her, but did tend to suit these days of war ( if you could call it that, because nellie tried desperately to not ). she doesn’t say it for a simple reason: SHE DOESN’T KNOW DUDLEY, REALLY. nellie can empathize with him in a way anyone with a mother could — and what would she do without aria? she didn’t want to think about it much at all, but dudley’s presence served as an ever-present reminder.

“they… didn’t get them, though, did they?“ her grip on her wand was so tight, nellie’s fingernails had begun to leave crescent moon indents. flustered, from the training and this sudden dawning, nellie wants to run and hide, or grab ginny’s hand in hers, or circle her arms around the stranger in front of her in a bone-crushing hug. this was bad, THIS WAS SO INCREDIBLY BAD, and the funny thing was that it felt unreal. “i mean —“ thought trailing off, blinking suddenly, “what does she even want with the hallows?“

was it the power of them? or… something else, something sicker? nellie couldn’t imagine.

flinching away from ron’s questioning and barely letting himself feel the warmth of hermione’s hand on his wrist nor her apology, DUDLEY felt, more than ever, like an outsider. the hallows and what they could be were a mystery to him. and now was clearly not the right time to be asking those kind of beginner, amateur, gatecrashing type of questions. so he kept quiet, he kept back, hand still held tightly in ginny’s – floating somewhat above his own self, observing everything with the curious eye of someone not entirely sat in reality. their words were just out of grasp, still understandable but it took him far longer to interpret them.

nellie’s question made him snort which was, of course, an entirely inappropriate response. his voice came out quieter than expected, but the atmosphere in the room projected them louder than his voicebox could ever. “most they got are some of those shiny cards. chocolate frogs?” it would have been little more than that, maybe a couple of socks with holes in – but dudley took a ridiculous amount of harry’s stuff with him.

“i didn’t leave much. wouldn’t be surprised if –” his voice broke for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he coughed through it. “– they, um… well, my parents probably would have burned a lot of it.” dudley really DOES NOT know if this is true, because a bonfire would have gotten them on the shit list with the neighbourhood noseys, and their fireplace hadn’t been rebuilt since it was blasted through by the weasleys. what was more likely was that it had sat gathering dust in one of the bedrooms they refused to venture into anymore ( except when they needed to feel sorry for themselves ), next to the decapitated wrestling trophies dudley hadn’t brought with him.

for the first time, her gaze meets nellie's, and GINNY gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head. not now, it says. it's not the time. dudley lacks the context of the HALLOWS that they've almost all grown up with to engage with a discussion about what on earth a madwoman would want with them, and in the worst way, it didn't even matter. he who possesses all becomes master of death. this is what they've been raised to believe and think as nothing more than children's tale, but the fact of the matter is whether it was real or not, there was power in the possibility of it all.

maybe they were nothing more than historical relics from a time when people believed in something more, and this was all they had and would ever be. maybe not. they knew, by now, what bellatrix was searching for... and if she believed in the power of those items, they had to as well.

"luckily enough-" a part of her cringes inwardly at her own WORDING, hating that their limited good fortune came at the cost of so much, "when dudley came to work in the ministry and left his parents, he brought a lot of harry's things with him." she doesn't have to look too far into the past to imagine a time when this would have bothered her. no matter how good of a friendship she had found herself forming with the other, there was a part of her - only extinguished in the wake of his personal tragedy - that would have bristled at the idea of harry's things in their, his, hands. it would have been a stupid, emotional response. she wouldn't have been proud of having it, and she's somewhat relieved that it seems to be gone - but she isn't in the business of pretending to be someone she isn't, and acknowledging that truth is a part of the battle.

"we've known for months what she's looking for. for all we know she has the wand, and the stone-" a lump forms in her throat, but dudley's grip steadies and urges her on. this should be a good thing, their trump card, the chess move that finally frees them from the deadlock they were in, but it doesn't really feel like it & still, they need to count this as a win. they HAVE to, because it is one, and because diminishing it to anything less than makes everything that has happened to get here a waste & a cost that wasn't worth paying. "but she didn't get harry's cloak. as it turns out...- that's one of the things dudley took."

HERMIONE isn’t consciously aware of the vice grip that’s scorched blazing carmine into the paled flesh of dudley’s wrist until she pulls away to pace. ( flashes him a glint of an apology carved in the dour line of a mouth and a CREASE between brows ; body language is so much easier than words. ) back and forth, along floors that groan underneath her weight hermione will pace to and fro, short little lines whilst she rifles through that encylopedia mind, trying to find any semblance of something that might not leave them so desolate, so empty-handed in the face of something quite as LOOMING and terrifying as this. ( strands of her own hair likely linger on the insie of that cloak. breath falters when she realises, chest judders under the weight of that knowledge. it means nothing, but it aches all the same. it is not abundantly clear, through brief mention and silent rumination, how much she misses him : that brave boy, that boy who saved her from a mountain troll, who made the ultimate sacrifice but left them to clean up the aftermath with irreparable bruises and broken hearts. it’s so wholly unlike him. she misses harry so acutely in this singular moment that hermione’s surprised she doesn’t cry. )

a moment of silence, whilst she gathers herself. she WILL NOT CRY, not here, not now. not when petunia is dead and bellatrix is looking for the cloak with her hair on the interior lining. “right.” syllable is an octave higher than usual, telltale sign that a RIGHTEOUS cocktail of fear and fury is malleating just under paper-thin skin ; a little feral in its maddened beat. it’s how she operates best. “dudley, do you have it on you? the cloak? you know where it is?” ( please, please say yes. please tell me you know where it is, that you’ve kept it safe. ) “we need to move him into high security protection as soon as possible.

and now they knew. it is both a relief ( one weight taken from her, a burden shared by so many others ) and an added distress ( because if they know they’re in DANGER, they’re all in danger — ). with all their cards on the table, GINNY’S shoulders slump, a little, the prim and properness that comes with being 1/3 of a leader lost now that they are all stuck on the same sinking boat, field levelled. “he has it,” she says, because she worries if she doesn’t that hermione may break, “we stopped by his place before we came here.” in a way, she had sort of expected that protective instinct.

now for the rest of it : for the details to be decided. she had already given some thought to it. dudley lived with dean & dennis, two of their number ; he would only be safe with them for as long as they could hold out, and if bellatrix was looking for him, then they were in REAL danger. she was in full agreement - dudley needed the most amount of protection that they could provide him, and that would mean not letting him out of their SIGHTS from now on. “you can stay here,” she addressed him directly, her smile not quite reaching ever worried gaze, “it’s heavily protected and someone will always be present. at the holiday’s you can come home with me and ron, to the burrow - mum would love to have you & from now on i think it’d be wise for you to stay as close as you can to as many wix as possible.” preferably them, of course, but her mind was already racing ahead - they could escort him to and from work ( the upside of some ministerial workers being a part of their number ) and there he would be safe, at the upcoming christmas party if he planned to attend he’d be safe, at the weasley’s for a subdued christmas and new years dinner, he’d be safe.

“we can store the cloak here, too,” she still hasn’t returned to leader - she’s doing her best to sound SURE, but her gaze flickers all around as if expecting someone to disagree. when they don’t do so immediately... “there’s plenty of hiding spots all over this house, including where kreacher used to haunt - right now it’s the best we have, but we can reevaluate when we...- when we know more”.

she didn’t want to say when bellatrix makes another move. she wanted even less to think of it. ginny clings a little tighter to dudley ( so this was how harry felt when he realized, she thinks - this is what it was like to know you would give your life for the safety of another. she understands, suddenly, why he didn’t want to say goodbye. it was an awful sort of hurt, deep in the pit of her stomach ). she’s still trying to make her smile WARM when she looks to him again, “let’s go and find some place.” an offering. she’s sure he’s already overwhelmed, there’s no point leaving him with the masses and hoping he grows more comfortable. to the room : “maybe you guys can get cracking on a schedule. we’re going to need someone to stand guard wherever we decide 24/7, and it’ll be best if we take turns.”

#nox.important #nox.event009 #hp rp #harry potter rp #appless rp #fandom rp #canon rp #oc rp #mumu rp

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angelanimedesaray · 4 years

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Through The Looking Glass Chapter 2: Like Smoke

AN: Ahhh, yes, I get to continue this one--I keep getting distracted...by the planning for this series. I’ve got pages and pages of notes for this series now, It’s getting to be quite the ambitious project. OH and I have a playlist for the series, too, on YouTube. There’s a link for it on the Masterlist. BTW I’m tagging all of the things that have to do with this (Chapters, Masterlist, and Playlist) #TTLG and all my fanfics have my penname AngelDesaray in the tags (Unless for some reason I forgot)

P.S. to find my masterlists, I link the masterlists for series in every chapter (As well as previous or next chapters). Links to stories and series masterlists can also be found in my Author Masterlists, which can be found as a separate page on my blog under the Masterlist tab on desktop (Only shows published pieces), or as a link in my blog bio for mobile users (Also has upcoming pieces listed).

Characters: Levi, Reader, Reader’s Mom, Kenny (Mentioned)

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings: I mean, there’s fluff...and there’s some sad stuff near the end...

Word Count: 5004

<---Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter--->

(Gif From Your Lie In April, found on Your-Lie-In-April on Deviant Art)

*Levi’s POV*

The sound of a distant woman calling a familiar name roused Levi from what may have been one of the best rests he’d had so far in his very young life, eyes fluttering open slowly as he tried to remember where he was. Everything was so soft, and he just wanted to drift back to sleep, curl up in the fluffy warmth around him and…

The woman’s voice came again, a little closer this time, and there came a sudden burst of movement next to him, Levi’s eyes flying open as the little body of Y/N flailed to untangle themselves from the mess of blankets around both of them. She struggled to her feet with a squeak and fumbled for the door that she toppled ungracefully out of, crawling on hands and knees out the door and kicking it shut. Levi was left dazed, halfway risen out of the blankets, and wondering what had just happened, but now also laden down with the weight of several more blankets since she had thrown blankets and pillows onto him in her mad dash to get out the door. He pushed a few blankets off, crawling over to one of the tiny windows to catch a glimpse of the girl reaching the door to the back of the house, where the woman who had been calling her name was standing in the doorway. He could only hear fragments of the conversation if he listened hard enough.

“...sleep in...all night?”

“...forgot...check...almost couldn’t sleep....”

“...school...thirty minutes...late…”

Levi shook his head, dropping back down into the mess of blankets with a muffled yawn as he glanced around trying to find the water bottles in the now tumultuous mass of blankets and pillows. Once he found them buried in one of the corners he finished off the one bottle he’d started on the day before he laid back down, contemplating going back to sleep despite the light filtering into the little house. He was so comfortable, and if something happened and he had to go back, then he wanted to enjoy it while he could.

The door was thrown open, startling Levi with the suddenness of it all as he saw Y/N stick her head inside, huffing like she was out of breath and hadn’t stopped running since she scrambled out of the tiny house. After her head poked in and she saw where Levi was, she tossed a sac of some sheer, opaque material inside, its contents rolling around. She spoke quickly in the brief flash that he saw her, the last part tacked on as she shut the door and hurried away.

“I gotta go, I’m late for school! Here’s food, see you later!”

Her mother shouted from the house for Y/N to hurry, even though she was already scrambling back. Afraid that if he tried to fall asleep again she’d simply re-appear and scare him awake, Levi resigned himself to getting up for the day, reaching for the bag she’d tossed inside and poking through its contents. There were two more rolls inside, no longer fresh and warm like they’d been yesterday, but still good. There was also a green apple, something hard wrapped in some kind of thin, shiny, silvery covering, a spoon, and two white and red containers a little bigger than his hands that were cool to the touch and had a similar silvery covering over the top.

Deciding to investigate the stranger things later, he munched on the bread and the apple first, gazing out the window thoughtfully.

When all that was left of the start of his breakfast was half the apple, he grabbed the bag and one of the water bottles and decided to venture back outside, a little more used to the light this time since he’d woken up to it. His legs were stronger than yesterday, steps surer as he tentatively ventured out of the little house, staying close to the walls of the little house and his head turned towards the house to keep an eye on it as he shuffled closer to the trees behind the house. He wanted a closer look at the trees--wanted to sit quietly outside in the warm sun, breathing in the fresh air while he ate and explore the surface while he was up here. If Y/N was going to be gone for a while, then that was what he wanted to spend the day doing.

