#the scarf of the same weave is Tempting me

[hopecomesbacktolife]

if I ever became obnoxiously rich I wouldn’t announce it but. there would be Signs

[boundinparchment]

Of Blood and Sparks - XXII

Karina Alexandre of Fontaine lost her position, her family, and her Archon's favor. A dead Electro Vision is her mark of guilt. A reminder to never fail again. Faith shattered, and suspicious of the Fatui, she eventually makes her way to Liyue, where she encounters a certain funeral parlor consultant. Little does she know it's only the beginning. Original character centric; eventual Zhongli/OC. Posted originally at @chevalier-of-fontaine. ArchiveOfOurOwn || FF.net || Karina's profile

She really should have stabbed him when she had the chance.

Zhongli released Karina’s hand as if it was a hot dish left on the stove and she brought her hands in front of her.  She bowed, allowed herself three seconds to compose herself, before she fixed her eyes on the new arrivals. 

“Sorry for the interruption, you two,” Childe ventured.  “I know the death of Rex Lapis has everyone on edge.”

“It’s quite fine,” Karina replied, all the while hoping her face was not as red as it felt.  “I was just leaving.”

Childe swept his arm out, as if presenting a fine gift to the strangers.  “Allow me to introduce Mr. Zhongli, consultant to an organization known as Wangsheng…and a trusted associate of the Fatui.  Along with Ms. Karina Alexandre, one of Wangsheng’s many business associates.”

Zhongli cleared his throat, stoic facade back in place.  “The food should be arriving soon, please make yourselves comfortable.”

The young woman, with short blonde hair and a unique flower tucked behind her ear, was the same one Karina noticed hours earlier.  Alongside her was a floating being with a scarf that contained the universe itself, patterns of stars shifting of their own accord.

“Please excuse me, I’m feeling unwell and would make for poor company,” Karina said before she turned to Zhongli.  “Whatever fabric, garments, or other similar necessities are required for the Rite of Parting, please send the requests to the shop; Jun Lei and myself would be more than honored to assist.”

“You are too kind, I will see to the purchase order personally.”

She said her farewells and left the private dining room but not before she heard Paimon barely whisper something about her darkened Vision.  It was best that she was leaving, she rationalized, the afternoon air warm and salty when she finally stepped outside again.  Karina didn’t want to listen to Zhongli manipulate and weave everyone as if they were all just filling carriers, shuttled from one side of the loom to the other, unaware of the image they created.

Her stomach protested as the last of the adrenaline and frustration gave way to hunger and exhaustion.  The food vendors were tempting but she had ingredients at home that would spoil if left much longer.

With every step, she fought to stem the raw wave that sank to her feet momentarily when they were interrupted.  She wasn’t even trusted with whatever plot was unfolding before all of the citizens of Liyue, let alone keep her element.  Whatever made him think she was worthy to hear the words Childe interrupted?  That she even wanted to hear them, when he wouldn’t tell her anything else?  Did he think she would even believe him, after…

Of all the things she knew she deserved in the world, lies and deceit weren’t high on the list.  

__________________

And apparently, sleep was not deserved either.

The ceiling wasn’t any more appealing than the wall.

She may as well have painted, at least then there might be something of interest.

Karina pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes until faint shapes danced across her vision.  How could she be so damn tired and yet so far out of sleep’s reach?  Nightmares were preferable, at this rate.  When she closed her eyes, all she saw were moments of a warm smile, warmer eyes, and the dance of a Geo Crystalfly as it fluttered away.

Tossing back the covers, Karina rose and padded into the kitchen.  She lit the stove with the strike of a match and placed a kettle over it to boil.  The flames danced orange and red, crackling softly as the cast iron took in the heat, warming its contents.

She slid to the kitchen floor when her tea was ready, steam curling from the top and slowly fading.  The best talks happened in the kitchen, usually on the floor, when neither she nor Rhiannon could sleep.  When they couldn’t be overheard by their parents or customers and just needed someone to listen, to get thoughts outside of their own heads.  

Not that they always got along.  Everyone always thought it was so nice to work with family members, for their parents to have had two daughters so capable and blessed.  Especially so when it came to those who knew their mother and father came from the Lower Rings and worked their way up.  

Everyone joked how nice and sweet two daughters could be.

But when Karina left for service, Rhiannon couldn’t understand why her sister would abandon them and leave her to pick up what was left behind; Karina couldn’t stand the whining and the fact that her colleagues saw her sister as fair game for courtship when she was barely into her thirteenth year.  

And understandably, Rhiannon liked the attention.  But she slashed too many pillows for Karina to count every time she discovered her older sister pulled rank on those who flirted with the young girl.  Karina repaired them without complaint and returned the favor by spilling ink on Rhiannon’s favorite dress.

Eventually, Karina wasn’t even home enough to bother and endure it.  And Rhiannon was occupied between her singing lessons and shifts at the shop.  Peace came because they were too busy.

And it stayed because the world outside their home was too hard and cruel.  Even in the aftermath, the kitchen was the place of comfort, even if Karina’s face was blotchy and bags sat beneath Rhiannon’s eyes.

What would they be now, Karina wondered.   Their parents’ deaths weren’t all that long ago; five years was the blink of an eye in the grand scheme of the world.

But five years was enough to turn a sister into a stranger.  

She may as well be dead anyway, Karina thought.  The girl I would remember certainly would be, especially considering the company she keeps…

A shuddering sigh left her lips and disturbed the steam’s intended path, ruining its usual twisting trail upwards.  Too much.  It was all too much.

Both of the people she loved were actually alive…yet neither of them told her themselves.  She couldn’t blame Rhiannon, really.  That bridge had burned when she’d been held back, unable to check on her again.

Karina laid her head back against the wall.  As much as she hated it, a part of her couldn’t bring herself to blame Zhongli for his actions, either.  Of all people, she knew the Archons were not infallible.  They weren’t as omnipotent, omniscient, or omnipresent as many liked to think, as they liked to project.  And ruling a nation for six thousand years was probably exhausting.

Surprise parties and gifts were the things to be withheld, not one’s trust over a plan involving staging a murder and watching among a crowd, thinking she would never see him again.  She didn’t deserve to be lied to and manipulated and forced to experience memories she had no control over, though.  Someone who loved her wouldn’t literally repeat the very thing that kept her up at night, that resulted in a limbo of sympathy, although more often it was a disguise for pity and disgust.  

Karina adjusted her position, eyes falling onto the dark liquid she’d brewed.  It would be a shame to waste it before it got too cold.  She took a sip, black tea mingling with a slightly burnt flavor from the roasting process.

Her numbness faded, much like a chill when walking into a room with a roaring fireplace.  

Temporary, perhaps, but a welcome relief.  At least enough to clear a layer of fog from her thoughts.

After a few more tastes, she willed herself out of the kitchen and into the tiny living area that hosted a low table.  After lighting another nearby lantern so she wasn’t stumbling around by moonlight, Karina settled at the table, a blank sheet of paper and a pen nearby.

There were still things to be said, words that escaped her hours ago, and sentiments still ringing in her ears.

And she could never let it be said that she did not do her part.

__________________

Days went by without much of note and Karina went about her routines as usual, save for morning tea sessions.  Instead, she set straight to work, even if the shop didn’t open for another hour.

Busy hands meant she had no room to think, either about her lack of sleep or lack of companionship or the letter burning a hole in her pocket.

Until one day, the door opened, and she looked up from the front counter to find a familiar face carrying a small bundle.  As he stepped closer, she smelt, rather than saw, that the bundle was actually a collection of fresh Glaze Lilies.

She didn’t have the energy to be angry or combative.

He’d already come by and handled whatever Wangsheng needed with Jun Lei.  Her boss was at least tactful enough to have sent her to the storeroom to take inventory and inspect bolts for any mold or moth damage. Karina figured organizing them would make the process easier the next quarter but her boss muttered something about not being able to avoid problems forever when she emerged an hour later than intended.

Despite Zhongli’s usual stoicism, there was something off about his pace, the way his eyes examined the shop without necessarily turning his attention away from her.  Karina returned her eyes to the books in front of her.  They had two upcoming fittings that afternoon, one of which was due to arrive soon.

“I understand if you do not wish to speak but there is something I must divulge before it is too late to do so,” he said.

“Now you want to tell me something important?” Karina shot back as she looked up at him, placing the pencil in the seam of the pages.

“It was never a matter of trust or a lack of it.  Far from it.  It is precisely because I wanted to spare you pain and the burden of more knowledge that I did not tell you my intentions.  But in doing so, I have done more harm than good.”

Karina felt a little jab in her stomach that twisted before it pushed its way up to her heart.  Keeping secrets to spare pain was something she was keenly familiar with.  It was a decision she made with every new encounter, one based on whether a person’s questions were accusatory or at least an attempt at understanding.  Bridges were burned before they were ever fully built that way, preventing people from getting too close, where they could see nothing but…

“And while I cannot tell you everything, especially now, I would be remiss if I did not tell you that I only wanted…that I only want you safe.”

A part of her, a frustratingly complacent part, wondered why she wouldn’t be.  Even if someone recognized her Vision and knew the distorted details, she was usually left well enough alone.

“I want all of Liyue safe.  Much like a parent wishes only the best for their child.  But there also comes a time when one must step back and let the reins fall into other hands.  I needed you to know that I had, and still have, no intentions of letting pain or harm befall anyone.  I failed you in that and I do not expect forgiveness.  Whether I am worthy of it is not a decision for me to make.”

Karina reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded and sealed square of paper, dotted with what could pass as little stains from raindrops.  It wasn’t the first or only one from that night but it was the best draft, the one closest to capturing everything she couldn’t voice.  She held it out, her fingers burning with the slightest brush from his, and she hesitantly pulled back, balling her fist at her side, out of sight.

“I’m not ready to make that decision,” she said at last.  “Certainly not now.  And I don’t know when I will be.”

“Haste manages all things poorly.”

Gloved fingers plucked a Glaze Lily, the largest, from the cradled bouquet, and placed it on the desk before her.  Karina took the stem between her fingers.  It was strong despite its appearance, the bloom delicate but weighty.  

“You are more than capable of defending yourself but please be mindful of what I have said.  The Adepti and Qixing are not in agreement and the Tianquan has seen fit to clamp down on Fatui activity.  It is unclear how such actions will play out.”

She could only bring herself to nod and he departed with little more than a polite wish of, “Take care.”

When the door closed behind him and she was certain he would not return, Karina raised the flower just a bit.  Zhongli once told her that the lilies planted in Liyue Harbor were artificially planted for conservation, that few grew in the wild thanks to years of overpicking.  The scent of the flower she held was far stronger than those she ever smelled in the upper levels of the Harbor, as if nurtured by the warmth of the sun and the songs of birds and children.  

It threw her back to a warm day in a space eroded by time.  She was reminded of a spar and subsequent story from a heart thought to be stone, of golden Crystalflies finding one of their own.  

A promise as solid as bedrock.

[triscribeaucollection]

Trials of Youth Ch 8

(A centaur, minotaur, and kitsune walk into an ambush... except it's the Goddess of Fate who wants a quick word. And to provide them with snacks)

(Aka I'm trying to trick my brain into working on the next chapter of my second book, and it is. Proving Uncooperative. So here, have some teenage shenanigans and tell me what y'all think)

---

“You can’t be serious.”

Lepl winced, and tried to give his best friend a discouraging poke in the ribs. But Mifu just batted his hand away, scowling at their third companion.

Sana, in return, folded her arms and glared back up at him. “I’m perfectly serious. As long as it’s here, why not use the road?”

“Because it’s an Arriv road! As in, Arriv use it! And if we try to do the same, we’ll almost certainly get caught!”

“Almost,” Sana pointed out, “Is not the same as absolute. Besides, I can smell any Arriv coming half a mile away! We’ll have plenty of time to vanish up into the long grass-”

Before he could second guess himself, Lepl coughed. “Uh, no. You can vanish into the grass, sure. Me and Mifu? Not so much.”

To her credit, the kitsune actually paused to consider his point. “...fine. Maybe we won’t use the road, then, but we can still travel alongside it. Or is that also too risky for your tastes?”

Mifu’s scowl deepened, his tail swishing with annoyance at Sana’s tone. But he didn’t protest further, and soon enough the three of them set off, winding through the low sloped hills that lined the stone causeway.

Lepl was used to temporary hoof-paths through grass, or the odd track worn down to bare dirt, and part of him felt sorely tempted to go take a look at how the road was crafted. But the rest of him knew good and well Mifu would pitch the all-mightiest of fits if he tried, so that was out. Instead, to keep himself occupied, the minotaur reached into one of the packs slung across Mifu’s lower back and dug around for his thread kit.

While the boys maintained a steady gait, Sana kept periodically darting up the hills around them, nose raised to the sky, ears twitching as she turned in place to scan their surroundings. It took a few back and forth passes for her to notice the frame in Lepl’s hands. “What are you doing?”

“Weaving,” he answered.

Face scrunching up, she drifted closer for a better look. “That little thing is a loom?”

“Sure is.” Lepl briefly paused running his needle through the vertical strands, and held it out for her to see. “My grandmother notched and put the bones together for the frame ages ago, when bad storms kept us inside the entire cold season and I was bored. My hands are bigger now, but I still like to use this one instead of something larger.”

“For what? You can’t possibly make any useful sized cloth on that.”

Mifu snorted. “He gives everything he makes to my father. Sew enough small squares together and they become a blanket just fine; an extra warm one, too, if you double layer it and stuff the inside with dry grass.”

Sana’s head stayed tipped to one side as she watched Lepl resume his work. “...I’ll take your word for it.”

But she didn’t go on ahead of them again. Instead, the kitsune stayed by Lepl’s side, paying attention to how he switched between dark and light shades of blue yarn, gradually adding more layers to his small bit of cloth. Apparently it proved so interesting for her that the woodsmoke ahead never registered.

The three of them came around the edge of a particularly wide hill, and walked right into a small campsite.

Lepl tripped and nearly fell flat on his face. Mifu froze with a front leg still raised off the ground. Sana’s hands leapt towards her weaponry. And the little old Arriv - drab green skin, with long hair wrapped up in a scarf, but did that mean a goblin or orc - just kept on turning the odd contraption set up over her fire. The scent of roasting sweet nuts filled the air.

“Don’t fret yourselves, now,” the Arriv called, without looking over her shoulder. “You don’t cause me any trouble, I won’t cause you any either.”

Sana promptly snarled, leaping to place herself in front of the boys, but didn’t draw either of her blades. “You’re trespassing, goblin.”

“Oh? This is the Borderlands territory, child. I believe that means you must be trespassing as well.”

Another snarl made Lepl slowly reach forward, and curl his hand around Sana’s shoulder. “No trouble intended, uh, ma’am. We’ll just go around, now.”

The goblin hummed. She picked up an empty cloth pouch, and used a thin metal rod and hook to tip over her spinning pot contraption, pouring roasted nuts into the bag. “You’ll hit the town of Plaimik in another day or so, if you keep following the road. They’re rather famous around these parts, if you didn’t know.”

Lepl exchanged a wary glance with Mifu, who asked, “Famous for, what, exactly?”

“Biggest gladiator arena of any slave town in the Borderlands. If you aren’t trying to go there, I’d suggest heading at least half a day north in order to go around.”

She’d been trembling faintly when Lepl first touched her, but at that, Sana went completely still beneath his hand. “...what’s it matter to you?”

“Oh, very much or very little, depending on your choices.” The goblin plucked a nut back out of the pouch, and popped it into her mouth.

“That is not an answer.”

“Would you prefer I stay silent and not say anything at all?” Chuckling lightly, the goblin pulled the pouch’s drawstring closed, and then- then tossed it to Mifu, who caught the thing with a startled yelp. “A parting gift, as thanks for not attacking my little old self. Go to Plaimik or sneak around, as you will, but I won’t let anyone claim Shan let them leave without some token or other.”

“Uhh... thank you?” Mifu poked the pouch cautiously. Lepl leaned a little closer and breathed deeply through his nose, mouth already watering. The goblin only chuckled again, turning back to her fire and picking up a larger sack to pour more nuts into the pot contraption. Lepl backed up first, pulling Sana along with Mifu right behind them, and they went around the hill to continue onward. “...are we going north?”

“Of course not,” Sana snapped, shoulders still clearly tense even after she shrugged off Lepl’s hand. “I can’t afford to lose that much time. And we are not eating those!”

“Why not?” Lepl asked. “They smell good. And she ate one, so they can’t be poisoned.”

“Like there aren’t herbs that don’t affect Arriv but will kill Amkyn!”

Mifu rolled his eyes and let Lepl snag the still-warm pouch from his hands. “I think you’ve got that backwards. There’s only a few things bad for Amkyn across the board, but plenty of stuff that won’t bother our stomachs while doing awful things to Arriv who try to eat them.”

Sana muttered something rude, but at least didn’t try to stop Lepl from tossing a couple of nuts in his mouth and crunching down. “Ooh - these are tasty! Mifu, try some!”

The two of them managed to work through most of the pouch by the time Sana relented, and stole the remaining nuts for herself.

[snookersneek]

This is a long post. Buckle up.

Recently I've been thinking a lot about how the dark academia aesthetic, whilst rich in aspects such as literature, music, and material beauty, is lacking in things such as activities.

So I've compiled a list of activities that I would personally deem as befitting the dark academia aesthetic (please do add to this list, as it's far from complete).

Sports:

Rowing (it's in literally every dark academic approved movie.)

Fencing

Tennis

Cricket

Croquet

Rugby (contrary to popular belief, women, men, and everyone in between can play this sport. It's not just for the boys.)

Polo

Equestrian sports

+ Figure/ice skating

+ Running (sprinting is handy for catching your lover when they fling themselves from a tower or something, and long distance is great for running alongside carriages that you want to rob.)

+ Boxing

+ Javelin, discus, wrestling covered in oil, think ancient Grecian Olympics.

+ Archery (how could I have forgotten.)

+ Ballet, ballroom dancing, traditional dances

+ Climbing

+ Snooker/Pool (either professionally or just for fun.)

Or, if you prefer the Oscar Wilde approach, no sports at all. That's cool too.

Games:

Chess (of course)

Backgammon

Cards (rummy, poker, blackjack, speed, whist, any game really, maybe with the exception of snap.)

Cluedo (I think it's 'Clue' in America. Don't argue with me, it counts as dark academia. It's got murder in it.)

+ Scrabble

Crafts:

Knitting (I knit socks, scarves, and am attempting a jumper. I find that it's far easier to knit your own jumper, scarf, socks, or whatever than hunting for one suitably 'aesthetically pleasing'.)

Embroidery (monogrammed handkerchiefs and shirts are so in.)

Weaving (sweet mother, I cannot-)

Making lace

Gardening

Cooking (not sure if this counts as a craft, but I'll throw it in just in case.)

Sewing (making clothes for yourself through sewing is a great way to make sure that your clothes fit perfectly, and are styled the way you want them to be. With practise, it becomes easier, and is definitely a useful skill to have.)

+ Calligraphy

+ Painting, of course. (release your inner Basil.

Outings:

Museums

Art galleries

Places of historical interests (in the UK, this might be more easily accessible with things like the National Trust. If you visit often, it might be useful to invest in a membership card with English Heritage (England), Cadw (Wales), or a National Trust card. I have a Cadw card, and I've found that it's accepted all over the UK, in the same way an entrance card specific to whichever country you're in would be too. I hope that makes sense.)

Public executions

Pubs

+ Go to a Café and sketch the people around you (I hear that charcoal or graphite is preferable here.)

Parks

Gardens

Churches, quaker meeting houses, graveyards, synagogues (sometimes the only places that are quiet are places of worship, and a lot of the time, they will be very welcoming in letting people in just to sit and think. Just remember to be respectful: don't insult people for their faith; don't scorn the place of worship; respect people buried in graveyards; don't take pictures, tempting as it may be, just to be on the safe side.)

The theatre

The opera

Concerts (classical music or otherwise)

Social events (memorial services, tours of your local university, open days, anything. It's an opportunity to learn, and spark intrigue because of your darkly mysterious and alluring demeanour.)

Things to do when you're bored.

Writing essays (it's really nerdy, but I find writing essays really interesting if they're on a topic I'm passionate about. It doesn't have to be an intellectual masterpiece, it could be 'The Top Ten Sexiest Classical Writers' for all I care. Just make it fun. Plus it's always an added bonus to that pile of messy papers that aesthetify your desk.)

Research (as above.)

Daydream about how you could have prevented the burning of the Library of Alexandria

Plan a murder / heist. Thoroughly.

Read something light (Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes, Wilkie Collins or Colin Dexter novels are really good for relaxing. Murder mysteries are always good for winding down a little, whilst still keeping an active mind, so I would recommend those, but really, read whatever you want.)

Dress up

Read aloud

Perform a play alone (or to a pet, if you have one)

If you play an instrument, play through all of the pieces in your repertoire

More daydreaming

Take baths

Fake your death (by murder, of course)

Draw or paint something (no, it doesn't have to be good. Just do it to relax. See what kind of things you can create, like designing Frankenstein's monster)

Write a narrative piece

Watch a movie. A whole movie. Just sit down and watch a movie, no getting up and walking around, no flicking back and forth, no checking your phone. Just enjoy a movie without distractions.

Watch every single 'Greek Gods as vines' video on YouTube and count it as studying.

+ Listen to some classical music! I have a post on getting into classicl here:

Congratulations! You made it through!

Please, add to this list. I really want this to be expanded on, as I'm interested to see whether or not I've missed things, and if people agree.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Missing Pieces

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Years pass since the battle and you’ve loved and lost. But your secret isn’t forever when you encounter the one thing you’ve had to hide from.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, mentions of heartbreak, fluff, requited love and kissing

A/N: This is for @iliveiloveiwrite 3.5k song challenge! This fic is based off the song Empty Space by James Arthur, and I’ve gotten a bit carried away with the length on this one. I haven’t written angst in a while, so I hope you enjoy it! Congratulations again, Millie!

You sensed a presence near you, one that lingered behind you ever since you left the shop. One that was only further confirmed when you risked a weary glance over your shoulder, eying a darkened figure slip out of sight just as quickly as you had spotted it. It’d been foolish to be out and about at such an hour by yourself. But you became accustomed to this very feeling over the last four years, it was the only choice you had.

Each time you passed under a street lamp it became a race to get under the next pool of light, as if the glowing sphere that was cast on the cement would make you invincible. You could only hope for that to be so. Because not many people cared for a walk on a chilly evening like this, much less in the drizzling December rain. It was a small town that was rather off the grid after all, you shouldn’t even really be out if you were being honest. But you couldn’t risk being seen apparating nor did you feel like it.

The footfalls behind you were distinct, setting themselves apart against the dull tap of the raindrops on the cracked pavement and you couldn’t deny your racing heart. But you pushed on with a vigor, wanting nothing more than to reach your front door and lock out the world behind you for the night. That’s how you ended every day and every single one to come.

Another hurried glance gave way to the same shadow, a growing frustration forming in the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were just seeing things. Maybe it was just a trick of the eye. The wizarding war had left you rather paranoid after all, and that was never something that’d completely go away. You tried your very hardest to convince yourself you were just tired. However, the soft metallic clinking of what had to be keys was certainly not in your imagination, you knew that for a fact.

You were quick to grip the wand tucked within the side of your boot, fed up as you turned on your heel. “Who are you?”

Your voice was firm as you held your wand tightly in front of you, knuckles white as your eyes squinted to better see in the darker alleyway. It probably wasn’t the best place to confront a stranger, but you had never been one to back down.

A tense silence settled around you, heart hammering away in your chest as your gaze bounced around the seemingly vacant street. It felt like seconds had turned to hours. You were moments away from casting a Lumos spell when the figure stepped out from the alley and revealed themselves. The breath you held now remained caught in your throat, mouth growing dry as your eyes widened a fraction. The gray eyes and platinum hair were unmistakable, the very person you longed to see but knew you couldn’t. He was now standing just a mere two feet away from you.

You were paralyzed in your own thoughts momentarily. Taking in the way his hair nearly tangled with his lashes, or the misty rain droplets that beaded across his pale skin. The forest green scarf that wrapped loosely around his neck, the one you got him for Christmas a number of years ago, now tattered and frayed. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, solemn and hopeful that it really was you. That, it was definitely that.

“Draco?” You whisper, still in disbelief. All the color drained from your cheeks and you nearly dropped your wand, a shockwave of something coursing through your body. You didn’t know if you wanted to run and never look back, or stay.

He swallowed thickly, nearly flinching at the sound of his name falling from your lips after having been deprived of it for so long. His nostrils flared, jaw clenching under the pressure of his own tears as he fought the urge to cage you in his arms and never let go. He couldn’t do that. He shouldn’t do that.

“I thought you were dead.”

The words were strained and low, spoken through gritted teeth as the pain of the last four years doused each one as they fell from quivering lips. It felt as though your heart dropped to your stomach, sitting there heavy as a boulder as tears sting in your eyes.

