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beeapolitan · 4 years ago

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A Different Rhythm

Happy holidays, @onetruethree! I was your @mlsecretsanta for the year!

I’m sorry it took so long to finally finish, it ended up being a lot longer than I initially planned. But I hope you still enjoy this Marigami fic!

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Kagami felt the tense vibrations of her wooden sword slamming against marble travel down her wrists and up to her forearms. Another strike off target from the wool dummy facing her. The fourth miss in ten swings. The nagging numbness in her hands was all the proof she needed to confirm her recent observations.

It was obvious – she was off her rhythm. Not just in her swordsmanship, but in every other manner of her being. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the cause of the shift. Life had turned upside down for her in the past few months. Instead of being isolated and given a mountain of work to do, she had found out what it was like to be social for a change. Getting to fence with the famous Adrien Agreste had opened a lot of doors for her. She gained a friend, an avenue of escape from everyday life, and a collection of experiences she’d never even considered possible for herself.

And on top of all that, there was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Her first real friend outside of Adrien. They hadn’t started off on a great note, but things had been steadily improving since then. She had come to consider Marinette someone very dear to her. Lately, Kagami had become fairly skilled at coming up with excuses to see her friend whenever her mother’s iron grip eased up a bit. Solitary fencing practices turned to café meetups, simple runs for food became quick shopping trips, and morning jogs often lead her past the Dupain-Cheng Bakery where she could at least catch of glimpse of Marinette, if nothing else. In her younger age, she would have been caught by her mother already, but the restrictions weren’t as tight as they once were. She clearly had a ways to go before her mother would let her off the leash completely, but there was still a clear improvement.

Despite the improvements, there were still plenty of reminders that Kagami was basically chained to her mother’s hip. The most recent of which sat on her bed just within eyeshot. A slim bright white kimono with black outlines of lilies lining the sides. It was specifically given to Kagami by her mother to be worn at a meeting with some important people. Kagami only partly listened to her mother’s instructions once she laid the kimono out for her. It was common for her to be dragged along to meetings and events with little warning or explanation beforehand. It was a bother, but a necessary one. The more she complied with that side of her mother’s requests, the easier it was to live life in her own way when she was alone.

In any other context, it would have been a beautiful piece of clothing to wear, but looking at it only reminded Kagami of how she felt lately. About how her mother toted her around like a pet instead of a daughter. If the progress she had made felt like climbing a steep staircase, the reminder of her status in the family was like those same stairs flipping around to put her back at the bottom. It was so frustrating. All this training, the studying, and for what? How much of it would it take to be seen as the person she’d become instead of the sole Tsurugi daughter?

Kagami raised her sword overhead and brought it down hard on the training dummy’s head. If she split this thing in two with raw strength, would that do the trick? Her mother had always preached strength as a part of her training. How much did she need to be free of her influence? She brought down the sword again even harder, rattling the dummy on its stand. She hit it again, her arms pushed forward by her anger. She hit again and again, her strikes growing in power yet lacking her usual accuracy as they flailed around. With a loud shout, she swung for the dummy again but missed, causing her sword to go flying out of her hands and straight into a set of ornamental blades on the wall. They rattled around for a minute before remaining in place.

Just before Kagami could breathe easy, the lower hanging blade of the two fell from its sheathe, landing right on the edge of her bed. Right where the kimono from her mother lay. If Kagami’s breath hadn’t been held, she might not have heard the sound of tearing fabric so vividly. She didn’t move from her spot after the sound finally stopped. Standing still in the middle of the room granted her a defense from the truth, albeit a weak one. In reality however, there was no escaping the fact that her burst of anger had gotten her into unbelievable trouble.

Slowly, she inched her way over to her bed to inspect the damage. When she finally got there, her eyes bulged at the sight. It was a big tear, a jagged line running diagonally across the back of the kimono. It was shaped like a crooked smile, mocking her as her blood ran cold. Kagami could practically hear her mother’s shrill yelling coming through it, holding her in place.

She couldn’t stay here. She had to move.

Kagami carefully folded the kimono and placed it inside her duffel bag after removing her fencing equipment. She slung the bag around her shoulders and bolted out of the house, the thumping of her quick footsteps down the stairs matching the sound and pace of her heartbeat. The bright midday sun hit her eyes hard once she made it out onto the busy Paris streets. It didn’t take long for her feet to propel her in a random direction.

There was nowhere in the city she knew of that could undo her mistake very easily, but leaving it be was not an option. If her mother found out about the tear, it would make their home hell on Earth for the next few days. Kagami would practically be put on lockdown, forced to study and train with no contact to the outside world. That couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it. And yet, she knew determination would only get her so far. She still needed actual help.

When it came to fashion and clothing design, the first person to come to mind was Gabriel Agreste, but she obviously couldn’t go to him. Whatever pact he shared with her mother would expose her the second she told him about her accident. No, she would have to try harder than that to find help. But where was she supposed to start? After leaving her home, she had simply been walking without a destination in mind, hoping that some luck might be thrown her way for once. That wasn’t looking all that likely, however.

Kagami finally stopped her train of thought long enough to look at where she was walking. She had autopiloted to a part of town that seemed familiar to her for some reason. That reason became strikingly apparent once the smell of baked goods drifted past her nose. Her head jerked to the left, where a large window with gold trim on the edges sat just a few feet away. She had seen those very windows plenty of times, as well as the pair of bluebell eyes fixed right on her. Behind the large glass window stood Marinette, pinches of flour dotting her face and the tan apron hanging from her neck. Marinette put on a wide smile that pushed her cheeks up and waved.

Despite having absolutely nothing to be happy about, Kagami couldn’t stop the thin smile forming on her face at the sight of the blue-eyed girl.

“Kagami, hey!” Marinette’s voice bounded with her steps out of the bakery door. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um, happened to be passing by.”

“Oh, in that case, do you want to come inside? I just finished making some sweet buns.”

Once the initial butterflies had died down, Kagami realized what she had stumbled upon. Maybe her luck had come through after all.

“Actually, Marinette…do you think you could do me a favor?”

“Hm?”

It wasn’t often Kagami was able to be in a house that wasn’t her own, especially not one that radiated so much pleasantness. Marinette’s home was the very definition of comfort, with smells of warm bread coming from the bakery below and an atmosphere that made you feel like you were being swaddled in a thick blanket. Walking into Marinette’s room in particular gave her the same feeling as being met with the midday sun coming out of her own house. It was so bright and lived in, with pictures lining the walls and odd little trinkets in every corner, the type of room you’d see in teenage movies. Kagami sat on Marinette’s bed, watching as she held the kimono aloft for inspection.

“Thank you again for this, Marinette. I’m truly in your debt.”

“It’s no problem at all, Kagami. I’m just surprised you trust me enough to help with this.”

It would have been easy for Kagami to say that Marinette was her only remaining option. That the visit was simply because she had nowhere else to go, no one left to turn to. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that her feet had led her to the bakery before any other options came to mind.

“Of course I trust you. We’re friends, are we not?”

Marinette let out a little giggle. “We sure are. Just give me a little bit and I’ll have this fixed up for you.”

There was a simplistic kind of joy in watching Marinette work on something fashion related, Kagami thought. She was used to seeing her friend tripping over herself and her words, unable to perform normally when in a crowd. Here, there weren’t any signs of that trademark clumsiness. Marinette pulled thread with one hand and measured with the other, rolling herself to different spots at her desk like an electrical impulse firing through a neuron. It was a bit mesmerizing to watch. After a few minutes of this, Marinette stopped moving and mumbled something to herself. Kagami craned her head to the side to see Marinette hunched over her desk, searching through a bunch of baskets.

“Is something the matter?”

“It’s not a big deal, I just need a bit more thread to finish out your dress. We’ll have to go to the store to get some more.”

“Oh, I see. I apologize for inconveniencing you like this.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s just a short walk into town. Come on, let’s go!”

There wasn’t any time to get another word out before Marinette grabbed Kagami by the wrist, leading her down the stairs and onto the city streets. True to Marinette’s word, they were in and out of the fabric store in no time. With that being done so fast, Marinette suggested spending a little longer having fun in the city. Kagami wasn’t sure at first. She probably shouldn’t push her luck anymore than necessary. Then again, there were still a few hours until she actually had to meet her mother at the Métro. A few hours which she could happily spend in the company of Marinette. After all, her mother had given her no instructions for how to spend her time before the event, and even if she had, she was too far away to do anything about it. Kagami accepted, her steps becoming a bit lighter beside Marinette’s as they headed deeper into the city.

The more time the two spent together, the more Kagami found herself enamored by Marinette’s presence. It was the way she rambled on about the process of making baked goods, diving into every little process with striking detail. The way her eyelashes fluttered looking at the sights in the city as if she were seeing them for the first time. The little squeak of effort she made when trying to lick a stray speck of ice cream off her face. It was all too much to handle.

The girls eventually found themselves in the park, walking down a shaded path amongst the other many Parisians enjoying the atmosphere.

“We were lucky it’s such a nice day out,” Marinette said. “I love coming to the park in this kind of weather.”

“I agree. This is exactly the kind of climate I prefer when I’m training. My mother won’t show it, but I suspect she’s a fan of days like this as well.”

“Yeah, I can’t say I see her showing any excitement over a sunny day either. Do the two of you come out here a lot?”

“Yes. So much so that it honestly feels a bit weird not having a sword in my hand right now.”

“Well if you miss it that much…” Marinette broke off from Kagami’s side and wandered into a row of trees. She crouched down and began picking through a bunch of sticks on the ground, holding each up before picking two that were a decent size. She walked back over to Kagami and offered her one of the selections.

Kagami took it and raised an eyebrow. “What exactly are we doing with these?”

“Putting that training of yours to the test.” Marinette bent her knees and spread her feet apart, pointing her stick straight out. She twirled it a bit with a cheesy grin. “En garde, Kagami!”

Kagami couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “You honestly think you can best me in fencing? That’s cute.”

“You’re cute!”

Kagami’s grip on her makeshift sword weakened. Had she heard that right?

“I–I mean, your thinking is cute! You thinking that you’ll beat me, is what I’m saying.”

Ah, that made more sense. It wasn’t the most effective trash talk she had heard, but it had gotten her fired up, so it did the job. She leapt in, slashing at Marinette with the same ferocity she’d show in a real match. There was no need to hold back, not when she knew Marinette was more capable with a weapon than she seemed. Most people might try to prioritize fun over victory in such a situation, but for Kagami, the fun would come from showing off the full extent of her skills.

This was all second nature to her. Fencing came as easily as walking in a straight line. There were steps to it, strategies to follow; everything happened for a reason, so there was no point in being unsure of herself. If there was one part of her mother’s strictness she could have faith in, it was the skill she had gained from so much practice.

She could deal with Marinette’s style of fencing easily enough. For every unorthodox thrust, she had a counter. For every hasty burst of aggression, she could dodge and parry. When it came to exchanging swords, she could manage, so the idea that the same couldn’t be said about casually hanging out was painfully annoying. After all, combat training couldn’t stop Marinette’s eyes from being so piercing. What was she supposed to do when Marinette whiffed a strike and put on a cute pout? How was she supposed to defend herself against a voice that sounded sugary sweet and always left her wanting to hear more?

Even with Adrien things hadn’t been this complicated for her. Back then, she had a clear target and knew exactly how to go about getting to it. Picturing being with him was as simple as picturing her fencing saber piercing an opponent’s shoulder. At least it had been at first. Once she actually became friends with Marinette, she had noticed her drive wavering just a bit. That was only natural wasn’t it? She knew Marinette had feelings for Adrien, it was obvious. The stuttering when she talked to him, her avoidance of eye contact, the toothy smile that usually came with a weird hand motion that barely resembled a wave; the list of evidence went on. Kagami could see it so easily because that’s what she knew a crush to be. Part of her had always wondered if being upfront and composed in similar situations made her seem less passionate by comparison. Even if it didn’t, she couldn’t dispute the fact that her behavior had put her where she was now.

The way she had been feeling the past few hours was how she wanted to feel around Adrien. That’s what she had been telling herself for months. But anything involving Marinette had a tendency to get complicated very quickly, and Kagami’s own feelings were no different. Nothing made sense when it came to the baker’s daughter. As much as she tried to ignore it at the start, she had been drawn in by Marinette’s aura. It had the same presence that her house did, an energy of pleasantness you couldn’t help but get wrapped up in. She hadn’t spoken to Marinette’s other friends very much, but from the little she had, it was obvious that same energy affected them as well. Marinette had the ability to turn on a light in others no matter who they were, a fact Kagami was becoming increasingly aware of with each passing day.

For better or worse, Marinette had fanned the fire inside her. She wasn’t sure exactly what she felt, but it was strong. Much too strong to ignore.

Kagami shook her head midbattle to regain her focus. Even with it being a small contest between friends, she wasn’t about to lose in her area of expertise. Marinette was doing well to keep up with her for the most part, but that was about to change. Kagami switched up her footing just before going for a horizontal slash, causing Marinette to jump backwards. She had good reflexes, but her lack of technical experience took away too much of that benefit. As soon as she jumped back, Kagami was already making a beeline for her landing spot. Marinette’s eyes went wide at the sudden burst of speed. She raised her stick in defense, but by that point it was already too late. Kagami thrust forward her own stick, softly jabbing Marinette’s shoulder right when her feet touched the ground. Marinette let out a yelp as she fell backwards, landing in the grass next to a row of bushes.

Kagami tossed her stick aside and rushed over to help. “Marinette, are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Marinette stood with Kagami’s help and brushed the dirt off her clothes with a chuckle. “Looks like you win.”

The girls collapsed on a bench nearby, fits of laughter poking out between frantic attempts to catch their breath. For something that started as a simple game, they looked as though they had run a marathon. If Kagami’s mother could see her now, she would no doubt give out one of her signature scolding sessions. She’d chastise her for treating combat like a game, and immediately schedule additional training days for her to boot. But her mother wasn’t there. No one would rip this feeling away from her. This feeling of chills racing down her arms that were more of a thrill than a disturbance. That pesky fire was acting up again, filling her body so much that she could feel the heat in the tips of her fingers. She placed her hands together on top of her lap to try and cool down.

It was a few minutes before the breath returned to either of them. Kagami’s ever running train of thought got brought to a halt with the sound of Marinette’s voice breaking the silence.

“So…how are you and Adrien doing?”

The question smacked her atop the head like she was a training dummy, unable to predict or defend. Even after thinking about that very subject for the past few minutes, being asked that still caught her off guard. How should she answer?

There was a time she wished Adrien would get his head on straight and focus for once. Focus on her. But that nagging mentality was slipping more every day. There was contentment in her relationship with him. A sense that she had exactly what she needed from it. They enjoyed each other’s company, they confided in one another, and there was mutual understanding that they would be there for each other if needed. It had taken a while for things to become what they were, but ultimately, she was satisfied. That same feeling was nowhere to be found with Marinette. There was only a hunger for more time, more moments like these where she felt lighter than ever. Like she wasn’t tied to her home or responsibilities anymore. Their days together always seemed to end so soon, leaving her desperate for the moon and sun to exchange places again so she could start the whole process over. But Marinette hadn’t asked about all that; she wanted to know about Adrien.

Kagami brushed her hair aside with a thumb, hiding her expression from Marinette. “He’s a good friend. I’m grateful to have him around.”

“Just a friend? Did…something happen between you guys?”

“No, we’re fine. But you may have the wrong idea of what we are to each other.”

“Oh, um, I see. That’s good. I’m happy you two are friends then.”

Kagami could have similarly asked Marinette how she and Adrien were doing. She’d like her two closest friends to also have a good friendship with one another, after all. But what would such a question open up? Would she start to gush about him? Would she have the same sort of answer about them just being friends? As much as she liked to call her feelings mixed up at the moment, she couldn’t deny that the idea of Marinette still being head over heels for Adrien made her feel like a heavy weight was being dropped on her chest.

No, she wouldn’t ask about their relationship. Good or bad, she didn’t want to face whatever answer was given to her. Staying silent was the easier option.

“Well, guess we should head back now,” Marinette said, shooting to her feet. “I’ll finish your dress and get out of your hair.”

The walk back to the bakery was a silent one with both girls drowning in the awkwardness of the previous conversation. Kagami felt the frustration bubbling up inside her like magma. She had never been one to hesitate when it came to going after what she wanted, so why was this any different? It probably had something to do why she was having trouble looking Marinette in the eyes lately. While they had been sitting on the bench, all she could do was stare straight ahead at the sights in the park. The cluster of pigeons bouncing along the ground, the repetitive flowing of water out of the central fountain, things she saw every time she came there. It was maddening knowing that those things were all she could focus on even when the sight she wanted to gaze at the most sat just inches to her left.

That was one of the parts she liked best about sitting in Marinette’s room. Watching her work from behind removed all the unease of being face to face. It was an odd feeling, having regressed from where she started to being so flustered nowadays. But that was all a part of evolution, she supposed. Just as her skill got better over years of practice, these feelings she was starting to acknowledge were blooming faster with each interaction. She figured Marinette didn’t know it, but her presence was cultivating them like a flower bed.

“Are you sure I can’t help you?” As someone who was constantly training and always in motion, Kagami hated sitting on her hands and leaving everything to her friend.

Marinette spun around in her chair with a smile on her face. “Oh, don’t even worry about it. It’s just a simple little repair, that’s all. Hopefully I can handle this for you and make up for being such a poor friend.”

Kagami stiffened at those words. Where had that come from? How could Marinette even entertain the idea that she was a bad friend?

“What would you have to make up for?”

“I guess…I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

“Why would you think that?”

“It just seems like all I do is mess things up for you when I’m around. I called your first match with Adrien incorrectly, I was a nuisance at the Ladybug movie premiere, and I still feel bad about how I acted on Friendship Day. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t like my company.”

“Well you’re wrong!” Kagami found herself standing and shouting, her face flushed. “I like you very much, Marinette.” Kagami realized her sudden outburst and cleared her throat, her posture shrinking a bit. “I just mean that I consider us very close. So you don’t need to have any worry.”

Marinette rubbed the back of her neck with a nervous smile. “That, um, makes me feel a lot better actually. Thank you, Kagami.”

Kagami nodded as Marinette rotated back to her desk. She quickly sat back down on the bed, grateful that Marinette’s back was turned to her. It gave her a chance to fan her face despite the fact that the burning she was feeling was definitely internal. If her legs weren’t wrapped around themselves right now, she’d have started kicking herself for blurting out her feelings like that. All that careful planning just for her to throw a fit anyway. How annoying.

“And there we go! All done now.” Marinette rolled away from her desk with the finished product in hand.

Kagami let out a thin breath of relief holding the mended kimono. She ran her thumb down the formerly torn side, the new stitching giving her the comfort she needed. It looked as good as new, and not even her mother would be able to tell the difference. She had gotten exactly what she wanted.

And yet – looking at the door out of Marinette’s room made her heart sink.

Walking out meant ending another fun day just to sit in a stuffy room with people she barely knew. She’d bow, show a smile, then move onto the next person for who knows how many hours. She hated the idea of having to make such a good impression with these strangers. For all she knew, they would forget her name and face the second the meeting ended. But her mother had demanded her attendance, so her frustrations didn’t amount to much. She simply returned the smile her friend gave her.

“I can’t thank you enough for this, Marinette.”

“Oh! Well, it was nothing, really. Anyone could’ve done it, no big deal.”

“That’s not true. You’re very skilled, you know. And I…wouldn’t have left it up to just anyone either.”

There may very well have been other ways for Kagami to save herself today, but having Marinette come to her aid was certainly a preferred turn of events. Even so, she felt a familiar worry biting at her heels just thinking of all she’d done in the past hours. It wasn’t like she regretted her choices for the day, but that didn’t stop her from fearing the repercussions of not meeting her mother’s demands. How long would it take to make up for the impromptu adventure? Was there enough time to get home and do everything she still had to do? Or would she have to go unprepared to meet her mother? No, that would be just as bad as not showing up at all. If she showed even a hint of not taking her mother’s orders seriously, she would regret it for a long while. But if she kept thinking like this, all that worry would devour her.

It was Marinette’s soft voice in her ear that snapped her out of the spiral.

“Is something the matter, Kagami?”

“I don’t have much time before mother’s meeting starts. I’m not sure I can get home and make myself presentable before I have to meet her at the Métro.”

“Oh, is that all? You’ll just have to get ready here then! I’ll even help you.”

Before Kagami could protest, Marinette was already pushing her behind the large changing screen in her room. The dynamic between them was growing more confusing by the hour. Kagami hadn’t had a friend like this before, which made gauging the exact nature of their relationship that much harder. Was this just the normal amount of kindness you showed to a friend? Or was Marinette going above and beyond specifically for her? And if she was, what was making her do that?

There was nothing really suggesting that Marinette felt all that strongly about her, especially after the talk they just had. If she thought Kagami didn’t like her, then she surely wasn’t harboring any deep feelings within, right? But there was always the possibility that she was, and Kagami just didn’t know. Kagami hated not knowing for sure.

Luckily her overthinking had let her get ready without too much conscious effort. The very idea of having to prepare herself with Marinette so close was not something she wanted to entertain. Her opinion would be the only one tonight with any real effect on her, so it was best to avoid that altogether. Kagami did her best to shoo away the tinges of red dotting her cheeks before stepping out.

Marinette’s eyes seemed brighter than before as she stood up to take in all of her friend’s new look. “Wow, Kagami, you look beautiful in that kimono.”

And just like that, the red was back in full force. A soft “thank you” was all she could get out past pinched lips.

“Oh, it looks like your makeup smudged a little. Hold still, I’ll fix it.”

Marinette reached up and cupped the sides of Kagami’s face, moving in to touch up her eyeliner. Kagami could feel the warmth of slow breaths brushing across her nose with Marinette so close. She thought that if Marinette held her any longer, she would melt under all the heat.

Then again, even if that happened, Marinette’s arms would be waiting for her. Suddenly melting didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Unfortunately for her, Marinette’s quick handiwork extended to her makeup skills, her fingernails grazing Kagami’s cheeks as she pulled away.

“Perfect! You’re all set, Kagami.”

“T–Thank you. I apologize for being such a handful.”

“Not even. You turned a slow day into a great time! I’m only sad it couldn’t last a little longer. Come on, I’ll walk you to the station.”

Kagami’s eyes were restless as she walked to the Métro, seeking out an excuse to spend more time with Marinette as if one would magically appear in front of her. She walked with her bag pulled close, desperate to feel the buzzing of a call that would tell her of canceled plans. No such luck.

Why was Paris never chaotic when she needed it to be? She didn’t necessarily want an akuma attack to happen, that was too extreme. Although getting to see Ladybug was always a treat. No, she just needed the city’s usual brand of irregularity to pop in like it always did. But today there were no random traffic jams, no city-wide celebrations to slow things down. There was nothing to stop them from walking down the station stairs and coming face to face with the metal train doors she had been dreading. The doors opened with a hiss, adding on to the already growing discomfort inside of her.

Kagami started to speak but held her tongue. Nothing she said would change things anyway. She started towards the train, but a shout from behind stopped her mid-step.

“Kagami, wait!”

There they were. The two words Kagami had been mentally begging to hear the entire way to the station. She spun around on her heels, staring right at Marinette. She held her breath unsure of what would be said next.

“Yes?”

“Um, I just wanted you to know that I had fun today. And that you shouldn’t feel bad about having to leave because I’ll be here when you get back. So, hang in there, okay? I already can’t wait to see you again!”

It wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted to hear, but anything coming from a face that beamed so brightly was enough to make her happy. At least for a little while.

“I feel the same. See you soon, Marinette.”

Kagami put a hand up as she backed onto the train. Marinette returned the gesture with the motion of an actual wave. She soon disappeared in the swarm of people rushing their way onto the train. There was nothing Kagami wanted more than to push past everyone else and latch onto her friend again, but knowing the consequences of that decision kept her motionless. The harsh truth she had been fighting against for so long swallowed her whole as the train doors closed.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t about what she wanted.

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Marinette walked home with less of a spring in her step than usual. She’d had a good day all things considered, but her feet felt a bit heavier after saying goodbye to her friend and beginning the walk back. She looked down at her purse as she felt it open from the inside, revealing Tikki, her mouth in a pout.

“Kagami didn’t look very happy when she left, did she?” Tikki asked.

Marinette sighed and lightly tapped her kwami on the head with a finger. “No, she didn’t. I hope it wasn’t because I did a bad job fixing her dress.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t it. It looked really pretty when you were done.”

“Yeah, she did. Er, it did, I mean. The dress. A–Anyway, it might have something to do about being around her mom and all those strangers.”

“Will it really be that bad for her?”

“I can’t say for sure. I know things are tense between her and her mom, but even today she seemed a little off. I hope things aren’t actually getting worse between them.” Marinette suddenly stopped in her tracks with a gasp. “Oh no, Tikki…you don’t think she could be akumatized again, do you?”

“I don’t think so. From what I heard and saw today, she didn’t seem quite that upset. I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

“Still, I can’t help but worry. Even if she doesn’t lose her cool, what about her mom? If she notices my work on the dress, she could flip out on Kagami and then be the perfect target for an akuma! Oh, maybe I should transform and follow the train just in case.”

“Relax, Marinette. It sounded like Kagami and her mother are going somewhere pretty far away, so I doubt Hawkmoth would even notice their emotions all the way out there.”

“I…guess you’re right.”

Marinette let out a long breath and started walking once more. She was grateful to have someone like Tikki by her side to keep her in check. Still, her worry wouldn’t just disappear anytime soon. Hopefully the event went quickly so she could call and check on Kagami. Then she’d be able to sleep easy at least.

“You sure were in a hurry to be by Kagami’s side again,” Tikki said. “Maybe someone wants to take advantage of the fact that Ladybug doesn’t get all tongue tied around her.”

“Hey, I did just fine today as myself, didn’t I?”

Tikki giggled. “Sure, if you don’t count calling her cute to her face.”

“Oh, why did you have to remind me of that, Tikki?”

That had been the one part of the day where she felt strange around Kagami. Usually their time together resulted in bubbly, bouncy feelings that had her grinning from ear to ear. Today was no different, except for that one brief moment in the park. Stating that Kagami was cute wasn’t anything new to Marinette, but it was the reaction the comment caused that had thrown her off balance. Kagami’s normally pale face gained a stripe of red right through the middle, rising along her nose and ending on the curves of her cheeks. It hadn’t just been cute; it was adorable.

Marinette was used to verbally jumping ship on most things she said, especially when she was nervous. But today’s slip-up felt a little different. She had barely been able to clarify her comment over the sound of her heart thumping in her ears. It was the same kind of feeling she used to get when talking to Adrien.

Marinette smacked her cheeks lightly. What was happening to her? Things had gone from weird to manageable to good and now back to weird. Well, not as weird as when she and Kagami first met, but still odd enough to notice. In the past few weeks, she had focused on building a more platonic relationship with Adrien, and that was going surprisingly well. She had also tried the same strategy with Luka, which was proving to be just as effective considering his easygoing attitude towards most things. It was definitely a difficult switch to make mentally, considering how strongly she cared for them both, but something inside had made her stop short in her pursuit. That same instinct was clueless when it came to how she saw Kagami.

And on the topic of Kagami, if she wasn’t interested in Adrien anymore, what had changed? Was it the same thing that she felt changing in herself? It was beginning to feel like the more she pulled back from Adrien and Luka, the more she found herself drawn to Kagami. Not just in a way that craved quality girl time, but in a way that made the rest of the world fuzzy when they were together. She didn’t feel this way around Alya, her best friend, or even any of the other girls like Rose or Juleka or Alix or Mylène.

It was all that confusion which really begged the question; what exactly was it that she wanted?

“Marinette!”

Marinette whipped around at the sound of her name being shouted into the night. Standing under a streetlight several yards away was Kagami, wide-eyed and out of breath. Her white kimono caught the light from overhead, making it look like she was glowing.

Marinette closed Tikki back in her purse and ran over to where her friend stood. “Kagami? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at that gathering?”

“I couldn’t go.”

“What? Why not?”

Kagami hung her head low, inching towards Marinette with steps so small her feet might as well have been sliding across the pavement. “Because…I want to be here with you.”

“To be here with me? But why – ”

“I couldn’t leave because I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Marinette bit her lower lip, stopping herself from making some awkward noise in response to Kagami’s confession, but also to prove she wasn’t dreaming the scene in front of her. The words between the two of them were ones she had dreamt of hearing for a long time, but not from the person standing in front of her. She had expected these words to come gently and sweep her off her feet, but instead they threated to knock her over where she stood. Kagami wanted her. She didn’t want anyone else but her. Just the echo of the words in Marinette’s mind were enough to make her legs shake.

“Thinking of you…spending time with you…it makes me so crazy I can’t stand it!” Kagami’s fingers gripped her chest so tightly it looked like she might tear her own heart out with brute strength. “I’m tired of pushing all of that down, but…I don’t know where to go from here.”

Marinette’s hand seemed to move on its own, wrapping her fingers around Kagami’s trembling ones. The surge of warmth that followed helped prove this was real. Kagami finally looked up, meeting a gaze as watery as her own.

“Well…we can figure it out together.”