The shade was much kinder to him than the direct sunlight, easier on his eyes that were used to the dark and not as hot. It was comfortable and cool in the shade, and he stopped when he saw another large house starting to appear through the trees, doubling back a bit and finding a nice dry patch of grass in the shade to sit down in, curling up comfortably on the ground and squinting up at the sunlight flickering down on him through the leaves. He was close enough to a tree he could put his hand gently against its trunk, feeling the grooves of the bark beneath his fingers and watching the rather large black ants travelling up its trunk while carrying tiny crumbs of food.

Speaking of, he still had the stranger things in the sack she had thrown him to eat.

Resting his back against the tree trunk with his knees pulled halfway up to his chest, Levi set about investigating the stranger, silvery wrapped things in the bag, finding a soothing solace in the quiet and the green all around him.

*Reader’s POV*

School couldn’t go by fast enough. Sure, you were in trouble with your mother for messing around outside looking for a stuffed animal instead of getting ready for school. It was better than her finding out you’d hid a boy in your playhouse all night, though, right?

Of course, with how antsy you were to get back home and see him when you had school to distract you, he must be bored out of his mind alone in that playhouse! And he wasn’t going to get lunch until you got home, either!

With all these thoughts, you were bouncing in your seat on the bus, then racing home on foot once you finally reached your stop. Your backpack lay abandoned at the front door, causing your mother to yell at you to pick up after yourself as you skidded into the kitchen. Your tongue poked out as you hurried to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before your mother came in and tried to stop you from having a pb&j for a ‘light snack’. Once that was finished, you grabbed two Capri Suns your mother probably thought she’d hidden, grabbed a family sized bag of chips, and dashed outside towards the playhouse.

“I’m back! I brought...some…”

You paused, head craning and foot poking at the mess of blankets in case he was simply buried under all the fluffy things. Still, you didn’t find Levi in the playhouse, and you stepped back outside with a frown, wondering where the little boy had disappeared to. Your mother would have instantly pulled you aside to talk about Levi if he’d gone inside the house and been seen. Maybe he’d wandered into the brush behind your house?

Changing directions, you started picking your way through the trees and bushes, looking for the skinny boy you’d been smuggling quite a bit of food to by now.

“Levi? Levi!” you called as you came closer and closer to the backyard of the people who lived behind your family.

You squeaked in surprise as his head suddenly peaked out from behind one of the thicker trees, disheveled strands of black hair falling into eyes that were slightly brighter than they had been yesterday. It seemed he was sitting with his back against the tree, legs curled up towards him, and the plastic bag of food you’d given him earlier now holding his trash at his side. You gave him a bright smile, sitting down next to him and offering the pb&j to him.

“I brought lunch,” you said cheerfully, opening the bag of chips that made Levi jump from the loud pop sound before you placed the bag between the two of you, working on punching the yellow straws into the Capri Suns.

The silence lasted perhaps only a few seconds as Levi tore into the sandwich before it rapidly devolved into almost frantic smacking noises from Levi. Maybe you’d put too much peanut butter on it?

You giggled as you watched him continue to make those smacking noises, struggling with the amount of sticky peanut butter with an amusing look of bemusement on his face. When he looked at you accusingly for laughing at him, you offered him one of the Capri Suns with that bright smile still on your face. He took it carefully from you, eyeing you more than it as you sucked happily on your own Capri Sun. When he finally started drinking the juice, he seemed to relax, the juice soothing his peanut butter problem.

“You must have been bored, out here so long,” you said once your Capri Sun was finished. Levi shrugged, taking smaller bites of the pb&j now.

“I like it out here,” he said simply, and now that you looked, his eyes did seem to constantly drink in the greenery around the two of you.

“There’s a...a con...conservation place a little ways away,” you said slowly, making sure the bigger word came out right. “Mom lets me go play there--we could too. There’s long grass, and trees, and berries, and a pond with fish and frogs and rabbits--we can play there.”

Levi was silent, chewing on the last of his pb&j thoughtfully. “How far is it?” he asked slowly. You suddenly remembered how he’d had a hard time moving around yesterday.

“A few streets over…” you admitted sheepishly. “But I could carry you!”

Levi made a face, but you were already on your feet and exuding raw unbridled, positive energy. “No, really, I’m pretty strong, I can pick up my friend at school, and you’re tinier than them. I could give you a piggyback ride there!”

You started putting your trash in the plastic bag, rolling up the so-far untouched bag of chips. “We can take the chips with us--I’ll throw this away, tell Mom where I’m going, and come get you!” you said cheerfully, already making your way back through the brush towards the house before Levi had the chance to agree or disagree.

*Levi’s POV*

She hadn’t been lying when she said she could carry him. It was embarrassing, but no one seemed to be looking as the two children made their way down the sidewalks. Levi’s legs were wrapped around her waist, her hands tucked under his knees to support him as she leaned forward slightly, Levi leaning against her back with his arms wrapped around her shoulders and across her chest for extra security. His head peeked around hers to look around him as she carried him down a few streets paved with some kind of seamless black stone down the middle and raised brown stone on the sides. Every now and then he saw some sort of strange horseless carriage like objects sitting unmoving along the edge of the black street or still on the wider brown-stone pathways leading up to homes. He didn’t ask what they were, figuring it was something only surface people got to have, and Y/N was pretty much ignoring them, so he figured it was a normal sight for her, even if he found it strange.

As they went up a hill, Y/N started to pant underneath him, her hands starting to feel sweaty on his legs and her movements a little slower.

“I can walk,” Levi murmured as she continued to struggle. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to make it if he tried, honestly, but the girl shook her head.

“No, it’s...just on the other side. I can carry you...the rest of the way,” she said between huffed breaths, shifting her grip on his legs and picking up her speed slightly as she powered stubbornly forward. Levi clung tightly to her, turning his head and resting it on her neck as his eyes looked up at the light blue sky, gaze tracing the outlines of the soft white clouds that drifted lazily by and watching the leaves of the trees in various yards sway high above him in the breeze. If he hadn’t been so transfixed by the sight of the surface world, he could have easily fallen asleep against her back, the secure comfort she was giving him making him feel drowsy in contrast with the energy that raced through his system with the excitement of everything around him. Her breathing underneath him was heavy, and he could feel her quickened heartbeat against his ear, but she kept climbing with Levi on her back without a word of complaint.

When she crested the hill, the street dipped low just briefly before stretching out in one straight road, trees framing both sides for several paces before the trees on the right gave way to a meadow of long grass, just like she said. Levi stretched forward over her shoulder to see it, eyes widening as more and more of it came into view.

Y/N only carried him until the edge of the meadow, setting him down in the soft grass with a relieved sigh. Levi pressed some of the longer grass down as they walked forward, the meadow opening up and dipping into a lower basin where a fairly large body of water rippled and sparkled in the sunlight. On the other side of the meadow was a thick collection of trees and bushes, and if he looked hard enough, he could see spots of dark red or blue on some of the bushes. But that was for later--right now, he wanted to get closer to that giant pond in the middle of the meadow.

The grass tickled his arms and legs, causing him to scratch here and there as he stumbled his way down the uneven slope on shaky legs, Y/N close by the entire time with her head tilted up to the sky and the warm sun with a smile on her face. She was so...so...happy. She probably didn’t have to worry about anything, didn’t have to be afraid of anything. She could only be this happy because she lived on the surface, and the things that lurked in the dark underground weren’t lurking above it. Her life seemed...easy, perfect, and he envied her for it. But he couldn’t envy her for it for long, because she was still sharing it with a dirty Underground dweller like him, even if he couldn’t fathom why.

“Can you swim?” she asked him as they finally reached the bank, already taking off her shoes and socks as she spoke, sitting on her rear with her feet kicking in the air in the process. Levi shook his head, and she gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m not a good swimmer, yet, I just bob. We can just stick our feet in, cause it gets a little deep.”

She sat down on the edge and dipped her feet in with a little giggle, smoothing down a patch of the long grass around her and looking at him expectantly. Levi still approached the water slowly despite the fact he was already imagining how refreshing it was going to feel, not wanting to get too eager and accidentally fall in after she said it was deep. He settled down next to her, feet stretching out experimentally towards the water and tentatively dipping his rather dirty feet below the surface. It was cool--not cold thanks to the sun shining down on it, but not warm either. Pleasant in contrast to the warm air with the sun beaming down on him when there was no shade to protect him. Levi leaned down, letting his hand dip into the water as well, swirling the waters around between his fingers.

While he was doing that, a thought occurred to him, and he dunked both hands below the water, taking the time to scrub at the dirt on his hands, arms, legs, and feet before he cupped his hands and scooped up water to splash on his face, rubbing at the dirt there, as well. It felt so good to be clean, to see and feel the dirt giving way against the crystalline water and see the water droplets against his skin shimmer clearly under the sunlight.

Now he wouldn’t get any more dirt on all those comfy blankets and pillows in the small house he was sleeping in.

There was a sudden splash, and water spattered across his face, followed by the sounds of giggles beside him. He was taken aback at first, looking over at Y/N just in time to see her splash the water towards him again with a huge grin on her face. She laughed more audibly this time, with Levi trying to duck to avoid getting splashed in the face again before he returned the splashes with some of his own. It quickly escalated, water sloshing violently between them and getting them both soaked, Y/N’s gleeful shrieks filling the air and a wide smile working its way across Levi’s face. He felt lighter than he’d felt in some time, like he would float away up into that blue sky any moment.

“Okay, okay! Uncle! Uncle! I give up!” she eventually laughed, the splashing finally calming down and the waters returning to its calm state around their feet. They were soaked now, and Levi shivered, but the sun was still warm against his skin, and he felt like he’d dry out in no time. Y/N pulled her feet out of the water, trying to wring the water out of her hair as she stretched, eyes on the bushes on the other side of the pond. “Do you want some berries?”

“Okay.”

He watched her head over to the bushes he’d been eyeing earlier, brushing hair out of his face and watching as she picked berries off the bushes and used her shirt as a makeshift basket to collect them in. The only sound was the occasional drip of disturbed water or the rustle of leaves, and he laid down, some of the grass curling back up around him and towards the sky. A soft breeze wafted the grass above him, the thin blades waving in and out of his immediate field of vision.

Please...let me stay...

A few minutes later, Y/N had reappeared, standing over him with her shirt basket heavy with berries as she kneeled down next to him. He sat up on his elbows as she showed him her collection of small red cup-shaped berries and round blue berries, her free hand already digging into her collection to grab a few of the red berries.

“Raspberries are my favorite,” she explained with a small giggle, offering the berries to him after she’d grabbed what she wanted. Levi got a handful for himself, a lot less hesitant in trying the foods this time since almost everything she’d given him so far had been delicious.

He didn’t care much for those chalky rectangular things in the silver wrapping this morning, though.

Something caught Y/Ns attention, her head turned to the side as she went still, nose wrinkling as she suddenly became far more concentrated than Levi had seen her so far.

“Hold these,” she said quietly, dumping the rest of the berries on him so suddenly that Levi had to scramble to snatch them up before they all tumbled to the ground. She wasn’t even paying attention anymore, crouching low in the grass and creeping slowly towards the pond like a kitten stalking a mouse. He watched her, confused, wondering for a few moments if she’d seen a fish in the pond or a bird or something.

Suddenly, her hands shot out, cupped around something as she let out a loud squeal and leapt to her feet.

“I got it, I got it!” she crowed, prancing back over to where Levi was sitting, getting really close on her knees with her cupped hands between them. She held it up close to his face, but craned her head awkwardly so she could see as well, forehead knocking against his. “I don’t want it...to get away…”

Slowly, she bent her thumbs, a small crack appearing in her cupped hands that she gradually widened further and further. At first, Levi didn’t see anything, but then, slowly, two glimmering, tiny, beady black eyes caught some of the sun, and Levi realized there was some kind of tiny creature trapped in her hands. He got closer, trying to see what it was, faintly making out a fat but tiny body, spindly limbs, and--

Y/N suddenly shrieked, hands opening reflexively. “AH! It peed on me!”

All Levi registered was peed and the fact that suddenly a tiny little brown and spotted body was flying out of her hands, through the air, and directly towards him. His own vocal reaction was lost in her continued shrieks of disgust as he tried to get out of the way, a tiny, bumpy, sort of slimy body landing on his arm. Afraid the thing was going to pee on him, too, his arm jerked upwards in response, and it flew off of him and disappeared back into the tall grass.