“How long have you been following me?” You snap defensively, tone ice cold as you try to avoid his statement, finding yourself failing miserably.

“That’s not important.”

It very much was important, though he wasn’t ready to inform you of those details. He’d first found you seven months ago. He was on a home call to the small town you currently resided in, the hospital deeming Draco to be the best fit to heal this patient in particular. Though he was regularly sought out because no other healer within the wizarding world was quite like him, no one held the astounding skills he possessed, and the consideration of that title was something he was rather proud of.

Regardless of the details or their importance, he found himself wandering through the town after he’d finished his job, feeling somewhat compelled to do so. It wasn’t a very interesting place, nothing to set it apart from the next town over or any that happened to be in the near vicinity. However, day in and day out everything had seemed mundane to him, everything blending together in a repetitive and bleak manner. His very world had seemed to have lost its spark. One thing and one thing only had put that miserable town on a pedestal to all the others. You.

He blinked a few times, feeling like his sleepless nights had conjured up the illusion that the very love of his life had been just on the other side of the street, tucked away in a cafe and seated in the picture window. He was more than tempted to cross the cracked street to get a clearer confirmation but the blaring sound of a taxi cab’s horn brought him back to reality. The car promptly swerved around him as he stepped back on the sidewalk, followed by the drivers string of curses out of the window. But he didn’t care, it was undeniably you.

First he was confused, then he was profoundly angry. So much so his skin flushed and burned and passers by had given him odd looks, making a point to avoid him on the narrow walkway. Had you really hated him so much to go so far as to create that kind of deception? One that impacted him so deeply it felt like the air had been stolen from his lungs for months on end thinking you were gone. He was beginning to think you never really loved him at all, that all the whispered promises of a better life together were tall tales spoken in vain.

He’d apparated to his home immediately, unable to bear another glance at you as nausea swirled in his stomach, abandoning the rest of his shift entirely. Resentment filled his empty heart and clouded his mind for days and weeks after that day. The empty space you left behind felt all the more daunting, your memories together no longer a bittersweet recollection as they replayed in his mind. Now they had been permanently tarnished, worsening the utter despair your absence had left him in. Dozens of letters were written in haste and either crumpled or ripped up, thrown across his room with the addition of a nearby object to shatter against the wall.

He hated you. But most of all he hated that he couldn’t move on from you, and yet still, he didn’t want to.

It took him three months to come down from his anger and try and reason with himself. There was no question you had been hit with a hex that day. He watched you writhe in agony at his very own fathers malicious and spiteful doing, those same hands holding him back from joining your side. It couldn’t have been anything but real, your screams permanently engrained in his memory as you left him in the ruins of the courtyard to face his fate alone.

The unanswered questions still fueled his frustration, however, but he found himself returning to that very town. It started as once every two weeks, and when almost four more months had passed he found himself going nearly every day. He wasn’t one to chase after the things that hurt him, but you seemed to be an exception, you always seemed to be an exception. He had been desperate to see you despite the jab he felt in his chest every single time he did.

Now it’s brought him here.

He remained stoic as he stood in front of you, the proximity making it seem as though he towered over your smaller frame. He wasn’t trying to be intimidating, not in the slightest, but it made you take a step back nonetheless. He fought against the unbearable pressure seemingly crushing his chest, weaving its way around his heart and wrapping around his throat as he concealed the tears pressing just behind his eyes. The sight had you at a loss for words.

“Draco I—”

“How could you let me think you were gone for the last four years, Y/n?” His voice was raised by this point, his hands clenching at his sides before he released them, leaving small crescent-shaped indentations of his nails behind on his palms.

This was absolutely not the conversation you were looking to have at eleven at night, certainly not one to be had in the middle of the sidewalk. But Draco had seemed insistent that this was happening right then and there whether you had liked it or not. You were beginning to feel like you never wanted to have this talk, the panic bubbling in your stomach as you scrambled to give him an answer.

“It was for your own good,” You say quietly, throat beginning to ache as you suppressed your tears, your own frustration building. It was a feat that was easier said than done. A stray passerby had looked in your general direction to discern the source of the commotion.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you dismiss, turning to leave.

His hand shot out and grabbed your own, the feeling nearly electric against your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat momentarily. “No, it’s not nothing. I have a right to know.”

His hand lingered in yours for a moment or two longer than it should have before it dropped back to his side, his gaze fixed on you as he waited for your explanation. Of the hundreds of ways you thought to broach this conversation in the many days and months apart, they all seemed to erase themselves from your memory now that the moment had arised. “Go on, tell me.”

You stood there hesitantly, afraid of what he might say. Afraid that he’d turn around and leave you behind much like you’d regrettably done to him all those years ago. Though at that point if he chose to do that, you knew it was something you deserved. You owed him the reason, you knew that. But it took great effort to choke out the words, scared to know what would come of the interchange.

“Your mother,” you timidly managed to get out, quiet voice trembling as you spoke your words carefully. “She saved me after I was hexed by your father. I wasn’t in the best shape but she saved me from dying that day.”

You studied his face, watching the crease between his dark brows deepen, bottom lip beginning to noticeably tremble.

“Why didn’t you come get me?” His tone was angry and insistent, jaw clenching as he tried to process what you had just said.

“She told me it’d be better this way. It’d only cause trouble if they knew what she had done for me because I very clearly wasn’t going to make it, it wouldn’t have made sense if suddenly I bounced back from it. Said we were better off apart because at least we’d both make it out of there alive and in one piece, you could have the life you always wanted for yourself.”

He scoffed in disbelief, looking away from you briefly as if to gather his thoughts that rapidly bombarded him. “You really believe that?” He asks quietly.

You shrug, a tear spilling over your reddened cheek. “Look at all the heartache it’s caused, Draco. What was I supposed to do? Should I have just shown up on your doorstep and said ‘Hey, I’m sorry. I know I’ve abandoned you for a few years and made you think I was dead and left you to be heartbroken, but I’m not really.’ Is that what you wanted?”

“It would have been a start.” A humorless laugh left his lips as he shook his head.

You scoff as you narrow your eyes up at him, drawing in a shaky breath. “Don’t be ridiculous, Draco.”

“Ridiculous? You basically ripped my heart right out of my chest and stomped all over it, and I’m being ridiculous?”

He bit his tongue after that, taking a deep breath to stave off the anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to say something to further create anymore regrets.

“I didn’t ask for this!” You nearly shout, his expression softening. “I didn’t want this to be our fate, I fought it as best I could because I didn’t feel right living a life without you in it. It wasn’t ever my choice to make, Draco, and I think you know that.” You manage to say, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. “You deserve better than that.”

He looked at his feet, taking a moment to gather himself as he wiped his cheek with a trembling hand. He shook his head then, lifting his eyes to meet yours again with furrowed brows. He took that moment to take you in, to really look at you, something he’s wanted to do far more often than he ever cared to admit. Your eyes still sparkled the way they always do, and it wasn’t just from the tears that glossed over them. Or the way your cheeks and the very tip of your nose reddened in the chilled winter weather, accentuating every freckle that dotted along your skin. He couldn’t bring himself to look away, nor did he want to.

He took a step closer to replace the one you had taken to widen the gap between you, taking a deep breath as he tried to properly articulate his next words.

“If you think for a second that there was any moment in any day that I haven’t thought of you, you’re wrong. You’re etched in my bones, Y/n, there’s no moving on from you. Don’t you understand the only life I’ve ever wanted is with you?”

He was pleading by this point, voice louder than before as he tried to get you to understand his words were sincere.

You wiped your cheek with your sleeve, the cold weather seeping through your jacket no longer there with the fire ablaze in your chest. “You can’t possibly mean that anymore, and there’s no way I’ll let you forgive me either,” you laugh bitterly, softly, and you shake your head again. “Not after that. That would be ridiculous and I won’t allow it.” You inhaled a quivering breath, meeting his eyes. “You’re supposed to hate me.”

He wouldn’t call it forgiveness, but the very person who left his heart in tatters was the same one who kept it beating. Seemingly the only one.

His breath caught in his throat momentarily as he listened to your words, voice wavering as he whispers, “I could never hate you.”

Those five words were enough to make your heart pound so hard it couldn’t possibly remain in your chest. You wanted nothing more than to run to his arms and pretend nothing ever happened, like you hadn’t kept yourself hidden from him for years while he suffered. But you couldn’t forget it. It wasn’t something you could brush under the rug because the guilt wasn’t quite something you could get over.

“I love you, Draco, very much. But I can’t. I can’t just let this go, and you shouldn’t want me to,” you start, tears falling freely and mixing with the rain. “For that reason, I can’t stay, I have to go.”

You could hardly get the words to fall from your mouth, and through your heartbeat pounding vigorously in your ears you weren’t entirely sure if they did.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you knew he’d try and get you to stay and you didn’t know if you were strong enough to hear it. So you turned your back to the love of your life, rushing off as your face scrunched with unshed tears before disappearing around the next corner. He choked back a sob of his own as he followed after you, turning the corner and finding himself to be the only one left.

4 Months Later

Four months. It had been four months since the night that remained burned in your memory, replaying the interchange word for word every time you closed your eyes. For having gone years without seeing him you thought this would be a simple task to do it again. To rid yourself of the pain that came with loving Draco Malfoy. But really this seemed to be the hardest part of it all, the last four years had paled in comparison to this.

The hole in your chest, the one you’d created twice over was widening with each passing day. You saw him in every thing you did, perhaps you really did see him. Flashes of memories would flood your mind and taunt you. Memories of running through the gardens of the Manor like kids every time you looked at the flowers surrounding your home. Memories of nights in the astronomy tower when the moonlight trickled in your window, curtains promptly being closed. Or the pang in your chest when your fingers brushed over the fabric of his sweater that hung in the very back of your closet. The intense, all-consuming heartache was something you’d never wish on your worst enemy. To long so deeply for someone just might be the worst kind of pain.

Four more months of living in the same looping regret, guilt tightly lacing itself around your heart and constricting you more with every day that goes by. You wondered where you might currently be if you hadn’t been so stubborn, if you hadn’t sabotaged the very thing that made you feel the most alive. Or if you had defied Narcissa’s wishes and ran away with him like you always wanted.

The thought of what should have and could have been tore you up the more you paid them mind. It could have been the two of you in that house, decorated with shared books and memorabilia. You could be waking up together for the rest of your life, rather than occupying the mattress alone. But any scenario that crossed your mind always seemed like it was far out of the realm of possibility, and you were at fault for it. So, you continued on with your everyday life.

You walked up the mossy cobblestone walkway to your home with a huff, groceries tucked in the crook of your arm. You were too tired to apparate, having lacked the energy to do so long before that moment. It was proving to be a challenging task just to find the right key one-handedly, having dropped them completely when you looked up. The metal clang sounded as they hit the ground, the paper bag you held crinkling under your tightened grip, but you soon settled a bit as you sighed. You weren’t sure if you could do this again.

The same blonde that had haunted your every day stood just under your covered porch, sifting through the envelopes that carried his name across the front of each and every one.

“I see my letters have reached you,” He says upon seeing you, quiet as he takes the time to look over each one, not even having to glance inside them to know what was thoughtfully written.

You were quiet, embarrassed that he was now aware of your ignorance to them as they accumulated into a pile just outside your door. It hadn’t made matters any better. “I’ve read some.”

It was true, you had plucked a few from the growing pile and read through them, even reread multiple times. But it quickly became unbearably painful to read his words, the metaphorical blade in your heart twisting with every line your eyes skimmed across. So you let them gather—one turning to two, two turning to five, five turning to ten. They sat, weathered by the outside elements with hopes to be opened and read as intended.

You wanted to write back. You wanted desperately to fill pages detailing how much you had missed him dearly, how fully you loved him. You wanted to pour your very heart onto every piece of letterhead you could find in your house and send it to him, he deserved to know that much, he deserved much more than what you gave. Yet you still wanted to be selfish and have him all to yourself.

He laughed softly, holding no humor as he set them down carefully in a much neater pile on the old rocking chair behind him before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Why didn’t you write back?” His tone was curious rather than angry, though disappointment was still very much there.

You pushed back your truthful reasoning in favor of a simple answer. “I didn’t feel it was appropriate for me to get your hopes up.”

His brows furrowed as a bittersweet smile formed on his lips, one that hadn’t fully reached his tired eyes.

“Love, I’m afraid that’s already happened the moment I saw you again.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest at the nickname, one you certainly didn’t deserve to be referred to as. It took everything in you not to crumble, not to burst into tears.

“Why are you here, Draco?” You ask, desperately wanting to change the subject to keep yourself from lingering on the way he looked at you, gingerly and full of longing.

He shifted on his feet, a brief silence settling between the two of you as he looked at his surroundings. The gray stone walls of the medium-sized cottage, the bursts of color dotting the perimeter from the blooming flowers planted in unkempt flowerbeds, the worn paint on the porch from repeated foot traffic; it was clear to see the path you walked in on a daily basis.

“Has my mother picked this place out for you?” He asks softly, seemingly avoiding your question as he lightly ran his fingertips over the dark green railing. He feels he’s certain he already knows that answer. “It’s quite beautiful.”

You sigh, cheeks burning a rosy pink when he caught your gaze again. “Draco, what are you doing here?” You repeat.

Once again he’s quiet, mulling things over as he carefully thinks about his next words. While waiting, you find yourself trying not to focus on the way the spring breeze blows his hair out of his face, or the way the tip of his nose reddened in the brisk weather. None of those details should have been important but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, not really.

“I suppose I wanted to see you.”

The hesitation in his quiet admission was indicative that there was more to it than he’d let on. And once again it felt as though your heart had been somersaulting in your chest, but you fought the warmth that blossomed in waves within your body at the short statement.

“I don’t believe that’s a very good idea for either of us.” Your words were soft and you hadn’t really believed them, not as much as you should have, but it felt like something you were supposed to say.

You could tell his anger had been rising, could tell by the way he turned his back to you and clutched the wooden railing, gathering himself. You could see the deep breaths he’d been taking, slow and steady as his knuckles turned an ivory white. Your stubbornness had always been a quality he had loved about you, but now that very trait was the thing that’s been ripping him apart.

“And just why is that, Y/n?” His frustration was beginning to become more and more apparent as he turned to face you again, cheeks flushed a pale scarlet. He threw his hands in the air to accompany his words, letting them fall back to his sides. He took another deep breath to control his emotions. “Why?”

“What do you want me to say, Draco?” You we’re defeated by this point, the emotional turmoil having stripped you of the light you once held. This very love had completed you while being your downfall all the same. You felt like you wanted to run in this very moment, as far as possible, but your feet remained planted in place just outside your front door.

He looked at you with such intensity, utterly spellbound by you, that you had to look away from him for a moment, his gaze never faltering no matter how many tears had blurred his vision. His nostrils flare as his eyes continue to gloss over.

“I want you to tell me you love me,” He starts, voice wavering though he kept going despite it. “I want you to tell me you won’t leave. Not again. I have tried and tried to rid myself of you and everything that came with loving you, to fill the gaps you left in my life but there’s far too many. I’m afraid nobody will ever hold a candle to you. So please, I want you to tell me you’ll stop running and stay with me.”

You blinked away your tears as you swallowed thickly, voice coming out in a soft whisper. “Draco, please,” you plead, “I—”

He held up his hand, silently asking to continue as he stepped closer to you cautiously, scared that if he moved too quickly you’d slip away again.

“I didn’t have a choice my entire life, and going another minute without you isn’t a choice either, not really,” he chuckles through tears, his lip trembling and he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m so tired of holding grudges. And you can try and keep yourself from me all you want, but I need you with me. I don’t know who I am without you.”

You stood there, clinging to every single word that fell from his lips as you looked up at him. Every passing second was detrimental to the wall you tried to build around yourself, diminishing piece by piece. Your heart pounded in your chest, so much so you thought it might burst then and there. You turned away from him to catch your breath, missing the way his face scrunched in a quiet sob he’d tried to keep you from bearing witness to. But you hadn’t missed the sniffles sounding just paces behind you, and it was something you knew you never wanted to hear again.

You weighed out all your options, rapidly finding yourself unable to find a reason to walk away from this, a logical reason, other than yourself and your inability to let this go. You were tired of fighting, and you were tired of living without the one person you felt you were meant to love. It was useless to do such a thing anymore because no matter how hard you could try to find love in someone else, it always circles back to him.

Against all self doubt and the crushing guilt that told you to let him go and close that chapter, you spun on your heel to find him staring as his breath caught in his throat. You crossed the porch with certainty, leaning up on your toes, fists gripping his coat tightly as you kissed him fiercely. He was knocked back a step or two but his arms were around you in an instant, pressing you as close as he could.

Something akin to electricity ignited across every inch of your skin, and you ignored the nagging thoughts that maybe you shouldn’t be doing this right now. That maybe it was too soon, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about technicalities and ‘maybe’s’. You parted and he felt it was all too brief as he chased after your lips, but you hadn’t strayed far as you released his jacket, smoothing the crinkled material. You looked up at him, his breath fanning across your face. These quiet, fleeting moments felt like they stretched into hours as you allowed yourself to bask in the moment you never thought you’d experience again.

“I love you,” you whisper, and he laughed softly in relief as a tear slips down his cheek, then another, your lips finding his again in a much softer kiss.

He still held you tightly, fingers splayed across your cheek as if to have confirmation that this was real, that it was really happening. Still to make sure you wouldn’t take off, that you were real.

It was. And he was never losing you again.

—

[sunlightdances]

Killing the Space in Between

Title: Killing the Space in Between Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Words: 2,514. Rating/Warnings: No real warnings. Rated PG. Summary: The theme for this challenge is “nostalgia”, so here’s my take on it: this takes place after Civil War, but Bucky doesn’t go to Wakanda right away. The gang's all healing together. Enter our Reader. Prompt: “Are we on a date right now?” Author’s Note: Written for @whirlybirbs​’ Endgame Fic Challenge! Thanks for hosting, Hope! I love your writing and am so pumped you’re gonna be reading something of mine. Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel, Bucky Barnes, or any other characters/plots from the MCU. I don't own the song “Closer to You” by Carly Pearce, which inspired the title. I also don’t have any knowledge about Manhattan, so please suspend your disbelief for this fic, please and thanks. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites without my permission! This includes AO3 and Wattpad. Reblogs are fine and encouraged, tbh!

Bucky Barnes has sweaty palms.

Well, one sweaty palm. He would chuckle at his own joke if he wasn’t so nervous, glancing down to where you’re practically pressed against him on the train.

The train lurches as it comes screeching to a stop, and he grits his teeth as you sway against him, sending him an apologetic smile as he automatically wraps an arm around your shoulder, steadying you.

God. He’d be ready to flee if you weren’t so nice and so warm and looking at him-- oh. You’ve been talking, he realizes, and he feels so off kilter. He can’t stand it, but sort of in a good way.

“Sorry,” his voice is gruff even to his own ears. “What did you say?”

“I was just saying thanks for agreeing to come with me. I know you don’t like crowds.”

But I like you, he wants to say. He doesn’t. “Sure, it’s no problem.” He makes a face at himself when you’re not looking. That’s all he could come up with? God. Sam is never going to let him hear the end of this. Steve either, for that matter. If word gets back to them about what an awkward idiot he turns into around you, he’s finished.

He’s still a little unclear on where you’re taking him, but he jumped at the chance to get out of the Tower for a day. It’s a little suffocating there. He knows everyone is trying to help him, but there’s still too much tension between he and Stark, and Steve’s-- he’s trying his best.

It’s hard for Bucky to know he’s disappointing his oldest friend every day he can’t pretend to be the man he was when they were in their twenties. He’s seen too much. He’s not the same person, and he knows part of Steve is always going to wish for that version of Bucky.

When Steve found him in Budapest, he barely had two weeks of being relatively back in his own head before he had to fight for his life, for the life he wanted to have.

You were there too.

A year ago…

Steve is banging on the door, Bucky’s right arm locked in his tight grip. Bucky feels woozy, he feels like his brain is being pulled apart. Steve keeps looking over his shoulder and curses under his breath before knocking again, this time harder.

The door is pulled open. You’re there, hair disheveled, a bruise blooming on your cheek and a cut on your temple. “Sorry- had to check.” You say, and then you’re ushering Steve and Bucky inside.

There are no introductions, not really.

Steve is semi-panicking. Bucky might not have a solid grasp on Steve anymore, but he can read the tension radiating off the other man.

“I need to hide him here. No one knows about this place.”

“Stark?”

“It’s his tech. That’s why I need you to stay here. He shouldn’t look for him here, but that’s the least of our problems. Someone’s tailing him - they think he set off the bomb. I’ll set the alarm when I leave--”

“Leave?!” Your voice is high pitched, “Steve--”

“I have to try.” He steps closer, voice low. It’s clearly not meant for Bucky to hear, but he does anyway. “He saved my life. We took some fire at the apartment -- he wouldn’t have done that if he was still trying to kill me and everyone else.”

You look wary, but nod. “Okay. Okay. I-- Steve, Tony’s serious about this.”

“I know.” His voice is firm, but Bucky can tell Steve’s more upset and rattled than anything else. “I have to go figure out what to do next. The only other person I want you to let through this door is Sam.”

Bucky is overwhelmed. Too many names, too much going on inside his head to make sense of. He feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just-- keep him comfortable.” Another step closer. Definitely not meant for Bucky to hear, “Keep your gun on you always. Don’t go anywhere without it. Don’t let your guard down.”

You swallow hard, but you don’t look scared. Bucky finds himself wanting to smile as he watches you roll your shoulders back and straighten, determined.

“Be safe, Cap.”

A squeeze of your shoulder and an indecipherable look back at Bucky, and then Steve is gone.

A few uncomfortable seconds pass before you look at him, clearly nervous but trying to hide it. “Are you hurt?” You ask, and Bucky’s knees feel weak.

When is the last time someone asked him that?

“I--” His voice is weak, rough with disuse. “I don’t know.”

“I’m a nurse,” you tell him. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but if something’s hurt, you should let me help. We might be stuck here awhile.”

His heart is hammering. He’s-- he feels fear, and he’s not used to that. He’s used to not feeling much at all. But you’re-- the kindness in your eyes is sending him spiraling. He’s afraid what he might do. He shakes his head, almost violently.

“Okay,” your voice is soft, placating, “Okay. I won’t touch you. We’ll just wait here for Steve, okay?”

Now

Bucky wonders if you’ll ever know how much of a help you were to him that day. You never did anything without his permission, but you stayed close. You respected his boundaries, and you kept an eye out for him, for any sign it was all becoming too much.

When Steve and Sam came back, it was simultaneously the worst and best thing that ever happened to him. They were on the run. There was a rogue Hydra operative trying like hell to unleash the Soldier everywhere they went.

He had to face the truth about the Starks. The fight with Tony.

But in the end, Steve offered him a home, a place to recover. That meant he had to face his past, though. He didn’t want to. He didn’t trust himself, or anyone else, even Steve.

But you were there too. You helped, and Steve’s friendship never wavered. Soon he had a tentative friendship with Natasha too, forged by a shared past that they both never liked to speak about. He had a weird, wonderful new alliance with Sam.

And you. You were-- he doesn’t want to put a name to what he’s feeling, because it’s too much, and he’s not ready for that yet. Not yet.

He forces himself back to the present.

You both walk in comfortable silence down the street, and Bucky’s so, so tempted to let his hand bump into yours, weave your fingers together, hold on tight and just let himself drown in the comfort he feels when he’s with you.

You look lovely in the early winter morning - you’re bundled up in a puffy coat, a scarf wound around your neck, and a knit hat on your head. He wants to memorize all the details of this morning and keep them locked away, so he can revisit them whenever he’s feeling lost.

“I thought we’d check this out-- the exhibit is-- I don’t know. I thought it might help.” You say, bringing his attention to where you are. The New York Historical Society. “Two of Brooklyn’s golden boys… it’s a wonder they didn’t dedicate the entire museum to the both of you.” You say, smiling, talking about him and Steve.

Bucky smiles but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t think he deserves to be remembered like this.

He follows you into the museum, trying not to scowl at everyone who turns and looks in his direction, some with awe on their faces, some with clear trepidation. You insist on paying his admission, even when he protests, but the sparkle in your eyes won’t be denied.

If he wasn’t so anxious, he’d actually be really enjoying this. He’s always liked learning and history in general, and there’s so much he’s missed - he could spend hours here and never know enough.

He can tell when you’re close to the exhibit. You walk a little closer, a little slower, chewing on your bottom lip. “If you get freaked out, just say the word,” you say over your shoulder, leading him on. “We’ll get out of here the minute you say so.”

He clears his throat. “I trust you.” He says. And it’s the truth. You look momentarily surprised, but try to hide it. You’re adorable.

The exhibit is everything he hoped it would be and nothing like he expects all at once. It’s similar to the one Steve’s taken him to in Washington. It’s a little overwhelming - the music, the voiceovers… the photos. His memories come to him in flashes, more now that he’s recovering.