Marinette lowered Kagami’s hand and held her palm, sliding closer to touch shoulders with her. Her head didn’t feel so cluttered with Kagami beside her now. It was all starting to make sense. She almost had to stop herself from giggling just thinking about how earnestly Kagami had said all of those things to her. At the very least, she knew that she would get an earful about this from Tikki later on. But this new development was worth a little embarrassment.

“So, what are you going to tell your mom?” Marinette asked.

“Well, unfortunately there was an akuma attack just before I could leave the city,” Kagami said with a shrug. “I had no choice but to stay here where it was safe.”

“Oh, of course,” Marinette said, her hand covering her mouth dramatically. “And where would a safer place be than my family’s bakery? Staying with us was the only option really.”

The giggles came fast to both girls as they walked with linked arms down the street. There was a lot to figure out, and their joint decision tonight would surely lead to some consequences down the road, but for tonight they could forget about all that. The telltale fuzziness was coming back to Marinette with Kagami so close, blocking everything else out except for the stunning girl in front of her. Taking her in all dressed up was almost enough to knock her off her feet. Fortunately, Kagami was hanging onto her so tightly that she didn’t have to worry about that. Walking beside her now brought a very different rhythm than Marinette was used to, but it was one that she was wanted to embrace more than anything.

#mlss 2k20 #brylightning #onetruethree #fic #marigami #kagaminette

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imjusthereforbatfam · 4 years ago

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Never-Ending Encore, ch 8

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Chapter Summary: Yes, this is Gotham City but helping people isn’t a CRIME, Red Hood! Eden’s not afraid of some crazy nutzos! Er, well… Okay, maybe she’s a little afraid of some crazy nutzos, but… But that’s not gonna stop her from helping people when she can! 😤

Warnings: minor swearing, very minor mentions of suic*de and previous suic*dal behavior, very minor mentions of previous abuse, abuse forgiven/excused by victim (which I personally don't care for but this is how Eden currently handles/perceives her trauma so...)

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Eden sat down at the table with a content sigh. The heavenly aroma of homemade garlic bread was more prominent now that the rolls were right in front of her. The scent, mixed with the expectation of company and the eagerness of having some Mad Mountain Fudge chilling in her fridge, made her feel incredibly at-home. Though, to be fair, it was more of a hope for company than an expectation.

Red Hood said he’d try to come this night or the next, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would. Admittedly, Eden's shier half – which vividly recalled Aaron’s earlier, uh… praises toward Red Hood’s… physique – wouldn’t entirely mind waiting a few days to see him. The rest of her was so excited, though, that she had to keep reminding herself it was okay if he didn’t come tonight. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. He was a busy man, after all, saving dumbasses like herself and doing… whatever an ex-mob boss might do to make a place like Gotham better.

Not that any of that stopped her from hoping he would come, of course. Nor would it stop her from being disappointed if he didn’t. Even so, Eden knew she was just one, very small person among a million other very small people in this city. She understood that visiting a random civilian like her, even with the world's greatest fudge in her fridge, couldn't rank very high on Red Hood’s to-do list. Especially in a city like this, filled with a thousand not-so-very-small people — many of whom were quite dangerous.

Still, taking in her surroundings, Eden couldn’t help but smile. She was excited for him to come visit. The entire one-roomed apartment – not just the kitchen space – was clean now. She was back in the habit of making her bed every morning, and— okay, fine, the chair by her closet still held her not-quite-clean clothes, but at least they were folded now! Which was an improvement from the misshapen pile of before!

The once-crowded coffee table had also been improved. Now, it only housed her laptop, headphones, and one book (and notebook) at a time. The rest of her books and notebooks – aside from the pair she kept on the kitchen table – had a new home, piled neatly along the wall dividing the kitchen from the main living/sleeping space. They still needed a proper shelf, but the current setup worked for now.

Two plants with tall, twisting stems stood guard on either side of her slow-growing book collection, while a small, mismatched assortment of baby foliage in tiny, colorful pots sat along the edge of her kitchen table near the window. It wasn’t anything compared to rows and rows of crops back on the farm, nor the nearby woods she dearly missed walking through, but it still felt good to be around some greenery again.

Biting into a roll, Eden continued penning ideas into the notebook she kept on the kitchen table; new ways to make her place even homier, things that needed her attention, different possibilities to look into. Though it was the mortifying thought of Red Hood coming back to her apartment in its previous state that had spurred her into action, Eden now found herself genuinely starting to enjoy the little space.

Now that she was putting in the effort, her apartment was actually starting to feel… pleasant. Welcoming, even. And even though her neighbors were still ridiculously loud at times, Eden was finding herself happy with her little home. Enjoying the fruits of her labor whenever she paused to take it in... It was a very nice feeling.

Eden suddenly stopped writing. Her heart leapt in excitement as she looked to the far window, the one that led to the fire escape. It could be nothing, but she could’ve sworn she’d heard— The soft tapping repeated itself.

Scrambling up from the table, Eden flew to the window – nearly slipping in her socks – and beamed at the sight of Red Hood on the other side. He greeted her with a short wave of his hand.

“Hi there, Mr. Hood!” she greeted the moment she had the window open. “It’s so nice to see you again! How are you? Your fudge is almost ready, but it needs another couple of minutes or so to finish chilling. I hope that’s alright? I remembered you said you might stop by tonight, but I didn’t think it would be until later on so I— oh! Where are my manners?” She moved out of the way, her cheeks warming. “Won’t you come in?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Eden smiled as he deftly climbed inside, pleased to find she could still easily recognize Red Hood’s humored tone.

“Smells good in here,” he said turning toward the kitchen.

She quirked a brow, glancing at his helmet. “You can smell with that thing on?”

“It has an automatic filtration system." He lifted his chin, apparently quite proud of it. "Keeps Fear Gas out, lets good-smelling food in.”

"Really?” She hummed, making a show of looking over his helmet. “It doesn’t look all that fancy to me, Mr. Hood."

He scoffed. “It’s a lot more high-tech than it looks, Cookie Girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” She turned up her nose, grinning, as she led him toward the kitchen table. “What kind of high-tech stuff does it have, then, hotshot?”

“All kinds,” he said unabashedly, not afraid to meet her teasing head-on. “There’s the obvious, like night vision, thermal imaging, incendiary devices, and high-frequency—”

“Hold on, wait.” She turned the words over in her head. “Incendiary devices? Isn’t that just fancy talk for bombs?"

“It might be,” he said confidently.

"You have a bomb in your helmet?" She made a humored face. “That doesn’t sound very high-tech, Mr. Hood. Or obvious.”

He hummed, leaning forward slightly, resting his hands on his hips. “You don’t believe me?” Eden could imagine him grinning at her.

She crossed her arms playfully. “No way. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me. There’s no way you have an actual bomb that close to your head. You’re not that crazy, Mr. Hood.”

He made an amused sound, tilting his head to one side.

Eden opened her mouth, then shut it. She looked him up and down, faltering. “Are… Are you? Mr. Hood, do you really have— Are you— Please tell me you’re joking. That’s— Do you?”

“Relax, Ede.” He said it comfortably, as if he called her that all the time. Eden blinked, trying to remember if he’d ever called her that before — or anything other than Cookie Girl. “It’s just for absolutely fucked situations where I don’t have any other options.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait— You don’t mean— You don’t mean—” She jabbed at her temples frantically, trying to sputter something out.

Red Hood watched her struggle until what she was trying to say finally clicked.

He jerked forward, his hands up. “Shit, not like that! It’s an escape thing, not a kill myself thing,” he explained. “I take it off and throw it like a grenade.”

“Oh. Cool. Okay. A grenade. That’s cool.”

“Breathe, Cookie Girl," he reminded her.

“I’m breathing! Totally breathing!” She took a huge breath for good measure. Then another. “Sorry, I just—” She shook her head, plopping into her seat. She looked at him, then, in realization, jolted right back up again. “Oh, sorry! Please,” she gestured to the spare chair in front of him, “have a seat.”

“I’m alright.” Red Hood leaned onto its back, watching her sit down again. Her face was red hot. “You okay?”

“Yes, fine, thank you.” She took a few slow breaths, her brows pulled together with worry. “Do you… end up in situations like that a lot? Where you have to blow up your helmet to get away?”

Just a few nights ago, there’d been an explosion on the Westward Bridge. One of her coworkers said a friend spotted Red Hood escaping the scene afterwards. Eden, becoming more accustomed to Gotham’s shenanigans than she cared to admit, hadn’t worried about him too much when she’d heard. In fact, oddly enough, she’d felt a bit proud. But maybe she shouldn’t have.

Maybe she was wrong to have assumed he was okay. Maybe he’d been in serious trouble. Maybe he’d needed help. Maybe she should’ve done something. Maybe she should’ve—

“Not really,” Red Hood answered, breaking her dizzying thoughts with a casual shrug. “It’s the last of my last resorts, and it’s pretty rare for me to be so off my game.”

“Oh. Oh, good. That's...” She sighed in relief, then smiled up at him. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Hood.”

Of course. What in the world was she thinking? Red Hood wasn’t some small-time, stumbling wannabe. Unlike her pitiful attempts at playing hero, he actually knew what he was doing. If she ever showed up to one of his firefights, she’d probably just end up causing him trouble and end up staggering home with a plethora of healing bullet holes and another encore under her belt. (Maybe two, if she was particularly unlucky.)

Red Hood pulled out his chair and turned it so that its back was nearly up against the wall beside them. When he sat down, angled the way he was, he had a clear line of sight of the entire apartment.

The move was familiar to Eden, but it surprised her to see it done so precisely and naturally. The only other person she’d seen do that – and do it like that – was Mama.

Mama always had to have an eye on her surroundings, so she rarely took a seat without her back against a wall or being tucked in a corner. The habit was one of many from her life before "Louanne Smith". They were so far ingrained into her psyche that if she ever tried to go against them the struggle was obvious to even the blindest fool. Though she feigned ignorance at having ever lived such a life, it had obviously taught her all the skills she now used to keep their “cousins” safe: how to observe and analyze even the smallest detail, how to fight and defend unflinchingly, how to disappear without a trace, how to… make other people disappear.

It made Eden curious to see Red Hood with a habit like that. On the bright side, it probably meant she didn’t have to worry about him the way she had been. If he was even half as capable as Mama was, chances were he could handle just about anything thrown at him — even in a place like Gotham.

But… on the not-so-bright side, she had to wonder...

Red Hood tilted his head slowly. “What?”

“Hm?” Eden blinked and realized she been staring. “Oh, sorry! I was just remembering my, uh… um… well, it doesn’t really matter, I guess. I just got lost in thought. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Right, sor— I mean, uh, thank you. I guess.” Cheeks warm, she glanced around quickly for something else to talk about. “Um, would you like some garlic rolls, Mr. Hood?” She picked up the plate and offered it to him. “They’re stuffed with cheese.”

He leaned closer to the food, inhaling it. “So that’s what smells so good.”

She smiled. “Try some!”

He started to grab one when his head turned toward the kitchen. He looked into it a moment then lowered his hand, sat back, and said, “On second thought, I’m okay.”

Eden lowered the plate slightly, surprised. She glanced into her kitchen, wondering what he’d seen to change his mind. The space was perfectly clean and tidy, as she always kept it. The only thing “out of place” was the baking sheet cooling on her stovetop. Any other dishes were already drying in the sink wrack.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind… I’m happy to share.”

“I’m not interested in stealing your dinner. Besides,” he added in a lighter tone, “I need to save room for the fudge.”

Eden nodded slowly and set the plate down. Glancing toward the kitchen again, she wondered what had tipped him off that the rolls were her meal for the night. The empty baking sheet? The drying dishes?

Always have more than you think you’ll need, she remembered. That was a tried-and-true rule on the farm. They never knew when they were going to have company, so there was always more of things than Eden’s family could ever go through on their own — more blankets, more clothes, more toiletries, more food. Especially food. If there were seven people in the house, they made enough food for ten, and those extra servings came in handy more often than not.

“Can I get you something to drink, then, Mr. Hood?” she asked, picked up her pen and writing the old rule into her notebook. “I have sweet tea, orange juice… uh, water…” She paused, thinking. “Milk?”

He snorted. “I’m good.”

She quirked an impish brow. “Does your fancy, high-tech helmet even have a way for you to drink things? Some built-in twisty-straw component or something?”

He shook his head, edging forward. “Nope. Sorry. No twisty-straws.”

“Your helmet can be an emergency grenade, but it has no cool twisty-straw thingy?” She tsk-tsked, trading her pen for a roll. “I’m disappointed, Mr. Hood. It’s like you’re not even trying to impress me.”

He chuckled. “I’ll get right on that, Cookie Girl,” he assured, a smirk-like quality to his voice.

Eden shook her head at him, trying to hide her grin behind the roll.

He nodded to the notebook in front of her. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, just some ideas.” She pushed it toward him, inviting him to look. “I haven’t been treating this place right,” she explained, pulling apart the roll. “Acting like it’s a prison when it’s a home in need of as much tender loving care as any other.”

Red Hood hummed, going over her lists. “Hard to make a home in a neighborhood like this,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t mean I need to let it sit and rot like I was. It’s nice to have a place you’re at least a little proud of.”

He gave a half-shrug and nodded.

He flipped to a previous page in the notebook, glancing up to see if she minded. Eden shrugged, knowing most of the pages were haphazardly filled with everyday nonsense that likely wouldn’t mean much to him. He looked them over while she ate and she looked over him, a little embarrassed when he started reading out random thoughts.

“‘Mary: Superfluous, plain but extra, well-meaning but unaware’?”

“Uh, that’s a… That’s a thing for work.”

“What do you do for work? Evaluate assholes?”

She laughed. “No, no, I’m a…" She fixed her posture, feeling a bit proud. "I’m an actress, actually."

“A professional liar? Great.”

“Wha—? No! Lying and acting are two very different skill sets, Mr. Hood!”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Cookie Girl. Whatever you say.”

“No really! I’ll have you know I’m an awful liar but a really great— er, uh, well, okay, maybe not a really great actor— I mean, maybe not a great actor either, but, you know, I— Well, actually—”

He snickered, then moved on to the next blurb he could tease her with.

“Are all your notebooks filled like this?” he eventually asked, glancing at her collection against the wall.

She gave a half-shrug as she finished the last roll. “Some are more coherent. This one’s mostly for stuff that pops in my head while I’m eating or in the kitchen. It’s easier to have my thoughts written down where I can see them instead of fighting through them all in my head.”

“Makes sense.” He leaned forward brazenly. “Am I in any of those thoughts?”

“Not any of the written down ones,” she said with a laugh, assuming that was the real question. “I’m not that dumb, Mr. Hood.”

“Good to know,” he said with a nod. “Speaking of dumb, though…” He leaned back in his chair and fished out a cell phone from inside his leather jacket. “I was wondering if you could help me connect some dots here.”

“Me? I don’t know what you could possibly need my help sorting out, Mr. Hood," aside from an urgent, impromptu lesson on goat milking perhaps, "but I’ll certainly try.”

“Oh, you can help a lot more than you think, Edie.” Red Hood set the phone down on the table and pushed it toward her.

Eden blinked again at his sudden use of one of her everyday nicknames, suddenly nervous. She looked down at the phone, at the picture on its screen, and her brows lifted in surprise. She immediately recognized the sleek, minimalist decor of Café Très Boissons and the slightly hunched, unassuming man who’d been taking her picture earlier that day. But more than that, she recognized the angle the picture had been taken from.

Turning to Red Hood, wide-eyed, she faintly recalled the faces of the boys in the corner booth. The younger two were obviously out of the running, but between the smiling one and the one in the red hoodie… It wasn’t exactly a hard leap to make.

“Wait, were you the guy—?”

“I have contacts all over this city,” he told her. “They keep me informed.”

Eden’s brow furrowed. She worked her mouth to say something, not really sure she believed him, but he leaned over the table and swiped the screen to the right, moving the conversation forward before she could. The new picture was taken closer to the scout and clearer than the first, better showing his face and overall frame.

“So imagine my surprise,” Red Hood went on, “when I learn a small-time heiress has a look-alike who can clock up a potential threat in a heartbeat, and it turns out that look-alike—” he swiped right again, this time to a grainy, blown-up picture of Eden, Veronica, and Aaron crossing the street “—is you.”

Eden stared at the picture: she and Veronica arm-in-arm, Veronica’s purse over her shoulder, a flippant expression on her face that didn’t seem to fit quite right. The picture was from an entirely different viewpoint, somewhere up in the air looking down on them, and of a far poorer quality than the first two.

“Security camera?” she guessed glancing up at him. His permeating stare was hard to meet through the angry “eyes” of his helmet.

“Traffic cam.”

Eden sank a little lower. “You’re making me feel like I’m in trouble here, Mr. Hood,” she mumbled.

“Aren’t you?” he accused. “You’ve practically got a flashing neon sign on your forehead that says In Deep Shit.”

“No, I—!” She huffed and moved some hair out of her face. “I do not. I meant trouble like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar.”

“Funny.” He moved to rest his jaw on his fist. “I didn’t.”

Eden lowered her gaze, unable to meet the unbreakable scrutiny of his “eyes”. “I’m not in any trouble,” she muttered, rubbing her socked feet together under the table. “Not like that, anyway. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Y’know,” he half-teased, “I think I’m starting to understand what you meant about being able to lie and being able to act.”

She struggled with a response to that. “What… What even makes you think I’m in that kind of trouble anyhow?”

“You want the short list or the long?”

She stared at him. His certainty was unshakable.

There’s no way it was that obvious she was in trouble… But it wasn’t deep trouble like he seemed to think. Just… ankle-deep trouble. That she was slowly sinking in. No big deal.

Besides, it wasn’t any of his business. Her “trouble” was just between her and her parents. And her siblings, sort of. And… probably the people Frank worked with... and for… But, like, at its core, it was mostly just her and her parents.

“It’s nothing big,” she promised. “Nothing vigilante worthy, anyway.”

Red Hood tilted his head, silently encouraging her to continue regardless.

“It’s just… family stuff.”

Just a looming fight between divorced parents; their adult child stuck in the middle and trying to put out the fire before it sparked. A totally normal thing for a totally normal "family".

Only, like… kicked up to a ten because Eden was a metahuman, her father was a superhero-obsessed farmer-turned-geneticist who basically stole samples of her DNA, and her mother was not afraid to get her hands dirty. Especially if she perceived something as a threat to her daughter’s well-being — which Frank’s recent work and actions could definitely be perceived as.

Plus, everyone in that facility seemed to know about her powers. Mama would not like that. That Eden regretted helping them – that she’d tried to rescind her consent, been denied, and her DNA taken anyway – just made the whole thing even messier.

The only way to hide any of it from her mother was to literally take the money Frank gave her for her "donation", run off, and hide away while she tried to string everything together. Because once Mama knew, Frank was a dead man. Unless Eden could figure out some way to cushion the information and keep her from digging deeper, there was no doubt in her mind that Mama would wipe every last trace of him – and his colleagues – off the face of the earth.

And Eden… Eden didn’t want that.

Despite everything he’d done and put her through, despite all the hurt and tears, part of her still thought of Frank as her father. As the man who read her stories every night and taught her to ride a bike and a horse. The one who called her “Champ” and always carried her up on his shoulders when they went into town. Who told her she was meant for great things, encouraged her compassion, always put her back on her feet… told her he loved her every morning and every night when she was young…

They were both older now, and him colder. He’d abused her trust and love in pursuit of his own goals. Again. This time with intent. But he was still the man who, above all else, wanted to help others. Eden knew that. He just… didn’t seem to mind hurting her in the process. And a part of her hated him for it, but she still loved him, too. She couldn't stand the thought of him getting hurt, or worse.

Which, you know, with her mama a hairpin trigger away from… removing him… sorta left Eden caught between a rock and a hard place. But, again, that wasn’t any of Red Hood’s business.

“It’s not that big a deal,” she stressed. “And anyway, Veronica’s the one with the scout right now, not me.” She swiped back to the picture of the man in the suit and pointed to him firmly. “He cared about getting her picture, not mine. Even if he mixed us up, it still means she’s the one in real trouble here.”

Red Hood hummed. The disharmony was hard to interpret, but she was willing to bet he was neither fooled by nor satisfied with her answer.

“What?” she shot back, crossing her arms, acting defensive to force the conversation forward. “It’s not my fault he confused me for Veronica.”

“No, but you wanted to keep him confused. In fact,” he reached over and swiped back to the traffic cam picture, “you did everything you could to make sure he thought he had the right girl.”

Eden lifted her chin, waiting for the real question. Red Hood studied her, possibly waiting to see if she’d answer it herself. Maybe blubber out something as she was wont to do. But she was determined to keep her mouth shut this time.

She tipped her head, politely prompting him to continue. When he didn’t, she huffed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hood,” she said rubbing her forehead, “but I really don’t know what you’re trying to ask me here. I’m not a mind reader.”

He stayed quiet for a few more beats. His consideration shifted from her to the picture on his phone. “For now, I guess my biggest questions are why and how.”

Eden sat up a little. “Why?” she repeated, not sure she understood.

“Yeah. According to my source,” he said slowly, “you two,” he nodded toward her and Aaron in the picture, “figured out the scout was there for Veronica before she’d even entered the building and that he’d mixed the two of you up.”

“Right,” she agreed cautiously. “And?”

“And?” He gestured in front of him as though he’d clearly laid everything out on the table itself. “Didn’t it occur to you that if he saw the real Veronica, the scout would’ve pieced it all together and left you alone?”

Had that occurred to her? She couldn’t remember. Probably not.

But even if it had, Eden wouldn’t have wanted him to leave her alone if it meant throwing Veronica under the bus like that. Eden at least knew how she was supposed to act in that kind of situation, which was more than Veronica could probably say. And besides, no matter what might’ve happened, she would’ve been fine in the end. Veronica didn’t have that guarantee. Nobody did. Except Eden.

“It was better for him to bother me than her,” she said firmly. “At the very least it threw them off her scent for a bit. Hopefully, she can get some sort of security team or something before they get too wise.”

“They?”

“Whoever wanted those pictures in the first place,” she explained. “I seriously doubt that scout was taking them for his own sake, or he would’ve left the moment “Veronica” started noticing him.” She tilted her head at Red Hood and gave him a wicked smile. “Or did your source not mention that part of my theory?”

“He did,” he said simply. “All the more reason to want to stick your head in the sand, though, don’t you think? It’s what anyone else would’ve done.”

She frowned, finally realizing what he was saying. “You Gothamites are so weird. I’d have thought a vigilante would at least understand..."

“Uh, rude?”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be, but… It’s just I think I figured out what you’re really asking me, and Aaron and Veronica asked me the same thing earlier, too, and it’s just…" She shook her head, finding it hard to wrap her brain around. "Y’all…” She huffed. “Y’all’re just so weird to me.”

Red Hood didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” she said again, more genuinely. “But you’re asking me why I helped her, right? Even if it wasn’t… oh, how did Veronica say it?” She turned her head, trying to remember. “Wasn’t my problem, I think? Something like that…” She refocused on him. “Anyway, my answer to you is the same as it was for them: because it was the right thing to do.”

Red Hood made a short, unamused noise. “The right thing was pretending to be that girl? Putting yourself in danger?"

“The right thing was helping her,” she corrected. “And that scout had already taken my picture anyway, so…” She swiped between the pictures. “At least I stopped him from taking the real Veronica’s picture, too.”

“But now he’s got your picture.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “Which means his employer’s going to have your picture. If they don’t already.”

“Which they probably do, since he was using a cell phone," she pointed out.

He threw his hands in the air. “Exactly! And he could be some sick, psycho fuck!"

"Well—"

"This is Gotham, Ede," he went on, imploring her to listen. "Even if they know you're not Veronica, they'll know you tried to fuck with their plans for her, whatever they are. People get themselves killed for way less here. You know that, right?”

“No, I... I guess I hadn’t really…”

So that was why a lot of Gothamites didn’t go out of their way to help others! Of course! There was no guarantee offering their hand to one person wouldn't put a huge target on their back with another. And nobody in their right mind would want to risk gaining the attention of one of Gotham’s scarier characters. It all made perfect sense now. Gothamites kept their heads down and only focused on their own problems because they had to. If they didn't, they could very well be signing their life away. And when people asked her why she was helping others, they weren't really asking her that; they were asking her why she was so willing to put her own life in danger for someone else.

But Eden wasn't like them. No matter what happened or what anyone did to her, she would be fine. She was always fine. It didn’t mean she had to throw on a cape and go looking for trouble every day like Frank had wanted her to, but it also meant she didn’t have the same excuse as everyone else. If she could step in and help somebody, she should. She was one of the few in this town who probably could. And, most importantly, she wanted to.

“I still would’ve helped her,” she decided. “Even if someone scary thinks I’m her for a little while, or gets mad at me, at least Veronica is safe for now.”

Red Hood stared at her, unmoving. It wasn’t clear what he was thinking or feeling, but Eden could imagine he might not like what he was hearing. After all, as far as he knew, Eden was just a totally normal, would-die-and-stay-dead civilian.

“I mean, if they have any brain cells at all, they should realize pretty quickly “Veronica” doesn’t look like she should, right?” she said trying to reassure him. “And even if they don’t, all they have to do is follow me home once and they’ll realize they’ve got the wrong girl.” She pointed out the window. “Even a total rock-for-brains moron would start scratching their head if Veronica Bradford came to a neighborhood like this.”

He followed her finger, seeming to consider her words. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But they’d probably just say fuck it and stick around anyway. Especially if it was some goon following orders.”

Eden bobbed her head from side to side, agreeing with the possibility. “They’d still figure it out eventually, though. Veronica’s a socialite. And I’m definitely not. Eventually, she’d post a Snapstagram story or go somewhere fancy while I’m hanging about here and things wouldn’t add up. And if they were still convinced I’m Veronica after something like that, then I don’t think they’re smart enough to be considered much of a threat to anybody but themselves.”

“Everybody is a threat in this city,” he warned her. “And the last thing you want is some twisted mother fucker knowing where you live. Especially if they think you messed with them.”

“I’d rather someone like that know where I live and make my life difficult than let someone else get hurt or killed because I didn’t help them,” she said stubbornly.

Red Hood let out a gruff, half-groaning sound as he sat back to stare up at the ceiling. "Of course you would," he grumbled. He stayed like that for a minute, perhaps trying to gauge how serious she was. He sighed, apparently finding his answer. "I don't get you. You freak out when a stranger shows up to warn you inside, but the idea of some asshole coming here and actually trying to fuck with you? That doesn't scare you?"

"In my defense, this is the ninth floor and it was my private fire escape. I had every right to freak out when some big stranger with guns and a mean-faced helmet suddenly showed up out of nowhere."

He huffed.

"And I'm not completely helpless, Mr. Hood," she told him. "I have a little fighting know-how under my belt."

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure. And how's your neck, again?"

"My...?" She blinked at him, then remembered the healed cut and frowned. "Hey, I'll have you know I was doing very well for myself until I got stabbed!" she said pointing at him.

He looked up again, this time as if asking a higher power for help. “So if someone broke in here with a gun or another knife, you think you'd be able to fight them off?"

“I'd be fine."

"So you do think you could."

"Not really, no."

He stared at her. “Y'know... a little lie might be nice right about now.”

"I could 100% fight them off no problem, Mr. Hood."

He groaned, covering his eyes. "God, you are an awful liar."

Eden tried very hard to suppress her giggles. “If it makes you feel any better," she offered, "I wasn’t planning on it. Pretending to be Veronica, I mean."

Red Hood sighed, but he lowered his hand and gave her his attention anyway.

"Veronica’s not very… Well, let’s say she’s not the most observant person around. And I know my foresight’s not exactly great in the heat of the moment, and I might end up paying for it eventually, but… I couldn’t just... not do something when that scout noticed her, you know? She needed someone to help her and she didn't even know it. So I just… did.”

Red Hood let out a sharp laugh, which sounded sharper with the distortion. He looked away, subtly shaking his head. “So you just did,” he muttered to himself. He turned to her again. “Didn’t you agree not to do anything stupid before I came by again, Cookie Girl?” he teased.

Eden smiled apologetically, then turned coy. “I did try, Mr. Hood,” she said sweetly. “And I promise that that was the stupidest of the stupid things I did. Which I’m willing to bet is still a million times better than the craziest thing you’ve done since the last time I saw you.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Who me? Do something crazy? Never.”

“Uh-huh. You sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure I heard someone say something about a red vigilante being involved with that big explosion Friday night.”

“Nope. Wasn’t me. Must’ve been Red Robin. I’m completely innocent.”

Eden nodded along, not admitting she only knew of the other vigilante because she’d thought Red Robin was just another of Red Hood’s names until somebody corrected her.

“Oh, completely innocent, I’m sure,” she goaded. “And what was it that you were doing oh-so-innocently while the bridge was blowing sky high, Mr. Hood?”

“Hey, the bridge is still standing, isn’t it? He made sure there wouldn’t be any structural damage. Just a little mess of things. He knows what he’s doing with shit like that.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I sure hope he does. Especially if he also has a helmet full of explosives.”

“Not to worry, Ede," he assured her. "I’m the crazy Red.”

“Oh. Good. I feel so much better now. Thanks."

He laughed.