Y/N had abandoned him to the little menace already, her hands plunged into the pond as she scrubbed valiantly at her hands, muttering ew over and over before she pulled them back out and tried to shake the water off her hands. Levi was still wide eyed and trying to figure out what just happened.

That grin was back on her face as she turned towards him again. “I think I want to try and catch another one!”

“Why?”

“So I know I can really catch a frog; I wasn’t just lucky that time!”

Levi scowled, looking down at all the berries that had been scattered everywhere while he’d flailed around trying to get away from the stupid, tiny frog. She only laughed at his reaction, coming over and grabbing his arm to pull him up onto his feet, dragging him with her towards the trees.

“Okay, okay, we can play hide and seek instead. There’s plenty of places to hide in the woods. C’mon, c’mon!”

And just like that, the little hellion frog was forgotten as she urged him on towards the next experience, sweeping him away into more discoveries and experiences before he had the chance to dwell too long on whatever bad tried to poke through. Even though his legs were shaky, she volunteered to be ‘it’ over and over so he could rest in his hiding spots while she tried to find him, stopping every now and then to look at a bug they’d found, to pick a few berries from the bushes in the area, and at one point, to stare in wonder at a small nest of baby bunnies hidden in a hollow at the base of a tree. They looked but didn’t touch, watching the two tiny rabbits squinting back at them with their little noses twitching furiously, the two rabbits curled close together much like Levi and Y/N had curled up under the blankets last night.

And when the sky started to turn to a rusted orange, she carried him on her back without complaint once again as they headed towards her house once more. Levi could hardly stand after all the running around they’d done, but he didn’t regret it. In fact, he was perfectly content, even with the burn in his legs and ache in his arms. He was already dozing off as he tucked his head against her back once again, the exhaustion mixed with the relief from her carrying him back instead of him having to walk back, mixed in with the warm air and the dim light from the sun making it easy to simply...drift…

He woke up long enough to realize when he was being set down in front of the little house, weaving on his feet as Y/N helped him back inside and he curled up in the cloud of blankets and pillows with a softly sighed good-night, his hand groping about to find Tuff before he slipped into a blissful sleep.

When Levi opened his eyes again, it wasn’t to the bright light filtering into the tiny house as he curled up in a nest of blankets. It was dark, and the smell of sweat and dirt and decay assaulted him much more viscerally after the contrast of the clean, fresh air. He wasn’t even curled up on his side like he’d been when he’d fallen asleep, but still sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, back against the wall, arms wrapped around his legs.

Directly across from him was the bed that still had his mother’s dead body.

It was...a dream?

Blinking slowly, it seemed he hadn’t moved an inch, and he was covered in dirt and grime once more, not a hint of a clean patch of skin after scrubbing clean by that pond.

Or was I...seeing things?

It didn’t matter...it wasn’t real. Levi’s heart plummeted, and he ducked his head into his arms, surprised that his eyes actually stung with tears when he’d thought he was too dehydrated to cry anymore. None of it was real. The surface, the sun, the air, all the green, the nest of blankets, the food, the girl...it wasn’t real. He was still wasting away, forgotten where no one cared about him anymore, waiting to finally die. If he was seeing things, maybe he was finally close.

And yet…

The door to the room opened, a pale yellow light cutting across the room and over the bed, drawing Levi’s attention towards the man who stood just inside the doorway. The sudden appearance made him forget--for the time being--that he wasn’t hungry anymore.

*Reader’s POV*

“Where do you think you’re going with that bowl, young lady?”

You froze by the back door, a bowl of cereal you were hoping to bring out to Levi before you had to go to school in hand, suddenly feeling cold at your mother’s scolding tone. This was it, you’d been caught, you couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough and your mother was already closing in, probably to take the bowl from you, but Levi needed to eat before you left.

Looks like you couldn’t hide the boy in your playhouse much longer. Why did you feel like telling your mom about him was going to get you in trouble.

“I...I need to...Levi needs breakfast,” you said in a small voice, feeling like you were about to get yelled at any moment.

“Levi?” your mother asked, pausing just by the door. “Who’s Levi?”

“T...The boy in the playhouse.”

Her expression went blank, and then for some reason, worried. “There’s a boy in the playhouse?”

You nodded very slowly. “He-he’s been there since the other day. He needs to eat before I go to school, or he’ll have to wait till I’m home.”

Your mother’s expression was unreadable as she stared at you and the bowl in your hand for several long moments, then carefully said in an even tone, “Can I see Levi?”

She wasn’t yelling, so you didn’t think she was angry. Maybe this was good--if your mom knew about Levi, she could make sure he was taken care of while you were at school--he could have real food and eat dinner inside with you, sleep in a bed--or on the couch at least--and probably get a change of clothes.

After you nodded, your mom took the bowl out of your hands and followed you outside towards the playhouse. You hoped he was already awake--he probably was, since he’d fallen asleep so early yesterday.

“Levi?” You called softly, opening the door to see...a mass of blankets and pillows, like yesterday. Again, you pushed around a few of the blankets but couldn’t find him. Your mom was standing outside the house with the bowl still and you shook your head as you immediately went to look in the brush again. “He was back here when I came outside yesterday, he’s probably there, now.”

“Y/N…” your mother was starting to say tiredly, but you were already picking through the trees looking for Levi again, ignoring her as you tried to find your new friend.

“Levi? Levi? Levi!” you called, hoping his head would peek around one of the trees again. But he didn’t show up--you couldn’t find a trace of him. Did he leave? Did he leave in the middle of the night or before you woke up? He’d seemed happy yesterday, so why would he leave? Didn’t he like you, didn’t he like sleeping in the blanket nest?

“Y/N, its okay to have imaginary friends, but you can’t waste food on them, they don’t eat like you and mommy and daddy--” your mother was saying carefully behind you. Hearing her suggest Levi wasn’t real made you suddenly angry and frustrated as well as hurt at the thought that Levi had simply left.

“He wasn’t imaginary, he was real! A real boy that was really here!” Your eyes burned and a few angry, hurt tears slipped past your eyes, the words starting to stick in your throat as you felt yourself starting to cry. “His name was Levi...and he didn’t even say bye.”

Next Chapter--->

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samwrights · 4 years

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Besitos - Punk!AU [Kuroo]

This is a continuation of Elixir. If you haven’t read the prologue, you can find that [here]. Enjoy the first part of Kuroo’s route! Images are not mine—pulled from Pinterest and google. If we find the artist, please let me know so I can tag them!

Author note: Song lyrics are shown in lines by themselves. Italicized lyrics are sung by you, while bolder lyrics are song by one of the boys. For which boy is singing, as it can get a little confusing, his name is mentioned before the lyrics.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, use of nicotine, and not so subtle hints of cheating.

Word count: 4,416

Song used: Besitos by Pierce The Veil

A complementary playlist can be found » here

“Actually, can we run Besitos again? We did okay, but I would really like to not be out of breath half way through.” Despite choosing this song as the opening, it was extremely challenging. You weren’t as adept at playing guitar as Kuroo and, while he wrote it so that your parts were simple, it was still difficult for you to add your charisma to the vocals. You were hesitant on opening with it at all, but the piece gave you the punch that your band was looking for. The work itself was a masterpiece and you made sure to tell your guitarist that. But very rarely did Elixir utilize not only you and Makki for vocals, but Kuroo himself as well was featured in pieces that had screaming. That, in addition to two guitars for a layered sound and a fast tempo, proved to be a challenge even after practicing for months.

Kuroo looked thrilled when you announced that was what you wished to work on—he put his whole heart into this song and it was obvious. After securing your guitar around your shoulders, he hands you a pick which you use to test out each of your strings. Ensuring they were tuned once again, you gave Terushima a thumbs up to start the beat with the fast roll of the snare drums. The rest of followed suit playing your respective riffs and licks before you started with your first verse, Makki’s one line of vocals adding an underlying harmony that converged seamlessly.

Better not get back up I spit my heart into this red cup

Timing was crucial in this song, to keep up with the pace. If even off for a second, on vocals especially, could throw the flow of the song, especially on yours and Kuroo’s parts. A favored element in this song that you’d never thought you would say was highlighting Makki’s vocal range, as he sang his line in a key higher than yours. According to the writer, Kuroo added in these bits and pieces to give your diaphragm a break, to which you were incredibly grateful for. The chorus was a slightly slower pace than the rest of the song which also granted you reprieve, as was one of Makki’s spoken word lines.

True love comes from more than just the heart.

By the second verse, you had grown more comfortable in your skin. Seeing as you had slightly less guitar parts in this moment, you had opted to move around like you would on stage, cradling your microphone in your hand. Was it a little weird having the girlfriends in the same room as you paraded around on your makeshift stage? Yes. Did you feel the glares coming from them as you leaned dangerously close to Makki while the bassist gave his gentle hums of backing vocals? Also yes. Did you give two fucks about any of it?

Absolutely not.

All you could feel was the electricity coursing through your veins as the song gave you the energy you were in desperate need for. Perhaps this was the reason you felt that the song was off—your first run through didn’t feel as right as this one did. The art of performance was missing, as you screwed around with your mates like you would during any other show. And for a song that showcased Elixir’s many talents from Terushima’s flawless ability to keep a beat regardless of subtle changes, to Makki’s own vocal abilities, to the fact that Kuroo knew his band so well and knew how to push the envelope, you needed to bring the performance.

The second chorus encapsulated all of the above traits, as the beat slowed down by a minuscule margin while Makki actually got to show off a bass solo, which Kuroo supported the groove by clapping in rhythm before transitioning into his small screaming section. Terushima slowed down the ground as we entered the final bridge—your favorite part: a spoken word section in which you and Makki teetered back and forth.

A diamond bullet and a gun made of gold She was covered in blood last seen in San Francisco.

If you’ve said it once, you’ve said six hundred times: Tetsurō Kuroo was a mad genius. He gave one more dignified bellow before the tempo was back at full speed, your fingers rushing to keep up with how much fun you’d been having prancing around. The four of you entered the final chorus, the additional line was your final line in the song to drive home another lyrical moment that you wanted to highlight forever before focusing on your outro solo.

You know I’ve never held a gun in my life But now I carry one around in case I see you tonight.

The boys closed out the last lines while you once again moved around, this time standing back to back with Kuroo as your fingers danced along your guitar strings to close out the song.

“Now that is what it’s supposed to sound like!” Kuroo cried out, overwhelmed with joy for a moment to hear his vision come to life.

“That was so fucking sick, dude!” You cried out, simultaneously putting your guitar off to the side to give Kuroo the hug he deserved. One that involved picking up your smaller frame by comparison off the ground and giving you a little twirl, which prompted a glare from his girlfriend but you couldn’t be bothered at the moment. Well, couldn’t be bothered until not only her but all of the girlfriends, whose names you still didn’t know, came to stand in front of the two of you and cleared your throat.

“I have to get going, Tetsurō.” She says while the other two are saying their own farewells. Maybe it should have come as a shock to you that she didn’t state a reason, or even more so that Kuroo didn’t even bother to ask.

“Cool, I’ll call ya later.” The raven haired boy says instead, pressing a brief kiss to her cheek, not even bothering to walk them out. They knew where the door was. “Alright, shall we continue?” You made a face at Kuroo, not wanting to announce the elephant in the room. But as soon as he caught the look, he rolled his eyes at you. “What?”

“Y’all ain’t even gonna walk ‘em out the door, huh?”

“Shut up, [name].”

“I’m just saying.” You said dramatically, walking to the mini fridge next to the stairs to grab yourself another beer.

“Yeah, yeah we’re shitty boyfriends.” Makki drawls. “Can we move on now? It’s been two hours and we’ve played three songs.”

“Four!” Teru counters.

“The same song twice doesn’t count. We still have six more songs to get through.” Kuroo spat out, taking a quit hit of his vape that was in his front right pocket.

“Alright, alright. Let’s move on from the songs we already did then.” You set your beer down at the foot of your microphone stand—a terrible idea, really considering you stomped around like a child throwing a tantrum. Especially considering the following song in the set list was another fast pace, thrasher type of song born of Terushima’s overactive imagination. In hindsight, you shouldn’t have put that beer there, as you had to clean up the spill when you had inevitably ended up knocking it over. While doing so, the two stoners of the group had retreated to the backyard to smoke another bowl while you and Kuroo stayed behind to clean the mess. “Hey, Tetsu. You good man?” You asked when you heard the sliding door close upstairs.