The exhibit with the uniforms is startling. He knows they’re replicas. Whatever happened to his blue coat after he fell… he doesn’t want to know. But seeing it there, seeing all of them there, the Commandos… it’s a lot. He doesn’t know why he’s so emotional. But he misses them. He has flashes of laughing around a fire, of the ear-splitting sound of artillery and the adrenaline of making it out of a fight, the relief of seeing his friends alive and well.

He’s aware of your eyes on him.

You try to act like you’re looking at other exhibits, giving him space and time to take everything in at his own pace, but it’s the opposite of what he wants right now. He wants you right there beside him, he wants to grip your hand, he wants you to tell him that he’s done alright with his life, that none of this is his fault, that--

“Hey.” Your voice interrupts the beginnings of what he suspects would have been a panic attack. “Doing okay?”

He looks down at you. “Yeah.” His voice is thick with unshed tears. “I think this is enough for one day,” he says gently, still not used to saying what he’s feeling or drawing boundaries for himself. “Can we--”

“Let’s get something to eat.” You say immediately, brightly, your enthusiasm drawing the dark clouds away.

“I feel like you had ulterior motives for getting me out of the Tower,” he says, elbowing you gently.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, prim, and he laughs. It feels-- going from feeling this unavoidable sadness to cracking jokes with you… he can’t put it into words how it makes him feel. Light. Unburdened. Happy.

.

.

.

Bucky Barnes doesn’t think he’s being dramatic when he says this is the best meal he’s ever eaten in his entire life.

He’s got the biggest slice of pizza, and you. You’re across from him, smiling as he tells you about the stupid shit he and Steve used to get up to in their Brooklyn neighborhood, your head propped up in your hand as you hang on his every word.

This is-- it’s a day he never dreamed he would have.

He knows he still has to face the music in terms of his recovery. There’s the trigger words, and whatever other shit they put in his head that he’s got to find a way to get a hold on. But he feels better knowing he actually has people on his side that want to help him.

Steve’s been talking about the Avengers. About Bucky, and having a place for him there, for as long as he wants one. He’s been talking about helping people, saving people… it seems like a dream.

And then there’s you.

You’re always there, eyes shining like diamonds, a bright smile there to greet him whenever he comes into a room. If you were ever afraid of him, you hid it well. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than he is for meeting you, your friendship, and your gentle affection.

He wants to-- he wants to tell you things. He wants to say things to you that are probably too much, too soon, but he wants to say them anyway. He wants to tell you that his heart beats faster when you’re around. He wants to tell you that he thinks about you all the time.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, eyes on your plate as you grab another slice.

“Are we on a date right now?” He blurts, and immediately regrets it. Your wide eyes meet his, and god, he wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole. “You don’t have to answer that. Sorry--”

“Do you-- do you want it to be a date?” You ask, sounding a little nervous yourself, and Bucky can feel the spirit of his mother practically smacking him in the back of the head for being such an idiot.

But the truth? He does want this to be a date. He’s scared as hell. But still, he wants it.

“Can I tell you something embarrassing?” You ask, not waiting for him to answer. Letting him off the hook.

He nods.

“I have the biggest crush on you.” There’s a blush on your cheeks and you duck your head, and Bucky has never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life. “I know this is the worst timing -- you’re still going through so much, and I’m so happy just to be in your life--”

“I--” He interrupts you, not even sure what he wants to say, but knowing he can’t let you think that he doesn’t want you. “I like you.” He admits, and can hear Steve’s snort of amusement in his head. He’s Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA. And he tells you he likes you?!

That blush is still there on the apples of your cheeks though, so he takes it as a good sign. “I’m not… sure how to do this anymore. It’s been awhile.” He says, wry, and beams at you when you laugh in return. “I just know that I like the way I feel when I’m with you.”

You reach for his hand across the table, slowly, giving him enough time to move away if he wants to. He absolutely doesn’t.

“I feel that way about you, too.” You tell him. “We-- we can go as slow as you want. We don’t even have to do anything else besides this.”

“I can think of a few other things I’d like to do.” Bucky replies quickly, and there he is. The James Buchanan Barnes he thinks he was once, the one who was confident and sure.

“That was terrible,” you say, but the smile on your face is worth it. He thinks he’d do anything to see you smile like that more often. Your face and your voice softens, “Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay?”

On the way home, there’s absolutely no space between the two of you as you walk to the train station, hands clasped tightly together. No space between you on the train either, one of his arms slung around your shoulders as you sit.

He’s going to walk you to your room tonight, but he won’t kiss you. Not yet. He’ll save that for another day.

One day at a time, he thinks. One day at a time.

.

.

There's a diamond sky that's waiting for us just outside of town With the moon hanging for me and you, baby We can cut the headlights out when there ain't no one else around Kill the space in between, slide across that leather seat Heart to heart, face to face, you know all I wanna do Is get closer, closer, closer to you

[lazywriter7]

to toasts, and schooling

“So I’m stuck there asking the obvious, which is, ‘why do you think you should marry her?’” And Tony’s trying to hold on to the lighthearted tone, he was, but it’s hard to not let sincerity sneak in when you’ve got Peter Parker watching you deliver a toast in his honour, luminescent in his happiness. When you’ve got a crowd of people you love and respect hanging on your every word – and Steve Rogers at the back of said crowd, glass untouched in his hand; gaze undimmed by time, as steady and unwavering as it was twenty years ago. “And Peter answers back, the most assured I’ve ever seen him, ‘Because I want to’.” 

“I’m looking for the groom. Have you seen him?”

The server opened his mouth, and shut it again. Hitched his tray of Captain America themed canapes a little higher, like readying himself to fling it into Tony’s face at the slightest hint of danger. “Uh. This is an anniversary party?”

“Being the organiser slaving after this shindig for ages – I am aware.” Tony parsed out a smile, perilously polite. “The groom?”

The server blinked wide eyes. “I think I saw him near the fajitas?”

“Brilliant, of course you did.” Tony spun around on his heels, ignoring the flinch and subsequent wobble the server and his tray executed. The fajita table was on the far end of the hall, and it took fifteen whole minutes of ducking and weaving (okay fine, the crowds parted before him a la Moses-and-the-Red-Sea, but it still took fifteen darn minutes) to find the man of the hour and creep up behind him. Tony crossed his arms, realised it rendered him incapable of actually drawing said man’s attention, uncrossed them again and tapped the guy on his shoulder, if a bit imperiously.

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

It was still a jolt to the brain, a brief shot of cognitive dissonance on watching him turn – that square jaw, more well-shaved than baby-smooth, a head of hair that had truly outgrown its teenaged-mop phase, the black lines of a suit that didn’t look loosely propped on a wire hanger, but rather like it…fit. Those eyes would always remain the same though – idealistic spark and impossible kindness twinned in dark irises.

Nevertheless, Peter Parker remained a sneaky bastard who wouldn’t answer a straight accusation. Instead, his thin brows went winging to his hairline, eyes flitting up and down Tony’s frame dubiously. “You look…shiny.”

(Agh, the voice shitted him the most. Tony missed that reedy, high-pitched wonder of a larynx, dammit.)

“Needless to say, if tomorrow’s headlines are going to be Unmarried silver fox presides over protégé’s ten-year anniversary , you bet your wedded ass I’m gonna lean into it.” Tony smoothed down the lapels of his own three-piece – dove gray, just a few shades lighter than his hair, with silver pinstripes. Shiny was one word for it. Awesome was another.

“You need to stop saying that.” Peter turned back to his little paper plate boasting a fajita tower of over six inches, easy. Hell, to have a metabolism like that. The last time Tony had indulged in Mexican, he’d been toilet-ridden with gastro for over a week. “Last time MJ misheard you and now she keeps threatening to weld my ass shut.”

Ah, those innocent days when Peter would rather spontaneously combust than use the a-word in front of ‘Mr Stark’. Tony pinched a scrap of cheese from Peter’s plate, the latter barely blinking an eye. “Well, who told you to enter holy matrimony at twenty-one, then?”

Peter stared at him flatly. “You did.”

“Damn right I did.” Tony affirmed with pride, scarfing down the cheese in a single gulp. Mm, cotija. “And still no grandkids for Uncle Tony.”

“Genealogically, that’s an impossibility.” Ooh, big word – though there was a tiny bean-scented burp between syllables three and four. Peter cleared his throat, faintly pink.

There was another tempting little cheesy strip hanging out the bottom fajita, Tony’s fingers were positively itching. To cheese or not to cheese? Gah, who cared, you only lived an average of four times, being a caped crusader. And so through a mouthful of snatched dairy and more than a little beef: “The main thing, and don’t you think I haven’t noticed you avoiding it with your ten-dollar words – you were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“There was a call to Assemble.” Peter replied, perfectly straight faced.

Tony’s eyes narrowed, even as he proceeded to lick up the grease lingering around his fingernails. “I didn’t hear of it.”

“Not sure if they still keep you in the know, but I tend to do the calling these days.” The swagger was nowhere near Stark levels, but unmistakeably present. It was brilliant.

“Was that an ‘old, useless relic’ dig?” Tony approximated a glare to the best of his ability. “And after all I did for you when you were a midget.”

“Nothing like being called ‘Underoos’ to legitimise your identity as a superhero.” Peter was demolishing the tower faster than it had piled up, till only draggly, soggy bits of vegetable remained.

“Fine. I suppose I’ll just have to ask Kamala about this mysterious call to arms–”

“Fine, I misplaced my cufflinks, jeez .” Well-tailored as they were, Peter’s sleeves still flapped with his gesturing, aforementioned cufflinks glinting under the light – blood-red hour glass shapes embossed on plain obsidian circles. “Just because she hangs on your every word with all the fangirling and ‘Mr Stark’s–”

“Golly gee, I wonder who that reminds me of–”

“ Tony .” Mock frustrated as the tone was, Peter was still grinning. Tony could feel his heart swell a million sizes.

Peter commenced tugging his sleeves back over his wrists, straightening them conscientiously, fingers lingering absently on the smoothed curve of the cufflinks. “Speaking of – did Nat say she was coming?”

“With an Itsy Bitsy Spider mug, no less.” Tony cast a last, disconsolate look at the fajita table and turned away. “Also still can’t believe she lets you call her that.”

“Just spider solidarity.” Peter positively beamed, and Tony could have recited the next words in his sleep because it had to be the fifty thousand and seven hundredth time he’d heard them, “She first taught me how to–”

“Fight, I know. What with all the positive word-of-mouth, the Black Widow’s lessons on ‘Strangling: Why use fingers when you’ve got a perfectly serviceable pair of thighs’ have been overbooked for the past decade.”

“Not that I don’t mentally note it down every time you say stuff like that–” Peter straightened up noticeably, smile broadening till it went from charming to no-one-panic-but-we’ve-got-a-DEFCON-5, “but I’m going to have to ask you to save it for the toast. Which you’re making right now.”

“Why do I have to–”

“Because I’d rather not explain to my wife that I was over an hour late to my ten-year anniversary party looking for my lucky Black Widow cufflinks.” Peter was emitting at the rate of approximately five words per second – impressive really. Moments like these, Tony kinda got why they called Peter his spiritual heir. Also – holy shit that was MJ stalking through the crowd towards them, resplendent in red and calmly murderous.

Peter grabbed at the first glass that floated by on a server’s tray and shoved it into Tony’s hands. His fingers curled around the glass stem on autopilot – ooh, Dr Pepper – even as he stumbled a few steps ahead, being not-so-gently-nudged at the back by a certain someone who needed to keep a lid on the super strength, darn it.

“Okay, so we’re apparently having a toast now.” He hadn’t even spoken that much louder than his usual volume, but it was like a ripple effect: the clusters of people around him immediately quietened down, and forty seconds in, Tony was counting, the entire hall was hushed and staring at him. It was scary, almost. Humbling.

“Right, so. I’d have kept you guys waiting, but a certain spider-themed superhero isn’t feeling very heroic right now – so here I am, delaying impending doom with a toast.” Tony lifted his glass a bit recklessly to a now-still MJ, halted in her warpath about twenty metres away. She was smiling though, so maybe homicide wasn’t on the horizon. “To be honest, I’m getting a Terminator-esqe ‘I’m gonna be slaying twenty minutes in the future anyhow’ vibe from his lovely spouse, so this may all have been in vain.”

“Timing ain’t too bad, the press are outside anyway so you’ve skipped the hassle of calling a conference to break news of the divorce.” Tony acceded, and scattered laughs broke out in a sea of shining, amused faces. God, this felt surreal. “See, no, you’re doing it wrong, that pause was meant for the awkward silence. Maaaybe a scandalised gasp. Instead you’re all just smiling at me like I’m some deranged uncle at a wedding, which fair, I am.”

“But you know me. You know me and you know this toast isn’t getting any better from here on out, yet you’re standing there anyway all happy ears instead of booing me off. And that’s…that’s pretty special.” From the corner of his eye, Tony could see Peter quietly creep up to where MJ stood, cufflinks catching the light again as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Could see MJ’s arched eyebrow, the little quirk to her lips as her fingers slipped into the crook of her husband’s elbow. Tony smiled. “And I guess that’s what we’re all here to celebrate. Something special.”

And then, like it had been perfectly choreographed though Tony couldn’t have dreamt up this kind of symmetry – there was movement by the door. Tony’s eyes flitted over for a single instant, enough to catch the tall figure that had just ducked in; candelabra light gleaming off his favourite blue shirt and grey-blonde hair.

Tony’s free hand reached up to tug at his own lapels, fingers smoothing over the outline of a chain through the silk of his shirt. “Ten years ago, this young little upstart, newest addition to the Avengers, vanishes in the middle of a post-mission clean up. I attempt to track him down, for reasons that have everything to do with a touching, almost parental concern; and not influenced at all by how brain-devouringly boring clean up duty is.”

Chuckles everywhere, though Tony’s gaze went winging back to the rear of the crowd, where a familiar figure had appropriated himself a glass and was leaning against one of the pillars. Prime posing location, right next to one of the biggest candelabras – Tony highly approved. “As expected, I find him hanging out, upside down, from the newly refurbished A on top of Avengers Tower. Goes there every time he has a decision to make, probably thinks all the increased bloodflow to the head is going to make it work better – I don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise, poor lad.”

“It’s there, both of us sitting on the middle bar of the A like a park bench, that he tells me, ‘I think I wanna marry MJ’.” The good-natured laughter so far quietened down; everyone’s gaze redirected to the couple in question – but Peter and MJ were looking at him, soft-eyed and perfect.

“Of course, being the elder, mature adult that I am, my mind immediately flicks to the practicalities.” His tones veered towards something almost serious – for all of three seconds, because he was fooling nobody. “Namely, the location of MJ’s burial place and whether necrophilia is still illegal in the state of New York, though a part of my mind does think that Peter could do better than a moonwalking has-been. I don’t get too far beyond, ‘I didn’t think you even liked Thriller’ before I am summarily reminded of the other MJ, Peter’s cool, alternative-culture girlfriend.” And there she was now, rocking a red jumpsuit and a self-engineered wedding band, with a ‘damn straight’ smirk curling up her lips. Sure, Tony was a spectacular specimen of his time, but hell if this new generation wasn’t something else. “Y’know, in that she doesn’t give a rat’s ass what people think, and believes in a fair, just society and the betterment of human kind.”

“So I’m stuck there asking the obvious, which is, ‘why do you think you should marry her?’” And he’s trying to hold on to the lighthearted tone, he was, but it’s hard to not let sincerity sneak in when you’ve got Peter Parker watching you deliver a toast in his honour, luminescent in his happiness. When you’ve got a crowd of people you love and respect hanging on your every word – and Steve Rogers at the back of said crowd, glass untouched in his hand; gaze undimmed by time, as steady and unwavering as it was twenty years ago. “And Peter answers back, the most assured I’ve ever seen him, ‘Because I want to’.”  

The words were coming slowly, shaped by Tony’s inadequate voice with as much significance, as much unadulterated earnestness as they deserved. “He says, ‘We share things in common, but… it’s more that it already feels like we’re a team, me and her. We don’t always get each other, but we listen. We always listen. We have our fights, but we try to communicate through that and we don’t make excuses.” It all sounded so…inexcusably simple, narrated by a man who knew through time-tested experience how much it wasn’t. And there was at least one other person here today who knew it too. Tony cleared his throat, soft and uncharacteristically unobtrusive. “We’ve lived with the best and worst in each other. And I love her.’”

“And that’s when it strikes me, an honest-to-Thor epiphany right in the middle of this twenty-one year old rugrat prattling to me about love.” A wry, amused sound escaped his lips – memory hazy and rose-toned, but still so vivid. “ ‘Cause you see, I’d been expecting a laundry list of perfections – ‘oh MJ so smart’ and ‘oh MJ so pretty’ and ‘she makes me crack up like a loon’. But Peter didn’t say any of that.”

“Peter wasn’t telling me how great MJ was. He was telling me how great they were together.” Tony’s chest was squeezing on itself, the sheer pride that surged within a little difficult to contain. “And that’s a detail that we long-in-the-tooth, stodgy adults – with all of our realism and all of our practicality – forget so easily. To put it in sporting terms: it isn’t about the player of the match.” And it was the most involuntary thing in the world, to raise his eyes again and meet Steve’s steadfast eyes, that littlest curve of his lips from across the hall. “The love of your life, the most incredible person you’ve ever known. It’s about the team.”

“So I turned to him and said, ‘well, I don’t know about love. But all that other stuff you mentioned sounds pretty fantastic’.” Peter was leaning into MJ’s side now, with all the light of the world in his eyes, while she gave his elbow an affectionate squeeze – Tony blinked rapidly, eyes burning with a curiously sweet sting. “And he goggles at me and goes, ‘you’re the only person I’ve asked who thinks I’m not crazy.’ Of course, cut to ten years and now, we’re gathered here commemorating the occasion solid proof was finally obtained that I’m smarter than the rest of you sane, mature, non-epiphanised people.” And glassy-eyed or no, Tony still toasted the air with more than a slight touch of glee, voice hoarse and delighted all at one go. “I told you so.”

“So while we’re all standing around, let’s also raise a glass to Peter and MJ – who somehow, despite belonging to the same species as the rest of us who screw up on a daily basis – have managed to do everything, absolutely right by each other.” His jaw might have cracked a little, from the ache of grinning at the man who was dearer to him than any child he could’ve ever had – all the while the best guy he’d ever known, who loved him, watched on smilingly from the distance. Maybe it was just the Dr Pepper talking, but this felt like one of the moments all those other moments had been leading up to. “I think you might be what marriage is supposed to look like. And here’s to ten more years of schooling us in being awesome.”

(Extract from a longer fic here )

[littlerose13writes]

Handmade by LittleRose13

Day 8, The 12 Days of Shipmas - Christmas jumpers🌈

In which Ginny finds a new calling in life (sort of). 

Words: 1,539

Pairings: Harry/Ginny 

December 2008

This year, Ginny had her Christmas presents nailed.

It just felt right, now she had three children of her own, that this was the Christmas she learned to knit.

Everybody loved Grandma Molly’s Christmas jumpers, and she was still rolling them out every year, somehow managing to accommodate for all of the extra family members. So Ginny decided her contribution to the Weasley women’s legacy could be scarves. Everybody liked scarves didn’t they?

She pictured it in her head, everyone opening a fluffy, warm scarf hand knitted by their Auntie Ginny, in a colour and pattern personalised to the receiver. It could become just as much of a tradition as her mother’s jumpers. Weasley Christmas Jumpers and Weasley Christmas Scarves.

And knitting didn’t look like it was too difficult.

Ginny had a brilliant afternoon shopping for wool with Luna, baby Lily attached to her front and a promise from Harry, who was looking after the boys, to take as long as she needed and to bring Luna home for dinner. They visited the strangest little shop in Diagon Alley which seemed to be simultaneously a haberdashery and a book shop, but also sold plants and served different types of tea. It was sort of as if Luna had been personified into a shop.

“How many balls of wool do you need for one scarf?” Ginny asked her friend curiously, picking up one in a particular gaudy shade of yellow.

Luna looked blank. “As many as it takes.”

“I thought you could knit, Lu?” Ginny looked down to see that Lily had fallen asleep.

Luna shook her head. “Oh no, but I’d love to learn with you!”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her friend, who had definitely given the impression she knew how to knit. She reached for four balls of the bright yellow. “I think that looks about right for one scarf.”

“How many scarves are you making?” Luna asked, running her fingertips over a fluffy, blue wool.

She held her hand out to count on her fingers. “Let’s see: five brothers, plus Harry, Hermione, Angelina, Audrey and Fleur, Mum and Dad, seven nieces and nephews, three children, one Teddy.” Ginny was left with three fingers held up and a pensive expression on her face. “So that's… twenty-three? Blimey, that’s quite a lot really.”

Luna didn’t look as worried as Ginny suddenly felt at the prospect of knitting twenty-three scarves when she didn’t even know how to knit yet.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The shop owner looked amused at Ginny’s purchase of forty-six balls of wool (she had advised Ginny that four per scarf would be far too much). But Ginny was pleased with her bag stuffed full of wool, with a few pairs of knitting needles thrown into the top.

After dinner that night, when she and Harry had put the children to bed and she’d read Al a total of four different stories before he was ready to sleep, she sat cross legged on the living room floor and excitedly tipped the balls of wool out onto the floor.

“Wow,” said Harry. “That is a lot of wool.”

“Isn’t it great?” Ginny gushed, pulling a ball of orange wool towards her and unwrapping it. “I’m making Ron’s first, in Cannons colours.”

With the instruction sheet the shop owner had given her and the knitting needles in one hand, Ginny unravelled a length of wool.

“Isn’t there a spell for this?” Harry watched her uncertainly.

Ginny waved a hand at him nonchalantly. “I don’t need that, I’m sure it’ll be much quicker this way.”

Forty-five minutes later, Ginny was lying face down on the living room floor, a twisted knot of orange wool tangled around one of the needles.

“How’s it going, love?” Harry cautiously re-entered the room (he’d left to check the children were still asleep through all the swearing).

Ginny raised her head and looked at him forlornly. “Shit.”

“Is this Ron’s scarf?” Harry asked uncertainly, picking up the little twist of orange wool which was barely the length of his hand. He forced back a laugh which Ginny noticed and she sat up and back on her heels, taking it from him. She balanced it across her collarbones as if she were wearing it as a scarf.

“Yes, do you think he’ll like it?” Harry snorted and she was laughing before she could think about it, Harry joining in with her.

“Is that spell looking tempting yet?” Harry asked.

“No, I want to do it by hand like Mum does! I think maybe I just need someone to show me how to do it, instead of just following these instructions.” She picked up the sheet of parchment and dropped it again, letting it flutter to the ground lamely.

“You should ask Hermione, she can knit,” Harry mused.

“Good idea, I’ll Floo her in the morning,” Ginny stood up, cramming all her knitting supplies back into the bag and tucking them into the corner away from Al’s toddler toys. She yawned widely and took hold of Harry’s hand as she left the room, pulling him upstairs with her.

“You know, everyone will still love your scarves if you use a spell,” he said gently, in a whisper as they got nearer to the children’s rooms. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled.

It was the next morning and Hermione had responded to Ginny’s Floo by popping round with baby Hugo. She stared at Ginny in a mix of horror and amusement. “Let me get this straight, you want me to show you how to knit so you can make twenty-three scarves in time for Christmas Day next week?”

Ginny nodded eagerly. “Don’t tell anyone else though, it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Ginny, do you know how long it’ll take you to make one scarf?”

“An hour?” Ginny estimated.

“It took me over an hour to make each tiny elf hat back in school,” Hermione explained gently.

Ginny cast around for a solution, her vision of her family all opening a handmade scarf on Christmas Day at the forefront of her mind. Her eyes fell on Lily and Hugo who were respectively sitting and lying on a blanket on the floor.

“Okay, let’s see. Lily and Hugo are babies, babies don’t need scarves.” She nodded reasonably, trying to encourage Hermione to join in. “I suppose I can make ones for James and Al in the new year. We’ve got them enough presents.  And Harry come to think of it. So that brings it down to only eighteen.”

“Eighteen?” Hermione caught herself and held her hands up. “Okay, fine, I’ll show you how to do it.”

Twenty minutes later, Ginny was slowly but surely weaving the orange wool together after Hermione had cast on for her. “Oh shit, I dropped another stitch.”

Hermione sighed and fixed the knitting, handing the needles back to Ginny. “Keep going.”

She got the hang of the rows, occasionally handing them carefully over to Hermione so she could pick Lily up and jiggle her around for a second or feed her when she started to fuss.

“Is it long enough yet?” she asked every few minutes, holding up her creation.

After working on Ron’s scarf for three hours and being left with a lumpy patch no longer than four inches, Ginny started to suspect she’d been a bit ambitious.

“Is there a spell I can use?” she asked with the air of someone who hasn’t quite given up but might very soon.