“Wait.” She pointed at him. “Do you both go by Red?”

“We do," he nodded, "but Double R’s usually Red if we’re using shorthand,” he said crossing his arms. “They call me Hood to keep it simple.”

“Oh, well, that’s not confusing at all. Though I suppose y’all can’t exactly call him Robin. That’d be even more confusing.”

Red Hood scoffed. “Demon Spawn would have an absolute fit if we did that.” He looked to the side. “Then again…” He rubbed his chin, seeming to consider it.

“Um,” Eden lifted a tentative finger to catch his attention. “I’m sorry, but this is Gotham City, so I’m gonna need you to clarify: do you mean, like… a real demon spawn or…?”

“I mean I think he is,” Red Hood joked, “but, no, not really. That’s just what I call Robin ‘cause he’s a little shit.”

She perked up. “You mean Robin like… Batman's Robin?” He nodded and Eden scoffed with certainty. “Well, he can’t be that bad, then.”

Red Hood let out a short, sharp laugh. Something about it a bit painful. “Are you an expert on Robins now, Ede?”

“Well… no,” she mumbled, a little embarrassed. “But if he’s a Robin then… I dunno. He can’t be all that bad.”

“Have you ever met the brat?”

Eden shook her head slowly, fighting the urge to scowl.

No, she hadn’t met the boy Red Hood was talking about… But she’d met one of his predecessors. And that Robin? He’d saved her life. Not just from a fight or another encore. She could handle those things on her own. Poorly, sure. But she could.

No, what he’d saved her from was a life full of fights and encores. And pain. Endless, endless cycles of pain.

Without him, who knows where she’d be today. Who she’d be. Certainly not the person she was. Not the civilian trying to make the best of an awful situation by following her theatrical dreams. If he hadn’t knocked some sense into her, she would probably be what Frank wanted her to be. A… A hero. A constantly struggling, hurting, dying, pitiful attempt of a superhero.

Robin saved her from that. From a life of wishing every day, every death, would be her last.

As far as she was concerned, she owed that boy every good goddamn thing in her life. So to hear Red Hood call her hero a brat or a demon spawn, even if it was a completely different boy, even if Red Hood obviously knew him a thousand times better than Eden knew the one she’d met… Well, it upset her. In her heart, “Robin” was still the boy from her childhood.

Though, even she could admit it was hard to remember him clearly after so many years. She could remember the way he’d spoken to her and how it had impacted her, but not most of what he’d actually said. She could remember him joking and laughing with her, but not the way it sounded. She could remember the way he’d smiled and offered his hand before lifting her up into the air, but the scene was fuzzy.

“Sorry,” Red Hood grumbled, rubbing the jawline of his helmet. “I guess you’re more of a Gothamite than we thought.”

“Huh?” She squinted at him, confused. “No, I’m not. What do you mean?”

“Well...” He leaned back, spreading out slightly. “People these days tend to be pretty protective of their Robins. Even when this one first started out and was swinging his sword everywhere—”

“This one’s got a sword?” she blurted out, shocked.

“Yeah, a katana. He hacked up a couple of goons pretty good with it, too. Which I thought was great,” he said gesturing to himself, “but B didn’t.”

“B? As in… Batman?” she whispered.

He snorted at her. “He’s not the boogeyman, Ede. He’s not gonna jump out of your closet if you say his name too loud." Despite saying this, he was clearly doing a quick survey of her apartment.

“Wow. I feel so reassured,” she droned. “Anyway, no, I should be the one apologizing. You clearly know this Robin well, so if you think he’s a—” her mouth twitched slightly “—a brat then... you… probably have your reasons for it. I suppose. And I should... respect that,” she half-snarled.

Red Hood clapped slowly. “Wow. What a beautiful performance, Edie. How’s it feel to be such a great actor?”

“Oh—” she reached over the table and shoved him “—shut it, you!”

He just laughed her off.

“You better start being nice to me, Hood," she said standing and moving toward the fridge.

“Or what?” he asked confidently.

She grinned at him. “Or you’re not getting any Mad Mountain Fudge,” she teased right back.

---

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valiantly-onward · 4 years ago

Text

The Serpentine War Ch. 5

Chapter 5: Fire And Water

Ray drew a hand across the back of his scruff. He needed a shave, badly. He used to shave every other day. But used to was so long ago. Ray hadn’t realized how many months had flown by until Maya mentioned something about his improvement since the New Year.

“What?” he said, parrying her strike.

Maya lowered her katana. “Your form. It actually looks like a form now.”

In Maya-speak, that meant brilliant, so Ray took it.

Maya frowned in concentration. She was about his age, seventeen or eighteen, and wore a simple red outfit that made Ray feel self-conscious about his own ripped jacket. Black hair hung lightly over her shoulders. She had a proud face - high cheekbones and dark, pretty eyes.

She raised the blade again. “I’ll defend this time.”

So she did. Back and forth they went, so painfully slow that Ray wanted to burst. But it was working - last week, they’d reviewed the moves at full speed and Ray kept up.

They worked themselves to a sweat until the monastery door slid open. They stopped to face Wu as he stepped down into the courtyard.

“Good morning, Master Wu.” Maya bowed.

Ray tried not to wrinkle his nose. Maya always called the guy Master but the word felt alien on Ray’s tongue, especially applied to a man who looked barely older than Ray himself (though Ray suspected he wasn’t). And Wu didn’t seem to mind, title or no.

Nevertheless, Ray nodded his head respectfully. Steam wafted from the teacup in Wu’s hand. In his other hand was the ever-present Nin-Jo, the bamboo weapon that Maya favored. Ray had laughed the first time he saw her training with it. Three seconds later, when the butt of the staff swung against his gut, he promised himself he’d never laugh again.

Wu sipped his tea. “Good morning. Today, we shall train powers.”

A frown flitted across Ray’s face, which Wu ignored. Ray thought of all those months ago, and the promise the Master made.

I am a ninja, Wu had said. But I will not teach you to be a ninja. I will teach you what you need to know to face the Serpentine. You will learn your powers. You will learn strength. More will follow in time.

But Ray had not faced the Serpentine. He had not learned his powers either. They refused to emerge. A dark thought lingered in Ray’s mind. Was it possible for Elemental powers to skip two generations?

Ray’s only consolation was that Maya was struggling too, and she’d been at this much longer than he had. At least she could move water. Fire would not listen to Ray.

Wu left his cup on the patio for a moment and stepped toward them. He set a water bucket down right before Maya - where had that come from? - and said, “Maya, remember what we’ve talked about. Flow. Move with the water, like the water.”

Maya nodded and faced Ray with an unreadable expression. From what Ray could gather, Maya was a private person, which meant that was about as much as Ray could gather. What little else he knew? A) she was pretty, b) she was smart, c) her presence at the monastery was about getting out from under her parents’ thumbs, and d) the two of them were alike like that. But unlike him, she’d been training with Wu for years.

“Ray,” Wu said, and Ray tried not to treat it like a rude interruption of his thoughts. “Your powers are being stubborn. But fire is not stubborn. It leaps out, eager to consume all it touches. Harness that feeling.”

“Let’s just do it.” Ray closed his eyes as he’d watched Maya do.

He tried. For many long moments, he tried. The mountain wind mussed his hair. He could hear the water in Maya’s bucket swishing. The good thing about Maya, he had to admit, was that she never rubbed anything in his face. Not even this.

No. Don’t think about the water. Just fire. Fire.

For a moment, Ray thought he’d found it. It was there, a word on the tip of his tongue, Serpentine sand slipping through fingers. Just - a moment - longer -

Ray growled with frustration and forced his eyes open. Maya was scowling at her bucket. The swishing was just the wind playing with it.

Ray kicked over the bucket.

“Hey!” Maya’s gaze shot up. Water spilled over the stones, darkening them.

“This is taking too much time!” Ray protested. He turned toward Wu for a moment, who looked concerned. “The Serpentine are out there and we’re here - doing this!”

When Wu said nothing, Ray fisted his hand and strode toward the monastery doors. “I’m just no good at this. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Ray,” Maya called.

Ray did not reply.

“Ray!” Maya bellowed.

Ray spun around, meaning to bellow back, but he pulled up short. Just between him and Maya, a small ribbon of red light flickered in the air. No, not light. Flame, disembodied from either candle or torch.

Ray stepped forward, circling the hovering flame but not touching it. “How -”

“You weren’t trying so hard,” Maya said. “Maybe that has something to do with it.”

He fumed. “So don’t try. How am I supposed to focus by not focusing?”

Then Wu stepped forward from his long silence on the patio. His expression hadn’t changed, still drawn and serious, but it seemed lighter somehow. He stopped between them, just shy of the fire.

“I believe we need to switch teachings,” he said finally. “Maya.” He tapped her shoulder with his staff. “You must be fierce. After all, a tsunami is the fiercest force in all nature. Ray.” Wu let his fingers curl around the floating flame. “You must flow. Let go. Fire can flow, and even become something beautiful.”

He gathered the spark above his palm and tossed it like he was tossing a ball. Ray caught it by reflex. It twirled over his fingers once before vanishing.

Ray opened his mouth to ask a question, but suddenly Wu stiffened, like he’d been struck. His gaze fixed on something over Ray’s head. Ray turned, squinting into the cloudy sky. Then he saw it. Up high, something was darkening a piece of the sun.

“Is that -” Maya started.

But Wu was already moving toward the red monastery doors. Ray exchanged a look with Maya, and rushed after him.

The dragon landed in the rocks outside the walls. Ray could tell immediately it was an Elemental dragon akin to the golden one Wu could create. Smoke rolled off its dark wings. It was grey, with cracks like white lava splitting its scales. Green frills sprouted around its neck.

As soon as the rider slipped to the ground, the dragon vanished in a whirl of grey smoke. The woman scrambled over the rocks, urgency in every movement.

“Wu,” the woman said when she reached the stairs. “They’ve done it. They’ve broken the line along the Sea of Sand.”

Wu took her arm as she nearly slipped on the stone stairs. “Their movements?”

“North. No Anacondrai yet, but they will soon follow.”

“They will try to break through the Echo Canyons. If we could hold them there…” Wu trailed off as he noticed Ray and Maya standing in the great doorway. The woman noticed them too. She wore purple robes, all cheekbones and dark hair. She pressed her pink lips together as she considered them alongside Wu. Ray was surprised that she looked about his age. But seeing as twenty-something Wu was actually a hundred years old or older, Ray didn’t trust his eyes much.

“Lei,” Wu said. “These are the young Masters of Water and Fire. Ray, Maya, this is Lei, the Master of Shadow.”

“That’s not an element,” Ray said.

Lei sniffed. “Don’t get haughty because yours is an Element of creation, Master of Fire. Wu, we need to move.”

Ray’s heart began racing. For these many months, Wu had apprised them of the situation. Small battles raged across the Sea of Sand. The Elemental Masters had erected a defensive line from Primeval’s Eye to the southern tip of the Echo Canyons. But there was only so much nine Elemental Masters could do against the armies of the Serpentine. That they had held out this long was incredible. But if the line was broken…

He realized Wu was frowning at him. Ray got the feeling that the guy knew exactly what was going through Ray’s head and he didn’t like it.

“You’re not ready, Ray,” Wu said.

“All due respect, Wu,” Lei interjected. “But it doesn’t matter if they’re ready or not. We need everyone.”

All was silent for a moment. Wu tapped his foot angrily.

“Tell the Elemental Masters to fall back to the Echo Canyons,” he said finally. “I will send these two with you to guard Jamanakai Village. Can your dragon carry them?”

Lei’s face seemed to fall a little but she nodded.