“Yeah? Why?”

“I dunno, just checking on you, I guess.”

“This about earlier?” His hazel eyes followed your form as you tossed the soaked paper towels into the nearby bin. Though his head was down, focused on making sure the alcohol didn’t stain the carpet, you gave a shrug in response. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“If you say so.” You concede, holding a hand out to pull him off the floor. Sluggishly, the other two walked in, eyes redder than Kuroo’s old Nekoma shirt that still somehow fit him despite having it for ten years. “Ah, great. We should wrap up practice before Cheech and Chong forget how to play their instruments.”

“Hey, I resent that!” Terushima jeered, swinging his drumsticks in his fingers. “I play just fine when I’m high!” You and Kuroo looked at each other before belting out a guffaw before the aforementioned guitarist grabbed his acoustic.

“Alright, alright come on ya dilltwats. We have a show tomorrow in case you forgot.” Despite the jab at the two boys who were now suiting up once again, Kuroo grabbed a nearby stool to sit in while you played your one acoustic piece, written by Hanamaki who acted as the primary vocalist for the song. And with your leisure time, you opted to squeeze yourself onto the wooden stool with Tetsu, cautious not to bump him while he played his guitar. When your harmony’s came up, you didn’t move, instead staring at Makki while the two of you sang to each other. Kuroo listened carefully, making sure you both were keeping time with him and Teru, all the while wishing you were singing to him instead. Thankfully, the rest of the set went by relatively smooth, considering they were older songs the four of you had already mastered and didn’t require as much finessing or fine tuning.

The clock struck 9pm, meaning that the four of you actually needed to end practice to be respectful towards Yūji’s parents who were going to be heading to bed soon. Before parting ways, you loaded up your band’s shitty little van with all the equipment you were going to need for tomorrow night’s show. After closing the door to the van and locking with padlocks, Makki perched an arm atop the crown of your head, his towering height allowing him to do so with ease. “Teru and I are going on a blunt cruise, you coming with, mom?” He asks, bending down and forward to gauge your reaction.

“How did I become the mom friend? I tell you all to fuck off and die like every three seconds.”

“You literally held off going to college for two years so that we could all go together.” Terushima points out bluntly, making Hanamaki laugh which inherently shook your head as he was still resting on you. “And you’re the oldest.”

“If I’m mom, who’s dad?”

“Kuroo.” The two laugh nearly uncontrollably for a solid minute before Teru holds up rolling papers an a small plastic baggie, silently reiterating Makki’s earlier question.

“Nah, I’ll skip tonight. I haven’t been feeling the greatest for the last few days and I don’t wanna feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself!” The blonde drummer calls out before clambering into to Takahiro’s car. From inside the vehicle, you could hear the boisterous bass shaking all the way to the outside before the drove off, the sound traveling with them to be replaced with silence.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Tetsu.” You called out before sitting in your own car, repeating the same routine from earlier; click your safety belt, light a cigarette, bump your guilty pleasure playlist, and be on your merry way. It didn’t even occur to you that Kuroo had stood in the Terushima’s driveway, without ever moving to even enter his car. Despite how well practice had went, the text that Kuroo had received earlier from his girlfriend made him slightly uncomfortable. Or rather, his indifference to her text made him uncomfortable. But rather than continuing to have some strange form of an existential crisis, Kuroo brought himself to sit in his car, light a cigarette while pulling out of the driveway and head home.

You arrive home halfway through nine in the evening, immediately retreating to your couch and flicking on your favorite streaming service. For dull, background noise, you turn on an old favorite while mindlessly switching back and forth between the same three social media apps until you see the banner of a new notification coming in. Apparently, Kuroo could tell something was bothering you, according to the text he had just sent in. At first, you hesitated your response, even typing out an ellipses that you sent through before asking how he knew. “You always ask for favors when you’re sick. Ice cream, soup, ramen.” You pursed your lips, cursing internally at how well your best friend knew your tells. When you didn’t respond again, Kuroo chimed in with a text that simply said your name, following with, “wanna have a movie night?”

“Sounds good. I get pizza, you get beer?” Your fingers moved before your brain could stop and contemplate whether or not you even wanted company at the moment. Too late now, you figured, before placing your usual pizza order; as you breezed through another episode of whatever comedy you were watching until Kuroo let himself into your apartment. Fuck respecting privacy, he had told you once, as you had opted into giving him the spare key to your home.

“You haven’t even changed into sweats yet,” Kuroo muses as he finds you still curled in your sofa. “Something is wrong.”

“I’m okay,” your voice carries a teasing lilt to it as you echoed his words from earlier. “I promise.” Kuroo lets out a dry laugh as he rummaged through your kitchen cupboards, the sound clinking glasses and bottles sounding off before he joined you on the couch.

“For real, what’s bothering you?” The guitarist holds an arm up, his free hand holding the beer he poured for himself, to allow you to rest on his chest. Before taking him up on his offer, you grabbed the drink he poured for you, resting on the coffee table ahead of you, as well and touching your glass to his.

“You first.” You baited. And such was the nature of yours and Kuroo’s relationship—you knew each other all too well and always sought solace with each other. Kuroo could read you like a book, even if the book were inverted and translated into another language. Not only could he tell when you were upset—he knew how to fix it.

When it came to Kuroo, you never gave into his provocations. No matter much he tried to get a rise out of you, it was next to impossible with your steeled resolve. You knew Kuroo better than that, knew that he was a master of deflection and taking away focus off himself when it was centered around anything but his talent, expertise, and good looks. Feelings? Not his thing. But conversation would never progress between the two of you until he finally caved into your incessant questioning. A huge part of the reason Kuroo hesitated ever speaking on his feelings, you knew, was fear out of speaking his thoughts into existence. “I’m thinking about breaking up with Nanami.”

So that was her name.

Before conversation could go any further, the doorbell conveniently rang, signifying the delivery of your food. Setting down your glass and moving away from Kuroo, you opened the door, grabbing your food and handing a generous tip to the driver before re-situating yourself on the couch, all in a hurried pace. Unceremoniously, you all but tossed the pizza box on the coffee table. “Okay, you were saying?”

“I’m breaking up with Nanami.” The raven-haired boys voice comes painted with confidence the second time around, as if the few minutes you stepped away, he had found his own concrete resolve.

“Okay...” Out of discomfort, or maybe the rumbling of your stomach, you grab a slice, tucking your feet under your bottom to keep them warm. “Why?”

“She’s lying to me, for starters.” You cock a brow to him, silently wondering how he knew that. Instead of verbalizing a response, Kuroo hands you his phone, reaching for his own piece of pizza while you tried to not get grease on the glass. “She doesn’t have a brother.” He clarifies, seeing the confusion on your face upon reading the text that signified she was unable to come to the show tomorrow due to her brother conveniently coming back into town.

“Oh.” Now it made sense. Why anyone, especially a girlfriend, would lie about their sibling coming back into town was more than suspicious. The two of you had fallen quiet, blankly watching the moving images on the television while laying shoulder to shoulder, the silence comforting rather than awkward. But even in the silence with a beer in hand, Kuroo’s free hand that was once wrapped loosely around your shoulder was now resting atop one of your thighs—nothing out of the ordinary. While his verbal provocation wasn’t necessarily an effective tactic against you, subtle movements that tickled your skin often felt like torture by fire. He was goading you into speaking your troubles.

“C’mon, you can tell me anything.” While you couldn’t deny that, it was more so trying to figure out how to tell him your truth. How to tell him without sounding like you were crazy. It seems Kuroo knew this too, as he offered solace in the form of pulling you into his lap sideways, one arm wrapping around your shoulders while the other rested atop your thighs.

“Is it just me or has everything been weird between all of us?” You ask finally, opting to nestle into his tattooed neck as opposed to looking at him. The position was familiar and comfortable and it felt like home.

“No, it’s not just you.” Kuroo mumbles into the breadth of your scalp. “We’re growing up, babe. We’re adults with lives and our own homes and jobs.”

“The only home we’ve ever needed is each other.” Unable to muster a verbal response, Kuroo tightens his grip on you ever so slightly, shifting so that the two of were impossibly close, chest to chest. You make the mistake of tilting your head up to look at him in wonder. A mistake due to the fact that Kuroo was dangerously close, closer than you were aware of with his nose now touching yours. Your name leaves his lips in a broken whimper that sends jolts through every nerve ending in your body. “Tetsu, w—“ Before your protest could leave your lips, the hand that was resting in your lap came to cup your cheek and there was no stopping him. There was no quelling of the storm of Kuroo’s pent up emotions in this moment; he couldn’t anymore.

“Ten long years,” he says when he finally pulls away from the kiss that you hadn’t fought off. “I’ve been waiting ten years to do that.” You should feel relieved at the confession—relief that he returned the feelings you had buried at the bottom of the well. But nonetheless, this was not how you imagined this scenario playing out. Instead of relief, you were overcome with anxiety. Kuroo was still in a relationship for fuck’s sake! It didn’t matter that she was lying to him or that he clearly admitted that he wanted to break things off. It didn’t matter that you’d wanted to be with him since the day you met him at the coffee shop all those years ago or that it took everything in you not to give into your desires when you were roommates in university. The breathy exhale of your name that spills past his lips pulls you from your reverie, your eyes locking with his hazel ones.

There’s confusion and there’s guilt. There’s sadness and fear. But above all, there’s love in those shiny topaz gems that he is lucky to have as eyes. “Tetsu, you can’t do this.” The tremors in your voice give way to your own guilt. You may not have been a fan of his girlfriend, but that didn’t meant that any of this was okay. “It’s not fair.”

“You saw it yourself, she’s lying to me. She’s probably cheating on me—“

“Tetsurō, that doesn’t make it okay.” By now, you’ve resigned yourself to pushing off of his lap and creating as much distance between him and yourself as you could without outright leaving your own living room. But now that he had a taste of you, he couldn’t just let it go. No, not until he had you.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too.” That was besides the point. Of course you felt it too, you had all those years ago and still to this day. But just because you felt it, you both did, doesn’t change the reality of the situation. Just because you both were mutually pining after one another didn’t change the fact that Kuroo had made the decision to date somebody else rather than confessing his feelings to you. Not that you were any better, though you would use the excuse of defending your homeostasis as a friend group. Kuroo didn’t have that excuse when he changed the state of normalcy by attempting to bring somebody else to the front door of the home that was your friendship, yet he refused to let them in.

It wasn’t fair.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” You repeated, “and I think you should go.”

“No.” He was being stubborn now. “If it bothers you so fucking much, I’ll break up with her right now.”

“Kuroo, you have to do it because that’s what you want, not because that’s what I want.”

“So you admit that’s what you want?” Dammit, he had you there. Of course, you should be jumping for joy in this moment. But something about the way all of this started and transpired just didn’t feel right to you. Was it okay for your happiness to come at the expense of someone else? “Clearly, Nanami and I weren’t doing okay. I wouldn’t have already been thinking of breaking it off if we were.” He says again, reading the expression you didn’t even realize you were wearing. Sometimes having someone know you like every inch of his own tattooed skin was really frustrating.

“Do what you want,” you concede finally, “I’m gonna go smoke.” Pushing yourself off the couch, you grab your parka that was draped over a coat hook before slamming your front door behind you as you sat on your stoop. Flicking your lighter and setting fire to the tobacco leaves inside the tube, you could hear Kuroo on the phone on the inside. You had half a mind to start banging on your window—he was being too loud and you still had neighbors to be courteous of despite you slamming the door seconds ago. Bits and pieces of the conversation could be heard past the stone walls. Kuroo was raising his voice about the suspicious text Nanami had sent earlier, about how he knew she was lying. About how he really just didn’t give a shit about her.

Ouch.

No matter who was on the receiving end of that one, it still left you feeling the unpleasantries going on in your apartment. You’re halfway done with your cigarette when Kuroo finally joins you, his hair even more disheveled than normal. Probably from constant raking his calloused fingers through his raven locks. The guitarist takes a seat next to you on the steps leading up to your building, but remaining quiet. What was there to say in this moment? Sure, he did what you had been secretly wishing for since they started dating, but something about it all was just wrong. “She told me I was crazy for accusing her of cheating, that I was probably the one cheating.”