Hermione shook her head sadly. “You can enchant needles to copy your patterns and knit by themselves, so you could recreate this as many times as you wanted.” Hermione held up the scarf attempt that might have possibly been useful as a blanket for a fairy. “But there’s no spell to knit for you. Believe me, I looked for one in my fourth year.”

“Someone should really get on inventing one of those,” Ginny muttered, holding the ‘scarf’ in defeat.

Christmas Day rolled around a week later, and Ginny had wrapped her presents neatly, parcelling them up with the generous batches of his famous shortbread biscuits Harry had baked for everybody’s Christmas gift. They sat waiting under the Christmas tree at The Burrow and Ginny was excited for her family to open them.

“You should all open them at the same time,” Ginny explained, distributing the gifts to her family members. She watched excitedly as they all began to tear into the paper, expressing excitement at Harry’s famous baking.

“Merlin, Rosie, give that back please, sweetheart.” Ron was the first to reach his present from Ginny and it was unceremoniously snatched away by his three-year-old daughter.

As Ron reclaimed the present from Rose, everyone else reached the inside of their own parcel.

George was the first to open his, holding up a pair of knitting needles and two balls of purple wool, tied together with a handwritten label. All around the room, her siblings were holding up identical gifts with grins on their faces.

Charlie read the label out loud. “A Make Your Own Scarf Kit, handmade by Ginny Weasley,”

[texanredrose]

By Moonlight - The Hunter

Based on an idea from @keena-kapu! Get ready; it’s a helluva ride, seven parts in all! And if you have read the other six parts, you haven’t seen this one! Buckle in, y’all!

A light layer of frost crunched underfoot, stubbornly clinging to the dirt and gravel of the road despite the many travelers coming and going from the royal city nestled at the base of the hill. Beyond the southern gates, houses and buildings stood, made of cold, unforgiving stone with black smoke billowing from chimneys, and an imposing castle in the distance, surrounded by lush forests. It painted quite the picture in the early morning light, the archway above the southern road bearing snow from the previous night’s fall.

Atlas in the winter time- she’d never come to the kingdom for a job, but seeing it blanketed in a pristine layer of pure white seemed fitting, considering the reputation the royal family possessed. The imperious, pale, bracing sort of nobles, and they’d requested her specifically from the Hunters’ Guild of Vale to handle a... beast of some sort. The letter wasn’t overly specific but the further she traveled, the more she learned, though the information she most desired remained curiously beyond her reach. A beast, bigger than any other, perhaps a true monster or a summoned spirit run rampant- it roamed the Royal Forest, fed off the King’s deer, and all royal hunts had to be canceled until it was vanquished.

Yang Xiao Long puffed out a breath that turned to mist, shifting the pack on her shoulders. The long journey from the coast meant she’d relish the chance to set her gear down, but first she had to acquaint herself with the area. Surely, those living a stone’s throw from the woods where the beast dwelt would know better than any the sort of creature she faced.

Horses whinnied and neighed, an ass brayed, and wagons creaked as people brought goods to the royal market, the low hum of chatter occasionally punctuated by vendors hawking their wares, and Yang weaved in and out without much trouble. She noticed some people staring, their eyes focused on the furs draped across her shoulders, the ax strapped to her back and sword at her hip, cestus on her forearms catching the weak morning light, and a smile curled her lips, hidden by the orange scarf wrapped around her neck. Amid the subdued colors of Atlas and the winter, the yellow of her hair, lilac of her eyes, stood out, with only the brown of her pelts and tunic the only things to tone down her appearance amid the locals. From high rooftops flew Atlas’ royal sigil, a white snowflake on a white field, outlined in a bright sort of blue, such a contrast to all the lands she’d traveled already.

“Ho, traveler.” A stocky man clad in armor called out to her, the royal emblem upon his breastplate with a crown above it likely signifying a guard of some sort. “Are you the Huntress?”

“Well, I’m a Huntress,” she replied, offering a teasing smile. “But, yeah, I’m probably who you’re looking for. I was called here about a beast?”

“The King would like to speak with you immediately.”

She quirked a brow but nodded, quite certain it wasn’t the King who’d sent for her. Regardless, she was wise enough not to turn down a royal invitation, but she wouldn’t let it detract her from her own mission. “Have you heard any tales of this beast?”

“Heh, I’ve heard tales of it, aye.” The guard shook his head. “You’re a fool to try and hunt the damned thing. It’s killed the last six people who’ve tried; Royal Hunters all, decades of experience, felled by the creature- without so much as wounding it!”

“What about farmers? Shepherds? Woodsmen?”

The man frowned, looking at her then. “No, nor a head of cattle or sheep. Whatever it is, it stays in the royal forest, and no commoner would dare trespass.”

Yang didn’t believe that in the slightest; a mindless beast would hunt the easiest prey, and cows fattened for slaughter made much easier targets than deer. “How long has it plagued you?”

“A few months. It just... suddenly appeared, out in the forest- Her Highness, Princess Weiss, was nearly killed by the beast.” The man shook his head. “We’re truly blessed she survived the encounter. After what happened with her sister...”

“Dead?” 

“No... though it might be a kinder fate. She displeased the King by failing to protect her sister from the beast and he had her stripped of her birthright.” The guard looked a bit sad then. “A shame, really.”

Curious, Yang tilted her head; while her skills tended more towards tracking down terrible creatures, she had the sense to know when something was off, even in regards to something as seemingly ridiculous as court drama in a foreign land. “What makes you say that?”

On the walk to the castle, Yang learned more about the royal family of Atlas than she did of the beast they’d hired her to hunt, and something began gnawing at the back of her mind- a suspicion she wouldn’t voice. But she certainly noticed how no one seemed relieved by her appearance, most shrugging off her introduction with indifference. Whatever beast plagued the royal forest... the people didn’t seem to mind the thing too much.

It seemed they were right to request her specifically and she looked forward to plying her talents.

The castle was... cold. Fires burned in every fireplace, torches on every wall, but it all felt... impartial, if she had to put a word to it. The royal guards acknowledged her with tilts of their heads and a word or two to her guide, knights passed them with hardly a word, and a few nobles stumbled about, hungover from a feast the night before- to celebrate the announcement of another offensive for the war front. Yang caught snatches of conversation that filled in the details and tried to hide the frown tugging at her lips; for a kingdom under siege by a terrible beast, no one seemed too... actually disturbed by it. No whispers of the creature stalking the night before and no outpouring of gratitude for her arrival.

All in all, she couldn’t be convinced the beast actually posed a problem rather than a slight annoyance, if even that.

Finally, they came to two towering doors, thrown open as people quietly milled around in a line leading towards an ornate throne, upon which sat a woman who couldn’t be much older than herself.

Snow white hair, pale skin, flashing blue eyes, with a thin circlet settled on her temples and a flowing white dress with light blue accents. Obviously not the Queen- from the stories Yang had heard thus far, likely Princess Weiss, with the healing scar across her left eye becoming more prominent the closer the hunter drew to the raised dais upon which the throne sat. Behind her left shoulder, hanging in the shadows behind the royal, she spied a glowing set of amber eyes catching the fire light, scanning the room for any possible threats.

The Princess held up a hand, halting the next person to speak with her- a blacksmith, given the heavy leather apron over his burly frame- and directed her gaze to the guard as he led Yang past the line of people awaiting her attention.

“Sir, what is the meaning of this?” Then she seemed to notice who, exactly, accompanied him. “Is this the Huntress?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The guard stepped aside, bowing so that Yang could step forward.

Her Highness made a motion with her left hand, her shadow stepping forward to reveal a Faunus with flowing midnight hair and feline ears atop her head. A few quick words were exchanged before she nodded, stepping down from the dais and bowing her head towards Yang.

“Please, follow me,” she said, turning to lead the way through a small doorway off to the side, down the hall and into another room. “Her Highness will meet with you after the petitions are through.”

“I thought I was meeting the King?” She raised a brow, noting the shadow that passed over the Faunus’ expression, quicker than a flickering flame.

“If you’re lucky, you’ll meet with her first.” Again, the attendant bowed. “Please, wait here. Her Highness won’t keep you waiting long.”

And with that, she slipped back out, leaving Yang alone in the room. It was nice, if a bit bare, with plain white stone and white and blue trappings on the walls. Large, plush armchairs sat in front of a fire place, and she felt a bit tempted to sit down, but opted instead to review what little information she’d gathered.

However, that plan was shot when the door opened, and her gaze was drawn to the woman striding in, cape billowing in her wake. Dressed as a noble with military decorations pinned to her chest, white hair pulled up in a severe bun with those same flashing eyes- the elder sibling, no doubt, considering the strong resemblance, like she was now looking at the same woman but from a future time. She couldn’t be much older- a few years, at most- but something flashed in her eyes, a spark of wisdom older than herself, a sort of maturity born from hardship. Yet, there didn’t seem to be bitterness to accompany the pristine white of her fine silk, no edge to the coldness she exuded, like staring out at the fresh fallen snow through a window, able to see beauty without fighting the chill. 

“So you’re the Huntress they’ve sent for,” she said, a note of dismissive derision in her tone as her gaze flicked over Yang’s form. “Your reputation precedes you. They say you’re quite formidable when tracking down your prey.”

“I’m good at my job.” Blue eyes lingered on her shoulders, lips curling in disdain, and she couldn’t be sure how she’d managed to displease the woman so swiftly but offered a friendly smile. “You must be Princess Winter-”

“I’m no Princess. Not any longer.” The woman squared her shoulders, a pinch to her brows as she just barely refrained from outright glaring at Yang. Anger- understandable- and something else, something just a bit... more, almost like a grudge, despite the fact they’d never met before. “I’m merely a soldier, and I’ve been ordered to provide you what tools you require to track down this beast.”

“I appreciate the offer, Miss Winter,” she said, noting how the honorific did nothing to improve the woman’s sour mood and pressing on regardless. “But, actually, I’d like a little more detail on what it is I’ll be hunting. The request... wasn’t very specific and no one’s really been able to say.”

The former Princess- which, honestly, Yang wasn’t even sure if that was a thing or not, but beside the point- stared at her for a moment before sighing. “We’re doing our best not to cause a panic; that information cannot leave the castle walls.”

“I can’t hunt a ghost,” she replied, spreading her hands. “At least give me something to start with.”

“It’s a wolf of some sort, but much larger than any breed native to Atlas.”

“Like a direwolf?” Aggressive and fearless, direwolves were nearly hunted to extinction to make way for more human villages across Atlas and Mistral, but some packs survived in the far reaches where people dared to tread. If it was a direwolf, the fact Princess Weiss had escaped with only a scratch could only count as a blessing, when the vast majority of unprepared souls who encountered them were lucky to die a quick death. 

“Perhaps.” The woman shook her head. “It’s large and dangerous. That’ll all there really is to say about the beast.” Those blue eyes fell on her. “And you’ve been hired to kill it. I suppose that’s all there really is to say about you.” She drew herself up to her fullest height, clasping her hands behind her back. “And that’s the extent of the situation. Is there anything you require?”

Yang felt her suspicions whisper even louder. Winter looked like a taut bow string, pulled to snapping but just barely maintaining her composure, as if furious words sat on the tip of her tongue locked behind tightly clenched teeth. Considering the lack of information given, it almost felt like not even she had much interest in seeing this beast problem brought to an end.

“I’ll let you know if anything comes to mind.”

With a slight nod, the woman turned, as if to leave, but the door opened again and in strode a man just an inch or two shorter, with a heavy crown wrought in gold on his head, the snowflake prominent in the center of his forehead and mustache quivering as his gaze landed on his daughter. They didn’t share as striking a resemblance- white hair, blue eyes of a different shade- but they carried themselves similarly.

“This is not the war room, Commander,” the King said, his tone dripping with condescension. “Have you forgotten already your place of duty?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Winter replied, her tone and expression absolutely placid though the flashing in her eyes turned cold and furious. “But we’ve a special guest. It would be poor manners to not receive her properly.”

He hummed, brushing past her with a dismissive grunt. “Ah, yes. The Huntress, come to slay this disgusting beast. I’ll make the arrangements; you should find something useful to do with yourself.”

For a brief moment, her mask broke, fury and disdain splayed across her expression, but everything disappeared so quickly, Yang almost thought she’d imagined it. “Of course, Sire.”

As she left, the hunter’s heart went out to the woman; she quite well understood the pain of being so thoroughly dismissed by a parent without good reason. 

“So you’re the Huntress of Vale, hmmm?” The King’s gaze flickered over her, a snarl curling his lips. “Or did the illustrious Guild of Hunters send us their barmaid?”

Charming man, she thought, though she gave him a small smile. “I assure you, Your Majesty, I’m the one you seek. Creatures of this nature are my specialty.”

“Then I can expect the damned thing dead by the morning?” He straightened out the silk of his shirt. “My more useless noblemen are complaining about the lack of hunting grounds and I’m running low on reasons to care for their entertainment.”

There were jobs she didn’t like, and there were clients she didn’t like, and this hunt firmly fell into the latter category. “Your Majesty, I’m afraid I’ve received little information. All I know is that it’s a wolf of some-” 

“It’s no wolf,” he said, a furrow to his brows, mouth turning down at the corners. “It’s a monster born of the darkest bowels and should be snuffed out as soon as possible.”

“Your Majesty, it’ll take some time to track this beast, find out what it is and how to kill it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, not the least bit intimidated by the displeasure in his expression. “I’ll also need to research what potential beasts I could be encountering, ones native to the area-”

“Then lock yourself in a library for all the help it’ll do you.” The King spat, turning towards the door, where several attendants stood, having slipped in silently when Winter left and bowing their heads reverently as the sovereign passed. “But you’ll not be paid until I have that creature’s head mounted on my wall.”

Without another word, he swept out of the room with his attendants scurrying after him and a small retinue of royal guards trailing behind.

“Charming royal family,” she said, releasing a soft sigh, only for yet another to enter the small room- and, this time, the person she was actually expecting.

“Greetings, Huntress.” The Princess offered her a tight smile, worry shining in the amber eyes of her attendant. “I... believe you’ve already met my father, the King.”

“If you could call it that,” she replied. “If I’m honest, I must admit this is one of the odder jobs I’ve received. I’m really not sure who called me here, if I’m actually needed, or even what sort of creature might possibly be in your forest, other than some sort of wolf.”

A frown touched the Princess’ lips. “Does that mean you’ll leave?”

“Not if I can get a few answers.”

“I’ll provide those I can.” Her gaze briefly darted around. “But you must understand; I am but the heiress to the throne. The castle isn’t mine, nor all the eyes and ears in it. If the King has forbidden me to speak... I must abide.”

Beneath the words and the polite expression, she could clearly see the ambition and hear the unspoken ‘for now’ at the end.

Just what had she gotten dragged into?

The night air, cold and crisp, cut through her furs, making her shiver. Yang had faced winters all over Remnant but had yet to experience the terrible severity of the Atlesian cold. However, according to the Princess, the beast could only be found roaming the forest at night, no hint of its den during the day and no trails either. Skeptical, she’d gone to the castle’s impressive library and perused some of the books there, seeking any hint of local mythos to support the sort of beast described. Direwolves were nocturnal, yes, but they clearly marked their territory, and the more she dug through the books, the less the theory held water.

Birds took flight in the distance, disturbed by something, and she could hear the sound of movement carrying through the snow filled air as it lightly fell down. Lilac eyes scanned between the trees, her head moving as little as possible to keep herself hidden among the branches and shrubs.

Only one particular book proved promising, one detailing the ancient legends about the founding of Atlas’ royal line. If the old tales were to be believed, it might explain why the royal family remained reluctant to explicitly called the beast by name... but it also didn’t make much sense either, at least from her perspective.

In the darkness beyond the treeline in front of her, hidden from the bright moon overhead, something moved. Massive, with light colored fur and eyes that gleamed in the low light- shining gold.

That’s not good. Yang waited, watching as it moved, massive head low to the ground. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

Then, the creature hit on the scent of deer that had passed through the area earlier in the day. It seemed to resist the impulse for all of two seconds before tilting its head back, rearing up on two legs, and loosing a long howl that echoed through the night.

Werewolf.

Part of her felt relieved- she knew how to deal with werewolves- and the rest of her felt a great sense of foreboding settle over her shoulders- werewolves occupied a very specific place in Atlesian mythology and legends. All the Atlesian bloodlines had died out ages ago and not a one had been seen within the kingdom’s borders since; she felt confident that this wasn’t a displaced local aware of their trespass and simply unburdened by concern.

And part that was not good news.

With the scent of its prey caught, the beast took off in a run, rushing through the trees and brush. Once the sounds faded, Yang left her hiding spot and went to where the creature had stood. There, she found claw and paw marks- huge ones. Long white fur, shedding easily- not uncommon for one recently turned. Looking around, she saw evidence of where its burly frame had broken branches- not the largest she’d seen, but very close.

“Well... this is either going to be really good... or really bad.”

She stood, listening to the sounds of the forest. The deer had probably traveled miles by now, but if she moved quickly, she might be able to catch a better look of the beast she sought. Confronting it tonight would be ill advised at best; hopefully, she could get at least get a sense of how to approach it.

Hopefully.

Three nights had passed since her arrival, all spent out in the forest tracking the werewolf, and she shouldered her way into the dining hall with a slight grimace. 

The morning after her first hunt, her attempt to inform the royal family of her progress in identifying the beast was shouted down by the King, a cold fire in his eyes as he demanded she simply destroy the creature that night or not trouble them with inane details at all, and she quite nearly walked out on principle alone. But Princess Weiss entreated her to stay and continue her work, promising to double the reward if needed- which it wasn’t, truly. The more time she spent in the royal castle, the more she got the sense that something wasn’t right, something hiding just around the corner and she couldn’t catch a glimpse of it. What time she didn’t spend tracking or sleeping, she used in other ways, scouring the books of the royal library or listening to tales from servants and guards- regarding the beast, the royal family, the royal forest, whatever they could tell her. She learned many things... but not all of them terribly useful to her hunt.

“Good morning, Huntress.” Princess Weiss greeted with a small frown. “Is... everything alright?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Gingerly sitting down at the long table- near the head, where the woman sat with her attendant just a step behind, though the table directly to the Princess’ right seemed recently vacated- Yang puffed out a breath, massaging her right side. “I crossed paths with the beast last night.”

Pale eyebrows rose as she leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Did you harm the beast?”

“No,” she replied with a grin. “I’m afraid we surprised each other. It managed to take a swipe or two at me, but I stabbed it and drove it off.” 

That troubled her. She’d been careful, hiding among the snow, staying downwind- she’d even cross the river that ran through the forest despite the dangers. The werewolf shouldn’t have picked up on her scent, or known it was being hunted, but the beast’s behavior had changed the past few nights, as if it could sense her getting close. The night before, she’d left for the forest before the sun even touched the horizon, first stalking a stag the werewolf would undoubtedly choose as its next meal and lying in wait. For a newly turned werewolf- which all evidence seemed to indicate was true of this one- the call for meat should’ve been too strong to properly assess risk, to approach with caution, yet this one did. It correctly deduced she would be lying in wait and tried to flush her out of hiding.

Unfortunately, its grand entrance happened to be right on top of her, and she’d taken a blind swing with her prosthetic to drive it back. All that did was earn her a snap from jaws powerful enough to crush bone, closing on thin air, and she’d drawn her silver dagger as a means of warding the beast off, unsure if she could reach past the wolf to the person beneath. With a well aimed swing, she’d managed to stab into the creature’s right hindleg, earning her a whine and whimper but nearly wrenching her arm out of socket when it turned, trying to dislodge her.

Yang had hardly managed to pull her dagger free before the werewolf turned and ran, disappearing into the night. She could’ve given chase, true, but it would do her no good. Better to wait until the following night, when the agony from the wound would make the werewolf easier to track, easier to surprise; if she could restrain it until morning, she could talk to the person, try to help them however she could. Vale had many werewolf packs willing to take in new blood; surely one of them would welcome a new packmate, and she preferred to end hunts like this with as little bloodshed as possible.

“So the beast yet lives.” Many things could be said of the Princess, but her having a strong poker face didn’t factor into any of those, just enough relief shining in blue eyes to make the hunter curious. “I suppose that means you’ll be out there again tonight? Or will you rest?”

“I appreciate your concern, Your Highness, but I’d rather continue my hunt tonight.” She offered a tight smile. “It’s wounded. I wouldn’t want it to suffer.”

The Faunus narrowed her eyes, ears twitching, but remained silent as her charge sat back with a sigh.

“I quite understand. Please, keep me posted on any developments; seeing this issue... handled properly is one of my priorities.”

That had proven true. Even if the King himself hadn’t taken much interest in her hunt, Princess Weiss wanted an update daily, and would sometimes send a messenger to find her if they somehow missed each other at breakfast.

The guards posted outside the hall opened the door, admitting Miss Winter, again bedecked in her military uniform... but something seemed a bit off, a bit more surliness in the twist of her lips, a furrow to her brow.

“Good morning, Sister.” Princess Weiss greeted warmly, motioning for another plate to be brought out even as one was set in front of Yang- meats and fruit with some cheese on the side and two bread rolls, a bit light considering how much energy the hunter burned but better than nothing. She would need to sneak another treat sometime later. “Did you sleep well?”

“Just fine,” Miss Winter replied, gruffly and with a scowl as she sat beside the Princess, in the seat to the woman’s right- another curiosity. Whenever their father was present, the elder stood with the soldiers or guards, never seated with the rest of the royal family. Even when their brother- younger than the Princess, though not by terribly much- was around, she acted as any other member of the castle’s staff. But when it was just the two royal sisters, they were equals, sitting beside one another and speaking without regard to titles. “The King postponed the war meeting to personally inspect the weapons shipment that arrived this morning.”

“Another one.” The corners of the Princess’ mouth turned down, almost into a frown. “That’s the third one this week.”

Yang quietly ate her food, watching as flickers of annoyance and pain flashed across Miss Winter’s expression, the woman shifting ever so slightly as the sisters continued their conversation regarding the latest royal order for conscripts from the southern reaches of the kingdom. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something seemed very... off about her posture.

“Winter, are you alright?” The Princess’ brows furrowed.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she replied, but the words were spat out like acid, and a twitch of her brow proved the woman realized she’d responded too heatedly. Pushing away from the table, she stood, her breakfast only half eaten. “You have petitions to hear today. You haven’t the time to waste dithering about, worrying after me. His Majesty will likely seek you out around noon for the war meeting as well; I suggest you hurry with your duties.”

“Of course,” Princess Weiss replied, hurriedly standing up; her heart remained in the right place and she had the fire in her to make changes, Yang could tell that much, but she still lacked her elder sibling’s more rigorous adherence to age old traditions. “I’ll see you then.”

“Right.” Miss Winter turned on heel, heading for the door, and the hunter got up too, finally hitting on what seemed off about the woman.

She was walking with a limp.

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[ihaveatheoryonthat]

More old stuff from the depths of the MSA folder. This one’s actually pre-Freaking Out, which makes it... a little weird in hindsight.

The basic premise is that Lewis was attacking Arthur in Ghost thinking he was still possessed, and this is following up on it. Again, it’s super old, please forgive any outdated information. Also, it’s very incomplete.

It was easy enough to figure out that they'd come to the right place. The wispy pink ghosts that flitted to and fro-- weaving through the cave's walls and humming to themselves-- were a solid confirmation. They paid the van no mind as it rolled to a halt outside of the entrance and failed to interfere as everyone got out.

As he shut the driver's side door, Arthur took a deep breath, clearing his head of Vivi's incense, and held it for a second before daring to look up.

Logically, he knew that the cave hadn't changed since he'd last stood in front of it, but even in the last rays of sun, it somehow seemed darker and more foreboding than it had before. There was probably some psychological babble that would explain it away, but nothing that he knew for himself.  

Vivi's hands stilled in the middle of righting her scarf and clenched into fists. She was the first of their procession to head forward, Mystery and Arthur trailing along the path she forged.

Going back was likely the hardest thing Arthur had ever done. Step after trembling step, he forced himself onwards, reassured only by his friends' constant presence.

At the fork in the road, Vivi stopped.

"W-which way do you think…?" On one hand, there was nowhere Arthur wanted to be less than the overhang that the left hand path would lead to, but, on the other, he didn't want hurt Vivi by suggesting the lower route. It wasn't safe to split up, but… maybe he could muster the courage to escort her outside where it was safe, and still come back.

When he looked at her, her face was set in a determined scowl, eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

"This way." She announced, seizing Arthur's hand and marching them down the right hand path, Mystery trotting dutifully at his other side.

They couldn't have gotten any more than half-way to the main cavern before they noticed the heavy mist pooling at ground level, kicked up with every step. It became exponentially thicker and harder to maneuver through as the path sloped downwards, though it didn't seem to faze their fearless leader.

"Vivi," Mystery called, softly, but with an air of authority that left no room for debate, "We've gone far enough. If we keep walking blind, we'll risk falling, too, and I doubt any of us want that."

"Well… yeah. But if we're careful, then maybe…?"