“Good.” Wu surveyed the three of them. “Come. Let’s get our friend some food, and then we’ll talk.”

~~~

The good thing about having nothing was that there was very little to pack. Ray stuffed a sleeping roll in his bag, along with an extra pair of underclothes and robes. The robes were the red ones Wu had given him upon arrival, the robes of a Master of Fire. Using the monastery forge, Ray had crafted an armored chest plate and pauldrons to go with them. But after he’d finished, staring at the dragon head engraved in metal and the red robes laid across his bed, Ray couldn’t bring himself to put them on. He didn’t feel worthy of them, not yet.

Maybe, at Jamanakai, he would.

Ray stepped out of his room. Maya was moving about in her quarters, just down the hall. For the first time, the door was thrown wide open. Ray slipped his bag over his shoulder and strode to the open doorway. Leaning against the frame, he watched Maya sit on her floor, her legs folded beneath her as she closed her bag.

Her room was cleaner than his, even though she had collected more things from her years at the monastery. A few seashells and stones sat neatly on a bedside shelf. Her screen window was open to the red-leafed trees that clung to the mountainside.

“He’s right,” Maya said, without looking up. “We’re not ready.”

“You’re telling me.” Ray knocked his head against the frame and let his eyes wander to the window. He started to say something but nothing came out.

Maya climbed to her feet. “You’re a good warrior, Ray. You’ve learned a lot in such limited time. Even without your powers, you’ll be okay.”

This was the most that Maya had ever said to him in one setting, and the nicest thing he’d heard come out of her mouth. Ray stared at her. “But my powers.”

“There’s something called true potential.” Maya hugged her bag. “Master Wu told me about it. When you reach your true potential, its supposed to help you unlock the full extent of your powers.”

True potential. “When?”

Maya shrugged. “If I knew, I’d tell you. I haven’t found mine yet. That’s why I can’t control water like I should.” She paused, hesitating. “I...procrastinated training all these years. Focused on weapons. Wu let me, but I don’t think he will any longer.”

Ray’s heart fell. If in years of training Maya hadn’t found her true potential, what hope did Ray have? “So I might never reach it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Maya replied.

“Didn’t you?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Ray’s heart thumped unexpectedly, even as his frustration cooled. They always seemed so ready to argue - or rather, he did, but he wasn’t sure how to stop himself.

Maya looked away, taking her bag by the straps. “See you out there.”

She shoved past him into the hallway. Ray remained for a moment. He released a sound of frustration before pushing himself off the doorframe.

He paused as he passed the forge on the way back out. It was cold most days. Unless you counted Ray, it had been a long time since the monastery had a proper blacksmith. But it was in the forge that Ray felt the most like the proclaimed Master of Fire - surrounded by flames he could manipulate, by heat he was able to withstand when no one else could.

Ray stared at the hearth for a moment. Then he continued on to the courtyard, and Lei, and the war.

@greenygreenland

#ninjago #ninjago fic #serpentine war #ninjago ray #ninjago maya #wu ninjago

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life-observed · 4 years ago

Text

The Moral Peril of Meritocracy

Our individualistic culture inflames the ego and numbs the spirit. Failure teaches us who we are.

April 6, 2019

David Brooks

By David Brooks

Mr. Brooks is an Opinion columnist. This essay is adapted from his forthcoming book, “The Second Mountain: The Quest for a Moral Life.”

Many of the people I admire lead lives that have a two-mountain shape. They got out of school, began their career, started a family and identified the mountain they thought they were meant to climb — I’m going to be an entrepreneur, a doctor, a cop. They did the things society encourages us to do, like make a mark, become successful, buy a home, raise a family, pursue happiness.

People on the first mountain spend a lot of time on reputation management. They ask: What do people think of me? Where do I rank? They’re trying to win the victories the ego enjoys.

These hustling years are also powerfully shaped by our individualistic and meritocratic culture. People operate under this assumption: I can make myself happy. If I achieve excellence, lose more weight, follow this self-improvement technique, fulfillment will follow.

But in the lives of the people I’m talking about — the ones I really admire — something happened that interrupted the linear existence they had imagined for themselves. Something happened that exposed the problem with living according to individualistic, meritocratic values.

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Some of them achieved success and found it unsatisfying. They figured there must be more to life, some higher purpose. Others failed. They lost their job or endured some scandal. Suddenly they were falling, not climbing, and their whole identity was in peril. Yet another group of people got hit sideways by something that wasn’t part of the original plan. They had a cancer scare or suffered the loss of a child. These tragedies made the first-mountain victories seem, well, not so important.

Life had thrown them into the valley, as it throws most of us into the valley at one point or another. They were suffering and adrift.

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Some people are broken by this kind of pain and grief. They seem to get smaller and more afraid, and never recover. They get angry, resentful and tribal.

But other people are broken open. The theologian Paul Tillich wrote that suffering upends the normal patterns of life and reminds you that you are not who you thought you were. The basement of your soul is much deeper than you knew. Some people look into the hidden depths of themselves and they realize that success won’t fill those spaces. Only a spiritual life and unconditional love from family and friends will do. They realize how lucky they are. They are down in the valley, but their health is O.K.; they’re not financially destroyed; they’re about to be dragged on an adventure that will leave them transformed.

They realize that while our educational system generally prepares us for climbing this or that mountain, your life is actually defined by how you make use of your moment of greatest adversity.

So how does moral renewal happen? How do you move from a life based on bad values to a life based on better ones?

First, there has to be a period of solitude, in the wilderness, where self-reflection can occur.

“What happens when a ‘gifted child’ findshimself in a wilderness where he’s stripped away of any way of proving his worth?” Belden Lane asks in “Backpacking With the Saints.” What happens where there is no audience, nothing he can achieve? He crumbles. The ego dissolves. “Only then is he able to be loved.”

That’s the key point here. The self-centered voice of the ego has to be quieted before a person is capable of freely giving and receiving love.

Then there is contact with the heart and soul — through prayer, meditation, writing, whatever it is that puts you in contact with your deepest desires.

“In the deeps are the violence and terror of which psychology has warned us,” Annie Dillard writes in “Teaching a Stone to Talk.” “But if you ride these monsters deeper down, if you drop with them farther over the world’s rim, you find what our sciences cannot locate or name, the substrate, the ocean or matrix or ether which buoys the rest, which gives goodness its power for good, and evil its power for evil, the unified field: our complex and inexplicable caring for each other.”

In the wilderness the desire for esteem is stripped away and bigger desires are made visible: the desires of the heart (to live in loving connection with others) and the desires of the soul (the yearning to serve some transcendent ideal and to be sanctified by that service).

When people are broken open in this way, they are more sensitive to the pains and joys of the world. They realize: Oh, that first mountain wasn’t my mountain. I am ready for a larger journey.

Some people radically change their lives at this point. They quit corporate jobs and teach elementary school. They dedicate themselves to some social or political cause. I know a woman whose son committed suicide. She says that the scared, self-conscious woman she used to be died with him. She found her voice and helps families in crisis. I recently met a guy who used to be a banker. That failed to satisfy, and now he helps men coming out of prison. I once corresponded with a man from Australia who lost his wife, a tragedy that occasioned a period of reflection. He wrote, “I feel almost guilty about how significant my own growth has been as a result of my wife’s death.”

Perhaps most of the people who have emerged from a setback stay in their same jobs, with their same lives, but they are different. It’s not about self anymore; it’s about relation, it’s about the giving yourself away. Their joy is in seeing others shine.

In their book “Practical Wisdom,” Barry Schwartz and Kenneth Sharpe tell the story of a hospital janitor named Luke. In Luke’s hospital there was a young man who’d gotten into a fight and was now in a permanent coma. The young man’s father sat with him every day in silent vigil, and every day Luke cleaned the room. But one day the father was out for a smoke when Luke cleaned it.

Later that afternoon, the father found Luke and snapped at him for not cleaning the room. The first-mountain response is to see your job as cleaning rooms. Luke could have snapped back: I did clean the room. You were out smoking. The second-mountain response is to see your job as serving patients and their families. In that case you’d go back in the room and clean it again, so that the father could have the comfort of seeing you do it. And that’s what Luke did.

If the first mountain is about building up the ego and defining the self, the second is about shedding the ego and dissolving the self. If the first mountain is about acquisition, the second mountain is about contribution.

On the first mountain, personal freedom is celebrated — keeping your options open, absence of restraint. But the perfectly free life is the unattached and unremembered life. Freedom is not an ocean you want to swim in; it is a river you want to cross so that you can plant yourself on the other side.

So the person on the second mountain is making commitments. People who have made a commitment to a town, a person, an institution or a cause have cast their lot and burned the bridges behind them. They have made a promise without expecting a return. They are all in.

I can now usually recognize first- and second-mountain people. The former have an ultimate allegiance to self; the latter have an ultimate allegiance to some commitment. I can recognize first- and second-mountain organizations too. In some organizations, people are there to serve their individual self-interests — draw a salary. But other organizations demand that you surrender to a shared cause and so change your very identity. You become a Marine, a Morehouse Man.

I’ve been describing moral renewal in personal terms, but of course whole societies and cultures can swap bad values for better ones. I think we all realize that the hatred, fragmentation and disconnection in our society is not just a political problem. It stems from some moral and spiritual crisis.

We don’t treat one another well. And the truth is that 60 years of a hyper-individualistic first-mountain culture have weakened the bonds between people. They’ve dissolved the shared moral cultures that used to restrain capitalism and the meritocracy.

Over the past few decades the individual, the self, has been at the center. The second-mountain people are leading us toward a culture that puts relationships at the center. They ask us to measure our lives by the quality of our attachments, to see that life is a qualitative endeavor, not a quantitative one. They ask us to see others at their full depths, and not just as a stereotype, and to have the courage to lead with vulnerability. These second-mountain people are leading us into a new culture. Culture change happens when a small group of people find a better way to live and the rest of us copy them. These second-mountain people have found it.

Their moral revolution points us toward a different goal. On the first mountain we shoot for happiness, but on the second mountain we are rewarded with joy. What’s the difference? Happiness involves a victory for the self. It happens as we move toward our goals. You get a promotion. You have a delicious meal.

Joy involves the transcendence of self. When you’re on the second mountain, you realize we aim too low. We compete to get near a little sunlamp, but if we lived differently, we could feel the glow of real sunshine. On the second mountain you see that happiness is good, but joy is better.

#meritocracy #David brooks #spirit #individual #ego #community #love #success #failure #self #culture #happiness #joy

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fuzzballsheltiepants · 5 years ago

Text

The Sparrow

Green light filtered through the window. It made the room feel like it was under water, or on some foreign planet. Andrew dropped his arm over his eyes trying to block it out, trying to will himself back to sleep for another hour. Or three. Nobody was counting.

A sharp pip sounded from somewhere outside. A minute passed, and it sounded again. And again. Andrew dropped his arm and glared out into the greenish dawn. A little bird hung from one of the branches of the giant vine that clung to the side of the house. It stared at him, cocking its head to the side, bright eyes considering. Pip!

“You’re an asshole.”

The bird gave a self-satisfied pip and flew off. Bastard. Just what he needed, an alarm clock with a mind of its own.

He yawned and stretched, taking inventory of what hurt. Knees. Left thumb. Right hip. Better than yesterday. He left his cane where it was, leaning against the wall.

Going down the narrow stairs that his physical therapist had assured him were a terrible idea, he entered the tiny kitchen and grumbled at the landscape of boxes he could see stacked in the living room. The coffee maker was the one thing he had set up yesterday, and he listened to the gurgling sounds as the water dripped through while he looked over the boxes. Finding the one labeled Dishes, he dug through and pulled out a bowl and a mug.

He took his meager breakfast out onto the patio. The cracked concrete was shot through with weeds; the abandoned furniture peeling and rusted. The little pipping bird was back to sitting in the vines. He couldn’t figure out why it was there; other than the vines that were assaulting the house and a few coarse weeds, the yard was bare dirt, hard and unwelcoming and littered with junk. It was ugly as hell, but Andrew didn’t really care. All he had to do was lift his head, and the view was spectacular: rolling mountains, the caps slowly baring themselves to the spring sun, the slopes a mix of trees and green expanses that he knew from photographs were covered with flowers. Someday, he’d walk there. Someday, he’d reach the top.

Scoffing at himself, at his stupid impossible dreams, he creaked to his feet and went in to take his medications.

Andrew’s house was full of strangers. If he hadn’t just bought the thing two days ago, it would’ve been tempting to set it on fire.

They weren’t technically strangers, as Allison had pointed out, given that he worked with them. But when Renee had said she’d be stopping by to help him unpack, he would’ve preferred it if she’d mentioned she’d be bringing half the town. He glared across the room at Renee, who pretended not to notice while she helped her girlfriend unpack cooking supplies. There was banging overhead where Kevin and Matt were putting together his bed. On the one hand, he was glad he was going to be able to stop sleeping on his mattress on the floor. On the other hand…

Movement outside caught this eye, a flash of reddish brown in his front yard. “What—”

Renee paused in her silverware sorting and followed his eyes. “Oh good! Neil came.”

“What, you hadn’t brought enough people?”

His words were punctuated by a crash from upstairs, followed by Matt’s voice calling a strained, “Everything’s okay!”

“Neil’s a gardener,” Allison said, as if that should have been obvious.

“Great.” More help he didn’t want. He made his way outside, but Neil had disappeared. Grumbling, he walked around the house, only stumbling twice. A slender man stood at the edge of his backyard, facing the mountains. Andrew tried to pretend that the man didn’t improve the view considerably, and stepped up to his side.

The man gave him a slashing glance, then a matching smile. “You must be Andrew.” He held out his hand, shrugging when Andrew didn’t take it. “Neil. I’m a friend of Allison’s.”

“What fresh hell do you have in store for me?”

Neil laughed easily. “Depends on what you want. Clean all this trash up to start; after that it’s up to you.”

“Up to me.” So far not a damn thing had been up to him, despite Renee’s lip service. “In that case, can you get rid of the assholes who have taken over my house?”

“Sorry, no,” Neil said, grinning. Andrew couldn’t take his eyes off of him, and he cursed himself for his weakness. “You know how it is. Once you’re in Renee’s clutches, you will help people and you will like it.”

“I most definitely will not.”

Neil laughed again and turned back to the yard, picking up one of the discarded plastic buckets that littered the space. “I better get started.”

It was rapidly becoming familiar, getting dismissed in his own house. He would have stayed just to watch Neil work, but Dan called his name and he headed back inside to prevent a book-arranging disaster.

The rumble of a truck pulled Andrew out of the mental cocoon he went into whenever he started working on his book. The week had been blessedly quiet, save for his avian alarm clock, but it appeared that was at an end. Grumbling, he forced himself to his feet, leaving his cane leaning against the couch.

Neil was standing on his front walkway, rubbing a hand sheepishly through his hair. “Morning.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m here to figure out what we’re doing with your yard. Didn’t Allison tell you?”

Andrew thought of Allison’s parting words on Friday. “You’re welcome!” He hadn’t known what she meant and hadn’t cared. Evidently he should have. “Why?”

Neil looked at him, nonplussed. “Because having that yard basically being a wasteland of dirt is criminal?”

“Hey, it’s my wasteland of dirt.”

That damn smile made a reappearance. “You deserve more than that.”

“That’s such bullshit. Nobody deserves anything.”

Neil cocked his head to one side. “Do you really believe that?”

Andrew studied his face, the faded scarring across his cheeks, the stubborn set to his jaw that made the smile a lie. “How much is Allison paying you?”

He looked genuinely startled at that. “Nothing. I volunteered.”

“Why? What do you get out of this?”

Neil looked away, color staining his cheeks like a sunrise. “Everyone deserves a little beauty in their lives.”

Andrew wondered what it was like, going through life with the evidence of other people’s viciousness on your face, and believing in beauty anyway.

Slowly the garden took shape, each Sunday adding a little more. When Andrew greeted him the third Sunday leaning on his cane, the truckload of gravel went back to where it came from without a word. The next week, he came outside to find Neil laying out paving stones in a sunburst pattern where the concrete had once been.

Neil was interesting and unpredictable, some days working for hours in silence, others chattering at length about plants and birds, on this continent and others. Sometimes Andrew helped, raking the dirt in the raised beds, then setting the native perennials Neil had picked out gently into the sun-warmed soil. Sometimes his hands wouldn’t close on the tools, and he sat in the shade of the house and talked or read aloud from the book he was writing. Once he stopped, uncertain if Neil was even listening; his friend raised his head from where he was setting out a bird bath. “Is that it?” Neil asked, disappointment coloring his voice, and Andrew bit back his smile as he turned back to his book.

Neil arranged shrubs around the house and planted a couple of flowering trees for shade. Soon Andrew’s little pipping bird had friends of his own, and he woke to a melodic cacophony each morning. One afternoon, they sat in silence on the new furniture Andrew had ordered, sipping lemonade and watching fat bumblebees tumble in and out of hot pink flowers. The garden was almost done; the summer had already passed its peak. Andrew looked at Neil, at his summer-sky eyes and his autumn hair, and he swallowed back the grief as he realized these Sundays were drawing to a close.

The singing was not enough to stir him. He heard it, dimly, through the haze of pain, but he closed his eyes and drifted back into the darkness.

“Andrew?”

He knew that voice; it wrapped itself around his heart and pulled, forcing him into consciousness. Stifling his groan was impossible, and Neil was at his side in a flash. “How can I help?”

“I need to take my meds.” His voice sounded like gravel, and he tried to clear his throat but it was too dry to make a difference.

“Bathroom?”

Andrew hummed, and Neil disappeared, only to reappear in a second with his pill case and a glass of water. “Can I?” Neil asked, hovering an arm over Andrew’s shoulders. Nodding didn’t hurt, at least, and Neil slipped an arm gently behind him and coaxed him into a sitting position against the headboard. He held the glass so Andrew could suck some water through the straw, then handed him the pills, one at a time. When he was done, they sat there like that for a while, Andrew avoiding Neil’s eyes. He hated this, hated that Neil found him like this. Hated that this was the new reality of his life, where he could be going along okay and then suddenly be incapacitated by pain.

It hadn’t struck him down like this since he first got sick; he would never forget that panic, being alone and unable to move without screaming, having to drag himself to the bathroom. Then the weeks of doctor’s visits and tests, the medications that helped the pain but messed him up otherwise, until they finally found a cocktail that worked, more or less beating his immune system into submission. He had moved here out of sheer stubbornness; maybe he should call it stupidity. But he needed this. He needed the mountains out there, calling to him. He needed to believe that one day he would climb up there.

“Why are you here?” he asked, shattering the silence.

“It’s Sunday.”

But the garden is finished, he wanted to say; you are wasting your time with me.

Neil reached out like he was going to touch his hand, but refrained when he saw the red, swollen joints. “Did you think I was just coming for the garden?”

“Why else would you bother?”

“Andrew…I could have finished that garden in two weeks, if I’d wanted to. That was my plan, at first.” He laughed, shaking his head as if at himself. “But then you wouldn’t let me cut down that damn vine because that sparrow likes it…”

Andrew closed his eyes, hearing the unspoken words behind Neil’s soft tone. “I will never be more than this, Neil.”

“You’re Andrew. What more do you need to be?”

There was music in the trees. A symphony composed of wind through tree boughs, of the singing of birds, the chattering of squirrels, the baseline of leaves crunching underfoot. Andrew paused for breath, gulping down some water. The early springtime air traced cool fingers through his hair, and goosebumps erupted down his arms.

Recapping his water, he followed the sound of footsteps in front of him. His walking stick was worn smooth where his hand rested, and he rubbed his thumb in the glossy spot as he negotiated his way over some roots.

“It’s just up ahead,” Neil’s voice called from somewhere out of sight. Andrew took his time, even though he knew he would follow that voice anywhere. He had waited a year for this; he could wait a few minutes longer.

The trees finally opened up to a scene out of a movie. Flowers, blue and purple and white and yellow, all bowed before the wind that tore across the meadow. Neil stood on a little rise, one hand shielding his eyes, staring west. Andrew climbed up to stand next to him. He could see their house from here, the windows glinting in the sun. When he squinted, he could discern the blossoms on the flowering cherry Neil had planted near the bedroom. The tree was still small, barely taller than they were, but it bloomed with reckless abandon. Warmth crept through him that had nothing to do with the springtime sunshine as he thought of their tiny tree, and the nest the sparrows were building in its branches.

Neil bent down and kissed him, soft and lingering. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Andrew nodded, looking at the riot of color all around him. Up above, he could see the peak of the mountain looming white; once, he had longed to reach the very summit. Once, he had thought he would never set foot in the woods again. His free hand found Neil’s, tracing the familiar calluses and scars. “Beautiful.”

#writing #forgetmenotaftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #disabled!andrew #gardener!neil #my wriitng #aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court

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thesvenqueen · 5 years ago

Text

With All My Love

Rating: M Pairing: Kristanna (as if it would be anything else) Also on AO3

Note(s): So...this happened. I don’t even know dude lol

{Prologue}

Hello!

You may be thinking, a letter in an Oak Tree? How peculiar! Yes, peculiar indeed as I myself am not sure why I decided to write this. Maybe out of pure boredom, I’ve been sitting here for ages now. It’s my favorite spot in all of Arendelle. Or, perhaps it was written as a distraction…

You see, I lost my parents a few days ago. It’s been hard for my sister and me, though my sister won’t say or show it. When I have tried to talk to her, I’m pushed away for other “important matters” she calls them.

Maybe I am writing this more to be heard, to know maybe my feelings will be read by someone out there.

Oh goodness, that took a sad turn. I don’t think that’s what you were expecting when you found this letter! This is supposed to be a happy place, or so I deem it to be. Under this tree, no sad thoughts are allowed I say. Only happy ones!

So, let’s make this a little fun then: What do you do? Do you live in Arendelle or are you visiting? How is your day going?

Reply if you can! Or, don’t I suppose, it’s all up to you! I can only urge you through this letter which isn’t very persuasive. Anyways, if you respond or not, I hope you at least got a smile from the surprise of finding this letter!

With all my love,

Anna bites her lip as she re-reads the letter again, a ramble of sorts that just came out onto the paper. She folds it, standing from her spot beneath the tree and turns to face it’s trunk.

She’d come to this spot for years, had found it by chance when she was younger. Bored and curious, as she was a lot growing up within the castle, she’d taken a chance and scaled the castle wall to explore the forest that grew just beyond.

It had taken little time, a trip or two on a few exposed tree roots, and she’d found it.

A large oak tree, just up on a hill. It was an old one, large enough that Anna had to lean her head all the way back to just peak the top. Besides the peace that was here, nothing but the sounds of the birds chirping and the occasional breeze brushing through the forest, the view is what made Anna visit more often than none.

From the base, she could see the castle and some of the village below. If she went a few branches higher, though not too high as she learned the hard way resulting in a broken wrist, she could see all of Arendelle from the port to the village’s end. For hours she’d sit and watch the villagers below, going about their daily lives and she’d envied them. She dreamed of being among them, exploring the town and meeting everyone within. To escape the castle with its empty rooms and enclosing walls.

There were a few times she’d even dreamed of such a life, only to awaken with a lump in her throat from the realization it wasn’t real.

The hole had been there for as long as she could remember. It assisted in her attempts to climb the grand tree, to protect her books as rain would start to fall, and had hidden the flower crowns she’d created a few times before. Now, as she places the letter within, it holds something else with just as much importance.

With all that was happening, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to come back to her spot for a while. Not that she wouldn’t try, of course, after the meeting tomorrow she was going to need another break.

With Elsa being thrown into preparing to take the crown in three years time, her presence was needed now in the counsel meetings. She never spoke, only there to be made aware of the situation at hand.

It was boring to say the least, more than once she had to fight back her yawn as the counsel had gone on and on over topics Anna knew nothing about. So Anna smiled to herself, knowing as soon as tomorrow's meeting was done, she was for sure returning to her spot to escape it all.

To have a moment to feel free, even if it would be for only a few hours.

As she made her way back down the hill, taking her time to enjoy the peaceful bliss of the forest for a few moments more, she couldn’t see the figure coming from the other side of the hill.

One that would also sit under the branches of the tree, taking a momentary break in their stressful day. Munching on an apple, enjoying the view till they paused when they heard a rustle of paper as the breeze came through.

They’d spy the note, curiously eyeing it as they opened and read it. They’d smile, finishing the apple as they read the cursive writing scrawled so delicately along the page.

There would be a moment of hesitation, themself unsure if they should respond or not.

But as Anna would find, much to her surprise, they had.

I guess, hello to you too.

I hope things are better now, between you and your sister and I’m very sorry for your loss. I lost my parents too, long ago when I was little. Which I guess is lucky? I never had to deal with the pain of losing them. I can barely remember them. But I know it must hurt, and I’m sorry.

To answer your questions: my day is going well for now. Normal day for me, just taking a moment to enjoy the view and an apple. I do live in Arendelle. I work here, have been for a while now. I work with ice. Cutting it and selling it too. Not the most exciting job you were wanting maybe, but that’s it.

Funny enough, I’m not sure why I’m replying to your note. I guess it’s because it had actually brought a surprise smile to my face and I couldn’t let your letter go without a response. Owed you that much for crashing your favorite spot. It is a nice place, maybe I’ll come here more often.

I hope this letter makes you smile!

All the best,

And that was how it began.

Oh hello there! Oh my goodness, to say I’m surprised to find a response would be a lie. I’m so happy to find someone has written back!

Ice?! Wow, must be an interesting job. You must travel up to the mountains a lot for that. I’m jealous, I have wished to travel to the mountains! I’ve only heard stories and seen some paintings, but from what I know it is beautiful.

I’m sorry about your parents...losing them is never a lucky thing. I hope you’re managing well for yourself without them. Thank you for your kindness about mine, it means alot.

Your job sounds amazing! Kind of sounds like you have your own business!!

Another sort of questions for you: how old are you? Do you have any pets? Have you been anywhere? If so, what was your favorite?

I myself am 15, no pets sadly (though if you count the ducklings in the garden I’d say I have 5) and sadly, I haven’t been anywhere other than Arendelle. I’d love to travel though, to see what the world holds.

Hope to hear from you soon, mysterious K.

With all my love,

~.~

I’m glad I could make your day!

I guess you could say that. I mostly harvest by myself but most of the time I help other harvesters too. Need as much work as I can get.

The mountains are beautiful! Hopefully one day you can see them yourself. I’d offer to take you Hope someone can take you up there someday, I’m sure you’d love it. It’s something I think everyone should see at least once in their life.

I am 18. I don’t really have a pet. Just a reindeer who helps with halling the ice and pulling my sled. I’d say those ducklings count if my reindeer does. Other than the mountains and Arendelle, I have not been much else. So, I guess my favorite is my cabin up on the mountain side.

Hope your days have been better,

~.~

Things have improved a little. Still boring and my sister has yet to talk to me about everything but, I’m getting better so I guess that’s a positive.

I hope so too. Maybe someday I can see them, but I don’t think it will be anytime soon unfortunately.

A REINDEER?! I’ve heard of people in the mountains herding them and using them for their job, but never met someone who actually had one! That’s amazing!! You must tell me how you came to have him!

And your cabin too! That sounds so lovely!

...I hope I am not being intrusive with these letters. I don’t have many friends, well any really, and it’s nice to have someone to write too.

If you ever want to stop, you can! I won’t be upset but don’t want to hold you to doing this if you become bored with me or no longer want to write.

Anyways, another question, what is your favorite color? Mines pink and green, I can’t choose between the two!

With all my love,

~.~

I found him, actually. Guess his herd or his mother abandoned him, and I found him in time. He’s been with me ever since. He can be a pain sometimes but, he’s nice I guess.

My cabin is small. Nothing big or anything, just enough to get by. It’s nice enough I guess.

Does intrusive mean intruding? Sorry. My vocabulary is not...the best. But if so, you’re not. I promise.

I will keep writing if you will. I don’t have many friends either. It’s nice to have someone too. I don’t think I will become bored, so you don’t need to worry about that.

I’ll be your friend. If you want to be.

As for my favorite color, I guess green? Never really thought about it before till now. Can’t really say brown either, I have a feeling that wouldn’t count.

Best,

~.~

Awww, that’s so sweet!

Sounds lovely. Small and quaint is perfect.

Oh, I’m sorry. Yes intrusive means intruding, or invading one's space to be specific.

I promise to keep writing as long as you reply.

And...I want you to be my friend :)

You’d be right, brown does not at all count! Green is though, so guess we have something in common then!! What about favorite food? Mines chocolate!!

With all my love,

#kristanna #kristoff #anna #jessica writes #with all my love

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wanderingworldwarrior · 4 years ago

Text

Of Twisted Emotions - Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Mountain’s Peak

The trek with Loki is long and arduous. It’s filled with pitfalls, icy slopes, and avalanches of blue. It’s a tricky climb, which you had both anticipated.

Some conversations send each of you plummeting towards the mountain’s base. Sometimes one of you pushes the other down, unintentionally or otherwise. They are unavoidable – these accusations and careless words. There’s an undercurrent of pain that will forever flow through both of your lives.

The slate isn’t clean. It never can be.

But you climb, inevitably helping one another over each treacherous danger, intent on moving towards normal, towards familiar. Building on what is left.

You start with periodic conversations. And when things don’t hurt as much – when staying in touch begins to feel natural – you find that the prince’s voice fills your head every day.

And while it isn’t always easy, it is at least easier.

- - -

You catch wind of the plans for Thor’s coronation from the other soldiers in the camp, although you do not dare to hope. You’re hesitant to bring it up with Loki, but the topic is inevitable. A lot rides on this event for the both of you.

I wonder if Thor’s advisors will convince him to keep me imprisoned, Loki ponders one night. Even he can’t deny the danger I pose after… everything.

You roll onto your back and stare up at the star-dotted sky. One of Asgard’s moons is full, and the light doesn’t lend itself to sleep. But Loki is always ready to talk. What else is he to do?

And everyone knows he loves to talk.

I think it’d take a lot of convincing, you reply. Thor’s been trying to get Odin to let him talk to you. I figure he’ll take the throne and then come knocking. You purse your lips and then ask, Can someone knock on the cell barrier? Or would it zap them, or something?

You can’t hear Loki sigh, but you know he does. Insufferable, he says at last. I sit here fretting over my freedom, and you have nothing to offer but unimportant musings.

You grin at the stars, although you have to admit he has a point. Yeah, yeah, sorry. Look, I know you have your doubts, but I… I don’t know, I think it’ll be okay.

You don’t give voice to the fact that this foolish hope is all the two of you have left.

And perhaps such a thing is not so foolish after all. Because things do indeed change under Thor Odinson’s rule. They change swiftly.

The very evening Thor becomes king, Loki is moved from the dungeons to his old rooms. Although still confined to his quarters, it is a vast improvement, for which he’s grateful.

Loki runs his fingers across one of his bookshelves, tracing each novel’s familiar spine, and shakes his head at the notion. Grateful to his brother, the king…. These are strange times indeed.

It is the day after Thor is crowned that a blue raven flies into your camp with a royal scroll in its beak. It searches for your unit’s leader, and when its message is delivered, the bird fades into the dark blue magic it was birthed from.

Then, at last, Destin hands you the scroll, its wax seal unbroken. Your pardon from Thor, King of Asgard.

It doesn’t truly set in at first. You reach the end of the message and realize your chest hurts. Every bit of emotion you’ve been carrying has decided to ball up right behind your rib cage.

You read it again. And again. And once more, so that you’re certain you’ll never forget the words. It’s in the middle of your last readthrough that you realize there’s tears in your eyes. Your hands shake, making the words harder to follow. Asgardian speech is full of long sentences with flowery language, but you know exactly what these paragraphs mean.

You’re going home.

- - -

As you enter the city, you pass a troop of soldiers heading out. You spot familiar faces, although none you wish to speak with. You return your attention to the gate, but have yet to walk through when you hear your name from a familiar and welcome voice.

“Bjorn!” You can hardly believe your eyes, and you move to meet him halfway when he breaks from the group.

“Warrior!” he greets you, his tone as warm as his smile. You briefly clasp forearms and grin at one another as he states, “Oh, it is good to see you alive and well! You know how rumors spread.”

“Boy, do I,” you say with a grimace. “Although, I guess a lot of it may not be rumors this time.”

“Unfortunately, our paths haven’t crossed at a time for conversation,” Bjorn says, sounding a bit miffed at the situation. He pauses and covers a cough with his arm, then frowns as he says, “We march to quell a small rebellion in the west.”

“We should talk when you get back,” you tell him. “I know you had a lot go on while I was away. And… well… there’s a lot from my end, too. If you want the whole story.”

“I very much want the whole story,” Bjorn states. He glances towards the tail end of his troop, which is slowly growing further and further away. He rests his hand on his sword hilt as he turns back to you. “Warrior. I want to apologize.”

The kiss.

“No need,” you tell him, not unkindly.

People act on impulses, especially under tense and urgent circumstances. You know this more than most.

The kiss was a frantic “what if”. What if you wanted to start over? What if you could let go? What if it was something more than friendship?

But it wasn’t. It isn’t. You both know this.

Bjorn acknowledges these unsaid things with a nod. “I hold you in high esteem, my friend. You’ve fought by my side. Saved my life. I do not care what Asgard whispers.”