“Technically—“

“This isn’t the first time, [name].” All joking is out the window, and in rare occasion, Tetsurō Kuroo is serious. “She’s bailed on every single show with some stupid excuse but comes to our practices because she thinks that when we aren’t in public we’re all just having some crazy bukkake orgy.” A heavy exhale leaves his lungs as smoke billows past his lips. It isn’t often that Kuroo was the openly vulnerable one, often preferring to be the one everyone leaned on instead. It was the reason he never spoke his issues into existence, but Kuroo always gave more away in his body language than his words. “Why do you think she hated you so much?”

“To be fair, all the girlfriends hate me.”

“Because they all think that you’re just in it for dick.” A spluttered laugh merged with a cough that escaped you. Not that you were one to shy away from vulgarity, but the reasons for your existence in Elixir were vastly different than from what they thought that it was laughable. With a shake of your head, you flicked your now dead filter before lighting another one. It was a chain smoking kind of night.

“So now what?” With his free hand, Kuroo grabs one of yours, the rose and dagger tattoo on his hand catching your eyes. You always admired the artwork that littered his body; his knuckles were your favorite. Each digit held a letter of the word ‘HOMESICK’, save for the thumbs, as an homage to the way your friend group felt like home. He even said he got them for you.

“Just...let me hold you.” Kuroo’s love language, for as long as you could remember, was physical touch. Even when it was the four of you, he was touchy with the boys as well. He was never opposed to giving them hugs or even platonic kisses because he loved them. Truly, he did. With you, he had always needed to be touching you, whether it was a hand on your shoulder or the small of your back, holding onto your pinky finger with his own. Tetsu gave the best hugs.

As you crawled in between his slightly opened legs, you pressed your back into his chest while he leaned over you slightly, his warmth contradicting the bitter November cold. You realized then the dichotomy and dynamics between Kuroo’s relationships. While he was so open with your friend group, you realized you’d probably seen him kiss Teru more than his own girlfriend, even if it was platonic. Maybe it was a result of her own design, maybe she didn’t like the way stale smoke smelled on his skin and lips.

Does it even matter anymore?

You looked up at Kuroo as smoke left trickled past your lips, letting the smoke dance around his clean shaved chin. “Are we okay?” You asked quietly.

“Define ‘okay’?” He was baiting you again, trying to get you to openly speak about what was to come moving forward. Kuroo was trying to get you to define the relationship and, thankfully, you hadn’t taken the hook yet. “I spoke my piece, baby. It’s your turn.”

BONUS: texts between you and Kuroo, text from Nanami. I like including these to see if I’m capable of making an SMAU.

[ Elixir « Besitos » I Don’t Care ]

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blacknovelist · 4 years

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Half-Empty, Half-Full (FE3H Fic)

hey hi what’s up lads, so I like, 100% forgot I could post my piece for the @threehouseszine Beneath The Banner (also available on Twitter under the same name) and as such I’m like ten years late. :) But the zine has been sent out, and I finally noticed like the fool I am that others have posted their pieces, and thusly, I too will post mine! Because I can. And I want to.

My focus was on the Golden Deer post-skip, specifically in some nebulous point during the war. Being part of this zine was really, really cool -- I can’t wait for all the books and merch to arrive with everyone!

(will reblog with links because we all know tumblr likes to break things.)

A beat of something nice, amid the fragments of harder times.

In the spaces between war — between scattered supply checks and ration distribution, bandit skirmishes and long watch nights — Hilda finds the time she needs to breathe.

It came easier, back in the academy. She could simply step back and let the world move around her, steadfast in her belief that it would still be standing when she returned. Nowadays she steals the air in her lungs from glances at the sky and quick delivery walks, from the chip of chisel and steel against stone and wood, from the sensation of gems and petals inlaid on clothes, chains and hooks when she can afford to lay down her axe. Infrequency makes the beats between battles all the more precious.

With the professor around she can afford more pauses still, but Hilda watches herself. She knows, all too well, just how young she is. Claude lies at one year her junior and the professor, with their five year hiatus, sits at two. It wouldn't do for her stubborn leaders to find someone they can’t believe in among their ranks, now.

She’s on the run for errands when she spots a hint of not-plant green and wood not far off the beaten path, and she wastes no time following that tried and true Deer instinct to take a peek. Ignatz is there, as expected, easel propped on a patch of flat land, what she can see of the canvas a tasteful blend of browns and golds. He leans in, fingers dabbed in the same off-white his paintbrush dusts onto his scene.

Now, Hilda doesn’t paint, but she does understand the stress and struggle of art, different forms aside. Which is why she waits until he leans back before she steps forward and taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Ignatz.”

Ignatz yelps, almost drops his brush and earns himself a stripe on his palm for his troubles. “Hilda! Hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there.”

“Don't worry about it.” She clasps her hands together. “What’re you painting?"

"I wanted to capture the cathedral, while it's still under repair." He gestures to his piece — the white forms the glint of sunlight off patches of rubble, steel and glass, along with the robes of monks and priests as they shift and sweep aside what debris they can. "A lot of artists depict places in their prime, or utterly destroyed, or after they've been restored to their former glory. I thought it would be nice to show the in-between for once. People from every background imaginable, coming together to rebuild for the future. A little different from what I usually paint, but sometimes a little variety is nice."

"And you're doing it all the way out here because…"

"I didn't want to be in anyone's way, and I come out here a lot. I've got plenty of references with me, so it's not a problem." Ignatz shifts and Hilda catches sight of a stack of sketchbooks, some more worn than others, half-spilled from a bag. The top one gets plucked up and held between them as he flips from page to page. Statue busts, the altar and rows of pews among pillars rendered in charcoal and sleek pigment lines. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of green and blue and other colors, or shapes that don't quite match the church art he focuses on, but Ignatz flips too fast for her to see.

Or, almost. "Go back two pages," Hilda says. A grin tugs at her lips. "Was that Claude?"

"Oh! Uh, yes." Though Ignatz learned to leave embarrassment and nerves about his art behind, something in his chest still squirms, just a bit. An image of their leader in the library, face cast in candlelight and more at peace than he ever is during daylight, stares up at the duo. "It's easier when I’m with a person, but sometimes I'll do studies on my own. Practice makes perfect, after all."

"It's beautiful." She reaches out, pauses. "May I…?"

He passes it over. "Here. You can look at the others, too. I don't mind." Then he turns back to the easel and reaches for his paint. "Anyway, I thought this was as good a spot to work as any. There's a field down that way you can see best in the spring, and I like the view of everything from here."

"You'll have to show me when it's in season."

Her eyes flicker over thick paper. Statues. Flowers, trees, forest paths. Distance shots of people, strolling towards town. Swirls of filigree and patterns fill whole pages in patches, tiny stylized animals and the occasional dragon tucked into the empty space. Silhouettes crowd around the pews, and even if she recognizes clothes, many of these smaller figures are faceless.

But she finds a loose sketch, hair popping blond against black ink, of Raphael and a young girl with the same square jaw and broad shoulders. Claude himself appears once more, this time in wireframe form, ordinary steel bow drawn all the way back and arrow pointed to the left. When she plucks one of his other books from the stack it follows a similar trend — renderings of the cathedral, inside and out, stuck in among horse-drawn carriages and sunlit grass patches and clothes and people, both familiar and unfamiliar, faceless and defined. A few drawings are from the past few months: Sylvain in his armor, Baltie with his open-chested shirt, Leonie and her long hair, the monastery scaffolding.

Most of his drawings are from the academy days.

Lindhardt, leaned against a tree, the shadow of leaves mottled on his lap. Herself and Marianne seated in the dining hall. Lysithea, with a book in one hand and a swirl of magic in the other. Claude and Lorenz mid-argument. Felix as he trains blade blurred and bent as he lunges. Dimitri and Dedue bent over a table in their classroom. Edelgard as she strides across the courtyard, Hubert one step behind. Busts of the professor and Jeralt, side by side, the faintest quirk in their lips.

Hilda looks up and pauses. Ignatz presses so close to the canvas he’s peering over the wire frames of his glasses rather than through, brow furrowed and jaw set. She shuts an eye as the sun slips out from behind what’s left of Garreg Mach’s spires. Greyscale flowers peer up from the pages, a reflection of the few asters scattered around their feet. Mountain monastery air goes down sweet and full in her lungs.

"I gotta say, Ignatz,” she says, the edge of her thumb smudged in stray charcoal. "These are amazing. How long have you been doing art?"

"Since I was little." He leans back, considers his work, then leans in again. "My parents are merchants, so we delivered paintings and statuettes to a lot of noble houses in the Alliance. One day I found some extra supplies lying around so I just… picked it up and gave it a shot."

"Well, I'm glad you did. Even these plain sketches look much nicer than anything I could do, and don't even get me started on painting. No offense, Ignatz, but no thank you. Definitely not my wheelhouse."

Ignatz pauses. "None taken, and thank you. You draw?”

"Not much." She waves a hand. "My talents lie in accessories. I like to plan before I start working, figure out how it should come together and doodle in the margins a little sometimes, that's all."

"You're always wearing beautiful jewelry, but I didn't realize you made them yourself." A smile breaks out across his face. "That's amazing, Hilda!"

A blush rolls across her cheeks and she can't stop the tug of her lips into a matching grin. "Oh, stop it. Really?"

"Of course! The colors and shapes you use match your hair, complexion, and the clothes you tend to wear quite beautifully." His brush plunges into a cup of water by the foot of his easel and faces her fully. "When did you start?"

"A long time ago, now – I'm not even sure exactly how long, anymore. I used to make flower crowns and necklaces with my big brother, and it just spun out from there." The book lies closed in her hands now. Her finger runs up and down the paper, feels the grooves between unaligned pages. "I could make them as pretty or ugly as I wanted, so long as I was happy in the end. No one ever expected anything more or less. Not that I ever made something ugly, mind you."

Ignatz hummed. "Have you ever considered selling them?"

"Not really.” Hilda tilts her head. “Do you think it'd be a good idea?"

"Absolutely! You should consider it, once the war is over. I bet people would love them."

She taps her chin. “I’ll give it some thought. What about you, Ignatz? What do you plan on doing once this whole mess is behind us?”

“Well… Ideally, I’ll keep painting,” he says. “Even if I have to do it between my duties as a knight. It might make it hard to find a household to serve, but I don’t want to just stop.”

“Why are you aiming to be a knight? How come you’re not just going off to be an artist or something like you want to?”

“My parents sent me to the academy since my brother’s taking over the business. They didn’t really approve of the whole artist thing.” Ignatz shrugs. “I don’t really think I’m all that cut out for it, to be honest. Fighting’s never been my strong suit.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Hilda says. “Have you ever spoken to them about it?”

He shook his head. "Not much recently, at least."

“You should. Maybe you can convince them, after all this. And if you can’t, then just come to House Goneril, okay? I’ll let you paint as much as you want.”

“That would be nice.” He smiles, then bends to reach for his bag. “Thank you, Hilda.”

“Any time.” She holds the sketchbook out. Ignatz takes it, tucks it gently alongside the others. Before he can put his brush away, he pauses.

“If you have time,” he starts. "Would you like to join me out here again tomorrow? We could work on our projects together, if you have any."

Hilda smiles. "I'd love to, but I'm on stock duty tomorrow. No shuffling off the responsibility for that."

"I see. That's too bad. Maybe next time?"

"... Sure. I'd like that."

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #FE3H #FE3h Fic #FE3H Zine #Beneath The Banner zine #Blacknovelist Writes #long post #(in case readmore breaks tho it shouldn't really)

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chipper9906 · 4 years

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The Best Laid Plans - Chapter 8: On The Cusp Of Something New

LINK TO CHAPTER 1

Pairings: Kylo Ren/Rey, Ben Solo/Rey

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 8194

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress

Chapter Preview:

“I’m not drunk.” Kylo tried to deny, but the ever so subtle hint of a slur in his words proved him otherwise, much to his frustration. “Maybe a little inebriated, but I wouldn’t say drunk.” That’s when an idea popped into Rey’s head. Probably a bad one, if her sober mind was the one thinking, but her drunk mind thought it was a brilliant one. “I think we change that.” Kylo raised an eyebrow at Rey’s exclaim. “How about a game?”