"Absolutely not. This isn't a natural fog. We're already taking a significant risk simply being here; there's no need to tempt fate like this." His snout twitched as he looped around Arthur and nudged a reluctant Vivi into turning back the way they'd come. He had to interpose himself between the two of them in order to start any sort of forward motion-- Vivi because she still wasn't sold and Arthur because he knew what came next.

"If it's any consolation, I honestly don't believe that the fog was meant to be a trap. Working under the assumption that Lewis is here, it wouldn't be unreasonable to think that he doesn't want to see--" There was a sharp ending to the word, and it was obvious that Mystery had stopped himself before his words took a different turn. "--the cavern's floor."

He fell silent again, and Arthur couldn't help noticing the way the dog's fur bristled; he made a token attempt to smooth it back down as they neared the landing, but abandoned it when Mystery shook him off.

Vivi rocked back and forth on her heels during the half-minute they waited for Mystery's go-ahead. Even after it was granted, his ears swiveled and nose twitched sporadically as he tasted the air. Knowing that he was keeping such close tabs on things was a comfort, but the fact that he thought the demon might still be there made it a cold one.

They walked in strained silence, a far cry from the usual chatter that colored their expeditions. Vivi was usually quick to give the low-down on the could-be haunt and answer questions that nobody had asked while Lewis alternately humored her and tried to soothe any of Arthur's concerns. With a pang, he remembered that was exactly what had happened as the two of them scaled this incline. It had been a story about one of the younger Pepper sisters back then-- lighthearted and goofy, something to take Arthur's mind off of the investigation.

As if it weren't already obvious, the silence was a huge indication that they were all on edge.

While not nearly as intense as the lower path had been, fog still found its way underfoot and coiled around their ankles-- transparent enough to see through and posing no obstacle as they walked onwards.

Mystery's ears perked up before too long; though he didn't elaborate, the lack of immediate action was enough to assure the two human parties that, whatever he'd heard, it wasn’t a threat. A minute longer and they were able to hear it for themselves: the pink ghosts' humming. It wasn't the same aimless tune the ones outside emitted; there was a clear purpose behind the harmony, something that would have taken preparation and practice by human standards. The offending choir came into view when they passed the final turn.

None of them dared to venture out onto the overhang, which emerged in a jagged line from the sea of mist that leveled out just below it.

A trio of the small ghosts hovered a dozen feet above the fog, roughly in the center of the cavern; each had its eyes closed and looked perfectly peaceful as they sang away, heedless of their new audience.

Said audience didn't pay them much attention, drawn to a different focal point.

Though angled away from them, the spirit watching the ghostly chorale was easily recognizable. The skeleton from the mansion was nowhere to be seen, and it was almost enough to make Arthur wonder whether it had actually been his friend. He looked to Vivi, trying to gauge her reaction, and turned away before she could notice him. If he didn't acknowledge it, maybe he could pretend he hadn't seen the way her eyes narrowed as she fought back tears.

The spectral warbling came to a slow halt and, for one heart stopping second, Arthur thought they'd been spotted. If he'd been in the state of mind to think it through, he'd have realized that being noticed was kind of what they'd been going for, but he liked to think that he had a hell of a good reason not to be rational.

There was a beat of silence as the ghosts opened their eyes and blinked in mockery of vital function before turning to the odd spirit out. Lewis gave them a short round of applause and said something too low and far away to make out, but it seemed to satisfy the three, who hovered without cause for half a second before disbanding.

At the same time, Lewis unknowingly turned his back on his friends and faded into the air.

"Wait!" Vivi called, crashing back to reality. "Lewis!"

There was no response.

"I know you're still here somewhere! Please, Lewis, come talk to us!"

This time, something landed heavily on Arthur's shoulder and he jumped, whirling around to face-- oh. Yeah. That was definitely the skeleton from the other day. Vivi inhaled sharply and made to reach over, but was stopped by Mystery's warning growl. Who, exactly, he was warning-- and of what-- remained up in the air, but that wasn't at the forefront of Arthur's mind for the time being.

He was a little more focused on the dead eyes boring holes into his own and the way the hand on his shoulder solidified its grip.

"Get out." Demanded a guttural, inhuman voice.

"B-but you tried so hard to meet with me the other day." Arthur offered, making an honest effort to crack a smile. Some distant part of his mind chose a very inappropriate time to muse that 'Ghosts could smell fear, right? Or was that werewolves?'

In response, Lewis's grip tightened into what would have been a bone-creaking hold and his free hand lit up in pink flames.

"Get out of him."

"Out of… out of me? What do--" He stopped cold and swore he could feel the blood drain from his face. "You knew?"

"I know. You can't fool me." Said ghost hissed, eyes narrowing further as he studied the young man in front of him. "Last chance: out."

In one fluid motion, Vivi ducked the arm holding onto Arthur's shoulder and slid between the two of them, holding both hands up in an attempt to placate the spirit. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up there, pardner. I don't know what you think is goin' on,  but it might help if we're all on the same page, yeah?"

For half a second, Lewis's expression flickered, but he immediately shook it off; if anything his demeanor hardened even further. "Mi dispiace."

Glancing at Arthur out of the corner of her eye, Vivi frowned in trepidation and, hesitantly, asked, "For what…?"

As if to answer, the fire in Lewis's free hand blazed brighter.

"Enough." Mystery announced for the second time that night. While he wasn't a small dog by any measure, it was hard for him to stand tall enough to command much attention-- especially compared to the seven foot specter standing opposite of them--  so it was only on reflex that they all stopped, allowing him to interrupt so thoroughly. He nodded once at both living parties and added, "Let me handle this." before turning to Lewis.

"I understand that the demon who used to dwell here is long gone. You have every reason to be suspicious of anyone with ties to this place, and heavens know we've seen too much possession to rule it out of a situation like the one we've found ourselves in. That being said, I can assure you that nobody here is hosting any manner of spirit; if you were to stop playing guard dog for five seconds and look, you would be able to see that for yourself."

The miniature speech succeeded on several fronts: it got Lewis's attention, allowed Arthur to worm himself free, and snuffed out the ghostly fire. It did have one major downside, though: with the exception of any physical contact, Lewis focused everything on Mystery instead.

"Ah," The dog said feebly, backing up half a step out of sheer surprise, "I should have been more clear. Of course you wouldn't know that I'm not--"

Lewis used the backwards momentum to his advantage and took two silent steps forward, filling the space Mystery had vacated. If he could act as a human barrier in life, it was even more effective in death. When Vivi and Arthur tried to move around him, he threw both arms out, blocking them.

"Don't." He rumbled, palms turned inwards and lit with fuchsia fire in a clear threat. "You'll only embarrass yourself."

Mystery refrained from rolling his eyes, but only just. "Oh yes, I'm the one embarrassing myself, not the juvenile ghost refusing to listen to reason."

"Listening sounds good!" Vivi put in, making to duck Lewis's arm again. The instant she cleared it, he brought it back, sweeping  her into a secure hold against his chest and inspiring an indignant yelp. After a second's struggle, she managed to worm one arm free, but little else.

Lewis gave Arthur a warning look and was moving to hold onto her more securely when she doubled her effort. With his attention elsewhere, he didn't notice when the renewed flailing neared the heart floating gently above Vivi's head, though he certainly did notice when it sent the glassy trinket skittering across the floor.

In unison, the four froze.

The same could not be said for the sextuplet of wisps that appeared out of nowhere.

Two flanked Arthur-- one holding on to either hand-- and another two filled the rapidly diminishing space between Lewis and Mystery. One more curled around Vivi's shoulders, phasing the two of them back behind its leader, while the last nudged Lewis towards the heart.

The heart, which had come to a halt on the overhang, less than a foot from the edge.

Lewis stumbled forward with momentum that the gentle prod couldn't have provided and fell to his knees. He clapped one hand to his chest, but then went very still.

Mystery made to step forward, but the pair of ghosts that had interposed themselves between him and the others started hissing viciously, warding him away. Had they been able to, Arthur and Vivi would have tried something similar, but were still stuck where the wisps held them.

The pinpricks of light in Lewis's eyes dimmed as he stared sightlessly into the cavern. It only lasted half a second before they came back full force, encompassing the empty sockets in a violent pink glow.

Vivi called his name to no avail. Mystery snapped at the spirits blocking the way. Arthur was about to point out that the behavior was probably a very bad sign, but was cut off by-- of all things-- the cave.

The cave… flickered.

Rocky walls fluttered into peeling wallpaper and the wooden steps to a battered runner before snapping back. The omnipresent mist faded rapidly from relatively innocuous white to magenta and back again.

While the lack of living paintings and animated suits of armor made it incomplete, the resemblance to Lewis's haunted house was uncanny.

Witnessing it form around them, on the other hand, was a completely new experience-- one that wasn't helped by the jarring shift from cave to mansion that happened every few seconds

---

Even from so far away, Arthur recognized the setup below-- from the smooth stone walls and spindly torches to the moth-eaten curtains pulled away from a sleek coffin. He backpedalled instinctively and made to bolt, but, somehow, found himself facing the same outcropping, the same drop and same scenery. Shoulders quaking, he turned around, dreading what he'd find.

What he found was nothing. The hallway was gone. The basement was gone.

The stone he'd been standing on was gone.

A strangled scream ripped itself from his throat and, distantly, some vicious part of his mind supplied that 'Karma's a bitch'. His body was shaken with a sharp impact and oh god, he was dead, he was so dead--

Except it really didn't feel like dying-- but, then again, he was no expert when it came to the subject,, so how was he to know what it felt like? For all he knew, maybe death was a dislocated shoulder and constricted ribcage.

Then the light flickering through his closed eyelids registered and, warily, he cracked one eye open.

He screamed again and struggled to close himself back off from reality. That had been a bad decision. The basement was better than the stalagmites. Almost anything was better than the stalagmites.

Amidst the panicked thrashing, he didn't notice the fact that, even though he was losing altitude, he wasn't exactly falling-- so it came as a surprise when Arthur landed, bruised but without any new piercings, on something mercifully solid. Even with the rock under his palm and cold seeping through the knees of his jeans, he didn't dare open his eyes again.

"Arthur!"/"Oh, thank god, I thought you had…"

---

"But I saw you fall-- how did--?"

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and forced himself to look down.

Though the fog was as thick as ever, the glow of ghostly fire cut through it remarkably well, allowing Arthur to see all the way down to the bottom level.

Sure enough, there was Lewis, somehow managing to curl in on himself and slump against the rock shelf at the same time. His chest heaved and his hair spat fitfully as he slowly dragged himself upright and turned his head away from the sea of spikes.

"L-Lew?"

For the second time that evening, the ghost refused to acknowledge them.

Something blue approached in the corner of his vision, and Vivi knelt down at Arthur's side. She made to peek out over the edge and faltered, falling back on her haunches; regardless, both of them could make out the furious muttering sounding from below.

"M-mi dispiace."

She frowned; while none of their group but Lewis was fluent in Italian, there were a number of phrases they'd learned to recognize.  That was one of them.

"I'm sorry," He repeated, "I-I wasn't-- io non sono…" Lewis's voice cracked and he fell silent.

Vivi didn't see the full-body shudder that shook his form, but Arthur-- still peering out over the cliff's edge-- did, and, without thinking, stretched his good arm out as far as he could. It was a fruitless gesture considering the twenty foot drop, and the only one who noticed it was Mystery, who wasted no time grabbing him by the collar and tugging him away from the edge, chiding him under his breath all the while.

"There's something wrong."

The kitsune gave Arthur a flat look. "You don't say."

He trotted back over, and Arthur was on the verge of calling out this hypocrisy when Mystery announced "I'll handle this." and leapt down.

There was a strangled squawk from the general vicinity of the cave's floor.

Vivi snorted as she rose to her feet and dusted off her skirt with one hand, a fragile smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. Absently, she ran a thumb over whatever she was holding in her opposite hand and said, "Now that sounds a little more like Lewis."

-

Mystery's tails drifted lazily behind him, dispersing the supernatural fog for several seconds before it rushed back to fill the void. Between the two of them, there was a reasonable bubble free of the mist-- though, he noticed, it extended far enough to reveal a single stalagmite.

Though Lewis's attention was mostly fixed on him, he noticed the ghost's eyes flicker between himself and the spire more than once. Without a second thought, one tail lashed out and leveled the rock.

It went without saying that, between this display and the sudden lack of any distractions, Lewis focused back on Mystery.

"Now that I have your attention, maybe we can work this out like civilized beings. I'm giving you two options right now: behave and let me help you up or stay down here until you have enough energy to leave by your own power. I'm sure it'll be a very difficult decision."

Lewis didn't say anything, though, gradually, he stopped trying to become one with the wall and rose to his feet. The initial pang of-- had it been fear?-- faded from his eyes, replaced with suspicious curiosity.

Ah, of course. Hadn't Mystery himself been trying to say that Lewis wouldn't know his true form?

"I'm sorry," He rumbled, careful to keep his voice gentler than before, "It wasn't my intention to scare you. It's possible that I haven't thought this all the way through."

There was a quiet "Lot of that going around." from opposite him, and he let out a short bark of laughter.

"Now listen to me; I do appreciate the vigilance, but there's a fine line between caution and paranoia that you're approaching very quickly. The demon that did this to you isn't possessing Vivi or Arthur-- you saw that for yourself-- and I should hope that this little dog-and-beast show clears up any further doubt as to whether or not I'm housing it." Mystery took a measured step forward, and then another when Lewis failed to respond negatively. "I swear, none of us have any unsavory goals in mind--  and you?"

"I just-- I thought that--" The spectral voice warbled before cutting out, and it took Lewis a second to formulate the words. "If the thing that killed me was still in Arthur, then you were all-- I just wanted to protect you guys."

"I see." Honestly, he'd assumed as much from the little stunt on the upper path, but he'd had to be absolutely certain before letting things go any further. Mystery pressed his muzzle to the ghost's skull briefly. "I'm glad to hear it, but, if we're going to continue this conversation, I think it would be prudent to take it outside. I, for one, have spent entirely too long here. Grab on and I'll help you up."

He crouched down and kept still as a pair of arms gingerly wrapped around his neck and was about to make the leap when one of Lewis's hands balled up in his fur. He hesitated.

"Mystery… if it's not with you and it's not here, then where is it?"

The kitsune took in a deep breath and held it. "We'll talk about this outside."

And, to put a temporary halt to any objections, he prepared himself and jumped, landing lightly in front of Arthur and Vivi.

---

It was dark outside when they emerged from the cave, but not in the same way it had been before. In hindsight, the unearthly gloom around the tangle of greenery should have tipped them off that first visit; its absence was striking when compared to the familiar darkness of nightfall.

Something else that became painfully obvious was that the van had become a subject of interest for a handful of the wispy ghosts.

"Hey!" Arthur shouted, sprinting towards the vehicle with a fist raised in warning, "Get away from there!"

"Relax, Arthur." Lewis said automatically, surprising even himself. Somehow, bemusement shone through in the way he manipulated his bony features and, as the spirits scattered, he remembered to add, "They can't do anything to it."

The blond turned to argue his point, but snapped his jaw shut when he noticed that two of the culprits were attempting to hide behind his friend. He spun on his heel and trudged back towards the van.

"Freakin' ghosts…"

Vivi rolled her eyes and trailed several feet behind him. When she realized that Lewis was still hovering awkwardly-- and literally-- between points A and B, she turned back around, looped an arm around one of his, and marched him over to where Arthur had opened up the back doors.

In all actuality, she marched and he allowed himself to be towed around, but that didn't have the same punch to it.

"You left your incense burning." Arthur said pointedly, nodding to the container. Sure enough, smoke drifted up from it in delicate plumes and the entire van smelled like an evergreen forest. The scent spilled out of the van in a lazy wave, clashing horribly against the dead trees and tangled undergrowth that curled at the road's edges.

Vivi pushed her glasses back up her nose and, without a trace of remorse, said, "Oops."

Mystery rolled his eyes-- whether it was at Arthur's somewhat-justified indignation or Vivi's non-apology was anyone's guess-- and trotted past them, hopping fluidly up into the van so he could stay level with everyone.

"If you're done…?" He began, interrupting what was sure to be a staring match for the ages.

Vivi huffed and swung herself to perch next to him and Arthur collapsed bonelessly into a heap of limbs, purposefully angling himself so he could get the occasional breath of fresh air.

Lewis remained stubbornly in place, hovering lowly off the ground and doing a good job of not looking at any one person for too long.

"Now, just to verify that we're all on the same page: we all want what's best for everyone else, nobody is possessed or malevolent, and, despite all appearances, nothing that happened this week was acted out with revenge or murder in mind. Did I get that right?"

A trio of mumbled affirmations answered him.

"Good. So where should we start?"

Normally, it would be Vivi's voice that dominated the conversation at this point-- posing questions nobody else had considered and tossing out miscellaneous observations-- but this was the exception to the rule. After their brief exchange at the cave's floor, it didn't surprise Mystery when Lewis was the first to speak, still staring hard over the van's roof.

"Where did it go?"

The dog sighed. "To be quite honest, I don't know.  After I… removed it from Arthur, we had other matters to attend to and nobody was in a position to track it."

He ducked his head in a strange canine shrug and, out of the corner of his eye, watched for Arthur's reaction. For his part, Arthur flexed the fingers of his prosthetic and frowned at nothing, squirming under the sudden scrutiny. Vivi remained silent, leaning backwards around Mystery and worrying at her lip as she considered the mechanical appendage.

When he turned his attention back to the ghost, Mystery found that Lewis had given up on staring into the distance, but it was hard to read his bony features as he followed Vivi's line of sight. His eyes narrowed and he almost floated nearer, but stopped himself at the last second, settling for watching at a distance.

Without looking away, he gave a terse nod. It was the set of his shoulders and the way he held his arms close to his chest that gave him away: unhappy with the answer, but willing to accept it.

Vivi seemed to catch on to this-- and to Arthur's obvious discomfort-- and, louder than strictly necessary, asked, "My turn?"

Mystery shot her a grateful look. "I don't see why not."

"Good." She braced herself against the bumper with one foot and sprang off of it, landing gracelessly, but steadily, on the ground.

Lewis took what equated to half a step backwards without ever touching the ground, which was lucky for him, as it left him out of reach when Vivi threw her hands up in the air.

"You. What the heck, man? What was a) that," She thrust a thumb over her shoulder, "And b) that about?" With her free hand, she pointed at the cave. It was a ridiculous sight, the way she left her arms splayed out in opposite directions, but nobody commented on it.

Lewis ducked his head, clearly embarrassed despite the lack of expressive features, and raised a hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck. This, of course, was an anatomical impossibility, and all he managed to do was swing a hand through the empty space below his skull and run into his upper jaw.

Vivi broke into peals of laughter and, beside Mystery, Arthur made a strange keening sound that was probably something between amusement and mild horror. Mystery himself snorted into his paws, not at the dismayed cry but rather the way Lewis tried to steady his head.

In a transparent effort to distract everyone from his slip-up, the ghost said, "I had a plan. It wasn’t a very good one."

Head still resting on his paws, Mystery felt his chuckling turn into a long-suffering sigh. The claim wasn't hard to believe. There was a reason that Vivi and Arthur had always been the ones to plan out an investigation; that reason was because, no matter how well thought-out, none of Lewis's ideas went as intended. It was a fascinating phenomena, but more than a little irritating.

The thought that he'd been planning something without his state of being under complete control was unnerving. That he admitted it wasn't exactly a good plan was downright terrifying.

In hindsight, they were lucky it hadn't turned into a deadly game of Mousetrap.

Beside him, Mystery felt Arthur stiffen and Vivi pulled a face.

"Yikes. Okay, you know what? Let's save that one for later."

Earlier embarrassment coming back full-force, Lewis cast his gaze downwards; the way the light of his eyes shone over his cheekbones, it  almost made it look like he was blushing.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Vivi stepped forward and, when that failed to get her a close enough look, stood on her toes.

"Interesting." She mumbled. After a second's contemplation, she jumped and made to touch his hair.

Startled by her sudden movement, Lewis backpedalled and automatically threw his hands out to catch her around the waist. Unperturbed by the flurry of motion, Vivi went on to prod at the tame fire, and, frowning thoughtfully, moved her hand in front of the ghost's eyes.

She nodded to herself and repeated, "Interesting."

"…Vivi?"

"You can put me down now." The instant her feet hit the ground, she went on to add,  "Could you please change back? This is getting really distracting."

Lewis hesitated, drawing his arms back to his chest and laying one hand over his lapel. "I… can't. Sorry."

"Why not?"

For several seconds, he floundered, starting and giving up on half a dozen sentences before settling on, "It's, um, my heart. The problem is that it's actually-- Vivi?"

It was an excited squeak that threw him off, as Vivi rummaged through one of her skirt's pockets. He floated nearer, trying to figure out what she was doing, only to have a silver shape brandished in his general direction.

Vivi's hands shook as she held it up and, without thinking, he reached out to steady them. Automatically, the heart righted itself and began rotating gently above her palms.

She squinted at it, doing very little to hide the way her eyes shone behind her glasses, and said, "First you break it, now you lose it-- who trusted you to take care of this thing?"

Though he didn't have any need to breathe and, in fact, hadn't been doing so, Lewis's breath hitched.

In such close proximity, the heart simply gravitated towards its rightful place, but he still ran a hand over it, just to be sure it was where it belonged.

---

Instead of protecting it from any further mishaps, Lewis folded both of his hands over Vivi's. He wasn't surprised when she tore them away and flung her arms around the approximation of his neck instead, and moved to support her. "I missed you. We all did. P-please come home."

He leaned forward to press his forehead against her crown. "Of course I will."

Vivi sniffed into his shoulder and let go with one hand, using her sweater sleeve to rub at her eyes before releasing the ghost completely.

---

"I suppose that makes it my turn."/"Regardless of the quality, what do you plan to do now that your 'unfinished business' has been settled?"

The look Lewis gave him was slightly incredulous. "It's not."

"But Arthur isn't possessed, and you know that he and Vivi are safe."

The ghost nodded slowly. "But… it really doesn't feel like I'm done here."

Mystery hummed in thought and backed off, choosing to focus elsewhere. "Regardless, what do you intend to do with yourself?"

After a brief hesitation, Lewis shrugged. "I really only planned through the mansion."

"We're keeping him." Vivi announced both loudly and decisively, taking several bouncy strides and positioning herself between Lewis and the van almost defensively. She looked as serious as Arthur had ever seen her, and the gleam in her eye practically dared someone to object.

As it turned out, the only one who needed convincing was Lewis himself.

---

She regained her composure quickly, and nodded to herself as though she'd won some sort of battle.

"Good." She said, turning on her heel and leaping back into the van, ignoring the way both Arthur and Mystery were trying to look interested in something trivial. "Like I said, we're keeping him."

Arthur stumbled to his feet and stretched, glancing at Lewis before leaning over the front seat where Vivi was already busying herself. "Y'know, I don't think there was much of a question there."

"Exactly."

The blonde snorted and hopped it, landing in the passenger's seat without any outward complaint. Inwardly, he was dreading the drive that awaited them; an excited Vivi drove, well, excitedly. An angry Vivi also drove excitedly. Vivi, as a matter of course, drove excitedly,  and Arthur half-turned, looking for someone to back him up.

Instead, he caught sight of Lewis closing the back doors and Mystery nudging the ghost with his nose.

"You do realize that this makes you the second paranormal creature Vivi's adopted. Congratulations. I assure you, you're in good company."

Too late. Vivi revved the engine just as the second door latched, and, before the van started tearing down the lonely road, Arthur heard one last smart remark from the back.

"You even have a dog tag. Adorable."

[eastofthemoon]

Not Another Rescue

So, I decided to write a followup to the Not Another Trip to the Mall fic and what better day to post it than on Keith’s birthday.  Hope you all enjoy this!

Title: Not Just Another Rescue

Rating: G

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender

Characters: Keith, Lance, Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Kolivan, Antok, Allura and Coran

Summary:  Keith spends some time with his new human friends at the mall. However, when he finds himself whisked away by Kolivan to return home, last thing Keith expected was for his new friends to come chasing after him.

Archive of Our Own

Shiro never cared much for malls, and his disliked for them grew even further after spending what seemed like an hour just looking for a place to park. He sighed as he rubbed his eyes and walked through the mall.

He was tempted to just find a bench and sit down, but Lance had sent him a message saying he had to come.

We met someone and -Oh boy, Shiro you are not going to believe it, Lance had texted Just come by the fountain, okay?

Shiro rubbed his neck as he weaved through the crowd. Eventually, he spotted the fountain and saw Hunk waving frantically at him.

Shiro gave a tired smile as he waved back. Hunk seemed to be eating some kind of space nacho as he, Lance and Pidge were..talking to a person in a hood. Shiro frowned as he approached.

Whoever they were talking to had their face hidden. The person momentarily glanced to Shiro before quickly turning their gaze away.

“Hey, Shiro, about time,” Pidge said with a smirk. “Was the parking that bad?”