You hold Bjorn’s gaze, and at long last, truly match his smile.

- - -

None care to visit Loki, save for Thor and Frigga. Occasionally Odin.

And now you.

The first time you’re allowed to see him, you feel snakes writhe in your stomach. Even the sight of his door is overwhelming.

Thor had instructed the guards to let you speak to Loki alone, and although they aren’t pleased, they do allow you to step over the threshold without them.

You feel your breath catch in your throat when you see him.

Loki stands across the sitting room, clothed in royal garb once more, which further pushes the feeling of familiarity. Your footsteps die six feet away as you search his gaze.

Gone is the burning man with a stranger’s face.

In his place is your Loki. Perhaps thinner than he should be, and he could undoubtedly use some more sleep, but he seems… alive again. His eyes, you can’t stop yourself from studying them; that shrewd, green gaze you know so well.

Your mind calls up varying memories of the Loki you’d found on Earth, comparing each to the man in front of you and discarding them one by one. There is no blue. No twisted hatred. You know he’s not the same as his old self, but you decide to cross that bridge when you get there. Neither of you can go back to who you were before it all. You’ve made your peace with it.

Hopefully, he can, too.

Loki says your name, scrutinizing you as much as you are him. He’s guarded, but you know him well enough to see he’s nervous. The realization makes your shoulders relax, although the tension in the room remains.

You take a tentative step forward. Then another. When you keep moving, he steps forward as well.

And when you meet, you’re wrapped in his embrace. He’s rigid and unsure, but his hands still gather you close. You press your face against his chest and your fingers tighten in the back of his shirt.

“You’re home.” His voice is hushed, meant only for you to hear.

“You’re an asshole,” you choke out, your voice strained from withholding tears. “I fucking missed you.”

And he laughs softly in your ear.

- - -

Talking it out is neither fast nor fun. It takes days, weeks. It’ll take more. But each step forward gives you both a bit more closure than before.

Your chosen place for these talks is the fancy settee. Your legs dangle over its edge, your boots lightly tapping on the side of one of Loki’s many bookcases as you stare at the sitting room’s ceiling. You’re surprised there aren’t books up there, too.

You both talk of the scepter. Its voice. Its impact. Loki explains what he can recall of the Other, and you tell him of the voice you heard in New York and Asgard’s infirmary.

You both talk about Willow and The Avengers. Loki’s chaotic plan and the meaning behind it.

“I wanted it all,” he says one day, pacing past the settee as he explains. You vaguely remember when he’d said the same thing at the top of Stark’s tower. “The cube. The scepter. Earth. Asgard.” He pauses, and when you look up, you find him staring at you. He blinks and starts to pace again. “You.”

“Oh,” you say.

“All of it,” Loki tells you. “It seemed possible, as mad as it sounds. It seemed… simple.”

“It did make things seem really simple,” you agree, turning away to frown at the ceiling again.

After some more discussion, there’s a lull in the conversation. Loki walks to the chair closest to you and sits. He leans forward and rubs a hand across his face.

You see the gesture from the corner of your eye, and it worries you. It’s no secret that he’s not sleeping well. You sit up and stretch your arms, arcing your back until it pops. “It’s late,” you tell him.

When he doesn’t reply, you look over and realize his eyes are caught on your glove.

“It’s late,” you say again, softer this time, dropping your arms and breaking his gaze.

You don’t think he’s going to reply, but then….

“Don’t go.”

The following silence is heavy, but you know you have to break it.

“I’ve got my own prison rooms to report to,” you say, habitually tugging at your glove as you stand.

He doesn’t say anything until you get to the door.

“I’m sorry.”

You hesitate at the door… and then open it. “Me, too.”

- - -

Periodically you meet with Thor, who has wholeheartedly welcomed you back.

“The council is perhaps a bit displeased that I’ve allowed you within our walls,” he tells you. “But I am king, so they may stay displeased.”

As precautious as Thor’s advisors are, they have convinced him to keep guards posted in the passages between the guest wing and the rest of the palace. It wouldn’t bother you, but you hate having to ask to go to the training grounds every day.

Because you know you need to train.

“The threat is real,” Loki tells you one night. “This ‘peace’, it’s not a reprieve. Thanos and those that follow him continue to plot in the shadows.”

It is your turn to pace Loki’s sitting room. “We have to be ready.”

“We aren’t,” he tells you flatly.

You bite your lip, worrying the skin until it hurts. Your hands ball into fists and then relax, over and over as you walk. The magnitude of it all, the lack of control… it’s daunting.

Your pacing lands you close to the settee, and so you force yourself to sit. “It feels like we’re sitting ducks.” Loki only stares at you from his chair, which makes you sigh. “You said that… that Thanos and the Other thought we’d be dangerous if we worked together. Which is why they pushed that separation.” You ponder in silence for a moment, and then ask, “Does that still count? Like, will it make any difference?”

“That was when we had the scepter and the Tesseract,” Loki reminds you. “Now, we’re removed from both, and you’re….”

He falls silent. You thread your fingers together and lean over, propping your elbows on your thighs and resting your forehead against your hands. You can feel the leather glove against your skin, cold, and now (unfortunately) familiar.

You hear Loki get up, and you figure he’s about to start pacing now that you’ve stilled. Instead, you feel him sit beside you on the settee.

He’s kept his distance since your initial embrace, but now you feel the light touch of his fingers on your forearm.

Your chest hurts. “It’s late,” you say, voice hushed.

“It is,” he agrees.

His fingers travel towards your wrist, the sensation leaving chill bumps in its wake. When his touch finally reaches your hand, you slowly lower your arm until it lays across Loki’s thigh, palm up.

Instead of pulling off your glove, he slips his fingers through yours. The pressure makes your wrist ache, but it isn’t as bad a pain as it has been.

“Don’t go,” Loki asks of you.

You’re silent for a long moment, staring at your hand in his. You sigh and lean your head on his shoulder. Time passes, although you’re not sure how long you sit with him.

But inevitably, you squeeze his hand, rise, and walk to the door.

- - -

You feel like you’re talking in circles. Thinking in circles. There’s too many questions, too many problems, and not enough answers. Not even close.

Training doesn’t help quiet your mind tonight, and instead of walking the familiar halls towards your room, you walk instead a different set of familiar halls.

“This is pointless,” your cranky guard states. “He’s no doubt asleep at this hour.”

“He’s not,” you reply, and knock on Loki’s door.

He is indeed awake.

Loki must have been in his sitting room, because he answers within a few, short seconds. You don’t miss the guard’s huff of annoyance as Loki closes the door behind you.

The prince says your name as you walk towards the settee.

“My mind won’t shut up,” you tell him. When you sit, you realize your heartbeat’s running on useless adrenaline, and your nerves are making your leg bounce. You run a hand through your hair and suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I can relate,” Loki says, taking his seat beside you.

You look around the room and realize the only light is coming from a candle next to the chair Loki likes to read in. “Where’s your book?” you ask.

“I… wasn’t reading tonight,” he tells you.

“What were you doing?”

There’s a stretch of silence, and then he nods. “Reflecting,” he finally decides.

“You should be sleeping, you know,” you tell him.

“Hypocrite,” he names you.

You run a hand through your hair again, mind still scattered. You realize there’s pressure on your thigh, and you find Loki’s placed his hand on your leg to stop its bouncing.

It works. Even with your leg still, his hand stays.

You know you need to calm down. The threat isn’t here, after all, and there’s no way for you to physically fight this feeling of trepidation.

You take another deep breath. “What were you reflecting on?” you ask him.

He’s quiet for a while, long enough for you to regret asking. But then he sighs and says, “On us.”

“Yeah?” you ask. “Got any specifics?”

You watch him as he stares at the flickering candle next to his vacant chair. Shadows play across his face, changing his features with every shift of the small flame. The silence is strangely comforting, and you can feel your heartbeat slow as it decides it no longer wants to break free of your ribs.

“Specifically,” Loki finally says, his words slow and laden with exhaustion, “how neither of us could kill the other. Even at our lowest. Even when it was the most beneficial, the most logical solution… neither of us did it.”

He turns to face you, candlelight reflected in his eyes. You can’t read his expression, especially not in the dancing shadows. You think on his words, and then say, “I’m glad. Guess it says something, huh?”

“I suppose it must,” he says softly, breaking from your gaze to stare across the room once more. He absentmindedly traces imaginary lines across your thigh as his mind chases different trains of thought.

You catch his attention again when you take his hand. He stares, frown pronounced as his fingers interlace with leather. “Do you wear this to sleep?” he asks, thumb skating across your glove.

“Yeah,” you say. “It kinda… glows. So… yeah. Sig got me a pair of cloth gloves, so I use one of them instead of this leather one when I need to sleep. They’re thinner.”

“I see,” Loki says.

You extract your hand from his, hesitate, and then carefully pull on each of the glove’s fingers. You slip it off and set it aside, and then offer your dimly glowing hand to Loki.

“Does it hurt?” he asks you, morbidly curious.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” you say, hoping to wipe the pained look off his face.

“Had I not –”

“Don’t,” you warn him. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he acquiesces.

Loki holds your hand in both of his, feeling the strange, solid magic that hums beneath his fingers. You aren’t used to the sensation of touch with your hand of light, as you try to keep a glove on when at all possible. It’s almost… cathartic to feel Loki gently press his fingers against your palm, his thumb carefully sliding across the back of your hand.

“Are you…” he begins, but seems at a loss for words.

“Am I?” you ask. His troubled look prompts you to guess, “Am I… okay?” When he subtly nods his head, you let out a short laugh. “Kind of? I’m… fine. Eventually, I’ll be okay. It’s a part of me. That’s it. It’s just a part of me now.” You stare at your hand, Loki’s fingers a black silhouette against the light. “Are you okay?” you ask him.

“As you’ve said,” he tells you smoothly, “I will be.”

Loki releases your hand so you can slip on your glove, and when it’s in place, you flex your fingers out of habit. You glance at him and then say, “Glad we didn’t kill each other.”

You stand up, Loki following suit. You’re already turning towards the door when you say, “It’s la–”

“Late,” Loki finishes as he catches your wrist.

You look back at him, at his fingers closed around the cuff of your glove.

“I know I’ve no right to ask,” he says quietly. “And yet, I ask.” Loki closes the distance between the two of you, and your heart stutters as his nose brushes yours. “Don’t go.”

Maybe it’s because it’s late.

Maybe it’s because you didn’t kill each other.

Or maybe it’s because you still love him.

But ultimately, you figure the reason doesn’t really matter.

This time, you kiss him.

- - -

You and Loki can walk the city, so long as guards shadow your steps. You don’t really care for it, but to some extent, it does help soothe your restless spirit.

At first, the public was confused. The rumors that had spread through Asgard were undoubtedly exaggerated, and they certainly misconstrued parts of the truth (although the truth itself doesn’t paint either of you in a good light). But it is not as if the two of you have ever been especially beloved by Asgard, not nearly on the level to which the people hold Thor. And Thor has freed you, the Asgardians tell themselves, so surely you must be able to keep that murderous nature in check. The both of you have been held accountable for crimes against Midgard, not Asgard.

So, as the people grow accustomed to seeing the two of you, while many still cut unsavory glances, the hatred has somewhat dulled. Indifference is mostly what you see. You have not impacted their lives, and so they continue living.

The whispers are worth being free of the palace. They’re worth the trips to Sigrid and Asmund’s, where you feel normal and welcome. They’re worth dropping by the sorcerers’ guild, where none of the members seem to think any different of Loki – if anything, they’re eager to learn what secrets he’s gathered from his morbid misadventure.

However, these pleasant bubbles of the past cannot mask the grim situation brewing in the galaxy. One of which Thor’s council has now been made aware of and are eager to discuss. And on this day, they want you there.

You thought you’d be more nervous as you step into the council’s war room. It’s a large room, like most are in the palace, with a long table in its center. Thor’s at its head, and while he’s kept Odin’s council intact, he’s added Sif and what remains of The Warriors Three to his circle of advisors.

“Warrior,” Thor greets you with a smile.

“Hey,” you answer, offering him a weak grin as you waver near the door. “You, um, wanted to see me?”

Hogun crosses his arms, the expression on his face mirrored by the members of Thor’s council, save for Sif and Volstagg.

“Aye,” Thor says, motioning you forward and nodding his head towards one of the empty chairs. “I’ve something to ask of you, my friend.”

And as you listen, you realize that Thor does have a plan for you, after all. He’d pardoned you for his own personal reasons, you have no doubt, but now he’s found a way to truly free you. One with which none on his council can argue.

“Okay,” you state, and you’re pretty sure your body feels significantly lighter. “Yeah. I accept.”

That night, when you visit the prince, you repeat Thor’s words with an eagerness that stems from your desire to do something. At last, you can stop agonizing over circumstances beyond your control. You no longer have to be a faux prisoner in Asgard’s halls.

Loki doesn’t seem particularly pleased with the plan, though you know he will not stop you. But when you reach the end of your explanation, and silence reigns, you abruptly cease your pacing and hold his gaze. “Come with me.”

His thoughts seem to pause, shift gears, and rapidly head down a different path. “Truly?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you answer, as if it’s simple.

And maybe this time, it is.

“You could no doubt accomplish such a task alone,” Loki says, his tone nonchalant as he considers the idea.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

A smile slowly spreads across his face, one you aren’t sure you’ve seen in over a year. At last, he says, “Neither do I.”

- - -

At the mountain’s peak, you find yourself in a ceremony.

Your dress is emerald green, the fabric silky against your skin. You’re glad there’s a slit in its long skirt, so you can actually walk. The bodice fastens around your neck, leaving your arms and back exposed. The dress belt has thin, silver spirals and swirls that are interspersed with small gems.

The dress makes you more nervous than the ceremony itself, but Frigga is the one that had it made for you, so there’s no way in hell you can refuse to wear it. She’s gifted you a piece of jewelry to go with it; a golden bracelet winds up your wrist, forming a snake with green, jeweled eyes. On your other hand is a lace glove, your hand of light showing through its intricate design.

The queen has even given you a scabbard that fits the dagger you made for the ceremony. The dark leather is embossed with geometric patterns and swirls, and it sits comfortably on your hip, attached to your dress belt.

At least you have that part of the wedding to look forward to.

You figure most of the people gathered are attending for the feast rather than the ceremony, and you don’t blame them. You aren’t keen on a wedding, either. But you said you’d do it, so here you are.

You end up alone with Sigrid in one of the palace’s dressing rooms, which allows you a brief moment of relief after the whirlwind of Frigga’s servants, who had assisted you in dressing. Sigrid makes a fuss about your hair when she helps you don your bridal crown. You had no plans on wearing one, which Sig had apparently foreseen and set about correcting over the past week. And while you know next to nothing about plants and flowers, you can tell Sigrid’s put a lot of care into the ceremonial crown.

“It’s perfect,” you tell her warmly, taking her hands in yours so she’ll stop fretting over your appearance. “Love you, Siggy. Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Sigrid knows you mean everything. She has stayed with you through the worst and the best of it – from that ugly blue dress to this gorgeous bridal crown. Sigrid’s smile is dazzling, and when she hugs you, you’re struck by the fact that she’s almost taller than you are. She laughs pleasantly and tells you, “I love you, too.”

“You look gorgeous,” Willow’s voice states from near the door, and you turn to find your best friend has finally arrived. “Sorry I’m late!”

Will’s tired eyes hint at too many restless nights, but her broad smile is genuine as she crosses the room to hug you. A lot of hugs today, you think. Hopefully it’s not a trend that will continue throughout the rest of the evening.

“Are you ready?” Will asks as she releases you.

“No. Yes?” You sigh heavily and shake your head. “This ceremony shit means a lot to people here, so I’ll go ahead and… participate.”

“Oh, you’re going to dislike it, I’m sure,” Sigrid pipes up, hiding a little laugh behind her hand. “But it’s going to be lovely.”

“Agreed,” Will says with a grin, and she gently pats you on the arm in a show of comfort. At least you think it’s comfort, until you see a mischievous shift in her expression, and she says, “Come on, Princess, it’s wedding time!”

Sigrid has to hide her face, either from trying to hold in laughter or from the look you’re giving Willow.

You’re nervous until you see him.

You walk through the crowd of Asgardians, the evening breeze ruffling the ribbons and flowers in your crown. The sound right next to your ears drowns out the murmurs of the people gathered, although you can still feel too many pairs of eyes on you.

One eye is especially heavy; Odin is present, although you’re sure his attendance is by Queen Frigga’s design. Most of this wedding is, after all.

The sight of Will at the front of the crowd gives you something to focus on and further assuages your fears as you make your way towards the center of the courtyard.

The circular wedding pavilion is large, crafted of white marble that seems to gleam in the evening sun. Golden fabric flows down the structure’s pillars, and vibrant flowers line its sides. Soft lights bob through the air, and while they remind you of fireflies, you realize they’re made of magic. A wide, flat dais sits in the pavilion’s center, which is where Loki waits.

You feel like you can finally breathe when you reach him. He looks… regal. Like true royalty. In classic Asgardian fashion, his ceremonial outfit is (in your opinion) overly intricate and detailed, yet today you can’t be bothered to pretend you don’t notice how well he wears it. You note the sword belt around Loki’s waist, and you subconsciously brush your arm against the sheathed dagger at your hip.

Loki looks sharp. He looks dangerous.

He looks happy to see you.

Loki has known from the beginning that you are a foreigner, not only to Asgard, but to the entire realm itself. But you fit in amongst the humans and Asgardians, so much so that he hasn’t dwelled on the fact in quite a while. But you don’t look anything like a human in this moment – not to him. You’re otherworldly. And he’s admittedly a bit stunned.

As you draw closer, Loki notices belladonna in your bridal crown, woven with ribbons and nestled next to dark, red roses. The crown’s metalwork is carefully detailed, although the design is simpler than some he’s seen. His mother must have asked it of the makers, knowing such a thing would be more suited to your tastes.

When you join him on the dais it’s clear to him that you’re uncomfortable, but you’re smiling at him anyway. This ceremony isn’t going to mean much to you – your bond with him has been long established within your own culture, after all – but the fact that you’re going through it all for him is incredibly satisfying.

Upsetting Odin is also satisfying, that Loki will concede.

Thor is officiating, which Loki had been adamantly against during the wedding planning. He relented only when it was pointed out that nothing could make the union more official in the eyes of the law than if the law himself was officiating. And so, Thor stands with the two of you on the dais.

You think the ceremony is similar to Sigrid and Asmund’s, aside from Thor’s excited, booming voice. You quote the same texts they did, and you ask for the same kind of blessings from the fates. Whether you think said fates are listening or not doesn’t seem to matter.

There are holes in the wedding where your family should be, so you’ve asked Willow to give her blessing instead. She’s closer than family to you, anyway. You’re surprised when Thor himself chimes in with his blessing during this part of the ceremony, and when you look over at him, you have to blink a few times to stop any tears from falling.

Queen Frigga voices her approval when it is time for Loki’s family to speak, although Odin is notably silent. Thor carries on and gives his blessing again, completely unbothered.

“Aye, this is the part I’m sure you’re excited for, Warrior,” Thor tells you, and then loudly proclaims that it’s time for you and Loki to present one another with the blades of your ancestors.

Loki meets your eyes and draws his sword, and for a moment, you’re taken back to your fight against him in Stark Tower. The difference between the memory and the present is truly astonishing.

What a journey it has been, Loki’s voice says in your mind.

Aloud, he states, “I chose this one for you.”

Your eyes are drawn to the sword – silver, of course. Its hilt ends in a sizable, pointed diamond, which catches the light in interesting ways has Loki turns the blade towards the wedding guests. Its hand guard is sleek, the metal sweeping back over its grip, and you note that it seems surprisingly functional for a decorative, old sword.

“I present to you one of the swords of the family Odinson,” Loki says, although you can feel flashes of… somethingwhen he says the family name. “It is to be a symbol of our union.”

He passes you the blade, and you realize… it’s sharp. He’s had it sharpened. This isn’t something to hang on a wall, meant for decoration, this is something you can strap to your hip and actually use.

“It is to show that while I may wish to protect you, I am well aware that you can protect yourself,” Loki says, and although the smile on his face is dangerously close to a smirk, you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “It is to show that I will fight at your side, and that your battles are mine as well.”

You can feel your face flush, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade him. Loki’s smile widens, the expression playing with your heartbeat as he continues. “You are stronger and fiercer than any woman I’ve known.” He pauses and considers his words, and then takes your free hand. “I love you. My vow is ever the same. While you live, I want you. Be it through Ragnarok or rapture, by the bite of a blade or the soft touch of time. It matters not. It never has.”

You stare at him, overwhelmed with… feelings. You’ve never been good with them, but right now they’re culminating in a mantra that parades through your thoughts: I love you. I love you. I love you.

Fucking hell.

Loki squeezes your hand and then releases it, and you realize it’s your turn.

How am I supposed to follow that up, jackass?! you think to him.

He watches you, completely settling into smirk territory as you unsheathe the dagger you’ve made for him. You’re careful, ensuring your hand of light doesn’t touch it – if you accidentally destroy the weapon, you’re going to lose your mind, you just know it.

It took forever to craft the blade with your powers on the fritz. You had almost given up at least three times, although your determination won out in the end.

You’d tried to make it fancy, since you’re literally giving it to a prince – specifically a prince of one of the most stupid, fancy worlds you’ve ever been to. The black dagger has a curved, sharp tip, and its hilt holds the spirals you’ve seen on other Asgardian weapons. Wrapped across the guard and down towards the blade is a snake, the blade itself seemingly jutting from the snake’s jaws.

Okay, now you have to talk. You stare at Loki for a moment and then suck in a breath. “So, I, uh, don’t have a family sword, or whatever, and I know you don’t even use a sword. And I wanted to make you something you could use, so I made this dagger.”

You flip the dagger and hold it by the flat of the blade to show Loki the handle, which he appraises with a raised eyebrow.

Oh, right, there’s like a script to this ceremony stuff. “I present to you this dagger,” you state. “It is to be a symbol of our union.”

You offer him the handle again, and this time he takes it. Loki gives the dagger an experimental spin, and the familiar sight makes you grin. Now, what were you supposed to say, again? “I guess it’s… to show….” You can’t think of the words, and everything you’ve practiced before sounds dumb now.

You glance at the crowd, and then at Thor. The silence is stretching, and you can’t stand it anymore, so you just speak.

“I chose you,” you tell Loki, and the truth of it sets in after you say it. “Repeatedly.”

By deciding to live. By refusing Odin’s ultimatum, and staying in Asgard.

By agreeing to marry Loki, and then waiting for word after he vanished.

By sparing his life.

“And… well… I think we both fought hard to get here today,” you say.

Loki’s green eyes…. You never thought they’d mean so much to you. Especially when he’s looking at you like this.

“I chose to love you,” you tell him at last. “And I’m glad I did.”

- - -

The two of you had decided against rings. You can remember that conversation clearly.

And yet at the feast table, Loki hands you a golden ring strung through a silver chain. “To wear, if you want,” he explains nonchalantly. “I know you said your people have no outward signs of these ‘bonds’, so I thought it easier to tuck a ring out of sight around your neck rather than on your hand.”

“I don’t have a ring for you,” you tell him, frowning. “You weren’t supposed to –”

He pats the center of his chest, and your frown grows more pronounced. “But… isn’t each person supposed to get a ring for the other?”

“Indeed,” Loki agrees with a sly smile. “The lack of reciprocation has undoubtedly wounded me. What a slight, having to procure my own wedding band! Although,” he adds, dropping his voice and losing the dramatic sarcasm. “I’ve thought of some ways you could make it up to me.”

And he kisses you, slow and purposeful, until you clue into the cheers and whistles from the rest of the feast hall. “Oh, my God,” you tell him in a hushed whisper, pushing on his chest.

“Yes?” he asks, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You groan, fight back a smile, and grab your glass, truly glad that honeyed mead goes down smoothly.

- - -

Willow catches up to you after the dancing starts. Loki has broken away to speak with his mother, and you’re chatting with Sigrid and Asmund.

Will taps you on the shoulder and has to speak louder to be heard over the music. “I have to go soon!”

Sigrid and Asmund hear her, and bid you both farewell so the two of you can say goodbye without an audience.

“I’m glad you came,” you tell her, and you wrap her in final a hug. “I’ve missed you! And I’ll keep missing you.”

“I miss you, too, friend,” she says as she pulls away. “I’m happy for you.”

“I’ll write to you once we make it,” you tell her. “My power’s still all weird, but I think we should be good if I make some stops along the way.”

“Let me know if you need me,” Will says. “Seriously. I don’t like trooping through your portals, but I’ll come drag you both out of that dark place if I have to.”

“Thanks,” you tell her with a smile.

Will readjusts her bag strap, and then seems to realize something. “Oh!”

“Oh?” you ask as she digs around in her bag.

“Here!” she states, and promptly hands you a… bracelet?

You hold it up, a bit lost. It’s made of a bunch of beads on a black elastic band, and when you turn it over you realize there’s letters on some of the beads.

‘BEST FRIENDS’

“It’s from Tony,” Will explains. “He said it’s a wedding gift? And that he ‘sends his congrats to the pair of penthouse destroyers’.”

You’re torn between laughter and guilt, which inevitably comes out as a snort. Before you can respond, you feel Loki’s hand on your arm, and he reads aloud, “Best friends?”

“It’s from Tony,” Will says again, her voice pitching upward in an almost-question this time.

“Healer, why are you giving us garbage on our wedding day?” Loki asks. He goes to grab the bracelet, but you pull it away.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t get anything,” you tell him, not for the first time.

“Oh, actually, he did send you something,” Willow tells Loki, and she extracts a piece of paper from her bag. “Here.”

“What is this?” Loki asks, frowning as he turns the paper over to read it.

“An itemized bill,” Willow says.

All right, guilt is winning out this time. “Did he charge me, too?” you ask, leaning closer.

“No,” Will says. “It’s addressed to,” she pauses as Loki crumples the “bill”, “Emerald City.”

You can’t help but laugh, Will chuckling along with you. Loki scoffs, not nearly as amused.

If it wasn’t your wedding day, you’d slip the ‘BEST FRIENDS’ bracelet around your wrist just to spite him.

But it is your wedding day, so you tuck it into your dress pocket.

“Write soon,” Will says. “Be careful. And at least try to stay out of trouble.”

“I promise we’ll do our best?” you tell her, which makes Loki roll his eyes.

Willow turns to go, but hesitates and looks back at you. With a sad smile, she says, “Tell them ‘hi’ for me, okay?”

When you nod, she returns the gesture and walks away.

- - -

Back at your table, food finished and glass empty, you prop your head on your hand and turn to Loki. “So, we’re married.”

“We are,” he agrees.

You consider it for a moment, and then ask, “Do you feel any different?”

Loki thinks it over, and you watch as his eyes flit across your face. After a moment, he says, “It pleases me.”

You laugh. The feast hall is slowly emptying, so the sound seems louder than it should.

“Do you?” he asks.

“I guess it pleases me, too.”

- - -

It is Thor’s orders that give him freedom, yet a part of Loki still resents it. At this point, this resentment is almost a reflex, and he figures he’ll never be rid of it. Not anytime soon, at least.

You, on the other hand, are eager; the weight of your travel pack is like an old friend, one you only now realize how dearly you’ve missed.

“Gather warriors,” Thor urges you at the end of the rainbow bridge. “Anyone you can trust. Any who wish to fight for their lives, for the lives of those they love, or for the good of all worlds.” When you nod, Thor looks to his brother. “If what you speak of Thanos is true –”

“It is.”

“– then we need assistance. From anywhere and everywhere.”

You nod again, and Thor briefly clasps his brother’s shoulder before watching you and Loki disappear into Heimdall’s golden observatory.

- - -

The Bifrost has never been kind to you, and this trip is no different.

Loki helps you to your feet once the colors stop swirling, and you lean on him as the two of you peer around the area. You’re in a forest, with towering trees and a canopy that almost completely obscures the sun.

Camping out for a few days is necessary for you to regain your strength. Reaching your planet is not an easy task, especially not with the Ordinat rebuilding. They’ll have surveillance set up on as many worlds as they can, so you can’t be flashy with a Bifrost entrance. Heimdall has sent the two of you as close to your world as is feasible, but the rest of the venture is on your shoulders.

Fully rested at last, with everything packed up, you stand beside your extinguished fire and look over at Loki.

“Are you ready?” you ask. “We have to make a few stops along the way. I don’t want to risk going such a large distance all at once.”

“Am I ready?” he asks slowly, pretending to think on the question.

You nudge him with your shoulder, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious,” you insist. “My world is… dangerous. There’s powerful, scary things and people, and a lot of them will want to murder us on sight, so….”

“Powerful, hmm?” Loki asks, and you recognize the brief look of hunger on his face.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “There may be opportunities to acquire some interesting stuff, but I make no promises. Probably not cube or scepter powerful, but still.”

Your sentence is lost on Loki as a twinge of anxiety hits his chest. His ambitious expression fades as he searches your face. The realization that you’re nervous to return to your world, so much so that it’s bleeding into his own emotions, unsettles him more than your warnings of dangerous beings. Adversity does await, yes, but he’s ready.

“Are you?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“Are you ready?”

You roll your shoulders and adjust your travel bag, then tug your glove further up your wrist. The sword Loki gave you is in its scabbard, belted to your hip. You can feel your golden ring on its chain, sitting against your chest.

You reach for Loki’s hand, and he takes it.

Everything’s as it should be.

Your nerves fade, which puts you both at ease. You stretch out your hand and tear a rift through reality.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I am.”

As the two of you walk into the dark, a journey ends.

And another begins.

---

Thanks for going on this adventure with me! This officially marks the end of the "Of Different Emotions" series. Can you believe that? Wowsa If you have any questions, I'm happy to answer them! I'll be slowly replying to comments on this chapter and the last chapter, so be patient with me! So much in my life has changed since the beginning of this series, and I'm honestly both sad and happy to see it end. Thanks again to all of you who have supported me through this, whether you joined this wild journey from the beginning, middle, or end! Love you guys

-W

@littlemisssyreid @thedoctorlivesthroughbooks @imthinkingaboutthis @verryfuckingpunny @shadows-echoes @auria223 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @agentpiku @bookscoffeeandracoons @lokibarncs

Masterlist

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#loki x reader #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #fanfiction #loki/reader #reader insert #marvel #OTE Update #of twisted emotions #the end

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kiwi-bitchez · 5 years ago

Text

Permafrost

Chapter 1: LBD

Peter Parker x reader

word count: 2,823 (whoops)

summary: Tony Stark has hired the mountain guide company you work for to assist him and the Avengers on an upcoming mission, you just happen to be invited to the formal party. You meet a cute spider-boy and some mild smut ensues. Might make this a multi-chapter thing... we’ll see. Also, this definitely does not take place in the MCU timeline with Endgame and Tony dying and whatnot.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, poorly written smut, oral (male receiving)

Although it was nowhere close to your everyday look, you found a strange sense of comfort in the tight black dress wrapped around your body. You look nervously around at all the other tall, beautiful, elegantly dressed people around you and can’t help but feel out of place. This black dress can be your disguise. You don’t have to be yourself here. However easy it would be to come up with some fake name and a fake identity, force yourself to mingle, that just wasn’t you. So you silently reside to another glass of wine and desperately look around for someone you know.

Working for a mountain guide company had its perks, flexible hours, no dress code, living the dream that you had envisioned for yourself since you were twelve. You did not imagine high falutin black-tie events to be in your job description. Your boss had just been hired by Tony Stark to accompany him and the Avengers on some top-secret mission in Antarctica. Something about lost alien artifacts. You weren’t high up enough to get any of the details, but being the only woman hired in the history of the company you got a ticket to the big event to make the company look a little diverse.

You adjust the strap of your dress and fiddle with your handbag to kill some time. You figured it would be rude to sink back into a corner and stare at your phone, yet you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to go introduce yourself to any superheroes or businessmen. So you stay in limbo, finding quiet ways to pass the time, desperately trying to make eye contact with anyone.

Right as you start to turn to go to the bathroom for the third time tonight, perhaps to fix your lipstick for a minute or ten, a strong hand taps your shoulder

“I hate these things too,” you turn to the boy, who was leaning against the door frame next to you, “I’m surprised to see someone my age here, usually everyone at these things are ancient.”

You laugh nervously and turn to him, trying to think of something clever to respond with but coming up blank, distracted by his curls and big brown eyes.

“I’m Peter, by the way, mind keeping me company? I don’t exactly fit in with all this adult chit chat.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure of course,” you stutter, feeling like an idiot, realizing you must have been staring with your mouth wide open. He probably came over here because he felt bad, maybe you should escape to the bathroom anyways… “I’m y/n”

“What brings you here y/n?” he asks, driving the conversation forward, “is one of these old geezers your dad or something?”

“No actually,” you laugh a little, “I work for the climbing guide company Stark just hired.”

“Oooh so will you be guiding us through the treacherous mountains of Antarctica next month,” Peter asks, flirting a little. You stare at him for a moment, trying to register what he meant by “us.” You didn’t recognize him as anyone significant, so you brush it off.

“Nah, they will probably send Stephen and Eric, they are the most experienced climbers. I’ve only been working there for a few years. Never been to Antarctica to climb actually, but I’ve heard its wild.” You look away, avoiding eye contact. His eyes staring intently at you as you talk causes a pink to rise up in the apples of your cheeks.

“Mind if I grab you another?” He offers, gesturing to your empty glass. You agree and follow him across the ballroom to where the bar is stationed. You feel a wave of relief now that you have someone to talk to at least for now, at least until it’s an appropriate time to escape home.

“So if you aren’t guiding Avengers through the snowy mountains, what do you do at this job of yours,” he asks, seeming to genuinely want to know.

“Well I’ve been climbing for basically my whole life, so this job is really a dream. I travel to different national parks and run programs for beginner climbers, show them the ropes and stuff,” you shrug, “but I’m pretty new still, the more experienced workers get to do cool stuff like this job. Hopefully in a few years I’ll be doing more stuff like that.”

You weren’t sure why you felt so comfortable around this boy. You were never much of a talker, and it was either him or the wine that was making you so chatty. Quickly changing the subject, you ask him, “So what do you do here? You the son of one of these old geezers?”