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

Chapter 8: On The Cusp Of Something New

Kylo was surprisingly patient with her.

That’s not to say she was doing bad at building a saber. In fact, her years of tinkering with ship parts meant she had actually taken to the task quite well. She supposed having that prior knowledge of electronics was what helped the most, but personally, she likes to think that she picks up on new subjects very quickly.

Still, building a lightsaber was not designed to be a simple task. And it shouldn’t. This was an incredibly dangerous weapon that should only be wielded by those that deserve to. Those that have the right knowledge of the weapon, know how to responsibly use it. Some days, Rey can barely believe she comes under that category. It wasn’t exactly like she had time to train like the Jedi before her did. She had been thrust unexpectedly into this world that day BB-8 beeped out to her caught up in those nets. She didn’t have the time then, and she doesn’t really now. Sure, there’s an odd sort of lull where both the First Order and The Resistance seem to be waiting to see when the other will make a move, but that fragile break in the war can’t go on. One day, one of them will make the move that leads either to the rise, or the fall of the First Order.

“Rey? Are you listening?”

“Hmm?” Rey hummed instinctively in response to Kylo, her eyes glazed over and looking at nothing, lost in her own thoughts. She comes back to reality, looking down at the halved staff piece she has in her hands.

She had cleaned up the jagged break of the top half of her saber to a smooth cut, then removed the upper top piece of her staff. The bottom half of her staff had been significantly shortened so only the end piece and a few inches of the rod of the staff remained. Like the other piece, she had cleaned it up a bit and smoothed down the edges. The plan was to connect the two pieces once they had installed the other parts and wires and everything else that Kylo has yet to tell her what is.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Rey asked, barely glancing at Kylo before returning to the task in hand, rubbing a piece of sandpaper vigorously down the inner section of her saber to thin the metal to make more space.

“I said everything here’s about ready.” Kylo answered, tapping at one of the parts he had placed on the workbench in front of them. “And that if you keep doing that, you’re not going to have much of a lightsaber to work with.”

“Relax, it’s fine.” Rey said, but stopped sanding down the metal none-the-less. She placed the piece of sandpaper off to the side of the workbench, turning to Kylo expectantly. “What should I start with?”

Kylo picks up a thin silver metal tube from the workbench, holding it in front of him as he speaks. “We’ll start with this. This right here is a power cell. It’s made of Diatium, as most lightsaber power cells are. This is what provides power to your entire saber; to the wiring, the switch, the crystal itself…”

“Where does it go?” Rey asked, plucking the power cell careful from his outstretched hands. She follows Kylo’s pointing finger, securing it to the bottom of the lower half of her staff. When she looks back up, Kylo is already holding what looks like a small black box.

“This is the crystal chamber.” Kylo tells her. “As you can probably guess, this is where you’re crystal is placed within your saber.”

“I’m guessing we’re working from the ground up here?” Rey asked Kylo as she took the part from him. “Each part stacked on top of each other?”

“Exactly.” Kylo answered, watching as Rey placed the crystal chamber atop the power cell and securing it into place. “Though, you’re going to need-“

“A wire.” Rey finished Kylo’s sentence for him, her tongue just barely peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she worked with the incredibly fiddly components in an infuriatingly small space. “I’ll need some wires to connect the chamber to the power cell, right?”

Kylo answered simply by passing a few wires over to her. It seemed that Rey had already thrown herself into her work, crafting based on her prior knowledge. That was fine with Kylo- he was perfectly content with providing her with information on the components and watching her attempt to construct them together. It filled him with an odd sense of pride, watching Rey work. Instead of holding her hand through every step, like he was expecting he would have to, he only had to keep a careful eye over her work and intervene when he saw something wrong. It was a good way to learn, and an equally good way to teach.

Once Rey had finished placing the focusing crystal activator atop the crystal chamber and had successfully wired the activator to the chamber, and then to the power cell, Kylo took the completed bottom half of her saber from her and inspected it carefully.

“Not bad.” Kylo told her, taking too much satisfaction in the annoyed grimace that passed Rey’s face - seemed like she was quite the perfectionist when it came to engineering. “Now onto the top half of your saber.”

Kylo picked up a few golden pieces, one particularly long piece that seemed to run the entire length of the top half of the saber, and two smaller pieces with grooves running down them. “These are used to help channel energy from the crystal into a blade. They go along with this-“ Kylo picked up an unbelievably tiny square that Rey recognized from the electronics in the navigation systems of ships she had scavenged. “-Which is an energy modulation circuit. This piece is what controls the amount of energy that’s emitted from your crystal into the blade. Without this, you’d either get too little energy and get no blade or… well, your saber would probably explode in your hands.”

Rey quickly snatched the little square from his fingers. “Better get this in there before I forget it then….”

The hours passed by quickly as Rey placed the last pieces of her saber into place. It took a surprisingly long time to learn how to solder the wires properly, specifically the one connecting her switch to the power cell. She had opted not to go for a traditional switch, and instead placed a thin wheel of metal within the saber to act as a rotating switch. There was of course a few occurrences where Kylo had to take over for her. Every time that would occur, Kylo was… the only word she can think of is ‘gentle’. He wouldn’t get frustrated when she made the same mistake. He wouldn’t raise his voice at her, he wouldn’t rush her when she slowed down to make sure she was doing something right.

Watching him as he pointed to a wire she had managed to splay while fitting other components, softly explaining to her why it was important to regularly check the internals of her saber for damage like that, she couldn’t help but think about how great of a teacher he was. He had offered to teach her before, but not in a subject she wanted to broaden her knowledge in.

It made her wonder if he ever helped Master Luke to teach some of the younger padawans at his old temple. Sure, Ben was still technically a padawan back them himself, but it must have been difficult for Master Luke to teach a large group of children the ways of the Force all by himself. Kylo was talented with the Force- there was no denying that. She recognized it, just as Master Luke had. It didn’t seem too out of the question for Master Luke to ask for Ben’s help in teaching some of the easier lessons alongside him, to keep an eye on the youngest padawans during their lessons.

The thought of a grumpy Kylo trying to deal with a group of fussy, energetic children who are gifted with the Force was one that made her smile to herself. Even so, she would bet he was great with them. But then thinking of all that made her think of those young children trapped within the burning temple as Kylo watched, and the hollow feeling that invoked in her chest was enough for the smile to slip away.

“…And then you need to re-attach the blade emitter.” Kylo’s voice brought Rey back to the task at hand, having done the rest of the work without really paying attention, simply following his instructions. “Once you’ve done that, all that’s left is to re-attach the two halves and… it’ll be ready.”

The last part was probably the easiest. She had plenty of experience in working with metal before, so welding two pieces of metal together was easy. The only thing that made her hands shake somewhat was knowing the precious materials that sat within those pieces of metal, and the amount of effort it would take to re-do everything if she messed up (especially if she somehow managed to damage the crystal throughout all this).

She couldn’t quite believe it when she was done. Placing the welder down next to her, she pushed the safety mask off her face with a sharp gasp of air. Sitting in front of her, now fully complete, was her lightsaber. Hers. Picking it up with shaking hands, she marveled at how it seemed to fit so perfectly, so naturally into the palm of her hand. Of course it would, it was once her staff after all. Years and years of wielding it against her foes had impeccably shaped the metal to her hands. It wasn’t as tall as her staff, but the components inside made it so the saber was near equal in weight, which would surely make adapting to this saber an easy task.

“I’ll leave you to ignite it then.”

“What?” Rey blanched in confusion, tearing her eyes away from her confusion to Kylo. “You’re leaving? Why?”

“Because this is something special.” Kylo answers like it’s obvious. “This is your first saber. The first you’ve crafted – and if you’re lucky, will also be you’re last. This is a weapon that will be by your side through everything. Igniting it for the first time is an experience you should get to witness alone.”

“What?” Rey repeats. “No, I’m not doing that-“

“Rey…”

“I’m not the only one that made this saber. You helped. A lot. You should get to see it, too.”

Kylo’s face looked to be a mixture of frustration and feeling touched by her words. “Don’t feel like you owe me anything just because I-“

“No, that’s not what this is about.” Rey stopped him before he could go on any further. “I’m asking you to stay because I want you to stay, alright?”

Kylo’s mouth remained parted where he had gone to speak, but had been rendered speechless by her statement. He let his mouth close shut, his eyes scanning her face in an attempt to see if she was speaking the truth. A part of him wanted to rummage within her mind to find that answer, but the narrow-eyed look she shot him seemed to suggest that she somehow knew he was thinking about that. So, instead, he nodded his head at her.

“Good.” Rey said, holding her head up high and her saber outstretched an arm’s length away from herself. “Now - what’s the chance of this blowing up when I ignite it?”

“About fifty-fifty.”

Rey switched the saber to her left hand to give Kylo’s arm a good smack with her right. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She told him dryly, her thumb hovering nervously over her ignition switch. “Though, I suppose I should be flattered that you’re even giving me a fifty percent chance of this working…”

“Actually, the other fifty percent was that nothing would happen once you hit the switch.”

Rey hit him again. Harder.

“It’s better than the other option.” Kylo tried to defend himself, rubbing at his sore arm. “Believe me, I wish that when I had-,” Kylo suddenly stopped, snapping his mouth shut and looking nervously to Rey for a brief second before averting his gaze elsewhere- anywhere else but her.

“When you had what?” Rey asked in a questioning tone, narrowing her eyes at him. The realization of what he was about to say struck her then, and a rather childish grin stretched across her face. “Ben… What happened when you built your saber for the first time?”

Kylo said nothing, keeping his expression schooled and his gaze away from her searching one.

“Ben?”

“I forgot the modulation circuit.” Kylo gave in, practically deflating in on himself with his confession. “It didn’t explode per se, but…”

“But?”

“It fried everything inside. Only my crystal remained unharmed.”

“I shouldn’t laugh, right?”

“How about you ignite your saber first?” Kylo shot back at her. “Then we’ll see who gets to laugh.”

Rey thought his words would bring that nervousness crashing back to her. Instead, they only added fuel to the achiever inside her, to the part of her that always wanted to prove him wrong – prove everyone wrong. So, she didn’t look away from him. She kept her eyes trained on the ever-so-subtle smirk of his as she held out her saber to the side. She kept her eyes trained on his one brow raised in a challenge as she moved her finger to the ignition switch. She let her eyes trail down the scar etched across his face as she flicked the switch to the side.

But she couldn’t keep her eyes on him after that. Not when there was this beautiful, radiant golden blade emitting from her saber. She let out a gasp at the beauty of it, at the power radiating from it. It had worked. Held in her hands now was a functioning saber, emitting a color she had never really heard mentioned before within Kyber Crystals. Even Kylo was stood agape at the saber she held in her hands, and it made her strangely happy to see the awe on his face, his eyes flickering between the saber and its wielder.

Rey lets herself bask in the glow of her saber for a few seconds more before she rotates the ignition back, extinguishing the blade. It seems to disappear within her saber, and then they’re left standing in the small rays of sunlight that make their way through the gaps of the AT-AT. It takes Kylo a few seconds to realize he probably shouldn’t be staring at her. He shakes his head minutely, clearing his throat before he speaks. “I… I think you’ve earned the right to laugh at me.”

Rey doesn’t laugh at him. If she had a weakness, it was that she often acted on impulse, especially when it came to her emotions. Right now… Right now it was a mix of things. She was just so deliriously happy and excited at having her own saber, and that it worked. She was full of gratitude for Kylo, for she knew deep down that it would be a long, long time before this happened, if it wasn’t for him. So, before she can really think about it, she’s flung herself forwards, wrapping her arms around his torso and burrowing the side of her head into his chest.

It seemed that a hug was the last thing Kylo expected from Rey if she was going by the fact that his arms were held partly in the air in shock - perhaps because he thought she was charging at him to kill him with her new saber. That would be cruel. Too cruel. But she has to remind herself that someone like Kylo is expecting death around every corner- it would take him a while to realize that people wanted to give him physical affection not because they’re trying to deceive him, but because they want to.

‘You.’ That voice in her head spoke. ‘Not ‘people’. Not ‘They’. You.’

It was hard to argue with the voice, when she knew it was right.