“You don’t want to know,” Shiro said with a deep sigh and then looked to the stranger. “So..who is this?”

Lance grinned as he placed a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. “You are not going to believe what we found.”

The stranger shifted and fiddled with their hood. “I...don’t know.”

“Hey, dude, it’s fine,” Hunk said as he ate the last of his nachos. “Shiro is cool, we promise.”

The hooded stranger tilted their head. “Cool?”

“Earth slang for ‘he’s fine’,” Pidge translated with a sigh. “Just show Shiro already.”

The stranger’s shoulders slumped as he looked to Shiro. “Okay…”

Shiro arched an eyebrow as the hood was lowered, but all confusion was gone once the scarf was removed and Shiro found himself staring into the eyes of a teenage boy. A teenage HUMAN boy.

Shiro’s jaw dropped and looked to Lance who was grinning from ear to ear. “He’s human.”

“We know,” Hunk said with a chuckle. “Shiro, meet Keith,” he looked to the boy. “Keith this is Shiro.”

The boy gave a nod to Shiro as he fiddled with the tip of his long black braid. “Nice to meet you.”

“Um..likewise,” Shiro said and shook his head. “Wait, how are you here? Are there other humans?”

His instant thought that his boy had been captured by the Galra somehow like he and the Holts had been.

Keith rubbed his neck. “Um..that’s complicated, but I can honestly say you four are the first humans I can ever remember seeing in my entire life.”

Shiro blinked. “What?”

“He was raised by aliens,” Pidge commented as she adjusted her glasses and poked Keith. “Although, he’s been rather tight lip on who exactly those are.”

Keith sighed as he pouted. “I told you, I can’t. My father..well, adoptive father would kill me if he did.”

Shiro briefly thought Keith meant it literally, but judging by the sour expression, he realized Keith just meant it in the way any rebellious teen did.

“Okay, we won’t ask that then,” Shiro said gently and looked to Lance. “How did you find him?”

“We caught him spying on us,” Hunk said and narrowed his eyes. “And not being very good at it.”

Keith growled. “I was doing just fine.”

“You say that and yet we did managed to catch you,” Lance remarked dryly.

“He does have a point,” Hunk said as he pointed.

Keith gave a pout and Shiro had to cover his mouth to drive back a chuckle. “Alright, so now that we found you,” he looked to Keith, “are you needing to head back to your ‘family’ soon?”

Keith looked up to Shiro and tilted his head at him that kind of reminded Shiro of a curious puppy. “Uh..no. Not for awhile, I guess.”

“Then we have time to talk for a bit,” Shiro said as he offered a smile.

Truth be told, he was tempted to offer to take Keith back to the castle. Keith was barely any older than Lance or Hunk, and it made Shiro concerned he didn’t want to talk about his alien family. Yet, despite Keith being human, inviting complete strangers back to the castle was not a good idea.

They had learned that the hard way when Lance had invited Nyma and Rolo back to the castle and they had tried to steal the Red Lion. They were just lucky they had caught the pair with their ‘hands in the cookie’ jar and had been able to stop them.

Still, Shiro couldn’t abandon another human. The more they talked, they more they could learn about Keith and the situation he was in. Then, Shiro could decide if they had to step in.

Keith chewed his bottom lip as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I can, but...I’m not that greet talking to people.”

“You don’t have to talk,” Lance jumped in as he wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulder. “Come on, we were about to hit a store to get some spare parts for Hunk and Pidge. You can keep Shiro and I from getting bored as they chat about tech stuff.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow slightly. Lance never minded hearing Pidge and Hunk’s tech talk, until he looked at Shiro and he gave a nod. Then, it hit him.

Lance had the same thought as Shiro. He wanted to encourage Keith to interact with them and maybe trust them more. It was a good a plan as any.

Shiro smile, and when both Pidge and Hunk did the same, Keith’s shoulders dropped. “I guess I could do that.”

“Great, let’s go,” Hunk said as he seized Keith by the arm and started to drag him away. “And we could use some advice. Pidge and I are still trying to understand how all of this alien technology works.”

Keith gave a slow nod as the others followed behind. Lance quietly gave Shiro a thumbs up and Shiro gave one in return.

080808080808080808080808080808080808080

Keith had always wondered what it would be like to interact with other humans. He had vague memories of his human father from when he was small, but that was it. Keith never imagined humans would be so...lively.

They kept asking him questions, make jokes about the weirdest things and he swore a few people looked their way when Lance and Hunk laughed too loud. It was a bit jarring compared to the quiet atmosphere he was raised with on the base.

The Blades had always remarked that Ulaz was a chatterbox whenever he discussed his latest research, but he was nothing compared to this group. Keith found it a bit jarring, and yet it was oddly fascinating. If he had been raised with other humans, would he be like this? Or would he be as quiet and subdue like he’d always been.

“So, anyway,” Lance continued as he sipped his drink, “point is, that’s why Shiro is banned from cooking from now on.”

Shiro rolled his eyes from his seat next to Keith in the middle of the food court. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Hunk narrowed his eyes. “Shiro, those pancakes were so burnt, I’m still amazed they didn’t turn to ash just by looking at them.”

Keith gave a small laugh. “Can’t be any worse than Thace’s cooking.” He froze and felt like kicking himself as the others stared at him. Stupid! Why did I say that without thinking?!

“Thace?” Pidge asked curiously as she looked up.

Keith cleared his throat. He had been trying to avoid talking about the Blades as much as he could. They were a secret organization for a valid reason. He hoped his silence would convince them to drop the subject, but as he felt the eyes continue to stare at him, he knew he lost.

“He’s...one of my ‘uncles’,” Keith slowly spoke as he tried to word it as little as possible. “Where I live, we take turns cooking and Thace was banned from the kitchen before I was even born.”

“Dare I ask why?” Hunk asked with his voice full of dread.

“I don’t know the full story,” Keith said as he gave a shrug, “but he did try to make me soup once and..let’s just say one mouthful of it told me enough.”

Keith shuddered at the memory. He had been sick and understood Thace was just trying to help, but Keith was half certain lubricant used for the ships would have more flavor. He still didn’t wish to know what the crunchy parts of the soup were suppose to be.

Shiro’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. “Do you cook for your ‘family’?”

Keith gave a nod. “A bit, but I tend to get stuck helping whoever’s turn it is.”

He didn’t mind cooking, it was often a nice break from training.

“And what else do you do with your family?” Lance asked curiously.

Keith coughed, not wishing to talk anymore about the subject and then a thought struck him.

“Before I get into that,” he said as he hoped they actually wouldn’t, “how did you four end up here?” He crossed his arms. “I know Earth isn’t that advance in space travel.”

The four humans shared an awkward look like they were trying to read each other’s mind on how they should answer. Keith frowned. Were they hiding something? He knew seeing humans outside of Earth was a rare occurrence, but he figured someone had crashed on their planet and brought them along, like how his parents had met.

Shiro cleared his throat and looked to Keith. “I was captured by the Galra.”

Keith froze and raised his head.

“I was enslaved for over a year and forced to fight in the ring,” Shiro continued as he locked eyes with Pidge. “I managed to escape, and I got ‘rescued’ by Pidge, Lance and Hunk when I landed on Earth.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Recused?”

“From the Garrison, the Earth’s military force,” Lance explained with a shrug. “They were trying to keep Shiro hidden so the general public wouldn’t find out about...well...that he got captured by an evil Galactic Empire, but we bust him out.”

“And then we found a ship and headed back out into space,” Pidge added a bit too hastily. “My brother and my dad were captured by the Galra and we’re trying to find them.”

Keith find a wedge of guilt. He was part Galra, and he lived with Galra all his life. They weren’t the ones that did this, but a part of him felt responsible which he knew didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, as he made a note to look at the prisoner records back home. The Blades did try to keep track of prisoners sometimes ever since Slav had been captured. Maybe they would have something.

Pidge gave a nod, and then Keith looked to Shiro. He knew the guy was a warrior the instant he saw him. The scar on his nose and his cybernetic arm, and the way he held himself reminded him a lot of his fellow Blades, especially Kolivan who had seen countless battles.

“That’s amazing you were able to survive and escape,” he commented. “How were you able to do it?”

For Shiro to not only escape, but to also to survive the ring? It was astounding. But wait, there had been a human fighter in the ring this whole time. Had the Blades known this? Keith really wished his father would bothered to fill him more on the secret missions they were always went on.

Shiro opened and shut his mouth. His eyes glazed over like he was lost in a sudden daydream.

“Shiro?” Hunk asked as he touched his shoulder

Shiro jumped, shook his head and gave a shaky smile. “Sorry...I..thought I was remembering something.” He looked to Keith. “I don’t remember a lot about my escape or my time with the Galra for that manner.” He frowned. “But...I feel like someone helped me, but I can’t remember-”

A beep cut him off. Keith jumped and reached into his pocket. He saw it was his communicator and frowned. “That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Pidge said as she looked over his shoulder.

“My sensor on my ship went off,” Keith said as he shut off the beeping, “that means someone’s touching it.”

“Why do you have that kind of thing on your ship?” Lance asked.

Keith swallowed. The real answer was so that the Blades could be informed if someone was trying to break into it and hit self destruct before they could obtain any information that was concealed inside. However, Keith couldn’t tell them that.

“It’s...just a way to prevent someone stealing it,” he said as he stood up. “I better go check and make certain it’s alright.”

“How about we come with you?” Shiro asked as he rose.

Keith was already running. “It’ll just take a tic! I’ll be right back!”

He didn’t bother to glance behind as he ran at top speed and pulled up his hood. If someone was trying to steal or break into it Keith would have no choice but to hit the self destruct button, except that would be mean he had no way to sneak back home.

He would have to call Kolivan and confess everything. As a result, Keith would be lucky he’d be allowed outside of his own room. Keith dashed into the parking lot and skidded to a halt as he came upon his parking space.

To his horror, his small one person transport ship was gone.

“Quiznack,” he grumbled and ran a hand through his hair. “Where did it-”

A hand was placed on his shoulder. On instinct, Keith spun around with his dagger in hand. He was stopped as Antok calmly grabbed his wrist and looked down at him.

Keith blinked as he lowered his arm. “Antok?”

“You’re instincts are getting sharper,” Antok said as he let go of Keith. “Although, you should have heard me before I touched you.”

Keith rubbed his eyes and groaned. Fantastic. “Where’s my ship?”

“Already placed it securely on my ship,” Antok replied as he crossed his arms. “I knew you come running once the sensor was activated.”

Keith growled and wondered if blowing up with the ship was a suitable option at this point. “Don’t tell me Father sent you to get me?”

“No, he came with me.”

Keith froze. He knew that deep growl of a voice anywhere. He pulled back his hood and gradually turned around. As predicted, Kolivan was there with his arms crossed and the disapproval frown Keith had witness several times throughout his childhood.

“Um..hey, Father,” Keith greeted with a small wave. “Fancy meeting you here?”

Kolivan kept silent as he approached, seized Keith by the back of his shirt and flung him over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Keith protested as he tried to wiggle free. “Put me down!”

“If you’re going to act like a disobedient cub, then I shall treat you as such,” Kolivan growled as he walked and kept a tight grip on the boy. “We’re leaving, now!”

“What?! Oh, come on! Put me down!” Keith struggled, but it proved fruitless as his father kept his grip. Keith gave up in defeat and squeezed his eyes shut. This was so not his day!

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“Dude, you honestly think we have to follow him,” Hunk panted as they reached the parking lot. “He did say he was coming back.”

“Judging by the face he had when he ran off, yeah we do,” Lance remarked as he looked around. “He had the classic ‘I better fix this so I don’t get into trouble’ face. I’m an expert on it.”

Considering how many times you’ve made the expression I would believe it, Hunk thought.

“Also, the guy is clearly not a master at lying,” Pidge remarked. “Something’s up.”

“We’re not jumping to conclusions,” Shiro said as he looked around. “We’re just making certain he’s okay.” He frowned. “Also, where is he? He did come out this entrance, right?”

“Yeah, but this isn’t exactly a small parking lot,” Hunk crossed his arms and shrugged. The place could fit a small town. “Maybe we should back inside-”

“PUT ME DOWN!”

The group jumped. “Who was that?” Lance asked.

Hunk paled. “That...that sounded like Keith.”

Hunk looked to Shiro, but their leader had already run off after the voice. They followed the shouts until they found the source.

There were two large strangers. They outfits were similar to Keith’s. One had his hood up and wore a mask, but the other had his hood down and gave a clear view of his Galra face. If that wasn’t already a cause for alarm, the fact he was carrying a struggling Keith over his shoulder was.

“Oh no,” he muttered and looked to Shiro. “What do we do?”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed and his Galra arm glowed. “We got to help him! Come on!”

They followed, but it was too late. By the time they reached them, they had entered a large ship and it was beginning to take flight.

“No, no, no!” Lance cried as they watched the ship begin to ascend. “They’re getting away!”

Hunk’s brain was working in overdrive, but then when his fingers brushed against his vest, he moved on instinct. He reached inside, brought out a small orb that had been his latest experiment and tossed it like a baseball.

It landed on the bottom of the ship and it began to blink before it flew out of sight.

“Yes!” Hunk said as he did a fist pump. “Perfect shot!”

“Uh, that’s great and all,” Lance said as he tilted his head, “but what did you do?”

Hunk smirked with pride. “Oh, I just managed to get a tracker on that ship.”

Pidge adjusted her glasses and grinned. “Wait, is it one of those trackers you found in the castle-”

“And been adjusting to give off a stronger signal? Yup.” He brought out the small tracking device he’d been keeping in his vest. “I brought it along because I was hoping to find some parts that could improve battery life, but then I realize maybe asking random shops about spy equipment was a bad idea. So, I hid it and then forgot about it when Keith-”

“We get the picture, buddy,” Shiro said as he patted his shoulder and smiled. “Still, good job.”

Hunk grinned, but then frowned as he looked at the tracker. “Don’t congratulate me yet. It won’t hold out forever and the range can only carry so far.”

“Then we better get moving,” Shiro said as he signaled them to follow. “Come on! We’ll be better off in the lions.”

“Agreed, but,” Hunk frowned, “why did those guys take Keith?”

“We’ll ask that later!” Lance declared as he gave chase. “Come on, time for team Voltron to form a rescue.”

Hunk followed, but still couldn’t shake off one thing that was still bothering him. Why were those two in similar outfits that Keith had been wearing?

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Keith scowled and refused to even look at his father as the ship flew. Kolivan was equally scowling as much as he continued to removed his eyes off of Keith. It was almost as if Kolivan was convinced Keith would disappear if he did. It wouldn’t surprise the boy if Antok was grateful at the moment for being stuck at the front driving the ship.

“You realize we are going to discuss your disobedience,” Kolivan spoke in a calm voice. “It can either be here or at the base.”

Keith arched an eyebrow, as he slowly turned to him. “Or what? You’ll lock me up and forbid me from leaving the base?” He tossed his hands up in the air. “Oh, wait! You already do that!”

“You are exaggerating,” Kolivan stated with a slight growl. “You are hardly a prisoner.”

“Oh, really?” Keith said as he leaned forward in his seat and counted off his fingers. “You refuse to let me set one foot off the base-”

“By yourself,” Kolivan cut in. “If you had simply asked I could have asked one of the other Blades to accompanied you.”

Keith sighed as he shook his head. “But I don’t need a babysitter! I can take care of myself.”

“You are a cub,” Kolivan argued back as he crossed his arms. “You are still in training, and you know fully well only Blades who have completed their training are allowed to leave the base.”

Oh, yes, Keith knew this. It was one of the first rules he had ever memorized. He did understood. The Blade of Marmora had been able to stay hidden from the Galra Empire’s eyes for centuries. They couldn’t risk an untrained warrior exposing their existence because they were foolish enough to leave the base and let themselves get capture.

Yet, Keith wasn’t foolish and despite his size, he was one of the top warriors for his age. Exceptions had been rare, but they had been made in the past for young Blades with such talents.

Keith could take care of himself and didn’t need someone holding his hand like a small child just because he wanted to explore a little. Honestly, he was half suspicious Kolivan refused his request of leaving the base because he was his adopted son.

“I’m not a little kid anymore,” Keith retorted sharply. “Thace believes I can take care of myself. He said-”

“Thace isn’t here, and it wouldn’t matter if he was. I am your father AND your leader, and I say you’re not ready.” Kolivan narrowed his eyes. “And you are not proving it to me otherwise by sneaking off the base without permission.” He leaned forward. “After this stunt, I should not allow you to even leave your room.”

Keith growled as he slumped back. He knew it was a risk, but he couldn’t stand it anymore, especially with the argument they had last night. He had asked Kolivan again if he could leave by himself and he refused. As a result, Keith ended up waiting until everyone had been asleep and took one of the small ships.

Keith had been desperate to go flying on his own and the taste of freedom he got had been worth it. A part of him wondered if this what his mother had felt whenever she had flown, not that he remembered much of her.

“On that matter, I still do not understand why you choose to go to the shopping center of all places,” Kolivan asked as the lines in his forehead puckered.

“I figured it was the last place you would look for me,” Keith muttered. The shopping center was loud, and full of people. It wasn’t Keith’s first choice to explore, but he heard the other Blades discuss it enough times to grow curious.

Last thing he expected was to discover other humans. They probably figured I ditched them by now. The thought sadden him, but there wasn’t much he could do to change that.

Keith then paused and looked to his father. “How...did you find me there?”

“You forgot to disable the tracker in your ship,” Kolivan replied in a disapproving tone.

Keith cursed. I thought I did..Wait...Now, that I think about it, wasn’t there talk of improving the trackers? Crud, must have upgraded them without me knowing.

“In any case,” Kolivan continued as he glanced forward. “We are going home,and we shall have no more talk of this foolishness. You’re lucky you didn’t get into trouble.”

Keith glared. “Oh for- I was fine! I had even found some humans…”

He stopped himself and bit his tongue. Crud, he hadn’t meant to say that last part, but it was too late as Kolivan whipped his head back to him.

“What did you say?” Kolivan asked with his eyes full of alarm.

Keith pouted and turned away. “Nevermind.”

His father continued to stare at him silently. “Keith, what did you find?”

The boy sighed. “I found humans, ACTUAL humans while I was looking around.” He made certain to leave out the detail of Lance, Hunk and Pidge catching him. Kolivan did NOT need to know that

“Humans?” Kolivan’s eyes widened. “You found other humans?”

Keith sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I did, and I was getting to know them when you decided to carry me off.”

And it was probably the only time he would ever learn about his human half, but that chance was gone forever.

Kolivan frowned as he moved closer. “What did they look like?”

Keith was surprised by that question and rubbed his neck. “Um..well..one was a small human female with short hair named Pidge, and three human males named Lance, Hunk and Shiro.” He pointed to his nose. “Shiro had a scar across his nose, and he also had a cybernetic arm.

Kolivan’s eyes widened. “You met the champion?!”

Keith shifted backwards. “Champion? What are you talking about?”

His father opened and shut his mouth before he looked head. “It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s something,” Keith insisted and then it dawned on him. “Wait...Father, did you know about Shiro?”

Kolivan kept quiet.

“Did you know the Galra had a human fighting in the battle ring?!”

Kolivan squeezed his eyes shut before turning to Keith. “Yes, I did.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. “You..knew where I could find another human?” His hands tightened into fists. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kolivan knew it had been hard for Keith to grow up being the only human on the base. Yes, he was half Galra, but he barely looked liked it. Kolivan had spent countless times reassuring Keith that he was a strong warrior despite not having the abilities the other Blades had.

“Because I knew you want us to rescue him,” Kolivan answered and held up his hand to stopped Keith from replying. “Haggar had kept a close eye on him, it was too high of a risk to take.”

“So, you left him there?” Keith replied with a flare of anger.

“At the time yes,” Kolivan replied sternly, “but, before we could discuss the matter further, Ulaz disobeyed my orders and freed him.”

Keith stared stunned. “Ulaz? I thought he was still undercover?”

Ulaz scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Ulaz freed Shiro which blew his cover and is currently hiding out in one of our bases.”

“Why?” Keith asked as he tossed his arms up. “Why wouldn’t he come home?”

Keith had missed Ulaz terribly. He had been one of the few people that understood Keith’s need for independence. He had half hoped Ulaz would come home soon and help convince Kolivan he could freely leave the base.

If Ulaz was free to return, what stopped him?

Kolivan shook his head. “We’re not discussing anymore of this.”

Keith frowned as his eyes narrowed. “What are you not telling me?”

Kolivan kept silent, and Keith rose from his seat, but lost balance as they felt the ship shake.

Kolivan caught to steady him. Keith gripped onto his arms as they felt the ship sharply turned. “What the quiznack is Antok doing?”

“I don’t know,” Kolivan replied as he forced Keith to sit down. “Perhaps it’s-”

“Leader, get up here,” Antok’s called out over the intercom. “We have a problem!”

Kolivan frowned and instantly raced to the front of the ship. Keith followed and ran through the bridge doors just as they closed.

Antok was frantically trying to steer the ship as Kolivan leaned over his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” his father asked.

“We’re being pursued!” Antok snapped.

Keith froze. Oh, no. Was it his fault?

Fear shone in Kolivan’s eyes. “Is it the empire?”

“No,” Antok snapped as they felt the ship avoid a cluster of asteroids. “It’s Voltron!”

“WHAT?!” Kolivan cried, and was cut off as they felt something slam into the ship.

Keith raced into the window. He couldn’t believe what he saw. The Blue Lion of Voltron had currently sunk its jaws into the side of the ship. If that wasn’t enough, both the Yellow and Green Lion were right behind it.

“W..why is Voltron here?!” Keith stammered.

This made no sense. The paladins of Voltron fought against the empire like they did. Why were they targeting them? They shouldn’t even know about the Blade of Marmora! Even if they did, how did they find them here?!

Keith stared memorized at the sight of the lions until he felt Kolivan yank him away and forced him into a chair.

“Antok, can you break free?” Kolivan asked.

“Firing blasters at the thing,” Antok snapped, “but it’s not having any affect-”

A roar was heard, and suddenly the Yellow Lion appeared before the ship.

“We’re the paladins of Voltron,” a familiar voice called out. “We don’t wish to hurt you, but demand you pull over immediately.”

Keith blinked. That voice. Where had he heard that voice...Hold it. “SHIRO?!”

That was definitely Shiro, but what the quiznack was he doing riding the Yellow Lion?! He looked to Kolivan who seemed close to fighting a headache.

“Open communications,” Kolivan ordered.

Antok growled, but obliged.

Sure enough, there he was on the screen. Shiro, the human that had been laughing with Keith just a few vargas again, was wearing the paladin armour of Voltron. Next to him was Hunk, also in paladin armour and clearing piloting the Yellow Lion.

Keith blinked and then it dawned on him why his father had been asking so many questions. The humans he met were also the paladins of Voltron and he was feeling like an idiot for not knowing about this.

“Where is Keith?” Shiro asked with anger Keith was certain could rival Kolivan’s. “We know you Galra took him.”

“He is here with us,” Kolivan said in a calm tone. “However, there seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“What’s there to misunderstand!” Lance’s voice as his face appeared on the screen. “We saw you guys kidnap him!”

Keith blinked dumbly and groaned. Oh man..that’s what this whole thing was about.

“We were not kidnapping him,” Kolivan spoke again. “We were retrieving him.”

“How is that different from kidnapping?!” Pidge snapped as her image appeared on the screen. “If you don’t want us to blast your ship apart-”

Keith jumped out of his chair, and moved around his father to ensure the paladins could see him clearly. “Guys, relax! I’m okay!”

Relief washed over all the paladins’ faces. “Keith, you’re not hurt?” Hunk asked.

Keith sighed as he ran a hand through his hair “No, I’m fine, but why are you guys here?”

Confusion appeared over Shiro’s face. “What do you mean? We’re here to rescue you from these Galra.”

Keith groaned. Yup, he’d been afraid of that. “But I don’t need to be rescued.” He pointed to Kolivan. “These guys are part of my family. Kolivan here is my father.”

“WHAT?!” all the paladins cried at once and Lance looked close to falling out of his seat.

“Wait?! WAIT?!” Lance said as he waved his hands around. “Your family is Galra?!”

“Yes, but they’re not with the empire,” Keith said. He looked to Kolivan and waited until he gave an approving nod. “We fight against the empire and…” He swallowed. “I’m part Galra.”

Silence followed.

“You’re...part Galra?” Pidge asked as her eyes narrowed. “But...you look human…”

“I’m well aware,” Keith grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. “It’s the story of my life.”

“Wait…” Lance voiced over the intercom, “so..just to be clear here, you weren’t being kidnapped?”

“No, not really,” Keith said as he rubbed his neck. “My father just came to drag me back after I snuck out.”

No one uttered another word until Hunk broke the silence. “Well...this is kind of awkward.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Pidge commented with an annoyed frown.