“I deal with more of the local operations of Stark Industries,” Peter answers playfully, avoiding telling you directly that he’s Spiderman, “you know, community improvement type stuff.”

Finding a seat in a far-off corner the two of you talk about everything and nothing. You tell him about your summer spent in Yosemite, and he tells you about his summer trip to Europe. The conversation flows unusually well, despite Peter dancing around questions. It's not that he couldn’t tell you that he’s Spiderman, he just liked the feeling of being treated like anyone else. He liked the feeling of you wanting to talk to him.

His eyes danced across your bare shoulders, admiring the curve of your neck and how your dress fell perfectly across your chest. You notice him staring, but you like the way his soft eyes follow across you. You start to feel your face get hot again and turn away to sip your drink.

“Thank you for saving me, I barely know anyone here and I’m the worst at small talk” you tell him sincerely, “I wasn’t even going to come, but I felt like I had to, you know? Can’t pass up the chance to party at the Stark Tower.”

“I’m glad you came,” he tells you, eyes burning into yours, “then I would have missed the opportunity to meet someone so interesting.”

“Shut up cheeseball,” you laugh as you playfully punch his arm, “for all you know I’m horrible and awful but just an incredibly good actress. This dress just brings out a different side of me.” You joke, sitting up a little straighter in your chair, wiggling your shoulders.

“Well I’d like to see the side of you that’s out of that dress,” Peter mumbles. You stare at him with wide eyes, trying to gauge if he was joking. You laugh a little to ease the tension, but you can see a fire behind his eyes. It was so unlike you to even be at an event like this, so unlike you to be drinking wine and flirting with a cute boy, so why shouldn’t you continue to do some things that are a little out of character?

You grab his knee, leaning in, “outside in 5, yeah?”

He nods a little too eagerly, but you don’t mind. The attention he had been giving you all night is what fueled this strange wave of confidence, and you were going to ride is as long as it lasted.

Placing your glass on an empty table, you sharply turn and start toward the doors, trying not to look too eager. The thought of him not following you crosses your mind, but you are too embarrassed to turn around to check. If he doesn’t show you will be beelining home for sure, take it as a loss and never show your face at Stark Industries again, not that you would ever have a reason to.

You press your back against the cool tile of the wall in the hallway, running your hands through your hair as the reality sets in of what you just did. A pit starts to form in your stomach, the aftermath of all that found confidence wearing off. Just as you were about to book it through the large double doors at the end of the hallway, you see him approaching you. He gestures to a closed door down the hall, and you follow him through it. It was a plain room with a fireplace and some couches, probably used for smaller social events.

Placing an arm over your shoulder, pressed up against the wall behind you, he leans in, close but not too close. “are you asking me what I think you are?” his tone still flirtatious, but with a hint of real concern, “I know I seem very charming and all, but I actually don’t do things like this very often.”

Your eyes meet his and a smile creeps across your lips, “And I know that I seem amazingly confident” you retort “but would you believe me if I said I don’t do things like this very often either?”

It was true, you were no prude by any standards, but bringing someone you just met into some random locked room at a work function was not really in your repertoire. Even though the butterflies in your stomach seemed to feel more like wild geese, there was a certain quality about him that gave you a sense of ease.

“If you are interested in doing what you think I’m asking,” you finally respond, “then yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking.”

He leans in closer, lips hovering over yours, breathing heavily but steadily. “If you want to stop, just say the word,” he tells you, and you nod understanding, “but the way you look in this dress has made it so fucking hard for me to not do this any sooner” he whispers into you before colliding your mouths together.

He takes your face between his large hands, stroking his thumb across your cheek as he kisses you deep and harshly. While the kiss was passionate and desperate, there was still something so sweet and gentle about him. You kiss him back with an open mouth, wanting more. Your arms wrap around him as his hands travel from your face down to your hips, grabbing you firmly and pressing you into the wall behind.

Your hands naturally weave their way into his brown curls, pulling his face impossibly closer to yours. His tongue slips under yours and you let out a breathy moan, feeling his mouth on yours. Daringly you take his bottom lip between your teeth and pull back a little, looking back up at him to meet his eyes. Blown out and filled with lust, he stares back at you wanting nothing more than your mouth on his again.

In one fell swoop he lifts your legs off the ground, instinctively wrapping them around his suited torso. You lean into him more, tongues meeting between wet open lips. He slowly starts to make his way across the room with you, not wanting to break the kiss, but also not wanting to trip over a coffee table. He seats you down gently on the couch below him, finally separating his lips from yours.

Although you wouldn’t mind just making out with this boy forever, never leaving the four walls of this random parlor, the way he looked standing above you, hair a mess and suit jacket rumpled made you want so much more. Before he could join you on the couch you sit back on your thighs, causing your dress to ride up quite a bit. Peter bites his lip, “fuck y/n.”

You press your open palms to his thighs and look up to him with big needy eyes. You slowly start to move one hand up, asking permission “can I? take these off?” he nods and helps you with his belt, allowing you to take care of the zipper and buttons. As he takes a moment to pool his pants down at his ankles, you seize the opportunity to let the top of your dress slide down a little, revealing your upper half.

“I knew I would like you better out of that dress,” Peter jokes, but the underlying tone in his voice goes right to your core, growing wetter and wetter the more he looks at you. Noticing the already wet patch at the tip of Peter’s boxers, you lean forward once more and lick a stripe up his clothed member, “and I think I’m gonna like you better out of these too” you comment back.

Throwing his head back at the sudden contact, Peter brings his hands to your hair, holding it back for you but not forcefully. You were taking your time with him, feeling him through his boxers until his tip began to poke out of the top waistband. Taking that as your cue, you slide down his underwear, joining them with his dress pants around his ankles. You were a little intimidated by his size, certainly a bit larger than any dick you had taken before, but your theme of the night was confidence and you tried to not let it shake you.

You take a hold of his base, making sure to look up at him as you lick a long stripe up the underside of his hard cock. “Fuck y/n you look so fucking good like that” Peter praises you as you start to slowly pump his dick. Taking his head between your lips and starting to match rhythm with your hand, you started sucking his dick like you never had before. There was something in you that wanted to make him feel good, that wanted this to be memorable for him, you wanted to give this boy the best goddamned blowjob of his life.

Tears form in the corners of your eyes, surely ruining your perfect makeup. You give it more and more as you take as much of him as will fit down your throat. Continuing to pump the remaining shaft with your hand, you bob your head as tightly and as deep as your throat will allow. The soft mumbles and profanities that fall from his lips encourage you to keep going, letting you know that you are doing a good job. You like the way his grip on your hair slightly tightens, showing you that he likes what you are doing.

Picking up speed, and now jerking him off with both hands as your mouth takes care of the rest, you feel his hips buck forward slightly. “Fuck y/n I’m close, I’m gonna…” Peter moans, and starts to pull away from you to come into your hands, but you lean forward, continuing to suck him off, taking his cum deep in your throat as he unloads into you.

“Shit y/n that was…that was so fucking… you really didn’t have to do that” he says, still catching his breath.

“I know, but I wanted to,” you respond, licking your lips seductively.

“That was so fucking amazing, I…,”he says, hands running through his hair and straightening out his button up. He picks up his phone from where it had landed on the ground, noticing a slew of new messages.

“Fuck,” he looks at you apologetically, “I gotta get back in there, only for a little bit, but I owe you one, because that was fucking amazing so please don’t go,” he rambles as he frantically puts his dress pants back on and adjusts his belt. You also fix your dress, covering yourself back up. “I mean it,” he says to you with sincere eyes right before dashing out the door.

You head into the nearest bathroom and fix yourself up. The pool between your legs had basically ruined the underwear you were wearing, and your makeup was close to gone. You tossed your hair up, fixed up your face although your lips were still a little red and puffy. The thought crossed your mind to just head home, let this be a one-time thing that he can remember, but your purse was in the ballroom, so you had to at least make it back for that.

Entering the event hall, the room was at a hush as someone on stage was making a speech. You didn’t think much of it, keeping your head down and looking for your bag, until you heard the familiar voice of your boss on the mic. “Thank you so much to Mr. Stark for giving us this amazing opportunity…” You turn your head to see your boss and Tony stark shaking hands, with a row of people standing behind them on stage, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, people you commonly knew as the Avengers. Your eyes travel down the line of them only to land on Peter.

Why had you not realized this before. The passing comments, the thing about the Antarctica mission. As your eyes land on him, he is looking directly at you, a smug smirk across that gorgeous face. He shoots you a wink and your mouth drops slightly. You had just blown one of earth’s mightiest heroes. You had just sucked off Spiderman.

#fanfiction #peter parker smut #spiderman smut #spider man smut #peter parker x y/n #tom holland smut #this is questionable #marvel smut #marvel

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hogwarts-riddle · 5 years ago

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Eternalism: Chapter VII

Night had fallen by the time they reached Hogsmeade Station. Hermione was the first to awaken, rising with the sound of the groundskeepers' call for the first years. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she went to get up, only to stop short as she realized that she couldn't exactly move. Not only was the book they had been reading still laying open on her lap, but there was a sleepy dark-haired boy sleeping with his head on her shoulder.

Craning her neck to glance over at him, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. The fact that he had let himself fall asleep on her could only be seen as a sign of trust. She doubted that the typically paranoid boy would do such a thing with anyone else. It was endearing. He looked so innocent and peaceful. Sometimes she forgot about the man that she knew he would become one day.

Not on my watch, she thought.

And then there was Abraxas. Stretched out on the opposite seat, she was torn between loathing him with a passion and blushing like a lovesick schoolgirl every time he winked at her. She preferred the former.

Why, oh why did she have to get stuck with a Malfoy? And a flirty one at that! What was wrong with him? He was only eleven-years-old for crying out loud! Draco certainly wasn't like that at that age, or at least not that she had ever noticed. Though, she supposed it could have been different because unlike Abraxas, Draco actually knew the truth of her parentage.

As tempted as she was to just tell him the truth, that she was a muggleborn, sending him running for the hills, she knew that wasn't the wisest course of action in this particular situation. Tom was going to be surrounded by Slytherins just like Malfoy who would probably gladly hex her for being a muggleborn. For the sake of her own safety, as well as her mission, she had decided to keep her true parentage a secret, passing herself off as a half-blood instead.

"Calling all first years!" the groundskeeper's voice called out.

The light of the groundskeepers' lantern shone through their window, shining right in their eyes and awakening the sleeping boys.

"Have we arrived?" Abraxas asked with a yawn.

Hermione nodded her head as she got to her feet and began stretching out all her stiff muscles.

Thankfully they had all changed into their robes before they fell asleep otherwise they would have been left scrambling.

"Please leave your luggage on board!"

Climbing out of the compartment one by one, they had to fight their way against the stream through the crowd and over to where a group of first years had gathered around a grimey looking man in a pair of bright orange suspenders, or maybe they were yellow. It was hard to tell in that light. He hardly compared to the jolliness of Hagrid, but he looked friendly enough.

"If that's all of you, then we'll be on our way," said the groundskeeper whose name was Ogg.

It was a long trek up the path to the clearing and most of the students were moaning and yawning through most of it, still half-asleep, but unlike the others, Hermione had never felt more awake, for she knew that Hogwarts was waiting for them at the end.

And there it was…

A chorus and ooh's and ah's filled the night air as the students took in the sight for the first time in their lives.

Set atop of a majestic mountain was Hogwarts Castle itself with its many turrets and towers. The only thing separating them from the castle was the glistening waters of the Black Lake, the boats already waiting for them by the shore to take them across.

Hermione recalled her own first time seeing it. Seeing the castle that she was going to be living in for the next seven years of her life, she couldn't help but feel as though she was living in one of the fairy tale books her parents used to read to her, like a princess who was rescued from her tormentors and brought to the safety of a castle where no one would hurt her.

That was how she had felt at Hogwarts, with Dumbledore still alive and offering them an unspoken sense of protection against all dark forces. The castle had always seemed impregnable. Oh how her eyes were opened when Dumbledore died…

She shook that train of thought from her mind, willing herself to enjoy the evening and not ruin it with thoughts of the future.

Ogg led them to the boats by the shore, holding them firmly in place as the children clambered in, four to each boat.

"Allow me," Abraxas said as he offered her his hand to help her in.

As off putting as it was to have a Malfoy treating her with respect and courtesy, it was also kind of nice. No one had even offered to help her, or any of the other girls for that matter, get into the boats back in 1991. In fact, if she had fallen out of the boat and into the lake, she was pretty sure that most of the boys, Harry and Ron included, would have burst out laughing. Here, there wasn't a girl that went unaided. It was strange, but most certainly in a good way.

No sooner was she settled, then she was joined by another girl, followed by Tom and Abraxas.

With everyone securely in their boats, Ogg climbed into his own at the head of the group. "Forward!" he called out the magic word.

Just like that, the boats started moving on their own, ferrying them across the glassy lake and through a dark tunnel on the side of the cliff under the castle. It wasn't a long journey, spanning a whole fifteen minutes from the lake shore to the underground harbour.

Once again the boys proved to be gentlemen as they got out first to help the girls. This time, it was Tom who extended a hand to help her, beating Abraxas to it. The white-haired boy seemed a bit put out by that, but soon recovered as he went to help the other girl.

Who would have thought that she would have boys fighting over who got to help her out of a boat? It was almost too ridiculous to be funny.

Ogg led them out of the underground cavern and up into the school. The children began to chat happily among themselves as they made their way across the Entrance Hall and up a couple flights of stairs, discussing topics varying from Quidditch to the ride to Hogwarts.

Glancing over at the boys, she found that Abraxas was telling Tom all about how he planned to try out for the Quidditch team next year, hopefully earning the position of seeker. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she chose to tune them out. One thing that never seemed to change, no matter what time she was in, was boys and their love of Quidditch.

Instead, she turned to the girl standing beside her, the same girl they had shared a boat with. "Hi, I'm Hermione."

"My name is Druella," The girl smiled back at her.

There was a hint of an accent in her voice, but it wasn't overly noticeable, as she spoke excellent english.

"Are you by any chance partially french?"

Druella nodded her head, her golden ringlets bouncing around her face as she did. "Yes, my family originally came from France, but we've lived in England for most of my life," she explained. "My mother and father were debating over whether they should send me to Beauxbatons or even home-school me themselves, but in the end they decided to send me here, and I'm ever so happy that they did.

"What about you?"

Hermione bit her lip nervously. This was the first time she was speaking about the backstory she had made for herself. She hoped that people would believe it. She wasn't known to be the best at lying, though she liked to think that she had improved with everything that had happened. After all, no one had questioned her story so far.

"I've always lived in London. My parents died rather recently in a tragic accident. They never told me about Magic or anything, though I suppose one of them must have been magical. My mother always got angry at me when I made strange things happen. I only found out the truth when Professor Dumbledore came to the orphanage. Everything made sense after that."

Druella gave her a look of genuine sympathy, "So, you're a half-blood then? I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"Muggles are a danger to the wizarding world," Abraxas cut into the conversation. "My father has always said that our two worlds ought to be completely severed from one another."

While she did understand that view and where it came from, she didn't entirely agree with it. Not all muggles were bad, just like how not all wizards were good. She opened her mouth and was just about to tell them as much, when they came to a halt, gathering at the top of the landing.

"This is where I leave you," Ogg said as he turned and started back down the way he had come.

Standing in front of the tall double doors leading to the Great Hall was none other than Albus Dumbledore, dressed in a flashy red robe. The usual twinkle was once more in his eyes as he gazed upon all the eager children before him.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Dumbledore greeted them. "The start-of-term banquet will commence soon, but first you must all be sorted into one of our four different houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

He launched into the usual speech about how your house was like your family and how your actions would both win and lose points for your house. Hermione wasn't exactly paying attention, as she had heard it all before, and instead took the opportunity to search the group of children around her to see if there was anyone she recognized.

There was a girl with bright red hair who reminded her of Ginny, and then there was a boy who looked somewhat similar to Neville. Aside from that, she didn't recognize too many students. A part of her hoped she wouldn't recognize too many people, as the reminder of her old friends made her sad, but at the same time she knew it couldn't be helped. She was bound to encounter the ancestors of all sorts of people she had known. It was just something she was going to have to get used to.

"Now, if you will all form a line, I shall lead you into the banquet."

With a calming deep breath, Hermione took her place in line with Druella in front of her and Tom and Abraxas behind her.

The Great Hall was just as impressive as it always was during the opening feasts with thousands of candles floating above their heads with the night sky in place of the ceiling.

"I thought for sure there was a ceiling there," Druella remarked.

"It's not real. It's just bewitched to look like the sky outside," she explained. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

She suppressed the urge to giggle as she recalled how she had said the exact same thing the first time around. Perhaps it wouldn't be as hard to act as though she was eleven-years-old as she had initially thought. All she had to do was imitate her real eleven-year-old self. Though, maybe she would try to tone herself down a bit. She didn't want to scare everyone off this time.

Coming to the end of the Great Hall, they gathered in front of the long table in front of them that was reserved for the professors. She had to admit that it was weird to see Dumbledore conducting the sorting ceremony and not seated at the very center of the table. Of course, Dumbledore wasn't the headmaster yet. If she recalled correctly, the current headmaster was a much older wizard by the name of Armando Dippet, a former Ravenclaw.

Many of the teachers were different. The only one she knew, aside from Dumbledore, was Slughorn, who sat at the very end of the table with a goblet of wine, chatting away with a professor who currently had his back turned to her.

A stool was placed in front of them and on top of it was the heavily-patched sorting hat. All the other first years starred in shock and confusion as the hat began to sing to them.

'Oh, you might not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.'

Tom glanced over at her with a look reminiscent of when they had been told to run straight into a wall.

She merely shrugged back at him.

The Hall roared with applause, mixed in with a bit of laughter from a couple of boys who thought it hilarious. The hat smiled widely as it bowed to each of the four tables before turning stiff again.

Plucking the hat from the stool, Dumbledore pulled out a long roll of parchment and began to read out the names.

"Avery, Malcolm!"

A pimply-faced boy with short sandy hair stepped forward and put on the hat.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted after a couple of minutes.

One by one students went up to try on the hat. Hermione was surprised by how many names she actually knew or had at least heard of. Shortly after Avery came a Cygnus Black. At first she thought he might be Sirius' father, but then she remembered that Walburga was currently in seventh year. No, that couldn't be it. Still, there weren't that many members of the Black Family. This boy had to be related somehow.

"SLYTHERIN!"

A couple of Hufflepuffs came after, followed by an Augusta Fairweather who went into Gryffindor.

It was at that point when panic started to set in. What if the sorting hat decided to put her back in Gryffindor again? Her whole mission would be ruined. Sure, Tom might try to go out of his way to talk to her at first, but it wouldn't take long for the house rivalries to set in, making them enemies in no time at all. Everything she had gone through would be for nothing!

"Granger, Hermione!" Dumbledore called her name.

With a gulp, she stepped up to the stool and sat down. Dumbledore must have noticed that she was nervous because he gave her a small yet reassuring smile as he set the hat down on her head. The Great Hall faded from view as her eyes were covered by the scratchy dark material of the sorting hat.

"Hmm, how interesting," a voice said in her ears. "A time traveller? I haven't encountered one of those in a very long time. And a former Gryffindor as well? I should have known. It takes a great deal of courage to take on such a task as yours… But it seems you don't want to be a Gryffindor anymore. Very difficult… Where to put you?"

She had been struggling to figure that out herself. Hufflepuff was out of the question. Not that it was a bad house, she just didn't think it would suit her. Originally, the sorting had had debated over putting her in Ravenclaw. That was certainly one of her better options. Slytherins and Ravenclaws didn't hate each other or anything, at least not as far as she knew.

"Yes, you certainly have the brains for Ravenclaw, but you have a cunning streak in you as well. I can see it in your head… Already you are attached to the boy, and will do anything to keep him from falling into darkness… Lying… Manipulating… Tsk, tsk, Miss Granger. What would your old friends think if they could see you now?"

A lump formed in her throat. As much as she'd like to think that they would understand, she knew that, had Harry and Ron been able to see her… Well, they probably wouldn't like what they saw. There was no use lying to the sorting hat. The life she had created for herself was based on lies that she used to her own advantage to secure her place in this world and at Tom's side.

As for Tom… The sorting hat was right about him as well. He had become something of a friend to her, and there wasn't much that she wouldn't do for her friends.

"I think it's safe to say that you belong in…"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Cheers erupted across the Hall as the sorting hat was plucked from her head. Her eyes were immediately met with the sight of her new friends smiling back at her, clearly happy with where the hat had put her.

Hopping down from the stool, she made her way over to the Slytherin Table who were, much to her surprise, waiting eagerly to welcome her. Perhaps it was just because she had never been in Slytherin before, but she hadn't expected them to be so… friendly towards her.

She sat and watched as the rest of the sorting ceremony unfolded. A couple of students after her were sorted into Ravenclaw and another into Gryffindor. The red-haired girl she had seen earlier turned out to be Berenice Prewett, who went into Gryffindor along with Cecil Longbottom and Louisa Briggs.

As expected, Abraxas was sorted into Slytherin after a Romulus Lestrange. The very name gave her goosebumps. She had to remind herself that he was only related to Bellatrix through marriage. The terrifying witch wasn't even born yet, and with any luck she would never have the displeasure of seeing her again.

Then came the moment she was waiting for.

"Riddle, Tom!"

Tom strode forward, eyeing the tattered hat with distrust before sitting down. The sorting hat had barely touched his head when it yelled out "SLYTHERIN!"

Hearing that, he practically sprinted over and sat down next to her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I'm glad we're in the same house."

"Me too," she smiled back at him.

Of course, she had known all along that he would be sorted into Slytherin, but she was still happy nonetheless.

The sorting ceremony was finished not long after and Druella joined them in Slytherin, much to her delight. Druella seemed like a nice girl, and she figured it might be good to have a friend who was a girl for a change. Someone to talk to about girly things and complain to whenever Malfoy was being a prat.

With the sorting ceremony out of the way, the feast could finally begin. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until the food appeared before her eyes. There were piles of boiled potatoes and platters full of all sorts of meat and cheese. After having been forced to get by on orphanage food for the last several months, she was overjoyed to have Hogwarts food.

Tom must have felt the same way, as his mouth was practically watering as he piled his plate with some of everything.

It seemed that all manners were tossed aside when it came to boys and food, as evidenced throughout the entire Hall. She even caught Malfoy stuffing his face. It was amusing to see the typically graceful and aristocratic boy acting in a less than dignified manner.

Her and Druella shared a glance, rolling their eyes at their behaviour.

Once everyone had had their fill and were too full to eat any more, the food vanished from sight just as quickly as it had appeared and the students were dismissed to head to bed.

The first years were instructed to follow the fifth year Slytherin Prefect, Magnus Tolle, down to the dungeons. Hermione made sure to pay close attention to where they were going so that she could find her way to and from her new common room without trouble. This was completely new territory to her, as she had never been to the Slytherin Dungeons before. The last thing she wanted to do was get lost.

Eventually they came to stop in front of a bare stone wall. There was nothing to indicate that there was a secret entrance around, which she supposed would make sense for Slytherin's, but still made it difficult to try and remember which wall was the right one.

"Potentiae Magnitudine."

With those words, the wall opened up to reveal a dark passageway. In a single file, they followed after the Prefect through the passage and into a large green tinted room.

For all intents and purposes, it looked no different from your average common room with couches and chairs scattered, save for the fact that the windows looked directly out into the Black Lake. She wasn't sure if it was just a trick of the light, but she thought she saw a tentacle swim past. The idea of having the Giant Squid spying in on them wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, nor was the thought that their entire dormitory could be flooded if ever one of the windows broke.

She quickly shook those thoughts from her head. The windows were probably reinforced with magic to make sure that would never happen.

Magnus then went on to explain that the boys dormitories were through the passage to the right while the girls were through the passage to the left. While everyone else headed straight towards their respective quarters, Tom stayed behind, motioning to Hermione for her to stay as well.

He waited until everyone was gone before speaking. "Why did you lie to Abraxas and Druella? You said so yourself that your parents were both muggles."

So, he had noticed that after all. She had wondered if he might.

"Do you remember what it said in that book we read about the founders of Hogwarts?" she answered in a hushed tone.

He seemed to ponder on it for a second before he caught on to what she was referring to. "Salazar Slytherin thought that those of muggle parentage ought not to be taught magic," he quoted.

"Can you imagine what the other Slytherin's might do to me if they knew I was a muggleborn? I hate the thought of lying to them, but what else can I do? I just want them to treat me decently, not as though I'm dirt beneath their feet."

If anyone could understand that feeling, it was Tom. He had spent his entire life treated the exact same way by Mrs. Cole.

"Don't worry, it'll be our secret," Tom promised. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

There was something ominous about the way he said that, but she tried not to think too much and just appreciate the fact that he was willing to keep it a secret. It was a sign that all was not lost. He knew that she was a muggleborn and didn't hate her because of it. There was hope for him, and that made her smile.

"Thank you, Tom. I really appreciate that."

Then she did something that she never thought she would do. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug. Yes, that's right… She hugged Tom Riddle...

His body stiffened in her arms as though he had suddenly been petrified. That thought made her laugh. As if he would be petrified by his own basilisk. However, the more she thought about it, the realization dawned on her that he had probably never been hugged before. His mother had died within an hour of giving birth to him and it was highly unlikely that Mrs. Cole would have ever hugged him.

With that in mind, she hugged him tighter, as if to make up for all the hugs he had deprived of.

After a few moments, Tom seemed to regain control of his body and his arms slowly wound themselves around her to return the hug. It was a rather awkward hug to be honest, but it was still a hug and she was determined to make sure that he got used to them.

Unfortunately, the hug was short-lived as a sudden cough coming from behind them, alerted them of the fact that Magnus had come back to collect them.

"You do realize that you'll see each other in the morning, right?" he asked. "It's not like you're being sent away to two different parts of the world."

Stepping away from each other, they each had a tint of redness to their cheeks. She made a mental note to hug him somewhere more private next time.

Wanting to escape from the intense glare of the Slytherin Prefect, she muttered a quick goodnight to Tom and scampered off towards the girls dormitory.

#tomione #tomione fanfiction #tomione fandom #tom riddle #hermione granger #tom x hermione #harry potter #harrypotter #harry potter au #harry potter fandom #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #HP #AU #Eternalism

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prophetandprincess · 4 years ago

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"A.J, dear, what a surprise," Mrs. Malone said with a smile as Alex walked into the restaurant Thursday afternoon, enveloping her in a huge hug. "It's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too." Alex hugged her back with just as much force and love. "Actually, I'm meeting with my tutor here, but I also missed you and wanted to check in to see how you and the fam were doing."

"The indestructible A.J. asking for help? You have truly changed in the last year. I hardly recognize you," Mrs. Malone laughed as he directed her into a booth and sat down with her. "The family is good. Sandy has gone through two babysitters already, which is its own source of stress, but Sandy's strong will is going to serve her well as she gets older. Right now though, thrusting her onto friends while I and her father are working makes me feel like a bad parent."

"Well, now I feel guilty," Alex said with a smile, but there was this guilt gnawing on her heart. "You know I would still be watching Sandy if I could. I love that kid."

"Oh, dear, I know." Mrs. Malone reached out and took Alex's hand, squeezing it. "You're doing so much already, with school and your internship, I would feel guilty if you were coming all the way to Queens to watch Sandy as well."

Alex squeezed Mrs. Malone's hand back, but her reassurance didn't help relieve the guilt at all. Maybe Alex would be able to find a new babysitter. She knew a bunch of women in Monica's sorority that would probably have the energy to keep up with Sandy. They were busy women, but there had to be one of them, maybe studying for early education, that would be fit for the job. Alex knew from experience that the Malones paid well. Alex added that to her ever-growing to-do list.

Mrs. Malone gossiped a bit about the restaurant and some of the regulars that Alex knew before there was an issue with a check that the owner had to take care of. Olivia walked through the front door a few minutes later, taking a long moment to scope out the old speakeasy turned restaurant before spotting Alex in the booth. There was something about the way she surveyed the place again when she sat down that made Alex think Olivia had seen some things during her life. Things that taught her to always have an exit strategy. Maybe she could teach Alex more than just Russian.

"This is a cute place," Olivia finally said when her eyes settled on Alex. "I just don't get how this is any less public than the local Starbucks."

"I used to work here, I know the owner, and I know the lovely Nariah Lawson who is coming to take our orders," Alex smiled as Nariah walked up to the booth. "How are things? Has the boyfriend proposed yet?"

To answer, Nariah held out her left hand, the silver ring with two emeralds flanking a diamond stood out against her dark skin. There was the obligatory cheering and fawning over the ring while Olivia sat there with a polite smile on her face. Nariah took their drink orders before she headed off, a bounce in her step.

"Sorry about that," Alex said when she turned back to Olivia.

"It's your money," Olivia shrugged as she reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook. "Now, are you ready to get to work?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alex said with only a hint of a laugh. Olivia was a very serious person, not in a bad way, but it was jarring as most of the people Alex spent her time with these days were warm and comforting.

The two of them shared a plate of fries as Alex stumbled through her first lesson, which was literally the very basics of the Russian alphabet and the building blocks of the language. After the hour was over, Alex felt as if her brain was about to explode, but Olivia stated that she was already seeing some improvement in her pronunciation. Olivia agreed to stay for another half an hour to help work on Alex's Russian assignments, and by the time she headed out of the restaurant, Alex thought that she might just be able to pass this class.

While she finished her fifth glass of Coke, she tried to figure out where she would be sleeping that evening. As she was weighing the different options, her phone dinged. It was Mr. LeBlanc stating that the renovations on her apartment were finished today and she could move back in. There was probably no furniture in there, but Alex wanted to at least stop in and see what it looked like now that it was clean and repaired.

The answer was it looked cold and empty. Everything that had been salvaged from the apartment was stacked in one corner and it was a rather pathetic pile of mostly clothing. Luckily, her grandfather's trunk had survived with only a few more dents than it had previously. It would have been pretty depressing if a trunk that had made it all the way through World War II had met its untimely end in a studio apartment in New York City.

The new cabinets were nice, they didn't squeak when Alex opened them, but all of her food had been taken away during the cleanup. She should have gotten an actual dinner while she was at Malone's. Still, the apartment was a completely clean slate that Alex could actually decorate how she wanted and take her time doing so. While the whole situation sucked, Alex decided to find the silver lining in it all. She was still upset about the missing laptop and notebook, but knowing that it could have been her life she decided to not be too bitter about that either.

Alex decided that while nothing was in the apartment, she would clean it from top to bottom. There were a thousand other things she should be doing, but she did make the effort to find a Russian news program to listen to as she walked to the store for supplies and a sandwich in the vain hope it would somehow teach her subconsciously. All it probably did was put her on a government watch list. The main living area was covered with the white powder that marked any renovation and dust. The bathroom hadn't been ransacked, but it was still a mess and Alex scrubbed until her arm hurt. By the time she was done, the apartment smelled of bleach and new paint.

Opening the window helped clear Alex's head a bit and she realized that night had fallen while she was cleaning. She crawled out onto the fire escape and took a minute to sit there, the cold air drying some of the sweat off her forehead. It was not the most comfortable place to sit, but it wasn't like there was anywhere to sit inside either. Alex silently contemplated if she should risk putting Monica in danger again by staying with her or risk leaving her alone only to find out that she had been attacked in the night.

A thump above Alex made her jump. At first, she thought it was someone else just coming out onto the fire escape or setting out a plant. However, looking up between the iron, she saw that something large was moving above her, jerking and staggering, and it was heading her way. That's when Alex remembered that the thing that was killing scientists had been able to climb buildings without a problem. She was scrambling to get back into the apartment. While she was pretty sure that Mr. LeBlanc wouldn't renew her lease if it was torn apart again, she wanted to be alive enough to worry about being homeless.

It was only a few moments after Alex closed her window that something slammed into it. A scream escaped her lips as she scrambled to grab her switchblade where she had left it with her things. The blood was pumping in her ears so loudly that at first, she didn't realize the thing at her window was saying her name. That was enough to turn her whole body cold.

Alex yelped again as her phone started going off. Peter's name was on the readout and she quickly accepted the call.

"Peter, whatever it is, it's outside my window," Alex whispered into the phone.

"Alex, no it's not," Peter's voice sounded breathless and almost wheezy.

"Yes it is, it followed me down the fire escape!" Alex didn't have time for him not to believe her right now. Why must men always question everything women say!

"No, it isn't because that's me on the fire escape. I've had a run-in with our friend and could use a bit of patching up," Peter said again before coughing, which Alex now heard through the window as well. "You think you could let me in?"

Alex went over to the window, ready to rip Peter to pieces, but one look at him killed any reproach that was on her lips. He looked like hell, even if he did a little finger wave as he smiled at her through the brand new window, Spider suit still on. It took Alex a minute to figure out the lock to get the window open and then Peter literally tumbled inside, bloody handprints on the frame where he gripped it and smeared it all over the freshly cleaned floors where he dropped.

"Jesus, Peter, you need to go to the hospital," Alex knelt beside him as he attempted to sit up. There were deep claw marks all over his arms, back, and chest that were weeping blood.

"How exactly would I explain this?" Peter asked as he tugged off his mask, bruises already forming on his face, lip split, and so pale that Alex wondered how he was still conscious. "I heal fast, which I also won't be able to explain to a medical professional without being shipped off to a lab to be studied. I just need somewhere to take a breather."

"Why didn't you go home? Your aunt is a nurse and I doubt May would ask too many questions," Alex got up and went into the bathroom where she now kept a fully stocked first aid kit. She had learned the importance of having one last year and while she doubted it would do anything to help Peter, it would at least make her feel better.

"I don't want to make her worry," Peter explained when Alex came back into the room with the kit and a wet towel. "I'm pretty sure she knows what I do, but we've never talked about it. I'd rather not give her a heart attack showing up at her door looking like I lost a fight with a mountain lion."

"But you're alright with giving me a heart attack? I'll try not to take it personally Parker." Alex started to help Peter peel his suit off because he was so badly battered that he was having a lot of trouble doing it himself. The damage was even worse without the red and blue fabric hiding the bruising and depth of the cuts.

"But I come bearing information. The monster of New York that caused your current decorative preferences in your apartment refers to himself as the Jackal," Peter coughed and something snapped in his chest.

"It speaks? With those fangs?" Alex started to gently clean the cuts as Peter focused on propping himself up against the wall. "Did he have a lisp?"

"That's your question?" Peter laughed weakly. "Out of everything you could have asked me about a near-death encounter and it's if he has a lisp. As if I wouldn't have started with that."

Alex laughed, though it sounded a little hysterical, as the towel started to drip with blood while it was doing very little to help clean up his chest. After a couple more seconds she gave up and just started bandaging what she could. She grabbed a wad of gauze and pressed it to Peter's chest in hopes of stopping some of the bleeding since it wasn't like she knew how to stitch up a person. He might say he healed quickly, but there was a whole pool of blood on her floor that stated otherwise. She toyed with the idea of calling the ambulance without him knowing, but how was Alex going to explain the carnage without the police arresting her, Peter, or both.

"I don't think the fangs are attached, more like mouth guards that he wears, which makes the lack of lisp even more impressive," Peter said after a couple of minutes of hissing in pain and breathing heavily with his eyes closed. "His suit also has some sort of armor weaved into it because it hurt like hell when I got a hit in. Those claws, however, were the big issue, as you can easily see. He's strong, fast, and a bendy bastard. He also really hates me for some reason. I mean, most people hate me, but this guy really dislikes me and it seems really personal."

Before Alex could come back with a witty comeback, there was a knock at her front door. They both went very still, hoping whoever it was would go away. Alex tried to figure who the hell it could be. Monica would have called or texted Alex first and none of the other residents would have any reason to come see her. What if it was Steve or Sam, how would she explain Peter to them without revealing his identity? Worse, what if it was Micheal coming to check on her? He was a police officer and would be able to get past the front desk easily. Shit.

One look at Peter and Alex knew he wouldn't even be able to get himself to the bathroom in time as another set of knocks came to the door. Alex had no choice but to try to get rid of whoever it was. She gave Peter a warning look to stay quiet before she got up, attempted to get the blood off her hands, and walked over to open the door.

Jacob Harper was standing on the other side of the door, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and a huge smile on his face. "Surprise!"

"Jake, I thought you said you were coming up around midterms," Alex got out as she stared at her older brother's smiling face, trying to catch up to this unexpected turn of events. "How did you get past the front desk?"

"Apparently we look enough alike and I'm charismatic enough that the old bulldog at the front desk let me come up," Jake laughed, looking past Alex into the apartment. "Is there a reason you're not letting me in? Are you hiding a boy in there?"

"Yes! Yes, I am," Alex looked over her shoulder to see Peter attempting to peel himself up off the floor. "So, do you think you could wait down in the lobby until I get him out of here?"

"Absolutely not," Jake laughed as he attempted to push his way into the apartment.

Alex attempted to bar the doorway, but she was so surprised that Jake was able to get the door open enough to look inside. Peter was in the middle of the living room, his suit barely clinging onto his hips and legs, bleeding everywhere, and not a single piece of furniture in the apartment. Jake and Peter stared at each other for a moment before Jake gently took Alex's arm and pulled her out into the hallway. He waited until the door was closed before they locked eyes, his expression dark.

"Alexandra," Jake said in a cold and measured voice. "I've tried, really hard, not to ask you too much about your life here in the city because I know you want your space. Lord knows that I don't want to know about your sex life. However, there is a bleeding man in your empty ass apartment and I need to know if either of you are in trouble."

"Oh, Jesus, Jacob," Alex threw open the door to find Peter in the exact spot where she left him, blinking like a deer in headlights. "It wasn't rough sex you freak. Peter got jumped on his way home and came here to get patched up."

"By who?" Jake dropped his duffle bag by the door while Peter gave him a little finger wave. "And what's with the tights?"

"I go to Julliard, ballet. I'm sure you now see the problem," Peter said quickly, saving Alex from a way less convincing lie. "You must be the older brother. This is not how I expected to meet."

"Well, I have no idea who you are so likewise." Jake smiled at Peter before he took in the carnage of the apartment. "I'd say sit down, but it doesn't look like that's an option with Lexie's minimal decor. Why don't you hop up on the counter and we'll see if we can't get you patched up."

"Lexie?" Peter raised an eyebrow but did what he was told as Jake took the bloody towel into the bathroom. Alex heard the water running, so she figured they'd have a few minutes to talk without him hearing it.

"You ever call me that, Parker, and I will kill you myself," Alex whispered as she brought the first aid kit over and surveyed the damage again. "You know, this all doesn't look as bad as I first thought."

"Fast healing, remember?" Peter groaned as he peeled off the rest of his suit, including his web-shooters, and sat there in just his boxers. "Hide this somewhere before your brother starts questioning the ballerina angle. You could have given me a little warning that he was coming."

"It wasn't supposed to be until after midterms," Alex whispered as Jake reappeared with a towel and a couple of washcloths.

"Alright, buddy, we're about to get real familiar with one another real quick," Jake said with a smile before surveying the damage. Alex took a moment to go into her grandfather's trunk, saying she thought there might be more gauze in there, and stashing Peter's suit and web-shooters into the false bottom.

The Harper siblings worked in tandem to get Peter back into one piece. There wasn't a lot of talking, just a hiss of pain or a groan from Peter while Alex and Jake muttered for a bandage, gauze, or the pair of scissors. Alex made comforting sounds now and again if something obviously hurt Peter badly, but luckily there weren't more instances of that. He wasn't a stranger to getting the crap beat out of him apparent.

"What kind of weapons were these guys carrying?" Jake asked while he finished bandaging up Peter's arm, the last wound that needed covered. "I haven't been in a lot of knife fights in my time, but the injuries I have seen didn't look like this."

"To be honest with you, I didn't get a good look at it. It all happened so fast." Peter shrugged, and then winced, as they started to clean up the towels and blood. "One minute I was walking toward the subway, still in my gear because practice ran over, and the next I was getting the ever-loving shit beat out of me. They took everything and only ran when someone shouted something at them. I didn't want to scare my aunt so I came here."

"Let me see if I have something you can put on and then we'll figure out how to get you home," Alex said as she took all the blood-soaked items into the bathroom and tossed them into the tub, letting the water run to try and clean them off.

After going all the way to the back of her closet shelf, Alex was finally able to find a pair of gym shorts and a hoodie. It was the first outfit that Alex had given James when she brought him in out of the rain. It seemed to be her emergency outfit for wayward superheroes. Hopefully, Peter would be the last one she ever had to give it to.

"Well, Peter can't walk home in this state and we can't sleep here Lex, so what's the plan?" Jake asked when Alex handed the clothing to Peter.

"You know, Jacob, I really hadn't gotten that far yet," Alex sighed as she looked over at the window. "Maybe you can take a cab with Peter and get a hotel room for the night? I'll help you with the cost if you need help."

"Lex, I am a welder with work, I'm pretty sure I have more money than you do. Also, what are you going to do, sleep on Gramp's old trunk? How long have you been living like this?" Jake sounded frustrated as Alex took the bucket from under the skin and took it into the bathroom. She swapped out the towels for the bucket, wringing out the last bit of water before laying them out to dry before bringing the now full bucket into the living room.

"There was an electrical fire that ruined the place. I lost a lot of my furniture in the fire, putting it out, and the cleanup. It only happened last week and I was just back into the place today," Alex explained as she poured some bleach into the water and started to scrub the floor furiously. "I've been crashing with friends and if you would have told me you were coming I could have warned you."

"If you told me anything about your life, I would have known that your life was in shambles," Jake shot back as he and Peter watched Alex scrub the blood furiously. "Like what the hell, Lexie? You couldn't even shoot me a text message?"

"And if I did, you would have told Mom and Dad," Alex said between clenched teeth, dunking the scrub brush into the water before bringing it out and scrubbing some more. "That would have led to emails and phone calls about how I should come back to the farm and spend the rest of my life raising calves and babies."

"You don't give them enough credit, Lex," Jake said with a sigh. "You don't give any of us any credit."

"Really? Because I'm the only one cleaning the apartment while you just stand there lecturing me." Alex threw the scrub brush in the water, sending it splattering everywhere. "I'm sorry that I didn't move to Miami and just have everything fall into my lap perfectly, that my life is a shit show and it is inconveniencing you. My humblest apologies."

"You think that everything has just fallen in my lap? Seriously?" Jake was properly angry now, his jaw clenched underneath the stupid ass beard of his. "You spoiled brat."

"Excuse me," Alex was on her feet before she even realized. "Spoiled? Is that the word that just came out of your mouth?"

"Um, bleeding guy over here," Peter cut in before Jake said anything else. "If you two are going to royal rumble in the apartment, that's your prerogative. I just need someone to help me get into the lobby and I'll take it from there."

Alex was so angry she could feel the heat radiating off her face, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. "Sorry, Parker. Let's get you out of here and back home so you can get some sleep."

"Well, finish your cleaning first. It will probably take me that long to get off this counter," Peter laughed as he slowly started to scoot toward the edge. "I also don't want you to lose your security deposit."

"I think that ship has sailed," Alex gave him a shaky smile but grabbed some wet Swiffer pads to finish cleaning up the floor before taking the blood off the walls and window sill. By the time she had finished, Jake had helped Peter get up on his feet, gathered his bag, and packed a bag for Alex as well.

The group didn't talk as they made their way to the elevator, Peter held up by the Harper siblings. Alex knew that he was in bad shape when he didn't even make a bad joke while they rode down to the lobby. Thankfully, Henry was busy with another resident so the group hurried out into the chilly autumn air. Peter took ages to get into the cab, swearing colorfully under his breath, but soon they were on their way to Queens.

"Now, after we drop Peter off, where are we going to spend the night?" Jake asked softly.

"Do you think it's the best idea for us to be in the same room unsupervised?" Alex hadn't forgotten what Jake had said to her in the apartment and she was still pissed about it.

"I'm not going to let you sleep curled up on the floor in your apartment like a stray cat," Jake gave her a look over Peter's head, as he was slumped down with his eyes closed. Alex didn't believe for a moment that he was asleep, he just didn't want to deal with the Harper siblings bickering. God, she wished she could do the same.

"Well, as I live here, I don't know any of the places to stay in the city that don't cost an arm and a leg," Alex huffed.

"If you're just looking at a place for the night," the cabbie said over his shoulder. "The Chelsea Inn's rates are pretty low right now. One of my other fares stated that they got a great deal after their AirBnB fell through at the last minute."

"Sounds great," Jake said before Alex could ask any more questions. "Take us there after we drop our other passenger off."

The cab was an uncomfortable silence after that, Peter still pretending to sleep while Jake and Alex looked out of their respective windows. Even the cabbie didn't try to speak with them, turning up sports radio as they moved through New York City traffic. Peter needed help getting out of the cab, but was able to make it up the stairs and into his house without assistance. He didn't say goodbye or thank you, but Alex didn't blame him. The fact that he was standing at all was a bit of a miracle.

The ride to the Chelsea Inn was even more uncomfortable and Alex had never been happier to see another person as she was to see the concierge at the hotel. She must have just started her shift because she was extremely chipper and pleasant as she checked the siblings into the "guest rooms", which were two rooms with Queen beds that had a connecting bathroom. That was probably the best arrangement for both siblings to make it out of the hotel in one piece the next morning.

Jake allowed Alex to unpack the bag he had bought for her and change for bed in blissful silence. However, she knew that it wasn't going to last. It wasn't until she was out of the shower, saying a silent thank you that the cabbie hadn't noticed her hands were stained with blood, that Jake pounced.

"Alright kid, I went down and got gummy worms, gummy bears, soda, and two slices of cheesecake as bribes. Then I went to a super shady alcohol store and got those little bottles of booze to add to the soda. We're having a conversation no ifs, ands, or buts about it." Jake motions to the spread of junk food on his bed. "You could go and slam the door like when you were a teenager, but there is no escaping me, so we might as well get it over with."

Alex sighed heavily, but she hadn't eaten since those fries with Olivia and that sandwich before she started cleaning. She was starving. The promise of alcohol was also not something she could easily pass up given the events of the last couple of hours. However, she would rather die than let Jake think that this was anything but a complete and utter inconvenience on her life, so she made a big show of flopping down on the bed and pouting just a bit.

"You're such a brat," Jake shook his head, but sat down on the other side of the bed, pawing through the goodies he had purchased. "Now I know things got a little heated earlier-"

"You mean when you were being an asshole?"

"But," Jake raised his voice and continued, "just take a second to look at it from my point of view. You went through hell last year and none of us knew. We saw what it did to you, how unlike yourself you were. So I show up a bit early to make sure everything is as alright as you say it is. I walk into an empty apartment that's covered in blood, and a man half beat to shit standing there like this is a bad play. Can you blame me for being a little on edge?"

Alex really couldn't blame him, especially because he still didn't know the whole story about what happened the year before or why Peter had the ever-loving hell beat out of him. While she didn't think Jake would be able to deal with all the superhero stuff, and pparently he thought she was a spoiled brat, part of him did care. If she had seen him in the same scenario when she went to Miami, she would also be upset and concerned. She should throw him a bone, only so he'd stop digging.

"First, you have to promise not to tell mom and dad," Alex said as she popped open the cheesecake container. "Second, you can't freak out."

"I promise not to tell mom and dad, but the second one is a harder sell." Jake dumped gin into his bottle of Sprite and Jack into the bottle of Coke before handing it to Alex. "I am a big brother, after all, so depending on what you tell me, it's my duty to freak out."

"Well, you remember when you told me about the news story with something ripping apart scientists' apartments?" Alex said slowly, looking at the cheesecake instead of her brother.

"Oh, I do not like where this is going," Jake said before taking a long sip from his drink. "There wasn't an electrical fire in your apartment, was there?"

"There was not," Alex said with a sigh. "Whatever the thing was tore everything to shreds, which is why I didn't have any furniture anymore either. Police still don't know what it wants, but the important thing is that I'm fine."

Jake took a deep breath before tearing into a pack of gummy bears and ripping a couple of heads off with his teeth. Alex let him stew with that statement while she polished off the cheesecake and debated whether he was angry enough to not realize she had eaten his piece as well. She decided not to test him when he was already on the edge and moved onto the gummy worms. Jake continued to stay worryingly silent.

"Did you break a mirror or something while I wasn't looking? Maybe got on the wrong side of a witch and got hexed? How is it that you always end up in these situations?" Jake finally said after finishing over half of his drink. "This isn't like the motorcycle gang when you were sixteen, you did that yourself, or that asshole last year that you dated for some reason. This danger is just seeking you out. It's a moth and you're a freaking flame. Unless you're still lying to me, which is also very much like you."

"I'm not telling you a lot of things, but this is everything I know about this guy. He calls himself the Jackal and no one knows what he has against the scientific community," Alex laid down on her stomach to get more comfortable, still eating gummy worms between sentences.

"Maybe he is a mad scientist like in the James Bond movies. Who cares?" Jake shrugged as more poor brave gummy bears lost their heads. "Whatever the reason, you think he'll come back to your place? If so, maybe you should think about staying somewhere else until he's caught."

Now Alex had to decide how honest to be with her brother. Did she tell him about the Jackal's nocturnal visit after murdering someone else? That didn't seem like a good idea, but he'd be able to read about the murder in the paper so she couldn't lie completely. What was the half-truth that wouldn't end in them screaming at one another about what was best for her safety?

"I don't exactly have money to stay anywhere else for however long it will take the police to figure this guy out. Besides, he hasn't hit any of the other scientists twice." Alex took a deep breath before continuing. "But, I am going to tell you something so that you can't say I'm holding anything back or lying to you. The last scientist who's apartment he got into, the scientist was there and he killed them."

Jake downed the rest of his Sprite and Gin in a single gulp. Alex thought that was a good idea and downed her Rum and Coke, which had substantially more liquid in it than Jake's did. That led to hiccups, which made Jake laugh as he got her some water to help. They were both giggling like idiots while Alex attempted to drink the water and hiccuping at the same time, which led to more laughing and more hiccups. It was a vicious circle, but it broke the tension.

"You good?" Jake asked once the both of them got themselves under control, Alex wiping tears out of her eyes as she nodded. "Alright, good. I don't know what's going on in this crazy-ass city, but now that I'm here, I'm going to take care of my baby sister. That means that tomorrow we're going to thrift stores or Ikea or wherever and getting you some furniture. Then I am going to buy you dinner to make sure you eat. You're looking a bit gaunt.."

"I'm insulted that you think I haven't been eating well," Alex put on mock outrage before laughing. "I'm not saying that you're wrong, hot pockets are my main food group, but the fact that you'd point it out is just rude. However, that's all going to have to wait until I'm done with classes and my internship."

"You can't take one day off? Play hooky like high school?" Jake rolled his eyes. "You need to move to Miami and chill out, kid."

"Not all of us can smoke weed and surf all day," Alex smiled as she started to clean up the carnage of their snack session. "Some of us are still in college as well as having to pay rent."

"Jealousy is not a good color on you, Lex," Jake smiled as he laid down on the bed. "How early are you going to have to roll out of here in the morning?"

"Well, the class is at eight in the morning so probably earlier than I would like. Luckily, I'm not going to have to figure out how to get there." Alex stretched as she tossed out the trash and headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"And that's because…" Alex didn't have to look at her brother to know that he had an eyebrow raised.

"Because after the attack on the apartment, Mr. Stark was kind enough to grant me the use of a vehicle and driver to ensure my safety too and from work." Alex didn't think that Jake would even believe her if she tried to explain that Steve Rogers had talked Tony Stark into it. As much as she joked about being the smarter sibling, not a lot got past Jake, especially if they were talking face to face.

"Well, it's the least he could do after working for him puts you in constant danger," Jake muttered.

"We don't know that. All the other scientists have been working at Oscorp." Alex didn't know why she was defending Tony Stark, a lot more powerful people had said a lot worse things to and about him.

"So he just picked you out at random? That is what makes you feel better?" Jake shook his head. "All those academic accolades and you still are an absolute dumbass."

"Goodnight to you too, jackass." Alex rolled her eyes before closing the door to her room a little more forcefully than necessary.

Alex's sleep was far from restful, even though the bed was comfortable and the room was pleasantly cool. Peter didn't return any of the text messages she sent him after telling Mrs. Nazari about her change of location. She only slept for forty-five minutes to an hour before she was awake again, checking her phone and sending another text message to Peter before staring at the ceiling and listening to the air conditioning hum. When her alarm went off, Peter still had said nothing and Alex was almost sick to her stomach about it. Jake was snoring peacefully when Alex slipped out for a run and muttered something when she came back in but didn't wake up.

Jake's eyes were at least open when Alex came out from her shower, though he was still flopped on his stomach and didn't look as if he planned on checking out any time soon. He asked something about breakfast, but Alex just told him to go back to bed. It wasn't that she wasn't hungry, but trying to wake Jake up was like rousing a bear from hibernation and she didn't want to keep Mrs. Nazari waiting. Jake was totally happy with going back to sleep.

"Any reason you're in a hotel today, Miss Harper?" Mrs. Nazari asked, her face concerned as she opened the door for Alex. "You weren't attacked again, were you?"

"Only by a surprise visit by my brother," Alex smiled as she slipped into the car. "And please, call me Alex or A.J. I'm not put together enough to be referred to as Miss Harper by someone I see every day."

"You are technically my client, but if you insist," Mrs. Nazari smiled as she went to close the door. "There are some treats for you in the pocket if you haven't eaten yet. I'm not sure if this hotel has continental breakfast or not. My children don't think I notice when they stuff them there when they don't want them."

Alex smiled as she pulled out sliced apples and mangos from the pouch in the back of the SUV. She also found a small toy horse that she assumed belongs to one of the children as well. Alex tucked it back into the pouch without a word. Mrs. Nazari probably would be embarrassed if Alex brought it up. So, Alex happily munched on fresh fruit while Mrs. Nazari made clicking and humming sounds in response to whatever the news was telling her.

It wasn't until Professor Warren came into class and Peter still wasn't in his seat next to her that Alex went from being concerned to be truly scared that Peter had overestimated his healing abilities. It was one thing not to answer her text messages at night, but to not come to class? His superior healing powers be damned, she should have dragged his battered ass to the hospital the moment he tumbled into her apartment. She was going to murder him if he wasn't already on his death bed.

By some grace of God, Professor Warren was also off his game and even ended class early complaining of a headache. Everyone was so surprised by this that they all sat in their chairs staring at one another as if they were worried it was a test. The poor teaching assistance probably thought that they were all hypnotized when he came in for their lab section. He even asked if everything was alright before launching into how close they were to midterms and how they should book their time with the computers if they didn't have their finished analysis already.

Alex was sure whatever they learned was extremely important, but all she could think about was Peter Parker and as soon as she was able, she was running down the street and begging Mrs. Nazari to drive her to his home and not Stark Tower. It took a little bit of convincing and a call to the lab before Mrs. Nazari was persuaded to head to Queens.

#marvel #fanfic #My writing #A Spider Sat Down Beside Her #Update 16

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devnicolee · 5 years ago

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Assurance and Appreciation

A/N: Struggling with writer’s block on Chapter 9 so this is what came about instead. Sort of a sequel to A Seat on the Throne because Zarah isn’t the only one who needs some additional assurances and support every once in a while.

Warning: Smut, NSFW (and my first time writing a blowjob which was really hard and it probably shows haha sorry in advance!)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,257

"I don’t understand what your hesitation is," Zarah called as she turned off their waterfall shower and started wringing her twists out in an old t-shirt. "Shuri and T’Challa are just trying to help. You decided to rejoin Wakanda, yes? This is what joining Wakanda means. You cannot have both collaboration and isolation. Are you regretting your decision or something?" She stepped out of their shower, smiling at him as he started to help her dry off in her soft, plush towels. She could have done it herself but she always appreciated the intimacy of their nighttime ritual, each helping the other prepare for bed.

However, tonight’s ritual did not include its usual peaceful silence or lighthearted musings about the day’s events. No, tonight’s ritual was marked with discord, debate and confusion over her husband’s ambivalence, a state that clashed with his usual personality. Zarah always appreciated, that even in the infancy of his time as chief, M’Baku always held fast to his decisions. He did not rush into them; taking his time to deliberate thoughtfully, intentionally and prayerfully before committing himself or his people to a course of action. But when he ultimately reached a decision, he stuck with it and saw it through until it became clear a better option was available. Zarah trusted those decisions, would bet her life on them and rarely questioned them because he never gave her a reason to doubt his motives and intentions.

Today, though, was a complete departure for her usually confident and stubborn king. Today, he was indecisive and unsure. Prior to this morning’s council meeting, her husband agreed to accept kimoyo beads to test among the Jabari and increase the connection between the mountain tribe and Greater Wakanda. Zarah would have even said he was excited about the prospect and opportunity. However, a tense council meeting later, he was straddling a giant fence of indecision, swaying back and forth between moving forward and preparing to tell T’Challa to throw away the plan entirely.

"Regretting, no. I just do not want vibranium to corrupt our people, it is not who we are. It is why our ancestors forged their own path in the first place. You know this, Zarah."

She maneuvered around her giant-sized husband in their bathroom as she finished her evening skin care routine, noting the agitation in his tone and eyes as he spoke.

"Yes, and our ancestors also refused to use Jabari wood for anything other than weapons at a time. But times are changing my love. You," she reached over and squeezed his hand that rested on their counter, "know this. I love tradition, I love our traditions. But tradition are just one way of doing things until another way comes along. Neither is better than the other, it is merely different. You are allowed to create new traditions for this tribe. It is not only your right as Chief, it is your duty when you know those traditions people desperately seek to hold onto are limiting our progress."

She strolled out of their bathroom after pulling on a pair of panties and an old sweater to sit on her side of their bed. "And we are not even talking about a lot. Just something small to see how we like it, if it improves our well-being, see how we like connecting to the low landers," she listed, reviewing the proposal she helped craft to him again.

"Kimoyo beads are as low tech as the Panthers can get. She and I spent a lot of time on that proposal before she sent it to you and you agreed," Zarah emphasized pointedly. She worked with Shuri and T’Challa for weeks to determine what type of technology would best suit the Jabari’s beliefs and lifestyle. She was maintaining a calm facade but underneath, tides of frustration and anxiety at her husband’s indecision were rising. While she knew all of his doubts were focused on the Panthers, in questioning his support to their plan, he was also questioning her judgement and counsel.

She pulled her shea butter out of her nightstand and lathered her legs as she spoke. As she continued, M’Baku was no longer listening. He was completely entranced by the thickness of her thighs and the softness and glow of her skin.

She coughed loudly, breaking him out of his trance. "Are you listening to me husband?"

He laughed loudly, "Apologies little one, you just look beautiful tonight." He winked at her, the desire that always sparkled behind his mocha eyes now a full inferno.

She smiled and rolled her eyes, "According to you, I look beautiful every night so flattery will not get you out of this conversation," she joking chastised him. "But thank you. You are free to ravish me after we finish this discussion."

He let out a disgruntled bark, causing her to shake her head and laugh at his antics. Accepting defeat of his plan to trade this conversation for a symphony of her moans and screams, he walked over to her.

"Even if you do not trust the Panthers and I do not understand why you wouldn’t at this point… y-you should at least trust your chieftess. I would never lead our people astray," she mumbled as he sat down next to her.

"It is not that I do not trust your counsel or the Panthers. You know that is not it, you are a genius and I know you would not have proposed it without intense deliberation. I am just not sure it is the right course of action for our people."

"You trust T’Challa to share this country’s resources with the world yes? You trust that he is right when he believes our resources will benefit others’ lives?" She intertwined her fingers with his and stroked his exposed bicep as they sat.

"Yes, it is his right as king."

"But you don’t trust him enough to know that for us? To benefit the lives of actual Wakandans? We have isolated ourselves for too long, so much so that even in our new partnership, we are continuing to choose isolation. We are still not truly willing to dive in and try. I say it all the time: we are both Wakandans and Jabari… There is room for both. There must be or we are lost. T’Challa is flawed yes. But he has a pure heart, just as you do. He wants to work with us, he is excited to work with us and find ways to be more inclusive of our needs. If he believes this is the correct course, we can at least meet him halfway. And if we do not like it, we turn back and work together to forge a different one." She kissed the side of his head and scouted further up the bed to get situated to sleep. "Besides, we do not have to give him an answer tonight. Just sleep and pray on it and decide with a fresh perspective tomorrow."

She could not see the small nod he gave before he stood and walked over to his side to join her, climbing in bed and draping a heavy arm across her waist. Under the sheets, his hand gripped and kneaded her exposed thigh over and over again. Usually, it would have Zarah flipping onto her back and begging for more but even she could tell his movements were void of sexual tension or motives. This was merely the physical representation of his restlessness, his anxiety - two things that were rare in his usual powerful and assured personality. She soon realized he had no intention of sleeping, not with their conversation still tumbling through his overactive mind.

Zarah shifted to her back, his hand never leaving her thigh, recognizing in his eyes that there was indeed more to the story than he let on.

"Husband…"

"Hmm?"

"What is this really about? You are not this worked up over technology as simple and inconsequential as kimoyo beads. What is really wrong?"

"Your father and Elder Asante. After the council meeting, they said I was destroying the Jabari."

Zarah rolled her eyes and shifted to sit up. She finally understood. She was not debating her husband, she was debating the Council. She was arguing with her father and the other elders who planted seeds of doubt in her husband every time the Panthers were mentioned; the elders who guilted and shamed him for breaking traditions and building his own vision for the tribe.

She gestured for M’Baku to sit on his side of the bed. Zarah loved any excuse to climb into his lap and over time, all difficult or intimate conversations in their relationship were done in that position.

She swung her leg across his hips and rested on top of him. She held his head in her hands, his beard tickling the palms of her hands. "You have been telling me to ignore my parents and their opinions for years."

"But you do not," he shot back, rubbing patterns into her thigh.

"Yes, because I actually do care about their opinions. You have never cared about what the Council thought of you. Why does their opinion bother you so today?"

"Because what if I am?"

"What if you are what?"

"Destroying the Jabari? Half of the Council has hated me since I rejoined. I have not been able to do anything right since. They second guess and question every decision I have made regarding the Panthers. Maybe I did make the wrong decision? Maybe I am overcomplicating our people’s lives… changing too much. I thought I was bringing people together, but it seems I have just caused too much division."

"You could be destroying the Jabari. I certainly do not think you are, and I do not think you truly believe that either. I see the pressure you are under, the pressure you put on yourself. Chief is a great responsibility and the weight of all of it falls squarely on you. I have my days of doubt as chieftess so I can only imagine how those moments feel as chief. But do you know what I do when I have those moments?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"I remember what a handsome chieftain told me one day in our throne room when I worried that I would too destroy our people and embarrass him as chieftess."

M’Baku chuckled, the memory of that day floating to the top of his mind. "What did this handsome chieftain tell you eh?"

"He told me to hold tight to him because moments of doubt were part of the job. How you see the light at the end of those tunnels is by leaning on this," she gestured between them, "Leaning on each other for support and counsel."

She held his head firmly in her hands. "And he asked me to remember what I told him the day he became chief. He spoke of how he did not believe me on his Challenge Day. But I meant it that day all those years ago and have believed it every day since. History will look down on you as one of our greatest chiefs. One that took risks and brought his people into a new light, redirected our energy to a purpose beyond ourselves. My father will never like the decisions you make and so may be the case for the entire Council. But you have the purest heart of them all. As long as you are guided by that, you should not doubt your choices. You and your decisions are guided by Hanuman and he chose you. That is all you need."

"And you? You think I am doing the right thing?"

"Yes, I have never been afraid to tell you when I disagree. But I do not. While your intentions remain as pure as your heart, I will follow your lead through fire, rain or snow. You asked for this tribe to trust you, to follow you. We chose to do so because you have earned it. You proved yourself worthy of the title, the responsibility, and the respect long ago. And you have not let us down since. Do not let my father or anyone else have you questioning yourself. Understand?"

"Yes. Thank you," he pulled her in to kiss her deeply. "I will let T’Challa and Shuri know we want to test the beads. No more changing this decision. This is the answer. This is the path. It will be good for all of us."

"I think so too," she whispered, kissing his neck. Her hands journeyed up his bare chest to his shoulders. "You know what else I think?"

"Hmm" he hummed as he enjoyed her ministrations, noticing the slight grind in her hips against his manhood.

"I think our chief could relax. You have been so busy, running yourself ragged worried about this tribe and our people. I have not done enough to show you how appreciated you are," she said in a sultry tone. Her hands made quick work of pulling her sweater over her head, breasts free and exposed for her husband. Her kisses ventured further south, down his chest as she got off his lap to rest on her knees beside him.

"I cannot show you how much I appreciate you with all these clothes on my love," she whispered, prompting him to shed his clothes on his lower half and free his hardening length from its cage.

Zarah’s mouth watered slightly at the sight. While M’Baku typically spent a great deal of time worshipping her body during sex, it was certainly reciprocated. Zarah found immense pleasure in both receiving and giving. And so she poured her being into pleasuring M’Baku as he did with her always. Her small hand wrapped around him, pumping him slightly as she looked at him. "Can I take care of you my king?"

He simply nodded, words failing him at the sight of his queen, bare and on her knees for him.

Zarah took half of him into her mouth, rolling her tongue over his tip and tasting his pre-cum, her hand pumping the base of him. She moaned into his cock, savoring the taste of him, the vibrations causing a small moan to escape his lips.

Zarah released him from her mouth with a soft pop, her spit leaving strings between her lips and his manhood. She used her hand to spread the wetness around his member before she took him into her mouth again.

After a few minutes of massaging and teasing the sensitive spots she knew elicited the greatest response from the love of her life, she took a deep breath before taking him as far as she could into her throat. She breathed through her nose as she tried to accommodate him. Her eyes watered and she struggled to breathe as he hit the back of her throat but then she heard him, his moans and breathless outpourings of praise.

"Za… fuck. You take me so well," he breathed. His hand found its way to her panties, sliding them to the side so his fingers could find her love bud. He knew her body like a musician knows their instrument, understanding the right amount of pressure and strokes needed to alleviate this experience for both of them: to give him the melody of her moans and groans that he had been craving to hear all day and provide her with a reward for her efforts. He was not shocked to find her already gushing, knowing that pleasuring him turned her on endlessly, and knew she would be aching to be touched.

"You were made for me, usana," M’Baku moaned as he rubbed circles on her clit with his thumb while a skilled finger started pumping into her.

"M’Ba - fuck, that feels good," she panted, his manhood falling from the warmth of her mouth as she reacted to the surprise of his fingers entering her.

She enveloped him again, setting a steady rhythm to help him reach his climax as she bobbed up and down on his dick. She worked as fast as she could, desiring nothing more than to feel him release into the back of her throat, feel the tension and frustration leave his body.

He was in a state of bliss as she made a mess on his lap, taking him as deep as her body would allow. The vibrations from her moans caused his hips to buck into her lips over and over, his free hand tangled in her twists.

"Fuck… just like that. I’m almost there Za," he moaned. She felt him twitch and after a few short pumps, he released down her throat. All the while, his steady work to bring her equal pleasure never faltered, his fingers continued doing the work of Hanuman to bring her the euphoria of her orgasm.

She swallowed and released his member from her mouth in time to let out a string of cries and curse words as he applied more pressure to her sensitive bud and her own orgasm reached its peak.

She cried out as her body shook with the weight of her orgasm, his fingers continuing their mission through her release. She barely had time to recover and catch her breath from such an intense session before he grabbed her and pulled her in for a deep, rough kiss. His hands explored her thick backside, gripping and squeezing her ass.

"Suck," he demanded, presenting his fingers, coated in her nectar to her lips. She took no time to oblige, willing to do any and everything he asked of her. She let his hand fall from her mouth after sucking his fingers clean and kissed him again. She tossed him a playful smile before starting to slide off the bed to get a warm towel and clean them both up.

A rough hand pulled her back as she started to walk toward the bathroom.

"Where do you think you are going little one? I am not done with you yet."

She smiled up at him, "You can never get enough, can you?" From the animalistic look in his eyes, Zarah knew all those early meetings and plans she had for tomorrow would need to be rescheduled for another day. When he looked at her like this, she was lucky if she could physically get out of bed the next morning.

"Of you? Never."

She nodded, climbing back on the bed, "How do you want me, my king? Tonight is all about you."

He did not need time to contemplate, the answer on the tip of his tongue before she finished the sentence. "On all fours how I like it," he commanded.

Her king had spoken and she would do as he commanded. She moved quickly, rolling over to her stomach and assuming the position and deep arch he adored: ass up, face and chest pressed into their bed.

She gasped and turned her face deeper into the bed, clutching the sheets as he pushed into her without warning. She would never get used to the feeling, the high she got from his dick stretching her to capacity as he entered her. He was her drug and she was an addict, willing to risk it all to get her fix over and over again. She moaned and begged for more as his hips started a relentless pace, pounding into her from behind. Her eyes fluttered closed from the pleasure he provided as the clock struck midnight.

The night may have been ending for everyone else. But for M’Baku and Zarah? They had rounds to go before they slept.

****

Tags: @destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @jellybean531 @dawva @afrolatinpami

#Black Writers #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagines #black panther fics #m'baku x reader #m'baku imagine #m'baku smut #m'baku x oc

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mdelpin · 5 years ago

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Stingue Week 2019 - Honesty

Stingue Week 2019 Prompts: Heroic, Betrayal, Reminisce, Guilt, Union, Gratitude, AU AO3 | Full Story | Excerpt | Chapter 21

For @oryu404

Honesty (Excerpt from Chapter 21 of The Red Dragon)

Rogue lay on a blanket on the floor of the cave that had been their home for the last month or so, eyes wide open in the dark. This was but the latest in a series of caves they’d inhabited as they slowly made their way towards the island Natsu and Belserion had discovered.

Weisslogia couldn’t fly for very long periods, and whenever they moved from one place to another, he had to push himself so hard it took him months to recover and build up enough stamina to attempt the next move.

Rogue’s breathing came in ragged pants as he tried to distance himself from the vivid dream he’d just woken up from. It didn’t help that both his legs had begun to throb in agony. A flashback to the acid that had burned through parts of his body during his last battle. The phantom pain to his legs pulsated stronger than it had in several months.

He did everything he could to keep himself quiet, but the discomfort was more than he could bear. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and upon noticing Sting sleeping restlessly nearby, he made a decision. Rogue shifted into his shadow form and swiftly moved towards the cave entrance.

He traveled up the mountain until he reached a flat area wide enough to not be dangerous. Releasing his magic, he sat on the edge, watching the stars in peaceful solitude. It had been a long time since he’d had some time alone, and he soon found himself relaxing as the dream lost its hold on him, and the pain began to ebb from his consciousness.

Everything had changed so much in the last nine months, one decision made in the heat of battle had managed to reshape his life forever, and although he wished things had gone differently, he couldn’t find it in his heart to regret it. It had been the right thing to do.

Deliora was dead, the war was officially over. Everything else was secondary. Rogue used his arms to push himself back from the edge, wincing as a sharp rock scratched at his legs, which now ended slightly below his knees.

He heard movement below him and sighed, already knowing who it was. Looking up to the sky once more, he enjoyed the peace while he still could.

Some minutes later, he saw Sting’s hands appear on the ledge and waited for the lecture that was sure to follow.

“What are you doing out here?” Sting demanded, “I looked everywhere for you.” Although his face was full of concern, Rogue could feel Sting’s fear flooding the bond, and it irritated him.

“Where did you think I was going to go?” Rogue heard the bitterness in his voice and quickly tried to back down. The last thing he wanted was yet another argument.

“Everything’s fine Sting, I just needed some fresh air.”

“You had another one of those dreams, didn’t you?”

Rogue shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to give it any importance. “It’s a beautiful night.”

“Don’t change the subject, you can’t just take off like that!” Sting chastised, “What if you get into a situation, and I’m not around to help?”

The again was implied, but Rogue heard it just as loudly as if it had been yelled, and he could feel the rage building inside him.

“I may need help to do some things, but I’m not an invalid,” he growled, “I got myself up this mountain on my own, and I still have my magic. I can take care of myself just fine, the only one who seems to think I’m helpless is you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Rogue snapped, “You hover over me constantly, do everything for me before I’ve even had a chance to try on my own.”

“And you’re too stubborn to ask for help!” Sting accused, running his fingers through his hair in frustration, “Even when it’s obvious you need it.”

Rogue’s eyes flashed but before he had a chance to retort Sting sat down next to him.

“You’re not the only one who has nightmares, you know,” the words were uttered in a resigned tone, but Rogue could still suss out their meaning, and it deflated his anger instantly. Made him realize that Sting was still frightened he might lose him at any moment.

“Sting —”

“You almost died, Rogue. Did you ever think of what that did to me?” Sting’s eyes had grown so large Rogue felt like he could swim in their depths.

And he felt bad because the truth was he hadn’t given any thought to anything but the fact that Deliora was in front of them, and if they got him, they could go home. And Rogue had wanted to go home desperately.

He missed their friends, and their nice warm bed, and his favorite bakery, but mostly, he missed the way things had been between them before they had gotten caught up in the fights of others. And now they were involved in one that was all their own.

“He promised me, Rogue.”

And there it was. The reason for their neverending fight. Sting was determined to blame Natsu for what had happened to him, and that pissed Rogue off. Not only was it unfair, but it completely undermined his role in what had happened.

“When are you going to accept that I was the one who made the decision to fight that dragon on my own? Natsu was against it from the start. I was the one to convince him to go after Deliora. I was the one that thought I could handle it. And it was the right decision, regardless of the consequences. Deliora is dead.”

“I trusted him, he promised me he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“And if he hadn’t healed me when he did or gotten me to help, that acid would have killed me. Natsu saved me, Sting, and you sent Acnologia after him, knowing full well he intends to kill him. Last time they fought, Natsu barely survived.”

“What was I supposed to have done when he showed up here?” Sting yelled, but once again, the bond gave him away. Rogue could feel his guilt, and that at least made him feel a little better. “None of us was a match for him. It was the only thing I could do to keep us alive.”

“We should have fought him or died trying.” Rogue remarked matter-of-factly, “It’s what Natsu would have done for us. It was our turn to be heroic, but we cowered instead.”

Rogue wondered if Sting had yet realized the enormity of what he’d done by giving Acnologia Natsu’s location. He hadn’t just led Acnologia to Atlas, Igneel, and Natsu, he’d also sent him after Erza, Gray, Lyon, Anna and everyone else who lived in Talos. Sting had pointed that abomination straight to the one place they had spent most of their lives guarding.

“I had to protect you, I couldn’t fail again,” tears were hiding in the corner of Sting’s eyes, and it was then that Rogue felt the honesty in Sting’s words.

All this time, he’d thought that Sting had been punishing Natsu, but that had never been it. Yes, Sting was angry at Natsu, and he did blame him for Rogue’s injuries, but in the end, it had come down to the fact that his mate had been in danger. He’d had no choice but to protect him, even at the cost of betraying his best friend.

“Do you think he’s already gotten there?” Rogue worried, wishing they had been able to warn their friends of what was coming.

“Probably,” Sting’s voice broke, and Rogue let go of some of the resentment he’d been harboring. There was nothing to be done, and even if he hadn’t been the one to give Acnologia the information, the truth was he hadn’t stopped Sting either. They were both complicit.

They sat in uneasy silence, and Rogue couldn’t help but remember all the times they’d sat like this when they were younger. Climbing out of their beds in the orphanage and sneaking outside, just so they could gaze at the stars, and talk excitedly about the places they would go and the people they would meet when they were older.

Not having any idea that a little boy would soon enter their lives and change everything they knew. That they would come to love that little boy almost as much as they loved each other, or that he would come to give them a home.

A home they could no longer return to. Even if by some miracle Talos remained unscathed from Acnologia’s attack, once word got out of what they’d done, they would no longer be welcome there.

Rogue put his arm around his mate, pulling him close, letting Sting shed his tears on his shoulder. He knew there was more to what Sting was feeling than what he’d said, but there was no point in pushing now. He could only hope that the red dragons were able to put an end to Acnologia before he could destroy Talos and that Natsu somehow managed to live through it once again. If only so they could try to earn his forgiveness.

0-0

In the following days, things between them began to improve slowly. Sting hovered less, Rogue asked for help more. They met each other halfway, and although they were still far from where they had once been, it helped ease Rogue’s worries. He’d even caught himself smiling at Sting a few times, though he couldn’t recall having seen Sting smile since Acnologia had come into their cave.

Weiss was feeling stronger, and with any luck, they’d be able to make it to Drak Aatsa, the island Natsu and Belserion had found, soon. They sat in a circle, planning the next leg of their journey when Skia tensed up. Sting and Rogue regarded him in confusion until Weiss explained.

“Atlas and Natsu are near, they seem to be moving slower than usual,” Weiss looked over at Sting to see how his son was reacting to the news, but Rogue didn’t have to. He could feel it.

The surge of emotions that Sting was feeling was overwhelming, and for a moment, they became his. Rogue grabbed Sting’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing firmly.

Sting turned to him, looking paler than Rogue had ever seen him. For the first time since they’d met, Sting looked like he wanted to run from something, and it was very disconcerting. Rogue squeezed Sting’s hand again and offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

They waited silently as Skiadrum went out to meet the red dragons. The minutes dragged on until they heard the sounds they’d been dreading. Three pairs of large wings getting ever closer. Skiadrum entered first, followed by Atlas Flame and then Natsu.

Atlas looked agitated, although it was clear from Skiadrum’s countenance that he hadn’t told them anything. Rogue looked at Natsu curiously, he hadn’t really seen him much since he’d tried to heal him after the dragon attack. The best word he could think of to describe the dragon was downcast. He vaguely wondered why Natsu would choose to be in his dragon form when he no longer needed to, but he was distracted by Sting’s reaction.

Where before Sting had looked nervous, now he seemed to be holding back tears, and all Rogue could feel from him was great sorrow. He looked between Sting and Natsu trying to figure out what was going on.

Weiss broke the uncomfortable silence, “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”

“It’s probably nothing for you to worry about, but Acnologia popped up in Talos a few days ago. Now that we know he’s active again, we want to go ahead and move you to Drak Aatsa. It’s not safe for you here on your own anymore.”

Atlas was his usual boisterous self, but for once, it sounded forced, and they all knew him well enough not to be fooled.

Skia and Weiss exchanged a nervous glance. Atlas was putting on a performance, but it wasn’t for their benefit. Rogue couldn’t help but notice that Natsu hadn’t looked at any of them since he’d entered, nor had he spoken a word. In fact, his whole demeanor was very unlike him, and Rogue started to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. What had happened?

Before he could say anything, Sting blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

Natsu turned toward him, looking puzzled by Sting’s outburst but finally speaking. “The thing with Rogue? You had every right to be upset. I broke my promise.”

Atlas looked confused as well, but he headed over to Rogue, “How are you feeling? Skia mentioned you’d been getting some pains, want me to take a look?”

Rogue didn’t really respond, too caught up in what was happening between Sting and Natsu, and Atlas took that as an affirmative. Rogue felt a soothing warmness envelop his legs, starting at his stumps and moving upward, and he grunted in appreciation.

“No,” Rogue could almost hear Sting swallowing, trying to build up the courage to say the next words, “Acnologia was already here.”

Rogue saw Natsu’s eyes widen in concern at Sting’s words, his eyes darting to check on each one of them, and it was almost too much for him to bear. His guilt had somehow gained physical form, residing in a large lump in his throat.

“I don’t understand, if Acnologia was here, how are you all fine?” Natsu looked them over again as if checking to see if he had missed something the first time.

“I told him what he wanted to know,” Sting explained, still not able to voice the words he knew he needed to say, and Rogue immediately understood why.

Once those words came out, his friendship with Natsu, something that had always been very important to him, would be over.

Natsu mouthed the word “oh” before once again falling into silence.

“Natsu, I’m sorry, I—”

Sting tried to say more, but Natsu waved him off, adding, “If it had been Gray, I would have done the same thing.”

There was something about the way he said Gray’s name that worried at Rogue, and he wanted to ask, to say anything, but instead, Natsu was the one to speak.

“I’m glad you’re alright.” And with that, Natsu turned around and left the cave, flying off.

Sting ran after him, having to stop at the entrance, “NATSU PLEASE, I’M SORRY!” he yelled through his tears, but there was no response.

“Settle down,” Atlas advised as he sat comfortably between Skiadrum and Weisslogia.

“Aren’t you going after him?” Rogue asked, surprised by how calm Atlas seemed to be.

“Do you really think there is anything I could say that would help?” Atlas challenged, and when Rogue had no response, he snorted. “He needs to sort this out on his own. Get your stuff ready, we move out tomorrow.”

“What happened?” Sting demanded.

“Let it go,” Atlas growled, his previous calm disappearing in an instant. This Atlas was angry, so much so, in fact, that Skia and Weiss were glancing at him nervously.

Sting knelt in front of Atlas, “Please, I need to know.”

“You don’t need me to tell you anything, Sting. You already know what happened.” Atlas wouldn’t elaborate further, but that seemed to be enough for Sting to crumble.

He left the cave without saying a word to anyone, and Rogue could only stare after him in confused shock. Then everything clicked into place.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” Rogue announced before morphing into his shadow form and traveling back up the mountain to the spot where he knew he’d find Sting. There wasn’t really anywhere else he would have gone.

He could hear loud grunts as well as squelching thuds the higher up he got, and winced internally, worried about what he would find. Rogue reached the shelf only to see Sting pummeling the bare rock of the mountain face with his fists, the gloves he liked to wear already stained with his blood.

“Stop it!” Rogue yelled, materializing as close to Sting as he dared. He leaned against the rock, not daring to sit on the edge at the moment as it was windy.

Sting did stop for a moment but thought better of it, continuing to pelt the rock as hard as he could.

“I said, stop it! You aren’t helping anything by doing this,” Rogue called out once again, and when Sting still didn’t listen, he took a risk. He once again shifted into his shadow form. Only this time, grabbing on to Sting from behind, before materializing again. He hoped Sting didn’t fight him because he was in no condition to go up against him.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sting snapped, but he stopped what he was doing. His breath came out in ragged pants, and his hair was dripping with sweat, but he let Rogue restrain him, probably realizing he would only hurt him if he struggled.

Rogue loosened his hold, and Sting maneuvered him to his front, sitting both of them down. He wrapped his arms around Rogue and pulled him into his chest, which was the most intimate contact they’d shared in a long time.

Rogue removed Sting’s gloves to examine his hands and hissed, “I think you broke one.”

Sting’s only response was to laugh bitterly, “Yeah, I probably did. I deserve it, though.”

“Please tell me what’s going on, I know you’ve been keeping something from me, I just didn’t realize it had to do with Natsu.”

Sting remained silent for a few minutes before sighing, “To think I gave Gray the whole if you hurt him, I will end you speech. What a joke. I was the one who hurt them in the end.”

“Sting?”

“Can I just hold you for a bit? I promise I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“You can always hold me, dork, I’m your mate. I’m not going anywhere.” Rogue reassured him, raising his hand to touch Sting’s face, even though he couldn’t see it. He could feel Sting’s body relax behind him at his words, and he tried to burrow deeper into Sting’s warmth.

He wished they could go back inside, but he had a feeling if he suggested it, it would break this peace. Instead, he waited impatiently for Sting to speak.

“Natsu’s dragon side had been trying to take control of his body, it’s why we noticed all those changes at first. After he killed that wood dragon, we found out there was a possibility he might not be able to change back into his human form. The longer he stayed in his dragon form, the worse it would be. He didn’t want you guys to worry, so he made me promise to keep it a secret.”

Rogue began to shake with rage, That fucking idiot! How dare he keep something so important from them? Then again, he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised. Natsu had been forced to keep secrets for most of his life.

“After the fight with Acnologia, it only got worse. Natsu had a tough time changing from one form to the other, and his body was covered in red scales wherever Grandine and Atlas had healed him. Natsu said it was like the magic was resisting him. Before he killed Deliora, Atlas had told him his dragon self had asserted itself to the point he didn’t think Natsu had many transformations left in him. So Natsu decided to wait until he went home to change into his human form. He had no intention of changing back until Gray had passed.”

“Oh.”

“He’s a dragon, Rogue. Now and forever. I did that, I ruined his life. Now he can’t ever go back to Gray. I took away the only thing he’d ever wanted.”

‘Sting—”

“No! Don’t tell me I did my best, or that I couldn’t have known. That’s bullshit, I knew. I fucking knew, but I did it anyway.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Rogue lied, he couldn’t believe that all of this had been happening under his very nose and he hadn’t realized it. He was ashamed to realize he’d been so caught up in all their issues he hadn’t spared a thought to Natsu. And it wasn’t like he could even get mad at Sting for not telling him, not when he’d done the same.

Natsu had once been just like them. Just a lonely little boy who’d wanted a family as desperately as they had. He’d withheld so many things from them over the years because Natsu’s love had always been about loyalty and protection. He’d watched over all of them, like the dragon he was, but refused to worry them with his own problems.

Rogue found himself thinking of Gray, the way he’d always looked at Natsu when he thought no one was watching, it had been so endearing, especially given how gruff he acted most of the time. Rogue was filled with pity at the thought that his friend would never experience what he and Sting had. Even worse, given the fact they were soulmates, Gray would never find anyone to replace what Natsu meant to him. It was a cruel fate for two beings who were so in love.

It made him appreciate something he and Sting had both lost sight of some time ago. Even though it often felt like nothing had gone right for them since they’d left Talos, they were alive, and they still had each other. And for that, he was eternally grateful.

He nudged Sting’s arm, “Can you turn me around?”

Sting lifted him without much effort, turning Rogue to face him until he found a comfortable position for both of them. Rogue wrapped his arms around Sting’s neck for support. He wanted to see Sting’s face when he told him what he wanted to say.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that alone,” Rogue declared earnestly, “and I wish you had trusted me to keep your secret. But I understand.”

“Nothing that’s happened changes anything between us. I love you, just as I always have,” Rogue tried to smile through his sadness, nuzzling Sting’s forehead with his, “And I know you feel this is all your fault, but it’s not. I was right there with you. Like I always am, and I’ll always be.”

Sting cupped Rogue’s face in his bloodied hands, “I don’t deserve you.”

Rogue chuckled, “Nope, but here we are anyway.”

“Thank you.”

Rogue leaned forward, brushing his lips against his mate’s gently. More than anything, it was a promise on his part to work on their problems and move forward together. When he felt Sting respond in kind, it awakened feelings that had lain dormant inside him for too long.

Sting broke away first, pulling Rogue into an embrace before whispering in his ear, “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Rogue replied simply, squeezing Sting tightly against him. They continued to hold the embrace until they were both shivering with cold.

“We should probably head back down, Weiss and Skia are going to worry soon, and you should really have Atlas look at your hands.”

Sting groaned, “Might as well give the sadistic bastard the satisfaction.”

Rogue snorted, “He’s worked on me before, he’s not so bad.”

“Yeah that’s cause he likes you, I rather think I’m at the bottom of his list at the moment.”

Rogue had no response to that, so he remained silent.

“How am I ever going to make up for this?”

“I don’t think either of us can, all we can do is be there for them if they let us, and try to accept that they might not.”

Sting frowned as he thought about Rogue’s words, “I guess you’re right.” He peered at his mate shyly, “Together?”

“Together,” Rogue agreed, and holding on to Sting carefully, he shifted them, uniting them in his shadows. He sped down the mountain, welcoming the rush of being able to move on his own. He snorted as Sting complained.

“This is not what I had in mind.”

A/N: I am so happy I got to participate in both weeks this year. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to participate in this one, due to other projects, but rarely have the stars aligned so completely for something. Not only did the week fall on the same date as the next scheduled update for Red Dragon, but it was also a chapter that dealt mostly with Sting and Rogue and the prompts fit the events perfectly, so who was I to ignore fate? Hope you enjoy. If you are interested, the chapter is published in its entirety on AO3.

It really is exciting to see so many events for Stingue, I’m looking forward to many more.

@stingueweek @fyeahstingue

#fairy tail #stingue #stingueweek2019 #stingueweek #ftlgbtales #prompt: heroic #prompt: betrayal #prompt: reminisce #prompt: guilt #prompt: union #prompt: gratitude #prompt: AU #excerpt #the red dragon #fanfiction #ftfanfics

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holy-mountaineering · 5 years ago

Photo

This spread is for a donor who’d like to remain anonymous!

Here’s the full Qabalistic Tree of Life Spread that I do and here you are. What I’m going to do is go through and briefly explain each card, its position on the Tree, and then I’ll give you a summary/synopsis of the spread as a whole. You know the routine.

Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map, or even the land of a regular map, everything is happening at once, in each place. It’s important to think of yourself as moving “through” the map but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Maybe as a person, the Qabalistic Adam Kadmon.

Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have XVIII The Moon, Pieces, Qoph.

This is the ‘Sun at midnight where you stand shines on the other side of the world’. The pull of night and day eventually rising illuminating what was once dark. As opposed to the old Aeon idea of the Sun dying, this is the cyclic motion of the push and pull of the day and night. The dark gives the light context and vis-a-versa.

See the light in the dark, accept the cyclic push and pull, if you don’t like what “time of day it is” in your life I assure you it will change like the tides.

In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of your hometown is the Knight of Cups, the fiery part of Water or acting on feeling.

Ideally this is the drive to seek higher connections and feelings and being driven by intuition and love. Just don’t fall

for illusions and false ideals. This is the love that brings you closer to connecting with everything, recognizing connection and it’s drive. This is the Arthurian tale of chasing the Holy Grail *Insert Monty Python joke here* simply to have a true connection to their god. Seek love like that.

Act on what you feel and truly intuit but only to the ends of unselfish almost worshipful Love. Do things that get you really really feeling.

In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the 2 of Cups, Love.

Like all the 2s the deuces of Water is building towards completion. This is the ever becomingness of love. Love never dies, it is simply transformed like any other energy. Love isn’t a competition or something you can measure. You never stop loving someone/thing because you have “reached maximum love levels”, shake hands and walk away from it. There is no end-game to love and that’s why it’s scary and makes people act like idiots sometimes. Astrologically, Venus in Cancer can be interpreted as nurturing your emotional growth.

Build on what you’re feeling and don’t try to think about anything too concretely emotionally or intuitively. This is a building process so try not to focus on the final outcome but work with what you have now.

In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the Princess of Cups, the earthy part of Water.

We could consider this the substance in water or water hitting substance head on. This is the idea of the canyon wall being ground down over the millennia by moving water. The nutrients and minerals in the earth are transported down river to the fertile delta. This is the natural, “following your feelings” within your daily life. Try not to fool yourself, follow your intuition, not just passing whims. Feel, don’t necessarily react immediately.

Go with what you feel and intuit, let yourself go with the flow, if you will. Allow your situation to move with your emotions and be patient with your progress.

Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is, well, everything kinda, XXI The Universe, Saturn, Tau.

The Universe is the totality of what we can sense and know. The dance of the Woman with the cosmic serpent and the Eye destroying while everything constantly recreates. We see the Universe only from our position in it. You may send out your satellites to explore unknown areas but you can only process what they might mean from your place. The more we try to take into our restrictive minds and spirits, the more we know about the whole and ourselves and our place in the Universe.

Step back and look at the connections and totality of everything you know and experience. It’s quite a view.

In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is a big same AKA 0 The Fool, Aleph, Air.

This is mathematical zero or total possibility. This is the desire to create one’s self into a form, the logos or word spoken that jump started creation. The beginning of a journey of discovery. Going outward from stasis to tangibility. Making a thing from no-thing

Since you are nought, coming from no-thing into some-thing everything is discovery, for better or for worse. Just get up, get out, and do something! What to do and the direction to take to get there aren’t on any map.

In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is the Ace of Swords, the root power of Air or the mind.

This is the sword of the Magus and the magician’s Sword is the physical representation of our mind and it’s ability in its rawest state of being. Thelema is inscribed on the blade of the Sword in Greek because the Magus uses their mind to the end of their True Will. The Crown of light at the tip of the Sword is the illuminated mind, because in its singleness and sharpness it is the foundation of the mind, intellect, and communication powers.

Use your mind for what you need it to do. Remember that a sword is useless at best and dangerous at worst when it isn’t handled correctly. You can cut down an army with a sword, but you can also cut your whole-ass leg or arm off too with one too. Knowledge is dangerous and scary, be prepared.

In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is the Queen of Swords, or how you feel about what you think and your reasoning.

Ideally, this Queen is the “caller out of bullshit.” She is watery (intuitive) enough to feel when a facade is being put up and airy (intelligent) enough to cut the shit and address the fakery. The difference between someone trying to take advantage of another and a person who accidentally causes misfortune is the intention of said individual. Don’t be fooled by kind wolves or rabid sheep.

She rests at her throne with the head or mask of a man and the sword of her mind she severed the head/mask with. Her expression is one of disinterest, she’s done this many times before and shall again and again. It is her nature.

Be aware of intentions, even your own. Be wary of situations and people talking from behind masks they wish to use to obscure their true meaning. Especially be aware of yourself and your masks you hide behind.

On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is alot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is friend of the blog, V The Hierophant, Vau, Taurus.

This is being initiated into how things work in the material or normal world. This is the secrets of how things are and some of that is being revealed to you. This is a person, institution, or experience that is telling you “trade secrets” or how to do what you do better. 5s are the human or microcosmic number and Taurus reiterates this material theme. Once you find out how to improve yourself and your understanding of the world, you must now go out and actually use that skill. Knowledge is useless if it is not implemented in the knower’s life and behavior.

Get initiated into the cult of your sphere of interest. Learn how to improve what you do through being initiated in one way or another. Find what/who helps you to learn the “secrets” of how to do your thing better and then go out and do those things.

Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is the always a riot, the 10 of Swords (mental and communicative) Ruin.

Astrologically, this is Sol the Sun or your center being split by the duality of Gemini or duplicity. This is like making a decision by not making one. Your intellect is collapsing in on itself due to building duality or otherness conflicting with how you think of you. This is being “of two minds” but they duo doesn’t seem to work together very well. The good news is that they’re damn near done working together at all. 10s are the highest number card or as intense as it gets.

Try to integrate your splitting and increasingly destructive thinking and/or communicating, make meaning out of this chaos. And hey, don’t worry, it’s peaked and now you have to slide down the mountain of crazy you just climbed.

So, Basically, it seems dark right now because you’re not focusing on your Light enough and to do that you’ll need to act from a place of Love, that ever moving towards that leaves us both vulnerable and strong, in the same, but different confusing ass ways.

Then, we get to the part where the freedom of nothing is tempered by the restriction of everything, garnished with the substance in emotion and connection. That is to say, your heart is longing for ultimate Freedom, while your actions and goals are focused on the “Big Picture” and you can temper these by recognizing that value in both positions and finding middle ground by observing and participating in the “motion of the ocean” or finding the strongest currents and using them to your advantage.

Your personal growth from all this comes from hitting the “reset” button on your mind. That tool of the Mind that allows us to communicate is a sharp tool (for you, not everyone, as this hellsite constantly reminds me) and should be treated with respect and awe. This “Meh-ness” of realization shouldn’t slow you don’t if you don’t let it. Instead of being overwhelmed or underwhelmed, just be whelmed and move on, because you’re about to encounter a wonderful teaching moment, if you allow it/them in.

And, I feel like I say this to you a fair amount: Don’t break your brain. You’ve got a lot on the ol’ noggin, too much, really. Just allow this bit to wash over, through, and then the fuck up out of you.

Ta Da! Hit me up with any questions, comments, concerns or Qabalistic queries!

#tarot card readings #tarot spreads #occult #magick #qabalistic tree of life #divination #cartomancy

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