She had been about to step away from the hug when she felt the first tentative touch of his hands on her back. Kylo had finally lifted up his arms, wrapping them around her and reciprocating the hug. He felt Rey’s arms squeeze gently around his sides, and he instinctively squeezed back in response, his body acting before his brain could tell it what to do. It was strange, when his body took over like that. It was even stranger when his brain didn’t seem to mind. Even more so, when it suggested that he never lets her go.

“Thank you…” Her voice is muffled against his tunic, her words vibrating through his chest.

“You’re more than welcome.” Kylo responds, already mourning the feel of her arms around him as she pulls herself out of his embrace. “Make sure you put that saber to good use. You should start training with it as soon as possible; get used to the way it feels in your hand.”

Rey places her saber down gently atop her work station, turning to face Kylo as she spoke. “You say that like you’re leaving.”

It wasn’t a question, nor was it really a statement. Kylo stood awkwardly, his eyes wandering from Rey’s expecting expression to the door. “It was what we agreed, wasn’t it? I was here to help you create your saber, which is now complete. What other reason do I have to stay?”

‘Me’. Her mind wanted to blurt out. ‘Stay for me.’

It’s not what she said. She didn’t even know if saying those words would have the desired effect. And truthfully, just hearing the words in her own mind freaked her out. She didn’t entirely know why she wanted Kylo to stay around longer, but she knew she had to come up with a reason for him to stay. Just then does an idea pop into her mind, and she’s racing towards the back corner of her AT-AT, leaving Kylo with his mouth partially open, apparently about to say something. She’s rummaging frantically through the cramped storage, pulling out and chucking random assortments of knick-knacks and other junk until she finds what she had been looking for. She delicately removes the dark brown bottle from its confines, wiping away the thick layer of dust that coated the glass.

Kylo had his neck craned to the side, trying to get a glimpse at what Rey was cradling in her hands. As soon as his eyes land on the bottle, his brows raise up into his hairline. “Corellian Brandy? How did you manage to procure that?”

“Don’t use that tone with me.” Rey scolded him. “It almost seems like you’re suggesting I stole this.”

“And did you?”

“No!” Rey retorted. “I found it years ago while scavenging an old ship. It looked like it had been there for quite some time. It had mostly been picked clean, but I found this hidden within a few storage crates that other scavengers must have overlooked.”

“Some may still consider that stealing.” Kylo pointed out.

“Whoever the pilot of that ship was, they were long gone. They might even be dead for all I know. If they’re still alive, they must not have cared much for it if they just left it there. If they are dead, then… well, they don’t exactly have much use for it.”

“Unless they were the type to believe their physical possessions followed them from this life to the next.” Kylo kept his voice so flat and neutral that Rey wasn’t sure if he was messing with her or if he was truly being sincere with what he was suggesting.

Rey glared up at him, keeping up with the staring contest Kylo had initiated for a few moments before letting out an annoyed huff of air, turning to place the bottle back where she had got it from. “Fine, fine, I just thought it would be nice to celebrate our accomplishment with a drink, but if you’re going to be like that-“

Her words were cut off by a sound so unexpected that she wondered if she had hallucinated it. No, it was definitely there. That was laughter. Kylo was laughing. She whipped around to catch a glimpse of the smile that must have accompanied such a care-free sounding laugh, but to her dismay, Kylo had managed to return his face to a somewhat neutral expression as quickly as his short burst of laughter had died off.

“I believe ‘Finders Keepers’ is a common saying, is it not?” Kylo asked as he took a few steps towards her, holding his hand out for her to give him the bottle. She passed it over to him, watching as he held the bottle to a stream of setting sunlight that entered the AT-At, peering at the sloshing contents within. “This bottle might be older than you. May even be older than me.”

“Wow, that’s really old.” Rey couldn’t resist the little jab, hiding her smirk when she saw Kylo scowl down at her, the bottle still held outstretched in the air.

“Have you even opened this?” Kylo walked the few steps it took to reach the couch like construction he had sat on the last time he was here, lowering himself down onto it so he was seated somewhat comfortably. Rey had followed after him, jumping up onto her bed opposite and holding out her hand for him to return the bottle.

“No. It seemed valuable.” Rey said, taking the bottle back once Kylo passed it over. “I was saving it for a special occasion. This one seems as good as any.”

“Oh, then… Have you… Have you ever actually drank any alcohol?” Kylo asked cautiously.

“Um… No, I haven’t.” Rey didn’t know why admitting this to him made her feel embarrassed. It wasn’t like she was ever in a situation where she had access to such a luxury. Because that’s what it was – a luxury. Everything in her life was a luxury really: the roof over her head, the portions she bartered for using parts she spent hours scavenging for in the scorching heat. So when she actually chanced across a bottle of the stuff, she wasn’t exactly just going to drink it right then and there like it was nothing. “Have you?”

“I’m not a drinker.” Kylo shifted somewhat on the ‘couch’, leaning forward somewhat as he spoke. “I’ve had a few drinks occasionally, but not much. Snoke would often discourage such activities; said it was nothing more than a distraction to my duties.”

“Well, you seemed to know enough to recognize what drink it was. You know if it’s any good?”

“It’s a popular liquor, that’s for sure. It can be a bit of an acquired taste though – especially for a first-timer.”

Rey brushed away a bit more of the dust on the front of the bottle, squinting to get a better look at the faded, torn label. It was much too damaged to get any useful information from the label, so she moved her efforts to the cork sat within the neck of the bottle. It may have taken her a few more tries than she’d like to admit (including a few embarrassing attempts of pulling it out with her teeth, nearly resulting in a few of them flying out as Kylo watched in shame) before she heard the satisfying ‘pop’ of the cork coming free from the bottle. Rey gave a small, quiet cheer to herself, before raising the bottle to her mouth and taking in a mouthful of the amber liquid.

Kylo had just been about to warn her, but he was too late. He could only sit back and watch as Rey’s eyes went wide, wincing as she harshly swallowed the drink and turning into a coughing, spluttering mess. Her eyes watered ferociously as she pounded on her chest, feeling like she was about to hack up her lungs as she held the offensive bottle away from herself. “Kriff, people actually drink this stuff? For fun?”

Kylo chuckled quietly as he tugged the bottle out of her outstretched hand. “Told you it was an acquired taste.” Kylo raised the bottle to his lips, taking a much smaller sip than Rey had and swallowing the bitter liquid down smoothly – not a sign of discomfort to be seen as it slipped down his throat. “These aren’t the kind of drinks that you want to chug down. They’re meant more for sipping on casually. Appreciate the flavor.”

“I couldn’t really taste anything.” Rey told him, her upper lip curling in disgust at the memory of the drink. “It just… burnt.”

“I wasn’t a fan at first, either.” Kylo assured her, taking another sip from the bottle. “Most tend to adjust to it. Some don’t.”

Rey eyed the drink in his hands warily for a few seconds, weighing the risk of taking another drink. Perhaps she’d like it this time. Or perhaps it would burn as much as it did the last time. She held out her hand to him, gesturing for him to pass over the bottle. “Let me have another try.”

Kylo did so reluctantly. Not because he wanted to keep the bottle of brandy for himself. More so because he could already envision a drunk Rey at the end of all this. And if he’s not careful, he could easily become drunk, too.

This was going to be an interesting night…

* * *

“…And I get it, okay? I do. BB-8 is technically Poe’s droid. I know that. But it's not my fault BB-8 would always follow me around. Poe was constantly complaining to me about how he doesn’t see his droid anymore, but what am I supposed to do? Tell BB-8 to go away? I can’t do that!” Rey is fully aware that she’s rambling on and on, and for some reason the words she forms in her head don’t leave her mouth quite the same way. The ability to speak had suddenly become much harder, the words coming out slurred and uncertain.

Kylo stared blankly back at her, his expression so vacant that she wondered if he was actually listening to her at all or if he was just spacing out. He certainly looked relaxed enough to not be paying attention, sat atop the makeshift couch and leaned back against the wall of the AT-AT. Kylo was now holding the bottle of Corellian Brandy, though now the liquid that sloshed within the bottle was only filled to about a third.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Rey huffed, annoyed by his consistent silence. “I thought the drink might… loosen you up a little.”

“I have a bit more experience holding my liquor than you do.” Kylo answered. “Though, that does not mean I am immune to its effects.”

“So… you’re staying quiet to reduce the chances of saying something you would only say when drunk?”

“Yes. And to stop myself from babbling on about mundane things.”

Rey leaned forward from her bed, snatching the bottle that was held loosely in his hands with a pointed glare. “Seems you’re still just as mean when you’re drunk.”

That’s when an idea popped into Rey’s head. Probably a bad one, if her sober mind was the one thinking, but her drunk mind thought it was a brilliant one. “I think we change that.” Kylo raised an eyebrow at Rey’s exclaim. “How about a game?”

Kylo stared at Rey, looking rather unenthused. “What kind of game?”

“A simple game of questions.” Rey answered. “We each take turns asking each other a question. Whatever question you want. Get to know each other a little better, you know?”

“And what if I don’t want to answer a question?”

“Then you take a drink as forfeit.”

Kylo hummed in thought, tilting his head back to rest against the wall. “This seems set up to make me fail. You’re clearly going to ask me questions I don’t want to answer.”

“Your point being?”

“Either I answer your questions, or I’ll get really drunk.”

“Well, yeah, but same goes for me. I’ll bet you have some questions I won’t want to answer.”

“I doubt that.” Kylo noticed Rey open her mouth, most likely ready to give some kind of retort, so he quickly continued. “But… sure. Let’s do this.”

“Great!” Rey exclaimed, much too enthusiastic about this game for Kylo’s liking. Before Kylo could even blink, Rey had thrown the bottle back in his direction. Luckily, years of combat experience meant Kylo’s reflexes were quick enough to snatch the bottle out of the air before it finished it’s course of flight and broke his nose. “-And since you now have the bottle, I’ll ask the first question.”

Kylo could only glare at Rey’s smug smile.

“I’ve been dying to know this forever…” Dread immediately filled Kylo, bracing himself for some sort of invasive question. “What’s your favorite color?”

That was… absolutely not the question he was expecting.

“What?”

“Your favorite color.” Rey repeated. She didn’t quite seem to grasp that he had heard the question perfectly fine. “I don’t know what it is.”

Kylo stared at her blankly. He would chalk the majority of the fogginess in his mind up to the alcohol streaming through his veins, but the fact of the matter was he couldn’t really remember his favorite color. When was the last time someone had asked him that question? Had anyone ever?

“Did… Did I break you?” Rey face split into a smile at her own joke, but it quickly fell when the blank expression on Kylo’s face remained. “Ben, you’re kind of scaring me now… Are you okay?”

“Yes…” Kylo said slowly, drawing the single word out longer than needed as he got his thoughts together. “I just, uh… Wasn’t expecting a question so…” He struggled to find a descriptive word that wouldn’t come out as an insult.

“Childish?” Rey filled in the blanks for herself. Thankfully, she didn’t seem offended.

“Non-invasive.”

Rey seemed to accept this over her own suggestion. “Well? What is it?”

“Blue. My favorite color is blue.”

Well, that definitely took Rey by surprise. “Really? Wait, you’re serious?”

“No. I’m not serious. I thought it’d be funny to joke about my favorite color.”

Rey swung out her foot to give him a light kick to his leg hanging over the edge of the couch. “Alright, funny guy. It’s just… you just don’t seem like the kind of person who likes the color blue.”

Kylo’s face scrunched up in confusion. “How could you possibly tell a persons favorite color? Wait, let me guess- you thought my favorite color was black?”

“Well…”

Kylo snorted, taking a swig of brandy from the bottle in his hands, even though it wasn’t technically required of him to drink. “Just because I mostly wear black-,”

“Mostly?” Rey exclaimed in disbelief. “It’s all you wear!”

“Because it fits me.” Kylo argued, dropping the bottle away from his mouth. “Plus, it’s a design choice. Something to recognize me by. You recognize my troopers by their white armor. You recognize apprentices of the dark side by their dark clothing. Doesn’t mean it’s my favorite color.”

“Sure, fine. So, why is blue your favorite color?” Rey asked just as Kylo held the bottle back out to her, taking it from his hands and placing it in her lap as she waits for his answer.

“Technically, that’s another question and it’s supposed to be my turn.” Kylo pointed out, leaning back against the wall. “But I’ll answer it anyway, because… I don’t really have an answer to that. It just is.”

“Is there not something the color reminds you of? Something about it that makes you feel drawn to it over every other color?”

“I…” Kylo’s voice faltered as he strained to think of an answer. “I… I suppose it makes me feel peaceful, yet at the same time seems to radiate power. It can be like an ocean- a calm millpond with sparkling turquoise waters, or a dark, raging, windswept wave that washes away everything in its path. The way I see it usually depends on where my mind is.”

“That’s… oddly poetic, coming from you.”

Kylo chuckled low and slow. “Well, I did use to write. Had my own calligraphy set and everything.”

“I can believe that.”

“But not that my favorite color is blue?”

“Now I do.” Rey stressed the first word. “Thank you for telling me it, anyway. It might seem like an unimportant question, but… I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid, but I just felt like it was one of those questions that you’re supposed to know about your friends.”

That almost forced a smile out of Kylo. Almost. “I suppose I should ask you for your favorite color and make our friendship official then, shouldn’t I?”

“I suppose you should.” Rey’s tone was soft, an equally gentle smile playing across her face. “And I would tell you that it’s green.”

Kylo hummed in acknowledgment, an unusually warm look in his brown eyes as they swept over her. “Since you asked me, I feel it’s only fair for me to ask you why that’s your favorite color? Unless you don’t know either?”

“Oh, I know.” Rey assured him. “It’s mostly because… it’s one of the only colors I never really got to see. Other than the obnoxiously bright greens of plastics and the peeling rusty metals on unusually colored ships, and they reeked of… of… of fakeness. Of being man-made. But when your father took us to Takonda and I laid eyes on those forests for the first time… All of a sudden, green didn’t mean fake anymore. It was life. It was flourishing life, vibrancy and well-living, it…”

“It’s what you never had.” Kylo guessed, though he said it more as if it was a fact than a random shot in the dark.

Rey didn’t know how to respond. Or, maybe she just couldn’t. He was right, after all, but it felt like there wasn’t anything she could say in response. It was just as it was.

“I, uh… I guess it’s your turn again.” Kylo said, and Rey was thankful for the obvious life-line he was throwing out.

Coming up with another question wasn’t hard, because she had an endless list of questions she wanted to ask Kylo. Rather, it was difficult in the sense of trying to find a question that wouldn't add to the awkwardness this current pause in conversation had brought.

“How did you find out about all of this? The Force, your place within it, your control over it?” Rey asked.

“I suppose I didn’t really find out about it. I grew up with it. With the stories, of the bloodline I was a part of. It’s difficult now to know of these things when you have the family that I do.”

“Two war hero’s for parents, one of them a former Jedi in training; a Jedi for an uncle and a former Jedi and Sith Lord for a grandfather. I imagine that was quite a lot.” Rey said.

“Hmm. Though truth be told, my parents were the first to discover my abilities within the Force.” Kylo continued. “Apparently, I would often throw objects around the room without physically touching them whenever I had a tantrum as a toddler.”

“That’s oddly adorable.” Rey cooed, much to Kylo’s distaste. “And it’s amazing how you still haven’t grown out of your tantrums!”

Kylo held up the bottle in his hands as a warning. “I will drink as forfeit. Don’t think I won’t.” Kylo didn’t continue until Rey held up her hands in defeat. “I think mom always saw it coming, but dad… I’m not sure if disappointed is the right word, but he certainly wasn’t happy. They tried to live with it - with me - for as long as they could but, eventually, they realized leaving me with powers I didn’t know how to control would only end in disaster.”

“You said dad.” Rey pointed out, one of the things that seem to be glaring out at her in his answer.

“Huh?”

“Instead of Han.” Rey continued in astonishment. “You said dad instead.”

Having it pointed out to him was enough for him to pause, clenching his jaw as he tapped his forefinger rhythmically against the bottle in his hands. “I don’t know why I tried to avoid it so much before.” He admitted, eyes unfocused as he spoke. “Refusing to say the word as if he would no longer be my father. I can’t undo my family. I can’t undo what I did to him. Avoiding saying who he is to me doesn’t do anything to change that.”

“Good.” Rey said happily. “Ignoring the past does nothing to change it.”

“That it doesn’t.” Kylo agrees, eyes coming back into focus and settling on Rey. “And obsessing over it doesn’t change the future, either.”

Rey narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what he was trying to get at. “I don’t obsess over the past.”

“You’ve proven yourself as a capable pilot, and an engineer. You would have had plenty of opportunities to escape this planet. Even my father offered you a way out. But you didn’t take it. Why was that?”

“Hoping for my parents to return isn’t the same as me obsessing.” Rey tried to thwart his point, but her words didn’t come out sounding all that confident.

“You threw away your future holding onto a past that you barely knew. Be honest with me, Rey; In the slim chance that your parents are still alive, do you really believe they’ll come back for you?”

Kylo hadn’t spoken in a malicious way. Not at all. He was genuinely curious about her answer. It was something he had thought over many times when it came to Rey. With all that she was capable of, it was the one biggest part of her life that seemed to hold her back; just as it did for him.

But Rey didn’t give him an answer. For a while, she stared at him. And she kept staring at him as she reached over to slide the bottle out of his hands. She only broke eye contact with him once she threw her head back to down a mouthful of bitter liquid that was starting to grow on her. Or, perhaps, she was getting too drunk to care about its taste. Maybe that’s how it grows on you.

Rey dropped the bottle back down, wiping a few extra drops from the corner of her mouth with the back of her sleeve whilst she passed the bottle back to Kylo with her other hand. “If you could go back and do it all again, would you kill your father, or spare him?” If Kylo was going to dig deep, then Rey certainly wasn’t going to pull any punches.

Kylo flinched, though it was barely noticeable unless you were really looking at him. When he leaned forward on the couch, Rey thought for just a moment that he might actually answer her question. Which was stupid really, because of course he wouldn’t. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a longer drink from it than is necessary - or advisable - and Rey wondered if that drink was enough to push Kylo over the edge into full-blown drunkenness. Maybe then he’d be more likely to answer her questions. Then again, the same would probably go for her. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

“What did you think of me when you first saw me?” Kylo asked her once he had passed the bottle back.

“Which one of you?” Rey asked. “The masked you? Or the other you?”

“Both.”

Rey let out a short exhale of air from her nose, looking down into the near-empty bottle of brandy as she sorted through her mind for the right words to say. “I suppose technically the first time I saw you physically was when you were in your full…” Rey gestured at him with the bottle in her hand. “-you know. The first thing I thought of was- ‘it’s him’.”

“You had heard of me?”

“No. I had seen you, moments before, in a vision. When I laid hands on Master Skywalker’s lightsaber for the first time. I saw… a lot of things I didn’t understand, things that filled me with this disorientating feeling of dread. And then there was you. Wearing your mask and everything else, standing amongst a field of dead bodies with your men stood behind you. I could barely see you past the rain and the darkness, but you looked at me like you were there. You came at me with your lightsaber in hand, and then suddenly you were gone as quick as you had appeared.

“I thought if I wielded that saber, it would set off a chain of events that led to that moment. So, I didn’t take it. I ran from that life, ran from the battle, and yet, there you were. There was no rain, no field of dead bodies. Just us and the forest.”

“And you were the girl I had heard so much about.” Kylo spoke with an uncharacteristic lightness in his voice. “The girl with the droid that kept ruining my plans.”

“You didn’t give me much time to form an opinion on you before knocking me out.”

“I think we can both agree that was a better option than dragging you with me kicking and screaming.”

“Easier. Not better.”

Kylo shrugged like there was barely a difference. “And what about after? When we first spoke to each other properly?”

“I’m not sure if you want to hear the answer to that.” Rey told him.

“Oh believe me, I want to hear the answer.” Kylo’s voice had dropped impossibly low, sending an odd shiver down Rey’s spine. Force help her, she wanted to hear more of that. “Besides, chances are at this point that I won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”

Rey tried to laugh at this, but the best she could get out was a strangled sounding snort. A part of her was tempted to take another drink, but the inebriated and irrational part of her brain had taken over everything else, and the truth came flooding out. “For some reason, I couldn’t understand what was happening. I was expecting you to be mangled under that mask. Disfigured, scarred, hiding your face in shame. But you took off your mask and you were… you were just a boy. A young man.”

“There’s a reason I kept the mask on whenever I could. Without it, I was just a normal person. When you normalize your enemy, they no longer seem undefeatable. But when you shape yourself into the tales that are told about you? You become the one thing they fear most.”

“Then perhaps you should have kept the mask on if you wanted to interrogate me efficiently. Perhaps, if you had been searching through my brain and all I had to stare at was the blank eye holes in your mask, I wouldn’t have fought back. Instead, I was left under your scrutinizing and intense gaze, and in that moment all I could think about was how familiar your eyes were… how I had seen the subtle curve of your nose on another, or how I had seen those same pair of lips speaking to me not too long ago…”

Kylo swallowed so harshly, he was sure Rey must have heard it. It seemed much too audible in the stillness of the AT-AT, and Kylo wished more than anything to have that bottle back in his hands to finish off the remainder of its contents. Her words had sent a hot flush crawling up his skin, and he couldn’t blame it entirely on the alcohol this time. To hear her describe him in such a way… Had she really studied him just as intensely as he had studied her that day? She had appeared to him, this rare desert creature that should have been nothing more than a passing source of information, and all he wanted to do was pick her apart and find out all that he could. Nothing brought him greater pleasure than when he could display his powers, to watch others bow to him as he demonstrated all he was capable of. But when she had fought back, when she refused to shrink away… oh, he knew she was more than special then, and he wanted more.

He should have been infuriated by this random scavenger girl who dared to oppose him. She radiated a power he only knew to exist within himself, and getting even a slight taste of her power was enough to get his heart racing and the coil of excitement to churn deep in his gut. Right now, sitting aside from her and hearing what she has to say, he could only pray she didn’t notice the subtle shift of red across his face.

“I kind of wish I had been combing for your thoughts while I was looking for that droid’s location in your mind. Perhaps things would have been different if I had.”

“I wish we hadn’t met the way we did.” Rey whispered in confession, like the words were sinful to speak. “I wish we weren’t caught in this complicated situation, and we had met like… like any random people would.”

“It would be easier.” Kylo concurred. “But chances are, our paths would never have crossed. If this life we exist in is the only one where you came into my life? I wouldn’t want to live in any other one.”

She genuinely hated it when he did that. It made her forget everything else that was happening. It made her forget about who he is, who she is, how messed up all of this is. Kylo Ren was good at putting on a mask, but he was also very talented at letting the mask slip just enough to get what he wanted. And right now, letting Ben Solo scrape his way to the surface, she was sure he knew he had her right in the palm of his hand. She really regretted getting out that bottle of brandy now… there was part of her still sober enough to know continuing this line of conversation would lead to something… something new, something that wouldn’t be a good idea, but the problem was the sober part of her mind was being drowned out by the intoxicated part that, quite frankly, didn’t care one bit.

“Do you ever wonder what will happen with us?” Rey didn’t pass him the bottle this time. He didn’t need it. Neither of them did anymore. “Do you wonder if either of us are on the right path? Are we to follow the one laid out for us, or seek out our own?”

“I used to think I knew everything.” There could be a Star Destroyer crashing outside, and not even that could get Kylo to tear his eyes away from her. “Now, with you, I question everything… I don’t know what to do anymore. I know what I’m supposed to be doing. What I was told I should do. All my life, I’ve had others telling me what I should be doing, who I should be. Looking at you now, I should be planning on ways to end your existence. Of you, of the Jedi, of all those that associate themselves with such a name. That’s what I should be doing.”

It seemed like it happened in a blink, except it could have easily taken longer as she had been so wrapped up in his words that she didn’t pay enough attention. Kylo had pushed himself forward from the couch, leaning towards her until his face was mere millimeters from hers. It hadn’t just been him either; over the course of these last few questions Rey had found herself scooting closer and closer to the edge of her bed, her body pushing her towards him even if she didn’t realize it. He was close enough that she could count every one of his dark lashes, fluttering over hazy bronzed eyes that flicked from her own down to her parted lips.

“But why is it, Rey-?” His breath was warm as it puffed across her face, the smell of the brandy following with every exhale. “-That whenever I look at you, all I can think about is whether your lips are as soft as they look?”

Link To Chapter 9

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #reylo fanfic #ben solo/rey #kylo ren/rey

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