Shiro shook his head as he looked to Kolivan. “Okay, clearly there’s some confusion. Let’s go back to the castle so we can straighten this whole mess out.”

Keith looked to Kolivan, but his father’s face was unreadable. He fully expected him to reject Shiro’s suggestion and demand they be free to go on their way. Instead, Kolivan sighed and nodded.

“Very well,” he said, “lead the way and we shall follow.”

Shiro gave a nod before all the paladins on the screen vanished. Keith looked to Kolivan stunned. “We’re going to talk to them?”

“We don’t have much choice,” Antok said as he turned in his seat. “They know about us and, considering they got out their lions to ‘rescue’ you, it’s not likely they would leave us alone.”

“Exactly,” Kolivan said as he crossed his arms with a sigh. “I suppose Ulaz will get his wish.”

Keith frowned as Antok began to fly after the Yellow Lion. “Wish?”

“Ulaz assisted in freeing Shiro in hopes he would find the Blue Lion.” Kolivan sat in the chair. “Shiro not only did that, but also found three other paladins and they currently have three out of the five lions to form Voltron.”

“Oh,” Keith said as he tilted his head as he thought about Ulaz. “I’m guessing Ulaz wanted us to join forces with them?”

“Potentially, yes,” Kolivan stated with a growl, “but the fact remains Shiro himself has yet to reach out to Ulaz since his escape and I saw no need to expose our entire organization. The reason Ulaz has not returned home is that he is currently still waiting for Shiro to contact him.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. Shiro has been keeping Ulaz waiting this whole time? He hadn’t known him for very long, but he didn’t seem the kind of person that would brush off someone that saved him like that.

Keith crossed his arms. “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me any of this?”

“Because we knew you would insist poking your nose into it,” Antok added as he turned. “Although, it seems you have sniffed them out on your own anyway.”

“Fate has a bizarre sense of humor,” Kolivan added dryly.

Keith wanted to argue against it, but as he thought it over he found he couldn’t as he took a seat next to his father. “At..least it’s not the empire?”

Kolivan shook his head as he reached over to pat Keith’s head. “When this is over, I should just send you to that base where Ulaz is at. You might be able to keep out of trouble there.”

The boy snorted and wondered how hard Ulaz would laugh when he found out about all of this.

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Pidge will admit, when they had left to go to the space mall, she had expected to be bringing back that video game system she’d been after. Bringing back two Galra, one of them being a leader of a secret resistance group, and a human who was part Galra was never on her probability list.

Allura had been less than willing to let the Galra aboard, until Shiro insisted. She seemed convinced these guys were some kind of elaborate trick and were going to attack at any moment. Pidge couldn’t blame her for assuming that, but she didn’t buy that theory either.

There was just no way Keith could have known they would be at the space mall or that they would see Keith being kidnapped at the mall and race after him.

With that said, the Blade of Mormora itself? A secret organization that had been trying to defeat Zarkon for centuries? Yeah, that itself was kind of hard to swallow, but how could she deny the truth in front of her?

Although, she wished Allura would knock it off with the scowling. It wasn’t helping the situation. They were up in the bridge with Allura, Coran and Shiro staring at Kolivan and the other guy named Antok.

Hunk and Lance were sitting near them, while Pidge sat near the back. She was trying to pay attention to what was being said, she really was, but her eyes kept glancing to Keith. He had tucked himself into the far corner of the room.

Pidge imagined he felt like hiding himself since, by the sounds of it, he had accidentally exposed their entire organization because he wanted a bit of teen rebellion. He looked anxious and kept glancing over his shoulder. Was he afraid someone was going to tackle him or something?

Pidge scooted closer as she ignored whatever Allura was saying. “Hey, you doing alright?” she whispered

Keith looked down and gave a shrug. “I guess so.”

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “So, how exactly are you part Galra? Your mom bumped into Kolivan somehow on Earth?”

Keith shook his head. “No, actually my mother was Galra and my birth father was human.” He pointed to Kolivan. “When my dad died, my mother took me back to the Blades and when she passed Kolivan, our leader, adopted me as his son.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Pidge said and looked him over. “Got to say you REALLY don’t look like you’re part Galra.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut. “I know, and it’s haunted me my whole life.”

Pidge frowned, but then realized what he meant. Keith had grown up with a bunch of Galra where he was the only human. To them, he probably was the alien to them.

Keith jumped slightly and looked over the shoulder. “Alright, what is that?” he whispered.

Pidge adjusted her glasses. “What is?”

“That growling I keep hearing,” Keith muttered as he looked around. “Do you guys have an animal around here?”

Pidge tilted her head. “Uh..no, just the mice but they don’t growl.”

Keith massaged his forehead. “Great, so I’m hearing things.”

Pidge grasped her chin. Keith was hearing growling and nobody else was. To anyone else this would seem odd, except those people weren’t standing on a castle that had giant robot lions who had a habit of only communicating with their potential paladins.

If Keith could hear it, then could that mean-

She placed a hand on his shoulder as she placed a finger to her lips and gestured for him to follow her. Keith raised an eyebrow, but Pidge was grateful he didn’t argue as they left the room. She didn’t want to cause a communication, and she had a feeling Allura and possibly Kolivan would object to her ‘experiment’.

“Where are we going?” Keith asked once they entered the hallway.

“To the hanger where the lions are,” Pidge stated cooly and grinned at Keith’s shocked expression. “What? I figured that would be more interesting than listening to that ‘fun’ discussion going on.”

Keith looked unsure as he glanced over his shoulder. “Kolivan won’t like that I left without telling him.”

“You’re not leaving the castle and if he gets mad just claim I overpowered you and forced you to come,” she said with a smirk.

Keith smirked as he crossed his arms and entered the elevator. “You overpowered me?”

“Hey, I’m stronger than I look,” Pidge replied as she pushed the button and they headed downward. “Just ask Lance about the time I challenged him to arm wrestling for the last slice of Hunk’s cake.”

Keith looked her over and shrugged. “Naw, I believe you,” he said as the elevator reached their destination and opened.

“So, I’ve been wondering,” Keith asked as they entered the hallway. “I saw you brought you the Green, Yellow and Blue Lion, but I didn’t see the Black one or Red Lion.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s a bit complicated” Pidge said as she sucked the air between her teeth. “Shiro is suppose to fly the Black Lion, but we can’t access it until we have paladins for all the other lions.”

Keith frowned thoughtfully. “And you don’t have a paladin for the Red Lion.”

Pidge shook her head. “No, not yet.” She gave a smirk as they paused at the hangar doors. “However, I have a feeling you might be able to fix that problem.”

Keith stared back in confusion as she opened the doors. Now was the time to test her theory, and she really hoped she was guessing right.

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This day was turning into a disaster, and whenever he returned to base he couldn’t even fathom on how to explain to his fellow Blades that they encountered the paladins of Voltron thanks to Keith’s little excursion.

He was glad to see the rumors of the Altean princess still being alive were true, but the scowl clearly signaled she hardly trusted them. Kolivan couldn’t blame the princess. He wouldn’t in her place.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” Coran, the Altean attendant, stated with a clam manner. “You are part of a secret organization of Galra that has been fighting against Zarkon for centuries?”

“Correct,” Kolivan stated cooly as Antok nodded.

“And today, you got exposed because your adopted son, Keith, bumped into the paladins?” Coran scratched his head. “While the paladins were shopping?”

“That is the summary of it,” Antok added.

Kolivan tried to ignore the headache he had been fighting since they reached inside the castle.

“Well,” Coran stated as he twirled his mustache. “Teenagers can be...unpredictable?”

Allura scoffed. “That’s assuming we believe your story.” She rose from her seat. “How do we know this whole thing hasn’t been a plan from the start to gain our confidence?”

Kolivan shook his head. “You don’t, but I assure you if we had such nefarious intentions I would try a more clever ruse than having my son run into the paladins.”

“Um..also,” Lance voiced as he raised his hand. “I..have a hard time believing it was a plan. Keith was hardly thrilled when I had managed to catch him and pin him to the ground.”

“Yeah, he would have kept on running if we hadn’t caught up with him,” Hunk voiced.

Kolivan frowned and raised an eyebrow. “You..caught him?”

Hunk shrugged. “Yeah, Lance chased after him, tackled him…” He froze and gave a sheepish smile. “Oh..uh, maybe Keith didn’t want to know about that part.”

“I keep telling you he needs more stealth practice,” Antok whispered.

“I am well aware,” Kolivan said darkly and made note to re-evaluate Keith’s training when they got back to base.

“Getting back to the topic at hand,” Shiro said in a neutral tone and looked to Kolivan, “if you fight the empire that means we’re on the same side.” His eyes narrowed. “We should join forces.”

“No, we should not,” Antok replied. “You paladins are out in the open, and we’ve been able to survive because we’ve kept ourselves hidden for so long.”

“Perhaps,” Shiro said with a determination flickering in his eyes, “but once we find our red paladin, we’ll have Voltron on our side. You’ll have a chance to turn the tables on Zarkon.”

Kolivan looked to Shiro. “You say that, and yet your lack of actions in the past hardly convince me.”

Shiro blinked. “Lack of actions?”

“Are you suggesting we are not fighting hard enough?” Allura asked with a growl.

Kolivan raised a hand. “Please, I mean no insult to you, Princess,” he then turned to Shiro. “I am merely referring to that fact that since you’ve escaped, you have never bothered to contact Ulaz.”

Shiro frowned in confusion. “Ulaz? Who’s that?”

“One of our Blades that assisted in your initial escape,” Antok replied.

“Ah, well that’s a bit complicated,” Lance voiced with a shrug. “Shiro has a hard time remembering that kind of stuff. His memory is a big jumbled.”

Kolivan’s eyes narrowed. “His memory?”

Hunk nodded and pointed to their leader. “Yeah, Shiro is still trying to piece together….Shiro? You okay?”

Shiro was gripping his head as he seemed deep in thought. His eyes squeezed shut.

“Ulaz...he was a doctor. The one that cut off my…” His eyes widened. “That’s right. He did free me.”

He glanced up to Kolivan with a shocked expression that could not be fake. “I remember now, he’s the one that told me the Blue Lion was on Earth.” He held up his arm. “He installed coordinates to where I could find him.”

“He did,” Kolivan said slowly. “You truly did not remember?”

Shiro nodded looking rather stunned. “Yeah..I..I totally forgot.”

“I see,” Kolivan said.

He felt a bit of relief to hear Ulaz’s efforts had not been taken for granted, but that meant they had one less reason to not work with Voltron.

“Perhaps we should contact Ulaz,” Antok voiced as he looked to Kolivan. “He should know we have contacted the paladins.”

Shiro looked ready to speak again, but he was cut off as Allura spoke. “You are assuming we wish to ally ourselves with you when we have no real grounds to trust you.”

Shiro exchanged a pained look with Coran before he touched Allura’s shoulder. “Princess, I don’t think-”

Allura ignored him as she left her seat, and walked to where Kolivan was sitting. She locked her piercing eyes onto him.

“You claim we are on the same side and yet you’ve been fighting Zarkon for centuries?! If you truly wish to free to universe why has it taken so long for you to do so?” Allura’s eyes narrowed. “Do you expect me to believe in ten thousand years you’ve never had a chance to destroy Zarkon?”

Kolivan took a deep breath. He couldn’t blame the princess. It had been a question he himself had constantly asked in his youth. However, he had been impulsive then and hadn’t yet been exposed to the loss of his companions or how far the empire’s talons had sunk into.

He planned to fully explain this to her, but then Antok beat him to it.

“Should we not be asking you of that, Princess.”

All eyes locked onto Antok as he rose from his seat and Kolivan felt a cold dread rise inside him.

Allura looked startled by the question, but then glared as Coran moved protectively to her side. “Excuse me?”

“It’s true, we have been battling Zarkon for centuries and we have yet to truly be rid of the menace.” Antok growled as he loomed over her. “But all of our current Blades are taking on a war that began long before our great grandparents were even born, and that’s not counting the lives we have lost during it, while you’ve been peacefully asleep this whole time.”

Allura’s glare vanished as her eyes widened and Kolivan could see the guilt creeping in. Coran kept his glare as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Antok,” Kolivan hissed with a warning as he stood up, but it was ignored.

“You were there when Zarkon began all of this, and you were there when the most powerful weapon that could have stopped him was sent away,” Antok pointed a finger at her and as Allura tightly gripped the skirt of her dress. “Tell me, Princess, where were you when Zarkon destroyed your people along with your planet-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Kolivan bellowed as he held out his sword in front of him to quiet him. “There is no need of this.”

“I will not be silent when people question my honor and integrity,” Antok said as he looked to Allura. “And I only spoke the truth.”

Coran shoved Allura behind him as he held up a fist. “Of all the rude-”

“Okay, okay, let’s calm down,” Shiro said as he stepped in between them. “This is clearly A LOT for everyone to take in.”

The man servant became still with Allura glancing over his shoulder. The guilt still shone in her eyes, but the anger and distrust was still there. Kolivan glanced over and saw Hunk, and Lance anxious by the whole ordeal.

Kolivan quietly sighed as he put away his weapon. This was exactly why he was reluctant to join forces with the paladins in the first place. If the Alteans didn’t trust them, how would they get this to work? Not to mention working along with the paladins would only risk exposing their organization. Centuries of dedication of keeping their group secret would be all for nought.

“I apologize for Antok’s behavior,” he said as he shot a glare at Antok and glanced around for his cub. “We shall retrieve Keith and leave at once. We will trouble you no further.” He paused as he saw no sign of the scruffy youth. “...Where is Keith?”

Everyone became silent as they looked around. “Um...he’s not here,” Hunk voiced, and then frowned. “Wait, Pidge is gone too.”

“You think Pidge took Keith to her work room or something?” Lance asked as he scratched his head.

Kolivan cursed as he rubbed his eyes. When they finally returned to the base he was going to order Keith be put on a leash.

A roar was then heard. It was so loud Kolivan could feel it in his bones. “What was that?” he demanded. It sounded like an enormous beast had entered the castle.

Shiro blinked in confusion. “It sounded like one of the lions, but which-”

The princess gasped. “Impossible,” she muttered as everyone turned to her.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked with a concerned frown.

The princess grasped her hands tightly together. “That...was the the Red Lion roaring.”

“Whoa, what?” Hunk asked and shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. We haven’t found her paladin. Why..would she..be roaring…” The boy trailed off as he locked eyes with Kolivan and Antok.

Kolivan stared back in confusion, until he understood his meaning. Keith wasn’t here, and the lion was now roaring.

Kolivan cursed as he looked to Shiro. “Take us to the Red Lion! Now!”

The black paladin nodded and in a flash they all raced out of the room. They ran through the castle for what seemed like an eternity until they finally entered the hangar.

Any other time, Kolivan would have stared in awe at the legendary lions his grandfather had told him in his childhood. Right now, he was more motivated in locating his cub and reassuring himself Keith wasn’t becoming part of that legend.

All of his hopes sank as they reached the Red Lion. She was holding her head up high and let loose another roar. They found Pidge looking up with a huge smirk on her face.

“What happened?” Coran asked. “Where’s Keith?”

Pidge continued to keep her smirk and merely pointed at the lion. Kolivan could express no words as the Red Lion lowered her head, opened her mouth and Keith walked out. Wonder was spread across his face, until he spotted Kolivan and gave a small wave.

“Sssoo…,” Hunk asked as he looked to Pidge and pointed. “Does this mean..what I think it means?”

“Yup,” Pidge said as she gestured with her thumb. “We just found our red paladin.”

Antok burst out laughing as Kolivan groaned. Of course Keith was the red paladin! Of course out of all the possible candidates, it would be HIS cub.

Keith cleared his throat as he approached Kolivan. “So...does this mean you’re still dragging me back to the base?”

Kolivan rubbed his eyes and prayed the Alteans kept some kind of alcoholic beverage on board.

[kusunogatari-a]

[ Winter Wonderland (Secret Santa 2017) ] [ @sennenryuu ] [ Suigin Ryū, Kurogane Chitose ] [ Verse: White Hands of Healing ]

Though the village is already blanketed lightly in uncounted flakes, snow continues to fall as the sun sets. Along the streets, lamps let it catch the light, reflecting and sparkling like so many crystals. It’s as though the stars from the heavens shed upon the earth.

And despite the wintery weather, shinobi and civilians alike trudge through the building deluge of white. Tracks soon trample the snow into pathways, troughs through the village thoroughfares. Hands hide in mittens, faces tucked behind scarves as thick coats stand between the travelers and the cold. Crowds linger around the open shops toting wares of warmth: tea, coffee, and even spirits that help ward away the chill as breath forms fog born of talk and laughter.

Among them, awaiting her turn, happens to be Ryū. Staring out through the narrow gap between hood and shawl, greys take in the masses. Most are at least glancingly familiar - she sees a great deal of the village through her days. Occasionally she risks freeing a hand from her pocket to wave, though few make the time to stop and visit. It’s hardly a night for standing about. Already through her boots, the tips of her toes are chilling.

It makes her homesick for the hearth in the manor, but for now, she’ll have to settle with the kotatsu here, in the little house in Konoha.

Lost in her thoughts, it takes a bit longer than it should to realize a growingly-familiar head of red hair in the corner of her gaze. Eventually glancing, there’s a small jump of surprise. “Ah, Kurogane-san!”

The greeting is muffled through her scarf, and Ryū braves the cold enough to pull it down beneath her chin. Freed, lips give the elder a smile. “Forgive me, I didn’t notice you there!” Apparently the promise of a warm drink is tempting even for the kunoichi.

Chitose returns the look, brow raised ever so slightly. “...Suigin-san,” is her reply, giving a small decline of her chin. “It’s no trouble. I wished not to disturb you - you seemed entranced in thought.”

So she was caught being spacy. Sheepishly smiling, Ryū seeks to disappear back into her scarf. “I was, ah...thinking of home. It’s a lot warmer there this time of year than here in Konoha. That is, until you hike up above the snow line into Kōri no Mori…” The sentence trails off before she realizes she’s getting off-topic. “...a-anyway, I suppose for now I thought I’d keep my hands warm with some tea on the walk home! I just...didn’t anticipate such a line.”

Giving a hum, Chitose nods. “It does not snow in the land of my birth. It is still a strange sight to me: snow. Nor do we have a winter matsuri. I have yet to attend.” There’s a tilt of her head toward a nearby banner announcing the festival’s beginning in two days. “We pay our respects within the shrine upon new year’s day, but that is the extent of winter festivities.”

Ryū can’t help but blink, a bit taken aback at the kunoichi’s words. It seems she typically doesn’t have many to spare. Still, she eagerly latches onto the conversation, glad to learn more about her companion. “It’s really rare any snow reaches the bottom of Kusunoki no Tani. It only did so a few days during all my time back home, and it never lasted long...usually just through the night. It’d be melted by morning. But the further up you go, the more common it becomes. Most of the upper peaks are covered year-round. But the runoff is what keeps the falls and rivers from drying up. I do my best to find a jinja on new year’s - either one here in Konoha, or the one back home.”

Still, there’s a pause at the admission. “...you’ve never been to the winter matsuri…?” Blinking, she blurts before thinking. “I’d be happy to go with you, Kurogane-san!” Only after she speaks does she realize she’s being impolitely forward. There’s a hesitation before she stutters, “T-that is, ah...if you want to go! You certainly don’t have to!” After all, there must be a reason she’s not gone in the past.

But Chitose doesn’t rebuke her. “It is no trouble, Suigin-san.” A small pause, and then, “...I would enjoy that. Perhaps we can speak more at length about our homelands. I admit to a curiosity of your own. In a small way, it reminds me of mine. There may be similarities we can find.” Another pause. “...a kind of...common ground.”

In spite of herself, Ryū perks up, brightening. “I...would enjoy that very much!”

It’s then her turn at the counter arrives, and the healer quickly orders her tea, standing off to one side as Chitose does the same. Only once she’s finished does Ryū offer, “Would it make sense for us to meet at the kita jinja? We can start there, and then head into the matsuri proper, ne?”

“Certainly. I shall try to arrive ahead of time, as not to miss the opening ceremony.” Cup in hand, the kunoichi gives a polite dip of her head. “Until then, Suigin-san. I do hope you stay warm.”

“You too, Kurogane-san!” Mirroring the gesture, Ryū watches her go with an elated hint of a smile.

This should be fun…!

Two typical days of work pass before the evening of the festival. Thankful to be part of the staff off for the opening night, Ryū adorns a kimono padded against the cold: white with silver threading depicting mist-draped mountains and soaring owls. One of many that lingered in the manor, and one of few that fit her properly. Obi in place, and with her tabi socks and zori upon her feet, she checks her reflection one last time, pulling at a stray lock of hair that refuses to remain in her updo. It can’t much be helped - the waves are always a mess, anyway.

With only a small clutch to hold ryō slipped in her sleeve, Ryū leaves the residential district behind, heading north and hoping she’ll be neither too early nor too late. Evening is just beginning to fall, festival attendees already flooding the streets commonly used to visit shrines scattered throughout the village. There’s just a hint of falling snow: enough to dust passersby and give them a glittering coat. The flakes, unseen against all that she is, go unnoticed by the healer as she makes her way to the jinja.

As she expected, Chitose is already there. Her own garment is a wine red, hemmed by a river and a reed-ridden village along its banks. Eyes like flame look to Ryū as she ascends the steps, abandoning her relaxed posture. “Suigin-san.”

Hem lifted above the snow, Ryū can’t help a sheepish smile. “If I may, you’re more than welcome to call me Ryū, ne? After all, a matsuri hardly needs such stiff formality!”

There’s a blink, as though she hadn’t considered that. “...very well. Then allow me to match your courtesy - please, address me as Chitose.”

“Gladly!”

Together, the pair approach the chōzuya, cleansing themselves before entering the shrine proper. Dozens of others mill about, hands clasped and offering prayers for the upcoming year. Ryū spends several minutes simply standing with eyes closed, taking in the atmosphere. It doesn’t feel the same as home. The mostly-untouched valley hardly has the human interference of a village like Konoha. Even so, she eventually rests palm to palm, offering a prayer for the health and luck of the villagers. And though perhaps taboo to do so, those within the others, as well. After all, her teachings know no borders.

Both of them linger for a time, each lost in their own thoughts and wishes before an unspoken agreement sees them both to the door. Silence reigns as they descend the steps, and it’s not until the light and movement of the stalls within the matsuri grounds that whatever musing spell upon them seems to melt.

Glancing to her companion, Ryū offers a smile. “So! Anything you’d like to try first? There’s the game stalls, food stalls...there might even be a fortune teller around somewhere!”

Chitose considers the booth-laden street. “...perhaps it wise to eat, first. Then we may try the games without the distraction of hunger?”

“Certainly! Just remember, no ninjutsu,” Ryū laughs into a sleeve.

Festival food isn’t the healthiest, but they each find something portable to nibble as they peruse the other booths. Craftsmen hawk homemade wares, and Ryū finds herself hard pressed not to shell out the ryō for a silversmith’s chain adorned with an opal-eyed owl. Her own wide as she studies it, she can’t help noticing Chitose eyeing a wire-wrapped garnet from her corners. This one, however, is set in gold. Glancing between the nin’s matching eyes and locks, she watches Chitose move ahead to the next booth.

“On second thought...how much is this one, ne?”

Carefully jogging to catch up, Ryū offers a small bag, expression barely bated. “Here!”

“...what is this?”

“Everyone needs to have something to remember their first matsuri by!”

Accepting, the redhead peers within before blanching, stopping mid-step. “Ryū, this -!”

Giggling into a sleeve, the shocked reply’s missing honorific doesn’t go unnoticed. “No buts! Consider it a thank-you for going with me, ne?”

“It was you who made the offer on my behalf! For my benefit!”

“But you still said yes!”

They reach an impasse, crowds weaving around them.

“...I will repay you for this.”

Realizing she’s serious, Ryū doesn’t rebuke her. Instead, she offers, “Try it on, ne? I want to see how it looks!”

Glancing back into the bag, Chitose blinks before lifting the chain and pendant and clipping it behind her neck. “...is it suitable?”

“It’s perfect. Now! Let’s go try some games!”

Leaving the events to Chitose, Ryū watches and eggs her on - she’s never been much good at them, anyway. The first few...don’t go entirely well. She knows how the restriction of ninjutsu makes them all the more difficult, but eventually, there’s a prize to be had.

“You choose.”

“What?”

“Consider it a chip at my debt.”

“But you won the game, ne?”

“A small victory - it has been the experience as a whole that is far more rewarding, Ryū-san.”

Lacking a retort, Ryū blinks before looking over the booth’s prizes. Beady eyes of plush creatures shine in the strung lights along the stalls, and she quickly points to the familiar form of a snowy owl.

“It is hardly the like of the necklace you considered,” Chitose offers, glancing behind them as though having half a mind to go back.

“Well, no...but while the other was pretty, this one’s much better for holding, ne?” Proving her point, it stays tucked in her arms as they continue to move along the alleyways of stands.

It’s only once the hour grows late that the crowds shift, heading toward open areas to better view the night’s finale: fireworks. Standing near the hem of the gathering, silvers and golds look skyward as it fills with all manners of colors and patterns, the blasts’ concussions felt down to their bones. As the final rockets launch in quick succession, hollers and clapping replace the booms as the heavens fall silent, everyone dispersing as the first night comes to a close.

“Well, the booths will still be open tomorrow, if you feel like going back,” Ryū offers. “But I usually find the night events are better than the day after.”

“Perhaps, this time around, the night will suffice.” There’s a slight pause before Chitose goes on. “...I was glad to come. Thank you, again, for inviting me, Ryū-san. And even more so for the gift you gave me. In time, I will repay you.”

“I told you, it’s far more about the memory tied to it. I’m hardly worried, Chitose-san. Consider your enjoyment of the night credit enough to me.” The healer smiles. “And thank you for the prize, ne? I have to wonder if Fubuki will be jealous,” she laughs into her sleeve. “Though it might also make for a sweet reminder of home. Maybe it will make a good companion for her.”

The kunoichi’s lips lift. “I hope it will. I realize we did not have much proper time to speak...perhaps another day.”

“The crowds make conversation a bit difficult, yes,” Ryū agrees with a laugh. “Maybe we’ll have to try another venue - a quiet tea shop, mayhaps.”

“Then we shall arrange it. At your next earliest convenience, I will ask after you, Ryū-san. Consider it something to look forward to.”

“I will! Thanks again for coming - I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I thank you for the invitation...and for your company. Until next time, Ryū-san.”

Once home and relieved of her evening’s outfit, Ryū sinks into a chair, hardly bothered at her summon’s perch upon its spine. “I found you a friend today,” she offers, holding up the little plush.

Fubuki gives a startled screeched, clearly unsure about the toy and its too-large eyes. Leaving her to rove her head in circles in inspection, Ryū can’t help but chuckle before calling it a night.

     SURPRISE! Merry Christmas, Natalie! Apologies for how long this took - Ryū would only let me work in spurts, haha - but hopefully it was worth the wait, and I hope I did your muse justice!

     If there’s any edits I need to make, please let me know - hopefully I stuck well-enough to your prompt! I hope you have happy holidays, and a bright new year, my friend!

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 90 - END)

<Nicholas, Freya.>

Nick nodded. <Ozzy.>

Freya bowed. <Archon.>

<How are you two?> Ozpin said, before he took a sip of his coffee.

<Oh, you know: pissed off ole Sparky actually went and did it, trying to find a way to stop her this time around while trying to help sweep back what little we can under the rug, squeezing in some worrying about all three of our granddaughters now being in that hellhole you call the Viridian Valley, if we can we find the time…

<You know, the usual.> Nick replied. <Now what’s up your end?>

<We attempted to offer Weiss a transfer to Arethusa.>

<And what did she say?>

<She refused.>

<Told ya,> Nick said. <Ya know, this would have gone a whole lot better if you were all a lot more honest with her in the first place; now she’s probably going stay there digging and digging till she turns up every last dirty little secret you have.>

Ozpin looked mildly annoyed. <So says the two that have been covertly communicating with their second youngest grandchild via the dreamscape.>

<Say what now?> Nick asked, confused.

<Penny has been reporting matching accounts from both Ruby and Weiss that the latter has been having dreams involving incredibly vivid conversations with both of you, sometimes with that of Ruby’s mother, Summer Rose.

<You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?>

<First time I’ve ever heard of this!> Nick replied. <If it helps, I have been having dreams about Weiss and Winter for the past two months, the two of them in the thick of some sticky business or trapped somewhere, and I have to help them and talk ‘em out of their funks.

<I’ve been having much of the same, too, actually,> Freya said. <It might be that her first exposure to such intense levels of magic has forged some sort of connection between us all. Well, that, or my family’s tendency towards mental illness is finally rearing it’s ugly head, and Nicholas here has finally lost his mind, too.

<Eluna knows incredible water weaving powers aren’t the only things that run with the females in my family...>

Ozpin nodded. <Indeed. Speaking of family, we of the Council have been discussing your current arrangement; if you would like, we could transfer you two out of there to the Viridian Valley with them.>

Nick and Freya’s eyes widened. They thought about it for a moment, before they both shook their heads.

<… Nah, not worth the risk; the fight against ole Sparky’s going to be a lot easier the longer she doesn’t realize me and Frosty are still around to fuck up her plans,> Nick said.

<Surprise and secrecy have always been the seeker’s greatest weapons,> Freya added.

Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. <Are you quite sure about this, you two?>

They both nodded. <Positive,> Nick said.

<I assumed you would be eager to take this offer...> Ozpin said before he took another sip.

<We assume a lot of things, Ozzy,> Nick said. <And look at where assuming too much got all of us.>

Ozpin nodded gravely. <The Council is, in the end, just a group of mortals who happen to be a cut above the rest...>

<Yeah, yeah, we know—you just focus on foiling Sparky again with the Fae, and we’ll figure out how we’re going to rope my species into helping you do just that now.>

<A word of warning: it looks like our best chance is arming them with new magitech weapons and armour, ones that will be much more capable of handling and resisting the dangers of the Valley, and consequently that of the Cradle,> Freya said.

Ozpin nodded. <We’ll deal with that problem once we get there.>

<Anything else to report, Ozzy?> Nick asked.

<Nothing you can’t see for yourselves through Penny’s eyes. I have to thank you two for your continued service; the amount of sacrifices you have made and are still making have been tremendous, and yet you two continue to deliver without fail or question.>

<You just keep up your end of the bargain, Ozpin, and we’ll keep up ours,> Nick said coolly. <It ain’t that complicated.>

Ozpin nodded, and shut off the link.

Freya turned to Nick. <So are when are we going to tell them, now that our plans have been shot to shit once again?>

Nick shrugged. <I say in a year. It’s been a rough life for all of them; best we give them some time to know what it’s like to just live before we rope them into all this realm-wide conspiracy business, especially Weiss is still reeling from learning about the Keeper’s mates.>

Freya sighed. <I still can’t believe, of all the humans and hybrids in all of Avalon, it had to be her...>

Nick chuckled. <I’m not surprised, honestly—we Schnees tend to aim high,> he said, putting a hand on Freya’s shoulder. <Whether they were born or made.>

Freya sighed. <I have to wonder though: what sort of chaos will arise when we all three of our granddaughters, the Holy Shepherd, and the Keeper of the Grove together in one location…?>

Nick squeezed her shoulder. <They’re going to be fine, Frosty—they’re in good company, and even if they weren’t, they’re made of real tough stuff, just like me.>

Freya hummed and smiled, before she playfully looked at Nick. <Speaking of tough stuff: care to put that that alleged immortality of yours to the test again?> she winked as her tail began to wag behind her.

Nick grinned. <Ha-ha-ha—yeah, no. I’m still reeling from last night, and I’m not as young as I used to be, Frosty.>

Freya scowled. <Hmph. Fine.>

<Why don’t you go spend all that energy out on the training dummies instead?> Nick said, coaxing her to their Raucous Room. <If things go the way I think they will, we’ll probably be back out on the field soon enough.

<Plus, seeing you in your old seeker suit might make me change my mind in a hurry!>

Freya smiled, before it quickly faded. <I’ve been out of the Great Game for a really long time, Nick…>

Nick patted her on the back. <Yeah, but that ass of yours sure hasn’t quit.>

Freya snorted. <Nick, you are terrible.> She smiled warmly at him. <I love you.>

<And so are you, which is why I love ya too, Frosty,> Nick replied. <Now you go enjoy ravaging the ever loving crap out of something that isn’t me, for once.>

Freya hummed as she sauntered away. <I will, Nick, I will~>

Morning again in Keeper’s Hollow, and for the first time in memory, Weiss didn’t wake up because of bright morning sunlight searing her eyes; instead, it was the smell of something delicious wafting in the air.

“Rise and shine, everyone!” Taiyang said as he, Qrow, and Zwei hauled in a giant pot of food alongside bowls for everyone. “Breakfast is ready! We’re having one of my favourites: Daybreak Porridge, everything you need to get your ass in gear in the morning, then kick ass till lunch!”

“Also does wonders for hangovers, just so you know,” Qrow added.

Nora rocketed out of her and Ren’s stall bouncing in excitement as she grabbed a bowl from Qrow. “Oh man, breakfast! And Ren didn’t even have to make it first! Isn’t that great, Ren?”

“Yeah, it’s a nice change of pace,” Ren said as he came out at a much more leisurely pace.

“Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Xiao Long,” Pyrrha said as she joined them.

Taiyang laughed as he poured Nora an extra generous serving. “Please, just call me Taiyang—we’re all the same out here.”

Weiss and Winter came out of their stall, saw Jaune looking conflicted, and still dressed in his uniform sans the heavier body armour.

“Something the matter, Jaune?” Winter asked.

“… Should we be eating this stuff, Agent Schnee?” he asked quietly. “I mean, we’re kind of in enemy territory...”

“Unless you want to starve to death, or see a way to feed yourself without relying on the Fae, you should,” Winter said. “Also, it’s just ‘Schnee’ or ‘Winter’ now, considering I’m not a part of the Queensguard anymore.”

Jaune’s eyes widened. “You quit? Just like that?”

“I only joined the AFA because I wanted to protect my little sister,” Winter replied. “I can’t do that when I’m on the side that wants to arrest and/or execute her, now, can I…?”

Jaune paused. “… Right.”

“Don’t worry, you guys!” Taiyang said. “I made sure to make this stuff with filtered water; not the best way to enjoy it, but better bland than sick!”

Jaune debated it for a moment, before he lined up with Ren and Nora.

“Shall we?” Winter asked, gestured as the other sat down and started eating.

Weiss shook her head. “I always tend to my crops before breakfast.”

“Enjoy yourself, then, little sister,” Winter said, smiling as she hugged her goodbye.

Weiss left the barn, heading back to Ruby’s room to get her work dress. She had to stop and pause as she noticed Ruby, Yang, and Blake making two new scarecrows to protect all the new crops:

One massive, with short cropped salt and pepper “hair,” a full “beard,” wearing a tattered shirt and a red scarf, and wielding a stick that looked somewhat like a ceremonial AFA officer’s sword in one hand, and a pair of sticks shaped like pistol in the other; and the other much smaller, hair pure as snow tied in two parallel buns atop her head, a makeshift “lab coat” draped around her shoulders, her eyebrows and mouth slanted downwards in annoyance.

“Are those my grandparents?” Weiss asked as she came over.

<Yes,> Blake replied as she carefully adjusted Freya’s eyebrows, trying to find the right angle that would convey the most amount of disdain and annoyance for everything and everyone around her. <Ruby’s idea.>

“We were supposed to make both our moms, but then I’d be too tempted to punch mine whenever I pass her by,” Yang said as she tied Nick’s “gun” to his “hand.” “So since we already had one of your dad, and these two always came in a pair, we decided to do them instead!”

“You don’t mind, do you?” Ruby asked, smiling nervously.

“No, not at all!” Weiss said. “I love it, actually.”

Ruby beamed.

Yang pulled a little too hard to make a knot, ended up cracking one of the sticks making up Nick’s “hand.”

“… I’ll just be going back into the house now...” Weiss muttered as she began to leave.

“You do that,” Yang muttered as she picked up the severed halves.

Ruby glared at Yang as Weiss made her way to the elevator, Blake just ignored them and kept on working.

Penny was in the living room, all of Weiss’ belongings, Myrtenaster, and her box of mediums on the table and neatly tied up in her hammock. “Good morning, Weiss! I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of packing all of your things for you, as you’ll be moving out later.

“I’ve also hung your work dress behind the door to Ruby’s room, in anticipation of your changing before you tend your crops as you usually do.”

“Oh, thank you, but you really shouldn’t have!” Weiss said. “I could have done all that by myself...”

Penny chuckled. “It’s no trouble at all! In fact, do you need my assistance with anything else?”

“Nothing at the moment, thank you,” Weiss said before she stepped into—well, it was just Ruby’s room, now.

As she changed, she got a good look at the empty room, noticed how different it was without all of her belongings among Ruby’s piles of stuff, her hammock hanging just by one of the windows.

Weiss sighed. “A lot of things are going to be very different from now on...” she muttered as she left the room, and went down to her crops

Taiyang was patiently waiting for by the tool rack. “I harvest and weed, you water and replant?” he asked.

Weiss smiled as she picked up the watering can. “Sounds good to me.”

The two of them got to work tending to the farm; the others all headed to the training grounds; and another small army of makers and their pack animals were starting to filter into the Hollow, ready to rebuild the cabins and Winter’s new house atop the barn.

When Weiss first set off for the Viridian Valley, she had imagined her new life there would involve a lot of staying inside camp, trying to pass the time inside a heavily guarded bunker as the workers and the mercenaries did most of the actual work trying to find resources and a wellspring to tap into, maybe venturing out for a quick stroll once her guards were reasonably sure it was safe, or once they had established a proper settlement around a claim.

She had never expected it to actually involve all of the crazy, disastrous, and confusing events of the past month-and-a-half, ending up with her being a wanted terrorist in the human territories, running a farm while trying to get a handle on her new magical powers, and trying a relationship with the not-so-mythological and not-nearly-as-evil-or-horrifying guardian of the Viridian Valley—even if it did mean she’d be part of a giant, ongoing containment project for a 1,000 year old realm-threatening disaster area.

She didn’t have the slightest clue what the future was going to hold, what new crisis fate was going to throw at her, but she did know she’d have her new friends, her older sister, and a loving girlfriend to help her out.

And at the very least, she was sure she wouldn’t ever get bored here.

Note:

Three months back, I started Keeper of the Grove on a lark on my tumblr. I was just writing 1,800 words on a lack of sleep, after a long day at school, and some caffeine, in an attempt to get myself to write more.

I thought this would be 10 chapters or so, not the beginning of my first novel series, the birth of this expansive and complex universe, of which there are many more sequels planned.

I’d like to thank you all for reading, all of you who have left kudos, reblogged, and left comments for me to read and enjoy, and sometimes figure out where I had gone wrong in this story like with my constant flip-flopping about whether or not the Council and the Fae are a good or a bad thing.

It’s been a hell of a ride, and for now, it’s time to pull into the station, refuel, make repairs, and get ready for the next trip.

See you all back on April 7, 2018, for “The Viridian Vanguard.”

[novemberkind]

Some nice, yet small things happened today. First just to mention the mighty, not small, but literal furious snowstorm that began just when I walked home. I almost couldn’t breathe and wrapped myself into all of my scarf. The snowflakes were swirling around like crazy as far as I could even see, I’m glad that I made it home. But it was just somewhat beautiful. Before, as every wednesday, we had a small group of elementary school kids in the museum, who we teach small things, like sewing and weaving. On todays schedule it was weaving a strap out of white wool which will later crafted into a snowman. There was this one girl who always comes to me to talk, as she always asks about my hair and says that she wants to grow her hair out long as well. Today as the other ones were weaving and cheerfully but calmly talking to each other, she was telling me that often everyone else always acts so pretending cool in school and even want to begin smoking. Then suddenly, she looked really convinced and told me that she knows one thing for sure and that is that she never wants to start smoking. “When I don’t even begin, I think it is just the best as I then don’t even need to stop or have struggle with quitting”. It is such a small thing spoken out if a young girls mouth, but yet this made me so delighted. I looked at her and tried to encourage her with this thought and said, that I find that just so so good. I told her that I didn’t smoked at all in my entire life and also would never want to. She smiled and said that she also never would like to harm her body in such a way, also when it comes to piercings or tattoos. Again I replied that I think the very same, though it is of course open to everyones decision I said, but yet I could understand her fully. I find it just so very nice that a small child at this age, surrounded by so many “appealing” and tempting things, still has such a strong mind and good views already. I truly wish her all the best. Sometimes those small things, maybe happening only some minutes, are the ones that lasts in my mind for so so very long, in a deeply good way.

[thecoroutfitters]

Whether you are planning to go camping, do some yard work, or live outdoors, you’ll need appropriate clothing. From extreme temperatures to injuries, health risks, and even dangers posed by other people, these specific fabrics and garment will keep you safe.

Contrary to popular belief, you do not need to buy new clothes or even ones that are pre-made, and stockpile them for a crisis situation.

Focus on these 10 questions about material and fit, and you can easily find good quality clothing that will remain in good condition over time.

Is It Easy to Wear in Layers?

If you are expecting to be outdoors in cold weather, it is very tempting to look for the thickest, heaviest garments that you can find. While a certain amount of density in the fabric is important, the ability to have air spaces is also vital for retaining heat.

Choosing thinner garments that you can wear in layers creates air space, and also gives you a greater range of temperatures that you can feel comfortable in.

When choosing garments for layering, you must also pay attention to the garment size and how easy it will be to shift it comfortably between layers, or eliminate altogether.

You may need to buy a ½ to a full size bigger as you reach the outer layers. If at all possible, see if you can try on all the layers at once to see if they feel comfortable and don’t limit your range of motion.

3 Second SEAL Test Will Tell You If You’ll Survive A SHTF Situation

Does the Fabric Wick Well?

No matter what the temperature and humidity conditions are, your body is going to release sweat. If you are active and moving around a lot, your body will release even more sweat in order to cool down.

A buildup of moisture next to your skin can cause several problems including:

an increased risk of skin breakdown, especially in areas where garments rub into your skin

an increased risk of infection in any are where the outer layer of skin has been compromised

because your body produces sweat in order to cool down, you may lose vital heat if too much moisture stays near your skin. Even if you are in very cold temperatures, the sweat your body produces will cause this cooling effect and spell disaster. Fabrics that wick away moisture will help keep your core body temperature stable.

Will the Fabric Resist Tearing?

You might be going through dense underbrush, or areas where there are apt to be thorns that would scratch your skin if your garments didn’t protect you properly.

A scratch from a thorn or a shrub branch may not seem like more than an inconvenience, but your skin can infect if left unattended. This is especially important if you’re traveling through damp areas or other places where mold, bacteria, mildew, and other pathogens can be introduced into the opening in your skin.

To add insult to injury, if your clothes do not wick correctly, or are uncomfortable to wear, these problems can also make the skin wound even worse.

Choose at least one outer layer garment that is as tear resistant as possible, to prevent this kind of problems. Look for lightweight clothes that are designed to be worn outdoors and a name brand that have a good reputation for producing tear free garments.

Remember, even if you cannot afford new garments, it is not all that difficult to create a loose fitting shirt and pants from suitable material. You may also be very surprised at what you will find at estate sales, yard sales, and flea markets.

How Will the Colors Affect Heat Absorption?

You know that white blocks energy and black absorbs, but you may not give it much though when choosing clothes for outdoor wear. If you are going to be out in colder weather, have an outer layer garment that is black or some other dark color.

On the other hand, if you expect to be out in warmer or hot weather, wear something white or light colored. Bright colors will also absorb heat from the sun, so it is best to reserve them for cooler or mid-range temperatures.

When you are planning an outdoor excursion, make sure you have at least one white, one black, and one neutral color so that you can switch them on and off as needed for your outer garment layers.

Also, if you need different sizes for the inner layers, take along at least one white garment so you can wear it as a single inner layer if you happen to be in hotter temperatures and need to remove all but one layer.

Choose a garment that has long sleeves or legs so that you can still protect yourself from injuries created by thorns, underbrush, or insects.

Can I Adjust the Visibility of this Garment?

Regardless of whether you hunt or not, you may be at risk of being shot or injured in the woods if you aren’t aware of where people are hunting.

You may also come across intentional poachers or those who are hunting out of extreme need outside of legally defined hunting seasons. That’s why it’s best to wear clothes that will ensure you are easy to see and that you will also not be mistaken for game.

Typically, blaze orange is the best color for wearing in an area where hunting will occur because it will not be as easily mistaken for colors found on certain animals.

On the other hand, you might need to escape from a city during crisis or prefer other people be unable to spot you. In these situations, wearing blaze colors, or even white might spell disaster. If your prime concern is visibility, wear a neutral color for the terrain you are traveling through.

For example, you might choose a dark green for the woods, or a tan for desert terrain. If you find that you want to be seen easily, then carry blaze orange arm bands, patches, scarfs, or other coverings that you can easily affix to any outer garment.

What Temperature Ranges is it Best Worn in?

Many people think that layering garments means you can simply wear the same garments all year round, but just add or subtract layers as needed. This won’t always work because different fabrics have different densities to their weaving that make them suitable for some temperatures and not others.

Pay attention to the fabric type and density so that you know which garments may work better for the season. You can still keep one or two items on hand that will fit a mid range, however the rest should be divided between materials suitable for hot or colder temperatures.

Here are some common fabrics and the temperatures they will work best in:

Linen – hot weather – this fabric breathes and wicks well, dries fast, and is also lightweight.

Cotton – depends on the weight. Lighter weight cotton can be used for summer and hot weather, and then use heavier weights for mid range temperatures. Never use cotton for cold weather or any temperature where you must preserve core body temperature because it sucks up sweat easily and will pull heat from your body with the sweat.

Polyester – cold weather – use for inner layers to build air spaces. This fabric does not breathe well, so try to keep it away from your skin.

Wool – cold weather. Is a good insulator and also dries quickly.

Nylon – use as an outer layer for keeping dry and as a wind breaker. Nylon also doesn’t breathe well and should be reserved for outer layers that can be opened up easily to improve air circulation.

Is it Waterproof?

Aside from needing to find out if an outer layer of clothing will withstand rain and other forms of moisture, you have to evaluate the same information for inner layers of outdoor clothing.

While you will want at least one garment to wear when it rains or you need to keep excess moisture out, it will not be a good idea to have waterproof material on any of the inner layers of your outdoor clothing.

Typically, waterproof garments do not wick well, and they will also prevent moisture that has been released by your skin from escaping, which can cause hypothermia in cold weather, and increase the risk of infections because of poor air circulation.

Does it Cover Me Properly for Woods and Rough Terrain?

Have you ever been outdoors in hot weather and didn’t even want to wear a T-shirt? If so, then you may also be tempted to wear the lightest and skimpiest thing you can find to go in the woods.

Unfortunately, this can be a recipe for disaster because:

As you travel through underbrush, you will inevitably brush into brambles, thorns, and twigs. These can easily cut your skin and leave an opening for infection.

Ticks, mosquitoes, and other insects are drawn to anything that might look like a meal. In this case, they can easily land on the back of your neck, upper leg, or other areas where you won’t notice them until it’s too late. The best way to prevent Lyme disease and many other insect borne illnesses it make sure the bugs can’t land on your skin to begin with. Insofar as clothing choice, your best option is to wear garments that cover as much of your skin as possible.

Many people think they can just spray insect repellent on their skin and clothing, and then avoid wearing clothes that cover their skin. These sprays are expensive and exposing you to dangerous poisons that can have long term health consequences, are not likely to be available in the post crisis world. Choose and wear clothes that will cover your skin properly now so that you won’t have to adapt later on.

Can I Adjust the Garment to Keep Out Ticks and Other Insects?

Aside from choosing garments with long sleeves and legs, make sure you can use rubber bands, velcro, or something else to seal off sleeve and pants cuffs.

Add a lightweight turtleneck stop shell in order to prevent insects from landing on the back of your neck. If you cannot find one for sale in a suitable fabric, you will find they are very easy to make.

Make sure they are properly secured and sealed to the garment below them so insects cannot crawl in.

How Well Will it Protect from UV Radiation?

Are you the type that packs the sunscreen away as soon as summertime is over? If so, then you need to use fabrics that have a proven SPF rating for outer layer wear all year round. As long as there is sunlight available, UV rays can reach your skin and cause damage. Even if it is a cloudy day or a very cold one, it is important to wear UV proof clothing.

Contrary to popular belief, fabric garments will not automatically block out all UV. To perform a quick test, hold the fabric up to the light. If you can see any light at all shining through, then the garment will allow UV to reach your skin.

Since you will be buying lighter weight garments to create layers, this test is extremely important all year round. To be on the safe side, choose at least one outer layer garment from a reputable company that gives an SPF rating on the label.

As with choosing garments that can be adjusted for keeping insects away, choosing garments that protect your skin from UV can help in a major social collapse scenario. Why worry about buying sunscreen when you can use these garments to do the same job. You can increase the lifespan of your sunscreen stockpile until you figure out a way to make your own using natural materials.

If you visit any department store or mall, you will find all kinds of expensive “outdoor” gear, and find yourself wondering what to buy. Try starting off with lighter weight garments that can be worn in layers, and then focus on color, visibility, waterproofing, UV protection, and insect management.

Asking ten simple questions about each garment, and thinking about how you will use it, will also help you evaluate garments in other places.

No matter whether you visit a second hand store, flea market, or decide to sew the garments, you will have confidence in evaluating the garment and fabric within the context of your needs as opposed to always relying on name brands and testimonials.

This article has been written by Carmela Tyrell for Survivopedia.

from Survivopedia Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag