#still wish i knew how that campaign ended & i have no right to answers since we dont talk but also. dm hmu lol

[player-1]

I don't think you've made a post just about Deena or talking about what you think about her in N:E, but I think I can tell the general impression, so:

Deena in N:E?

And you're unfortunately right about that, I've been pretty caught up talking about the game in general to notice. Whoops 😅 Still, I have a lot to say, so buckle up it's going to be a long one!

Granted, I have played Nexomon 1 before, so I already knew the whole twist of Deena being Nara, but it still surprised me how level-headed she seemed in Extinction besides a few slip-ups (not to mention being MC's mom); whether it was to keep up appearances in the Guild or working behind the scenes to make sure her kid gets through everything in one piece without directly helping them.

To me, N:E Deena was forced to have tougher skin after everything she's been through, since she's pretty much the catalyst to Omnicron's death and the war for her dad's throne up until she decides to bring Solus into the world to fill the role as the new King of Monsters. While I'm sure it was a last ditch effort to bring back some kind of balance to the world, but also wanted to make sure her kid didn't become a repeat Omnicron; finally deciding to let Grunda/Ulrich raise her kid to be an equal to both humans and Nexomon (which was probably from learning about his Netherworld Nightmare second-hand), as well as roping her siblings into the fake Tyrant egg scheme to better transition MC into figuring out his real identity (though their reaction to that bombshell is up to debate for me).

Despite that, I like to think that she really wanted to raise MC on those ideals if not for the Drakes going crazy over their power and the Guild with their anti-Tyrant campaign, but she's also quick to have enough plans and backup plans just in case anything goes awry. Looking back in the story, there's a few attempts of her being a kind and welcoming presence in MC's life, Guild and Drakes be damned; but when everything finally calms down, Deena finally has a chance to relax and answer any questions her kid might have (though explaining everything during N1 would be tough enough). And while no one mentioned yet or had full screenshots, but she actually explains how her "time powers" work post-story after reviving her (later found in Hero's Tomb), but that's going to take a while for me to get the screenshots though :'). But from what I remember, Deena simply slows time down to be in sync with nature; so if it relates to how slow plants grow (extremely slowly) then it makes sense why everything seems to stop around her or why she's still alive post-N1 but is still weakened after everything she's been through. And bonus points about her still being hung up about the Mandrass Incident in N1 despite everything about it was only told to her second-hand by The Ghost of Nexomon Past. Then with the Abyssal storyline, Deena immediately goes into damage control and subtly urges the Guild to get rid of the Abyssals as soon as possible; but Logan (evil Cadium scientist) rebuts her with the once-in-the-lifetime opportunity to observe every Abyssal in a single place minus the 1,000 year timeline, so they made a compromise to learn as much as they can before killing them. Still, I kind of wish there was more for Deena to say about the matter since she literally was around to watch the Abyssals from beginning to end, from Venefelis killing Hilda to Kroma attempting to kill Eliza and is clearly aware of how erratic they are in personalities and goals. And with Kroma having the power to control ghosts, who wants to bet that Deena had to fight Krainnul (Ghost dragon) and Ulzar by herself? If so, I guess that's why she stayed behind just in case of a repeat incident.

But during the crusade, she eventually has the sneaking suspicion that someone with a similar lifespan to her and her siblings was the mastermind for the Abyssals' creations but can't figure out who (even after asking the PTs came up to a dead end). While I'm all for Metta being the main culprit, from Deena's pov she knows for sure that their bowling ball brother should be in the Netherworld for good as well as his main schtick was just reviving Omnicron and siblings, so the jump to creating a whole host of mutant Tyrants seemed completely out of left field. But since Venefelis appeared out of nowhere just after Omnicron's death, and the Abyssals were never told who their creator was, she probably put the theory on the wayside given the fact.

Of course, I'm all for seeing what changes in N3, but that's definitely going to be a long time coming.

[auburneyez1990]

Eddie Munson x Reader Series Chapter one The beginning of forever

You stand in the shower as the hot water runs over your shoulders & back relaxing as the steam in the bathroom starts to consume you fully. Washing your hair with your favorite cherry blossom 🌸 shampoo thinking of what kind of date night Eddie has up his sleeve beings you've both been busy working to help Wayne with the bills plus you guys started a savings for your own place. You both can't stay with Wayne forever as much as you both love him to pieces. Both you & Eddie had pretty rough childhoods his dad being in jail most of his life and his mom passed away when he was 10 years old. Your father was a drunk who loved not get violent once he's had one too many hurting you and your mom both. You were at the end of your rope feeling like giving up until the one night it got way too out of control. You showed up at Eddie's with a busted lip and a gash under your eye Wayne was the only one home Eddie was at his hellfire campaign. Wayne never seen you in such a state before his heart shattered when he lead you inside you couldn't keep it a secret anymore. You & Wayne were always pretty close he was the dad you'd wished you had. Opening up laying it all out on the table as he made you a coffee to calm your shaking hands. He couldn't believe it he wanted to go & kick your father's ass right there & then but he knew he had to be strong for you & to keep Eddie as calm as possible. He knew a thing or two about abuse & neglect & didn't want Eddie to get himself into trouble defending you especially since he already gets enough judgement from Chrissy's death even though all the charges were dropped people still looked at Eddie with caution. Eddie came home from hellfire that night & when he saw your face his heart shattered him & Wayne both vowed to protect you from here on out & that's when Wayne offered you a place to stay as long as you needed. It's been three years since that night things are a lot different now. Eddie works full time at the garage as a mechanic and you work full time down at the radio station as a secretary. You're both so adamant about saving for an apartment to give Wayne his space especially now that he has a lady friend. Her name is Dolores and he met her at the Hawkins Farmers market. Turning off the shower to go get ready for tonight you went out and bought a brand new black dress short but long enough to not expose anything for Eddie's eyes only & paired it with a pair of knee high boots & fishnets. Making sure everything is absolutely perfect your hair your makeup is amazing Eddie even sent you out to get your nails done with El & max for some much needed sister time. They adore you & look up to you and you love them to pieces you love the boys too but you have a special bond with the girls. They seemed awfully giddy today but I guess it's just teenage stuff. Eddie for some reason got ready at Dustin's. Odd but you know not to argue with Eddie when he says something is a surprise. He better not have cut his hair or something crazy you loved his hair more then he does. Waiting patiently Wayne comes out of his room to the kitchen. " Well darlin you look like an angel right now" you blush at the complement. "Thank you Wayne do you have any ideas what your nephew is up to?" You ask. He seems to hesitate a moment then answers "no idea darlin never know what's going on in that boys head" you giggled and plop down on the sofa to wait.

Eddie's Pov

Making sure his shirts not wrinkled and his hair looks just right Eddie puts on the silver chain you gifted him for his birthday last year. Dustin comes into his bedroom where Eddie's getting finished up. "Hey Eddie how ya holding up?" He says with a big grin. "Nervous man do I look like an ass?" Presenting himself arms open." No you look great & everything is gonna go perfect so relax I know y/n just as well as you do she's not going to say no". Eddie goes into his duffel bag and pulls out a little black velvet box opening it and sitting next to Dustin." Do you think she'll like it I saved all year I just hope it's enough" Eddie knows he's not the richest man he would hang the moon for you if he could. "Dude she's gonna love it it's her favorite color too dont be so hard on yourself man you love her i know she loves you this is gonna be amazing & im the best man right?" Eddie laughs "let's get her to say yes first then we'll figure all that out. Dustin gives a half grin. Eddie turns to him "Hey is everything in the van set to go?" Looking nervous Dustin smiles wide "Yup I even found some old twinkle lights and set them up the curtain I put up should block the view from the front so she won't be able to see until faze 2" they high five each other and Eddie pulls Dustin in for a hug. "Thanks for helping me man I really appreciate it" Dustin gives a scrunched face when Eddie tussles his hair. "I did it because your my friend and because I love y/n just as much as you do but in a sister kind of way" Eddie takes one last look at himself in the mirror and heads out to start up the van and come to pick you up. He lights a cigarette to calm his nerves as his hands tightly grip the steering wheel. Blasting Alice Cooper while he tries not to work himself up too much. Going over what he wants to say to you tonight over and over in his head. Pulling up to the driveway he gives himself a pep talk. " Okay Munson you can do this you both love each other everything is gonna go great okay let's fucking rock and roll".

[mollusken]

who are those dnd love clerics of yours? what are their backstories, anyway?

Hiii being a sloth as is my nature!!!!! But thanks for asking so I can talk about them! :] I truly wrote half of this out and tumblr deleted it so just know I’m been THRU it to hand u this essay... I hope u enjoy HERE’S THE SUMMARY:

(art by @camomills)

Seraphina was a cleric I originally played in a game about Gods dying. I made her to be someone who was unknowingly worshipping the wrong god. She ended up switching domains and later doing some introspection(/exploration) I realized she was much better suited to being a Love Cleric following Sune. Seraphina really worked hard to find herself and eventually built a convent where she would welcome other followers of Sune, teach esthetician courses, as well as hold sermons and discuss love and beauty as matters of philosophy and religion. She still struggles with letting people into her life in any meaningful way, and letting herself be truly vulnerable. That's where her story with Valentine really comes into play.

Valentine is a cleric of Sune whom, upon being born, was foretold to sacrifice herself for love. She really wants to fall in love very badly and knows it is her duty more or less to do so, but there's a part of her that's still running away.

The tragedy of her story is that she often gives herself away in little ways; by handing people this unending love and letting that mean she shrinks herself, or lets herself be hurt in the name of it. She's too busy trying to fight her destiny  -- that of a Big Magical romance -- that subconsciously she is fulfilling it with every step she takes.

I think it's a fun dynamic; to have a character that's more or less running from reflection but very open with her love, and one that's found her path but still has to let herself trust, and explore intimacy.

That's really what they boil down to: both being followers of Sune but imbuing different aspects, and having each other as foils. When Valentine comes to stay at Seraphina's convent the two really connect and learn a lot from each other as equals.

They’re narrative foils, they’re friends with benefits, they’re life long friends and partners and confidants, they’re both so sexy and smart and cute, and they’re impossible to color because Val is so gd neon pink lmfao. THATS THE SHORT OF IT IF YOU’VE ENJOYED THANK YOU FOR ASKING AFTER MY GIRLS 💚 And if you want every gory detail the Long is down below!!!

LONG VERSION Seraphina was a half-elf cleric I originally played in a game about Gods dying and being replaced. I made her to be someone who was unknowingly worshipping the wrong god, which I think was originally some war god. After they fell she found out her powers were from Milil, god of music, but later doing some introspection(/exploration) I realized she was much better suited to being a Love Cleric, and follow Sune. She would later on in life become a huge proponent of self love and expression.

She was a non-committal wreck with a hot streak and a lot of baggage to work through. Her elf mother was distant. She had impossible to meet standards and no recognition of her as an adult, being wholly unfamiliar with human life spans. And her sisters who served as her rivals her entire life in a bid for their mother's affection, and they lashed out at each other in any way possible. Elaborate social games, physical fights, competing achievements; Seraphina was usually invested in the latter due to her aptitude with magic, and less of the first due to being considerably younger than her sisters.

When she realized that what she believed didn’t match up to what she was teaching, and having a bad home life and finding herself struggling to keep up in an environment not suited for her, she lashed out. Both at fellow students the way she used to with her more hardy sisters, and at the convent leaders. Thus she managed to get herself banished and excommunicated.

So very much in survival mode at that point. She lived with a few colleagues as much as she could before moving on, strung along some upper class gentlemen to keep herself within her former social class, lied, stole, etc.

It really wasn't until after her real God fell and she lost her powers that she had to do any kind of introspection and realize that hey, maybe she was like. not dealing with her issues by ignoring them and falling headfirst into substances, and maybe she needed to start taking care of herself and correct her behaviour including lashing out at others, and unpack her upbringing and religious programming.

I left the game after her arc (unrelated) which I would add a bit of a rewrite to later because I honestly don't know if she'd ever forgive her family within their collective lifetimes, even if she did still come about saving them. Also smh I curse my past self sometimes because I gave her an old fiance that came to find her - past me got shy & asked the DM to pull it - but that was honestly the funniest fucking thing. It would've been so good. I'm hilarious relationship drama is the SPICE of D&D & I should’ve trusted my gut smh.

Seraphina really worked hard to find herself and eventually built a convent where she would welcome other followers of Sune, teach esthetician courses, as well as hold sermons and discuss love and beauty as matters of philosophy and religion. She still struggles with letting people into her life in any meaningful way, and letting herself be truly vulnerable with them. That's where her story with Valentine really comes into play.

Valentine is a cleric of Sune whom, upon being born, was foretold to sacrifice herself for love. She grew up very modestly and without parents, just an old nursery maid who housed a small orphanage in her village. She was always a fierce lover. Her childhood was pretty stable compared to Seraphina, and she had a supportive community. Nevertheless as a young woman she decided to head out on her own journey to fulfill her prophecy.

Val is emotional, a little headstrong, and imbued with romantic tendencies that means she'll stop to help anyone who looks in her direction. Her kindness is definitely taken advantage of, and she's susceptible to looking past people's flaws for their strengths, but that doesn’t mean she loves less or stops giving as kindly.

She really craves falling in love and meeting her soulmate -- and she knows it is her duty more or less to do so -- but there's a part of her that's still running away from her fate. A part that still believes she’s not enough, she’s not ready, she doesn’t know how to do so.

So she lets herself get sidetracked with whatever - and whoever - catches her attention. This is how she's ended up in all the different little adventures I've played her in.

The tragedy of her story is that she often gives herself away in little ways; by handing people this unending love and letting that mean she shrinks herself, or letting herself be hurt in the name of it. Even just the amount of time she will dedicate to helping others, no matter the outcome. Good or bad, big or small gestures, she gives.

She's too busy trying to fight her destiny -- which she interprets as some huge giving-her-life-for-a-lover moment or Star-Crossed-Fate-Sealed romance -- that subconsciously she is fulfilling it with every step she takes.

I think it's a fun dynamic; to have a character that's more or less running from reflection but very open with her love, and one that's found her path but still has to let herself trust, and explore intimacy.

That's really what they boil down to: both being followers of Sune but imbuing different aspects, and having each other as foils. When Valentine comes to stay at Seraphina's convent the two really connect and learn a lot from each other as equals.

Seraphina embodies the beauty and self love aspect of Sune, while lacking connection to intimacy (although part of that is her being aromantic & not inherently desiring of romance). Valentine on the other hand, embodies romantic love and compassion but can't really accept herself or love herself as she continues to shy away from her prophecy.

They have a physical/sexual relationship alongside this-- I imagine that being a very open topic/concept with Suneites and that develops more organically in a society that views it as beauty, as self-care, as affection and romance. And less controlled by social stigma.

Although Valentine has a hard time separating her romantic tendencies sometimes and has moments of limerence for Seraphina. They speak freely about it - eventually lol, who would I be if I didn't cause SOME drama - and that helps her work through it. They continue to be good friends until the end of their lives.

Valentine ends up staying at the convent longer than anywhere else she travels. I pictured her eventually moving on, still trying to find the end of her fate. But I think strings would pull her back to visit.

I haven't got to play Valentine for a campaign; she was made for one-shots, so that's why she's a bit more open-ended and her story is the way it is. And although I still think Seraphina's story has places it could go, I think I found a pretty happy ending for her. SO THERE YOU ARE LORE DROP x2!!!!!!! I’m sure I can drop even more in-depth shit if you’re curious about anything else.... I know I have Seraphina family developed and can run thru Val’s adventures..... Or Swannie stuff I have so much Swannie lore..... they both meet her at some point too it’s all connected so....... yk what 2 do 👀 Thank u for taking an interest in my girls and have a good fuckin day just for giving me an excuse to scream about something!!!! 💚 WAHOO

[shadowuponstorm]

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Munson!Reader

Age Range: I would like anyone 18+ to be reading this since this story involves a character being of legal age, so minors, please scroll on. (Although I can't stop you from doing so and since I warned you, not my fault for what you read)

Series: Stranger Things (S4, Pre-Vol. 2)

WC: Over 1.5K

Chapter 2 , Chapter 3

A/N: Slight spoilers might be included, and I ask that you please have some courtesy and not spoil or post spoilers in the comments! Thank you, and I’m still a bit new to Stranger Things so if I get something incorrect, I'm sorry and will go back to revise as best I can. Also please don't translate, repost, or copy under any circumstances, I prefer my original work to be on just my page.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

No matter how many other tests I could take, no doubt all of them would have the same result. There’s no denying what is being shown, I’m pregnant and my twin brother & his friends are going to freak, especially the one who is the love of my life. Steve and I started exploring more of our relationship after he confessed his feelings for me after claiming he should’ve done it long before he & Nancy were a thing as well as his venture into the Upside Down to save Will from the effects of the Mind Flayer, to which I couldn’t blame him and the others for keeping me in the dark about that, considering it regarded safety and protection. I set the tests on the counter before I released a breath I was holding in anticipation of what the results were going to be. I tried to keep the negative thoughts at bay, but they’re like a flood, overflowing my very mind.

“Steve is definitely going to leave you now that he has a reason to,” I hear a voice say before they scoff and add, “If given the chance, he would’ve left you earlier than now for someone better.”

I’ve always had insecurities about the reasoning why a guy like Steve, who’s very much a ladies man, is with someone like me. I try to keep quiet about my fears whenever I’m around him or the others, but it sometimes lead me to dive deeper into them, causing them to question if I’m okay. I always answered I was when I knew it wasn’t entirely the truth and it always seemed to work.

“Hey sis,” I hear Eddie say from behind the locked bathroom door, “Everything alright? You’ve been in there for a while”

“Y-Yeah, I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me,” I respond, mentally cursing for stuttering.

“Oh o-okay, well, I have a campaign with The Hellfire Club tonight if you want to tag along, I’m sure they’d love you to. You can even invite pretty boy if you want,” Eddie says as I softly laugh at the nickname he deemed Steve and respond, “Maybe some other time, and I think he’s busy tonight. I might give him a call later or head over to Family Video before his shift ends and hang out with him.”

“Alrighty, just stay safe if you go out,” Eddie says before I hear him step away to then come back to mention, “And don’t go into my memorabillas, I got a customer coming over later tonight after campaign.”

Don’t worry, I won’t. I never did in the first place.

After I hear the trailer door shut, I let out a shuttered sigh and start to let the tears fall, scared of how much my future could change once I tell Steve of our baby’s existence, I wish I could keep it a secret for a long time, but he has the right to know and it wouldn’t be fair to do that to him. Off to Family Video I go, no more waiting.

-At Family Video-

The bell on the door chimed as I walked in to see Robin at the front, reading whatever the latest issue has been released, pulling her attention away to see who has walked into the establishment.

"Oh, hey Y/N," Robin greets me with a smile on her face as she closes the magazine to move it to another space on the counter.

"Hey Robin, do you know if Steve has checked in for his shift yet or not?" I asked as I return a small smile her way before she turns her head in all directions of the rental before shrugging her shoulders to say, "He might be reorganizing the VHS tapes behind the beads, want me to call for him?"

I raise my hand up to almost say no to then remember what tapes lie beyond the beads, prompting me to put my hand down and respond, "If you would, please."

"Hey Dingus, your future wife is here!" Robin yells as I softly laugh at the mention she said future wife before hearing Steve shout back, "Coming!" to then see his body come into view.

"Hey, baby," Steve says as he comes up by my side to wrap his arm on my shoulder before placing a kiss on my temple, causing a fake gag reaction from Robin and a "Get a room" comment from her, before he asks, "What do I owe this visit from you for?"

I took a deep breath and started to say, "I wanted to see you, and to tell you we need to talk about something." causing his smile to sink and fear showcased in his eyes. Before he could get a word out, I then ask, "Is there a break room or somewhere we can have privacy?"

"U-um yeah there is, I'll take you," Steve responds as he then leads the way after he asks Robin to cover for him as long as this conversation will take to be heard.

After we entered the break room and Steve locks the door, I turned around to face him before seeing the worry on his face. This time, he beats me to cut the silent tension in the air, by asking, "Is it me?"

"Wha-what?" I ask in confusion why he automatically would think it's his fault. Well, which it is, but that's not why we're having this conversation, to begin with. It involves both of us doing what has brought me pregnant in the first place.

"L-look, I know we haven't been spending a whole lot of time together lately. With me working a lot of shifts as well as keeping an eye out to protect Dustin and the others, with you tagging along with Eddie to make sure he stays out of trouble and helping him with studying," Steve responds before running both his hands through his hair before continuing with tears brimming his eyes, "God, time really hasn't been in our favor, but just know that my feelings for you have never diminished. I still have so much love for you and I still want to spend my future with you wherever it may lead us. So I'm sorry if I unintentionally did something to you that made you feel the need to talk to me like I'm the biggest disappointment in the world."

I walk to be closer to him before putting my hands on his face and whispering, "Don't think for a minute that I'm anything like your parents, I could never be disappointed in you like they are. You are never a disappointment, you are something to be proud of. All those kids, especially Dustin, are the luckiest ones in the world to have you as their protector, babysitter, and role model. And I'm the luckiest girl in the world to call you mine, just like our child will have the best dad ever."

Steven then laughs and smiles to say, "I would have to try my best in that department, but I definitely can't wait for that day to come."

"How about months from now?" I asked as I reach one of my hands to pull out the test in my back pocket to hold it between us, "I found out just a few hours ago, felt it was best not to wait. You're the first."

I thought Steve would show some reaction immediately after hearing the words exit my mouth, but he just took the test from my hand and stayed silent while staring at it. I place my hand on his shoulder and nudge him a bit to whisper, "Steve? I'm sorry, maybe I should've waited until, ah!" to let out a squeak of surprise from being lifted off my feet and hugged tight into his chest to feel him kiss the top of my head. I pulled away an inch to look up at him again to ask, "I take you're happy about this?"

"Are you kidding?" Steve responds as he scoffs softly and smiles, "Yes, while I'm nervous, scared, and frightened about what could happen, I'm also excited about this journey and being with you every step of the way."

"Not unless Eddie has something to say about it," I say as we both laugh out loud before he responds, "Oh, he'd be too distracted from the excitement of being an uncle to our little boy or little girl."

"Now I know you're dying to have a boy first, Harrington," I mention as Steve nods his head and smiles before looking down at the test again, "I can't believe you got a plus on a single test."

"That's one of three," I respond as he looks at me baffled, "What? I had to make sure it wasn't a false positive. Besides I was late so."

Steve sighed before saying, "We'll discuss more of this later, but I have to get back to my shift before Keith or Robin kills me."

"Of course, get back to your job," I respond as Steve unlocks the door to let me by, but not before I whisper his new title in his ear, causing his breath to hitch and raise an eyebrow at me as I wink at him. I was almost out of the door to head over to his place before I hear him call my name and make me turn my head to see him mouth my new title, ending it with an “Love you”, making me smile and blush. Makes me excited yet nervous about what is to come for us or what else this day or night could bring us.

[writer-akihiko]

Hello!

Ikemen sé request

the warlords realizing that Mc is very popular with their soldiers. Sending love letters and stuff.

IkeSen Boys + Popular!MC

This was so cute ahhh although I'm sorry if it's a little short, there's a lot of Ikemen to get through. Thank you and I hope you like this work!

Nobunaga Oda

Nobunaga thought it was quite odd that there were a lot of presents delivered to you... Which he didn't gift...

After some digging, he found out that you had garnered some popularity after a campaign

He was dumbfounded at the idea that other men could be attracted to you

He didn't quite like that, but being the person he is he did tell you his thoughts

You insisted that you wanted to keep some gifts to distribute to your maids. He agreed, but he just buys better gifts for you anyway

He's not as jealous as you'd expect, since the man is also a bit egotistical when it comes to himself and your feelings for him

"Oh... Nobunaga..." You wanted to laugh at how childish he was but it wouldn't be in the right taste.

You stopped your giggling when Nobunaga muttered, "I could transfer whoever sent those gifts to you away..."

"At least let me keep some!"

He silenced you with a quick kiss. "Whatever you like from the pile, I'll purchase better ones from the merchants."

Hideyoshi Toyotomi

He doesn't want to admit that he's jealous, but he is. He unknowingly calls out the soldier that was about to gift you a present in an oh so convenient timing…

He doesn't take it to such extremes, he still respects the other soldiers. Although, he found it quite tempting from time to time to not bring you along for some campaigns

In this case, he wished that Nobunaga hadn't demanded such things of you. He really does appreciate your skills on the field, but he doesn't like that he can't control how much attention you're getting

He only realises it once someone points it out to him, or when someone sends you a letter. Letters are an absolute no from him

"Lord Hideyoshi, what should I do with these letters for YN?"

"Burn them."

"Lord Hideyoshi, what should I do with these letters from the townswomen?"

"Oh, send them to my office-"

YN smacked Hideyoshi up in the head. "You hypocrite."

Mitsunari Ishida

Mitsunari did notice that you gained a lot of attention, but he knew that it was only from your good merits and character

In no way did he ever thought it was romantic, until Mitsuhide pointed it out

He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Sure, he was happy that a lot of people thought you were a wonderful person

However a small inkling of him wanted to keep it to himself

Seeing the multitude of gifts for you, the guilt hit him hard. What if you wanted gifts all along?

"YN, do you like it when those soldiers give you gifts?" He asked, as you opened another gift that consisted of a bunch of fabrics.

"I do appreciate it," You admitted. "But I don't plan to keep them for long. I share any snacks with the maids and fabrics with the seamstresses. Why?"

He didn't reply, except for the blush that bloomed on his cheeks.

You pecked his cheek, understanding what he meant. "You have no reason to be jealous, my sweet angel."

Mitsuhide Akechi

Not a lot of people can read him, and he uses that to his advantage. He sneaks up on those who had planned to give you gifts, and instead direct their attention to another maid or townswoman

In the end, with this strategy, you don't receive much gifts from soldiers. This doesn't work on his fellow warlords however

With you, he doesn't hide his frown when people like Shingen or Masamune send you gifts

He doesn't care for what reason it was for, the gift shall not be touched by you

"Mitsuhide? Have you seen a package from Masamune? He sent some really pretty Oshu fabrics for me…"

He sipped on his bland concoction of tea. "Why my dear, I wonder where it could be…"

You sighed. "You gave it away didn't you? Now I have to write to Masamune- Ah!"

Before you could continue any thoughts, your charming kitsune sweeped you up in his arms, smiling coyly at you. "Write to him? I'm afraid my jealousy won't allow that YN… I'd certainly be interested in writing my thoughts of you on your body…"

Ieyasu Tokugawa

Ieyasu surprisingly doesn't notice any traffic of gifts to you. It might be due to the fact that he publicly ban any gifters from his estate…

You still manage to get some from soldiers passing by or Ieyasu's fellow warlords gifting you as a token of appreciation

Only when you bring the gift home is when he realises how popular you are. He doesn't initially care, but similarly to Hideyoshi, he gets rid of any letters

He doesn't burn them, but he moreso stages it so you'd see adorable Wasabi chewing on the papers

"Hey Ieyasu? Oh-" You dropped to your knees, seeing Wasabi with some paper in its mouth once again. "Wasabi, you should know better than to chew on my letters! Ha… Looks like I have to apologise later on."

"Do you even remember the soldier that gave you the letter?" He looked up from his work to ask you.

You pouted. "No… But I'm sure I can ask around!"

He patted you head. "Don't waste your time on that. The maids should be done with dinner now. Let's go and eat."

Masamune Date

He notices your popularity early on, but he's not too bothered about it. In fact, he shows off that you and him are in a relationship

It might be a 'rubbing salt in wound' move but he doesn't care. He has a thrill of seeing some of his jealous subordinates, which he trusts that it is in all good favour

With the way he approached it, most admired you in a non-romantic way, and for those few that actually do, Masamune opts for a duel as a 'wholesome' way to solve the solution

The duels end up with him winning, and the challenger often with some pointers from Masamune during fighting

You wiped off Masamune's sweat from his brow, wondering why he suddenly went up to that random soldier. "Did something happen?"

"Didn't he give you that gift earlier?" He asked, confused. He put up a good fight, although he'd probably have to answer to Hideyoshi since the boy was under his army…

You shook your head. "It wasn't. He has a twin, and the twin is working under Mitsunari…"

Masamune stood up, groaning. "Looks like I have another duel YN. I'll be back by dinner!"

"H-Hoi! Masamune!"

Kenshin Uesugi

Jealousy plus Uesugi Kenshin equals disaster in Kasugayama Castle

Kenshin was shocked when he saw the servants carrying the presents in, specifically addressed to 'Princess YN'

No one could stop him from drawing his sword and rushing to the training grounds, where every poor soldier who passed by was forced to duel him

Yukimura and Sasuke were already battered from the multiple duels they had to face. You pitied the poor souls, so you sent some of your maids to heal up the soldiers that faced his wrath

Holding one of your many bunny children, you walked up to your soon-to-be husband, smiling at him. "Kenshin my dear, we should be on our way to our stroll…"

He tugged off the upper part of his kimono, his torso and upper body dripping with sweat from the fights. "I'll be with you YN, I just need to cool off. I shouldn't dirty you with my sweat."

For as much as you wanted to be proper, you couldn't help but stare at your perfectly sculpted fiance. "T-Take you time my dear."

Sasuke Sarutobi

For the many things he was dense about, this was not one of them. He saw the way some of the Nokizaru looked at you

He of course told them off, but he still had an inkling that some didn't get the memo

Within whatever wisdom he had left, he somehow consulted Kenshin on how to resolve this, which ended up Sasuke battling about half of the Nokizaru

You had no words on why half the men were injured and why your boyfriend was bruised as well. Initially you thought it was from some dispute, but Yukimura so kindly filled you in

You tightened the bandage around Sasuke's arm, giving a disappointed look to the group of ninja. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"We're sorry Princess YN."

"And what do you have to say, Sarutobi Sasuke?" You huffed.

"I won't go to Kenshin for romantic advice."

"Good."

Shingen Takeda

He is not oblivious to your charms, as well as the way other people were attracted to your charms

He'd be lying if he said he weren't jealous. Of course he was, but he didn't plan to do anything malicious to whoever sent you gifts

They were free to waste their money and/or time, it wasn't his business. He'd however, make it clear that you were taken

He's not above doting you in public, and sneaking kisses in the markets or kissing you as the rain goes by. He's very calm about it, since he sees the way you were attracted to him

"S-Shingen! We're going to a war council!" You patted his face away from your own, as the much taller man held you in his embrace.

"Embarrassed Princess?" He teased, giving you his sweetest smile reserved just for you. "But we've done many affectionate things in public…" "People will see!"

He kissed your cheek. "Let them see how in love we are."

Yukimura Sanada

He is another victim of Kenshin's not-so great love advice, hesitating to pick up his spear at anyone who sent you glances. Well… it was Kenshin's advice… and no way he'd risk getting teased by Shingen by asking him!

He then opted for a silent jealous strategy, keeping you by him and covering you with his body everytime he felt someone looking at you

You wondered why he was acting so odd, after all, you just wanted to go on a nice stroll with Yuki and Muramasa

Luckily, to Yuki's benefit, Muramasa is a good wolf who knows to rip apart any letters that come to you or hound after any men that look at you the wrong way

"Is it just me, or is Muramasa a little more energetic than usual?" You asked your boyfriend as you folded your kimono underneath you to sit on the impromptu picnic blanket.

Yuki shook his head, handing you over the basket of food. "He's probably just excited to see us… I think…" He said, as Muramasa runs off into the bushes with what he could see was a paper in his mouth.

Kennyo

Kennyo doesn't really know what to do with this information. He's quite unsure if you wanted the attention or not

He thought the issue didn't need to be brought to your attention, as most of those around you are most likely his subordinates

He could… simply remind them of the holistic teachings that was preached to them

It does a good effect, as most quickly dispelled any sort of romantic attraction

He doesn't mind his subordinates admiring you out of respect, as he thinks you deserve such respect for your deeds

You clapped your hands after hearing your boyfriend's sermons. "You impress me every time my beloved," You said, pecking him on the cheek. "I'm always in awe when you deliver your preachings."

He shied away from you, "My dear, you praise me so…" He couldn’t stop repeating those praises over and over in his head, wanting to pen down the exact words you said. "Thank you YN."

[rosyvvoods]

What’s the most intricate headcanon you have for any character? (If it’s not someone in COD, feel free to answer this on another blog)

OOF this ask really made me sit back and go "what media do I even consume. What headcanons do I even have" HDJDHDJD in a good way of course!! I have a few for CoD and I wanna think of some for other fandoms, so I may reblog this to my main with an addition later on!! idk if it's really my MOST intricate and a lot of it is based in canon (sort of) BUT. I have some thoughts [:

Park and Adler first met because they were both brought on board the MK Ultra program because of their particular skillsets. Park of course was a guest from MI6- this part is mostly canon, as these are right from the wiki:

Despite the program officially being "shut down" in the early 70s, I'm entirely certain that the program was continued in utmost secrecy. So much so that only a handful of people knew about it, such as Agent Black, the man Hudson reports to throughout the Cold War campaign- I believe Hudson knew of the program but had to be briefed on its continuation when Adler and Park brought Bell onto the team.

And, as of the campaign, still only a handful know of what Bell has gone through and the truth of the MK Ultra program. Those are as follows: Adler, Park, Sims, Lazar, Hudson, Black, and ultimately- President fuckin Reagan himself.

That stems from the scene where he enters and addresses Adler, Hudson, Woods, and Mason about finding Perseus; he talks about "who do you think signed off on your last mission", and while it can be interpreted as being about the mission Adler, Mason, and Woods went on to hunt down Arash, Reagan makes a pointed look at Adler specifically when he finishes the statement- and sure, public speaking skills general dictate speaking to everyone in the room in that manner, Reagan is shady as fuck, as is what Adler and Park are doing with MK Ultra.

I also believe the president's statement was INTENDED to be interpreted only in the first way by the two people on the team who I'm SURE have no clue about what Bell has been through- Frank Woods and Alex Mason. ( @leevhs and I have talked about this a lot) Between how they treat Bell with generally a more lighthearted air than the closed off and at arm's length ways everyone else seems to, AND the fact that I am CERTAIN, with what Mason has been through, I think he and Woods would both be pretty livid about the whole ordeal. Mason's hands aren't clean for sure, but I don't think he'd wish the hell of brainwashing on anyone, even his perceived enemies. Especially since they essentially scraped out Bell's previous existence and puzzle-pieced it back together the way they wanted it. Mason would be sympathetic if not empathetic upon learning that Bell's been through that, whether Bell was in Perseus's close circle or not.

And thus, to protect the mission, they were kept out of it. And they probably don't know what happened to Bell after the truth ending- I also don't think they understand the full weight of Bell's betrayal in the lie and ambush endings either, just that Bell betrayed them flat out.

Just as an add-on to the above statement- Hudson is so uneasy about Bell not only because Bell is a potentially dangerous wild card placed in the center of a team of people he at least somewhat cares about, but also because he was the main advocate for Mason to LIVE past his brainwashing. Looking through emails and correspondence, a lot of the people around Mason thought he was a goner and completely out of his mind and either wanted to put a bullet in his head or let him do it himself (this includes, I believe, the higher ups within the govt that they report to). Hudson however was there to get Mason back on his feet, back to himself, and the two relied on one another for that sort of support. Therefore Hudson HATED the idea of Bell through and through. The danger, the potential for people he trusted to get fucked over, and the fact that he was endorsing exactly what Reznov did to Mason, if not worse.

Sorry that took me all day, I had to piece it together between customers and other things I was working on, but thank you so much for the question!!!

[hellothere-generalangsty]

Fives - Anchor

Pairing: Fives x reader

Word Count: 1450 words

CW/ TW: Angst; mourning/loss, death, letter, anniversary, pain, brooding, it’s very heavy and sensitive so please proceed with caution and let me know if I didn’t TW something you deemed necessary; also a bit more hopeful/ light toward the end because my heart couldn’t handle that much sadness tonight

Tags: @chaoticvampirejedi @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117 @99squad

@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria @andiebell2023

Notes: I guess I missed him a lot tonight… Sorry for the pain

Some elements included in this fic are inspired from chats I had with @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s ; thank you little moon for being an inspiration to me 🌙

Iridescent - Linkin Park

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0000.

Happy anniversary Fives.

Though I don’t see how it could be happy, when you’re everywhere but here. I never grew used to your absence, I never could; not when you’re haunting my every move, haunting this place and this world, finding your way back to me through faint memories and thousand of faces walking up to my office every day, asking me about my day and if I feel well.

I have to look at the ghost of you, every single time, and lie.

“I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

And I hear your voice again, and again. It tells me about the pain running through your back, the nightmares hitting harder than usual, and the fear eating you alive every time you get out of your hard, cold bed.

But it’s not you. It never is. I never could be.

I stopped buying your shampoo. I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the bottle we had in the shower. It’s still there, hidden somewhere in the bathroom, waiting to be emptied and thrown away carelessly, in such a mundane way one could so easily forget about it. But I can’t throw it away; it’s not mundane anymore.

I hid the jewels too, except for the bracelet. I hate to wear it, but I hate even more to put it away. I just feel…I feel naked when I don’t have it, and empty when I do. I can’t help but see you – feel you – through the shades of blue and black. What was once the purest blessing turned into the worst curse, and I can’t break it. I almost did – breaking the bracelet. I almost did.

I could if I really wanted to; but then I would lose you again, and I just…

I gave your aprons to the boys. I couldn’t stand to see them, neatly hanging in the kitchen. They were silly anyway, and I had no use for them. I’m a doctor after all, not a cook.

I published my thesis on the clones’ rights, and it is being presented to the Senate by Senator Amidala as we speak. I told her I wouldn’t be able to be there for her discourse, and she simply hugged me. I wish she hadn’t.

0527.

It’s been a year, yet it feels like yesterday. Everyone moved on; everyone but me, and I can’t help but be mad. I am mad that they forgot so easily about you, that they brushed you off as “another collateral damage”, another…clone. It’s the way they say it when they try to comfort me.

You were more than a clone. More than a soldier, and more than a man.

You were Fives.

You were my anchor, and I was your ocean.

I miss the way you said it. Coming home to me, tired, features drained and eyes darkened by the horrors of your latest campaign; but always soft and caring through the hoarseness of your voice as you whispered it against my skin. You always found a way to be there for me; for everyone, even when you were losing yourself in your own prison.

I am mad at you because of that. Because you couldn’t stand back for once, be egoistic and think of yourself instead of trying to play the hero in the dark. They killed you because you didn’t wait, not even when I asked you – begged you to. I am so angry because I called you an idiot, and all you could answer me was “I love you too, my ocean. My anchor.”

You didn’t even let me say it back.

1134.

I am mad at myself. You trusted me enough to tell me everything, and you knew I would believe you. And when you tried to do something about it, I called you an idiot. I wasn’t even there with you; I should have been there with you. I could have saved you.

Fives…

I remember the first time you came home. At the time, it was still “my place”, but the moment you stepped in it stopped being mine only. I always told you to come by if you needed; and the one time you did, we ended up laughing so hard the neighbour had to knock at the door. But it felt good. I guess that day I gave you a part of myself, and you carried it with you ever since. I suppose it died with you, too.

I know I shouldn’t be so broody; I can almost hear you, your chuckles filling the room, your hands pressing down my shoulders as you tell me “it’s a celebration, smile for me!”; and the smell of that shampoo tickling my nose as you come close to lay a kiss on my cheek…

But now the only thing I can feel are the tears, and that twisting ache in my chest, burning my skin and ripping my lungs apart. I can’t even breathe correctly anymore, I…

1745.

I’m sorry I had you waiting.

I fell asleep on the table, and woke up because of the cold. It’s always cold in here now. I borrowed one of your old sweatshirt - I hope you don’t mind. I kept them. I almost gave them to the boys, along with the aprons; but then I thought they could always come in handy.

They do. When days like today happens; days where I feel too lonely, where I miss you too much and it just feels too cold, I slip into one and hold it so close to me it almost feels like you’re here. My arms become yours, your faint perfume comes back to me fresh and soft, and I sometimes swear I can feel your warmth against my skin. I close my eyes when I do that, and it stops being a dream for a second.

For just a second, you’re back. You never truly left.

And when I open my eyes again; when I realise what it is all about, I still feel you. I see the bracelet, smell the black tissue, watch one of these B movie we used to laugh at and somehow I feel the best and worst I’ve felt in a long time.

I wish you were here. I wish I could tell you how much I missed you and how beautiful you are; if I could hold you tight, one last time... I didn’t even get to hug you one last time. I didn’t know it would be it; else I wouldn’t have let you go.

Echo is supposed to come around today. He told me he would. He didn’t forget about you either, you know. Neither did Rex, or Jesse, or Kix. Your vode didn’t forget about you. They always make sure to keep you alive, tell everyone about you and remember them of who you were.

Echo always says you’re his best friend. He never uses the past tense. I can’t blame him; I still say you’re the love of my life whenever people ask me. I guess we know deep down these things will never change. We don’t want it to change.

Wait, someone knocked.

2226.

When was the last time we laughed like that? For once, we turned the tears into something better; lighter. I’m sure you would be proud of us.

Of course, you would be proud of us.

It almost feels good to see you through Echo; to find glimpses of you in his smile, the faint spark in his eyes when he retells your best pranks, and the way he chuckles...I almost feel at home right now. With you. Not quite, but close enough.

Enough to make me smile, for the first time today.

Echo says hi. He’s watching me writing to you. He asked me to tell you that Rex lit a candle for you this morning, and the boys had a little something for you; but I can’t know what; apparently I “wouldn’t understand anyway”. So I hope – we hope – that you liked it.  We’re probably going to watch a bad movie and mock the poor acting until we fall asleep, and tomorrow we will…We’ll probably think of you again, but hopefully there won’t be as much tears as today.

I guess it’s a battle worth fighting. Not for the Republic or the Greater Good; not for the Senate or the Chancellor. Not for the Jedis or the Galaxy.

No, it’s a battle we fight for you, Fives. Let us be your anchor, for once, and rest easy now, because more than anything or anyone else out there… you deserve it.

2359.

Happy anniversary Fives.

I love you too, my Anchor.

 - Your Ocean.

[ladyvader23]

The Tall Luke Conspiracy

The worst mistake of Vader’s entire career was letting the galaxy think his son was tall. 

The boy was short. He always had been, from his childhood until he’d run away from home. He’d inherited his mother’s stature, among some of her other more stubborn qualities. Vader had always liked the height difference. Sometimes he pretended his son was younger than he was, much to Luke’s dismay. 

But all of that changed because of the paparazzi when Luke was sixteen. 

Vader had done his very best to shield Luke from the spotlight. He was therefore well aware of how desperate the media was to learn any information there was on the young prince. He coached Luke repeatedly on what to do if confronted by the mob, but he found that his son often wasn’t as up front about it as he should have been--mainly because he knew Vader would hunt them down and kill them. 

Still. Luke had managed to evade the press, and it was usually a mere footnote in his daily briefing on the movements of his son through his spies. 

At least, until he’d been forced to go off world. When he returned, his briefing on his son contained a tabloid with Luke’s picture on it and the title “Prince Luke’s Height Revealed!” in bold letters over the top. 

He immediately sent for his son. 

“What is this?” He demanded the moment Luke walked in. 

A sheepish look appeared on Luke’s face. “Oh. Uh. No idea?” 

Luke was a terrible liar. He always had been. 

Vader scrolled to the headline article, scanning it quickly. “Then why is it that this reporter says they interviewed you and you told them you were five-nine?!” 

Luke groaned. “It was an accident, I swear! It wasn’t even an interview, I got cornered--” 

“You what?!” How dare they confront his son like that?! They knew who he was, they knew very well what he’d do to them and their entire miserable organization if they even thought about attacking Luke like that. 

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just a height.” 

“It is not even your height!” He knew exactly how tall his son was--five-five. He made sure to bring Luke to the doctor as necessary for check ups. He had since he was a little boy. He was well aware of anything to do with his son’s health. 

“I panicked!” Luke held his hands out innocently. “I just wanted to get to school and it seemed like the most innocent question to distract them with before I made my escape! And it’s not even real, so who cares? They can’t somehow use it against me.” 

Vader snarled, already making plans to take care of the reporters in question. “Next time, do not answer their questions and inform me or one of my spies immediately. We will handle this.” 

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Luke mumbled. 

Unlike Luke’s spur of the moment prediction, the height became far bigger news than either of them had thought. Even after Vader had taken care of the tabloid, other more credible news stations had reported on their prince’s height. Vader, mortified, immediately set up an appointment with the Emperor--he couldn’t very well get rid of the entire Imperial media, but the Emperor could silence them with a simple order. He had to take care of this; it was his son’s private business even if it was fake--

“Oh, I think the news is just what that boy needed.” Came the Emperor’s surprising--and infuriating--answer when Vader made the request. 

Vader was silent for a few cycles, trying to choose his words carefully. “He is not five-nine.” 

It wasn’t at all what he wanted to say. He wanted to say the media had no right to be snooping into a minor’s business, let alone a royal minor, but that was too much attachment. As it was, his master barely tolerated Luke’s life as it was. 

“That is precisely the problem.” The Emperor growled. “Do you realize how embarrassing your pathetically small son is to the Empire? You, for all of your medical failings, are the perfect picture of strength and control.” He gestured to him. “Your son? He looks like he might get squished by a womp rat.” 

Vader gritted his teeth against the Emperor’s insults against his son. Anyone else would be dead. “He is not done growing--” 

“That boy is going to be short forever, Lord Vader. I have foreseen it.” Vader half wanted to ask if he’d specifically looked into the future to see if his son would grow or not, or if it was coincidence. “I will command all Imperial propaganda departments to proclaim five-nine as Luke’s official height. I do not wish to hear another word of this.” 

So Vader was forced to comply. 

And when, two years later, Luke betrayed him and defected to the Rebellion, he ended up regretting that decision. 

While he raged and searched for his son across the galaxy, he employed numerous bounty hunters to assist. He ordered for Luke’s file to be given to any assisting, and he put a million credit “alive only” bounty on his head. In the moment, he’d forgotten about the ridiculous “tall Luke” propaganda campaign from a few years before--his sole focus was finding his son, convincing him of the error of his ways, and ensuring he never lost him again. 

That was, until not only was no one able to bring him Luke, but he found out that many had actually captured Luke, only to let him go. 

“You will tell me why you let my son go!” Vader snarled as he strangled a young bounty hunter. She’d actually sent him a holo proving she had him, but when he’d shown up to her ship, he was gone, and her ship crew had explicitly told him she’d let him go. 

She struggled for breath, gasping as her skin paled. “Wrong....guy!” 

Vader had not been expecting that answer. The holo had left him no doubt that she’d captured his son. He’d know him anywhere, even if he was dressed in Rebel fatigues. “Explain!” 

She clawed at his hand around her throat. “He’s...five-seven!” 

He stared at her. And stared. And stared, until she was lifeless in his hand. And even then, he stared, his mind roaring with the information she’d given him. 

Finally, he dropped her, pulling his comm out before she’d even thudded to the floor. 

“Yes, my lord?” Piett answered, standing to attention in the small image held in his hand. 

“I need you to tell me what height is listed on my son’s bounty.” Vader ordered. He already knew, but he needed confirmation. 

Piett was silent for a moment, and Vader watched as he checked for the information on his datapad. “All bounties and missing person files on Prince Luke show that he’s five-nine. Why?” 

Vader closed his eyes. 

Five-nine. 

The boy, now eighteen, was five-seven. 

He cursed Palpatine for allowing the Imperial propaganda machine to indulge in Luke’s tall-person fantasy. He cursed Luke for not listening to him when he’d told him not to engage with the paparazzi. Already, he could imagine exactly how Luke was managing to get away from everyone he sent after him: 

“You’re Luke Skywalker!” The bounty hunter would say. 

“No, I just look a lot like him.” Luke would retort. Force, Vader could imagine the smug tone in his son’s voice as he said it, too. 

“I have your bounty right here!” 

“I can’t be Luke Skywalker. I’m not tall enough.” 

He’d insist until those stupid bounty hunters pulled out a measuring device to prove that he was, indeed, Prince Luke, and find that he was three inches shorter than the official Imperial bounty information. 

“See?” Luke would say triumphantly, “I’m too short. But wouldn’t it be great if I was royalty? One can dream!” 

Then he’d pleasantly chat the bounty hunter up until he was let go, and the bounty hunter would watch Luke fly away, probably debating on trying to pass him off as the real prince the entire time, not realizing they had, in fact, let Luke go. But the information on the prince had come directly from the Empire itself, from his own office, and he was his father--surely he’d have corrected that, right? 

He wished a hole would open up in the floor and swallow him up. How could he have forgotten? He’d let Luke play his bounty hunters for months not even knowing it was his fault it was happening. 

“My lord?” Piett asked, frowning. “Is there something wrong?”

 Did he admit that he’d let the wrong height be published on all of Luke’s bounty information? 

No. 

It would make his job easier, but...no. 

He couldn’t admit he, Luke’s father, had forgotten to put the correct basic information on the bounty for his own son. He had a reputation, and he wasn’t about to let Luke and his silly lie damage it. 

“Place an order on all bounties instructing all suspects, regardless of how they look, are to be detained until I personally can inspect them.” He said instead. It would mean that he’d probably get contacted about suspects that most certainly were not Luke, but at least his son couldn’t keep exploiting the “Tall Luke” loophole. 

“It will be done, my lord.” 

He cut the transmission and glared at the body of the bounty hunter. 

The moment I find you, Luke, he promised into a bond that had long grown silent, I will set straight your actual height on all Imperial material. 

He could have sworn he heard the echo of Luke’s laughter, taunting him from somewhere far away.

[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

on bren and feeblemind.

(cw: lots of caleb backstory. self-explanatory, i think?)

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this isn’t something i’ve talked about on my blog yet, but since the campaign has begun drawing to a close, i want to make sure i say my piece on the popular theory that bren/caleb was institutionalized because trent ikithon feebleminded him to disable him.

my piece being that it’s exceptionally unlikely he did—at least as a premeditated plan. this kind of theory also falls prey to the exact beliefs ikithon has tried to exploit in caleb.

for our mutual reference, i’ll quote the spell description of feeblemind.

FEEBLEMIND (PHB) 8th level enchantment

Casting time: 1 action Range: 150 feet Components: VSM (a handful of clay, crystal, glass, or mineral spheres) Duration: Instantaneous

You blast the mind of a creature that you can see within range, attempting to shatter its intellect and personality. The target takes 4d6 psychic damage and must make an Intelligence saving throw.

On a failed save, the creature’s Intelligence and Charisma scores become 1. The creature can’t cast spells, activate magic items, understand language, or communicate in any intelligible way. The creature can, however, identify its friends, follow them, and even protect them.

At the end of every 30 days, the creature can repeat its saving throw against this spell. If it succeeds on its saving throw, the spell ends. The spell can also be ended by Greater Restoration, Heal, or Wish.

considering the characteristics described and implied by actors other than ikithon—caleb and astrid prominently—who are not motivated to deceive on ikithon’s behalf, feeblemind is not consistent with caleb’s mental break.

fact the first: when bren broke, he became violent and spellcasted.

when astrid describes the circumstances in which he was taken to the vergessen sanatorium (e89, 1:49:30), she refers to his lashing out as “creat[ing] a lot of sparks everywhere else” and rubs at burn scars across her neck. she says that they had to subdue him because he was too dangerous. all of these statements add up to a bren who was viciously spellcasting at his friends and mentor when he broke down.

this wouldn’t have been possible if he’d been feebleminded. feeblemind explicitly prevents the affected creature from casting spells or activating magic items. in that scenario, the only thing bren would’ve been capable of is throwing hands. from him? not very dangerous at all.

how do we know astrid wasn’t lying or intentionally deceptive? because she (and eadwulf) still cares so much for caleb that she risked her life multiple times to aid him. no one who would give caleb a map to a secret volstrucker vault with her own handwriting on it (e127, 29:29; and 30:57)—or intentionally fail to counterspell him when ikithon could’ve seen her do so—would lie to caleb about ikithon attempting to permanently feeblemind him if she knew.

to preempt the idea that astrid had set the m9 up: it’s very obvious she didn’t, since trent ikithon had clearly had no forewarning of a break-in. he would’ve at least been waiting in the vault, already prepared to subdue them quickly, if he’d known.

so it’s fair to determine that astrid would either be honest to the extent of her knowledge to caleb or make it clear that she couldn’t answer him. since she didn’t imply the latter, we can assume she was being honest. and because of astrid’s competence, it’s highly probable she would’ve noticed if his behavior was symptomatic of feeblemind over the years.

fact the second: bren’s mental condition repeatedly improved and regressed while he was institutionalized.

astrid states this in the same conversation about their subduing him after his breakdown (e89, 1:50:50). considering this with the context of their romantic relationship prior to his breakdown, her genuine care for him, and her rise to power that included accompanying ikithon frequently to the sanatorium (e127, 31:07)—astrid would’ve had the motivation and the opportunities to visit bren in person. she could’ve also kept well-abreast of his condition.

actual times of improvement and decline in the mental state that astrid first observed during his breakdown wouldn’t be consistent with feeblemind. although it reduces the victim’s intelligence score to 1, they still retain thought and their sense of identity without problems.

this is a maintenance of consistency and (relative) reason. feeblemind does not actually damage a person’s basic perception of reality. but the health of bren’s behavior throughout the years was instead very unstable.

fact the third: caleb doesn’t remember anything from the burning of his home up to his healing by the unknown cleric.

in the conversation with astrid in e89, he asks her what happened when he broke and explicitly says, “the last thing i remember is my home” (1:46:58). when he first tells beau and nott about his past, he explains that he doesn’t remember much of what happened to him there (e18, 2:51:54).

beyond the reduction to their intelligence, feeblemind doesn’t affect the victim’s ability to form memories. caleb’s keen mind feat and established narrative element of his eidetic memory would’ve still been present as well. therefore, feeblemind alone can’t explain such a significant, near-empty gap in his memory. he would still remember something.

even the possibility of trent ikithon altering them directly is precluded by the fact that the cleric’s healing removed the alterations to caleb’s memory. if all those years had been magically blocked away, they’d have returned when he was healed of everything else.

fact the fourth: sometimes, people really do just break.

nothing about caleb’s backstory is inconsistent with just... being a person living their life, even a terrible one. he was a young man that believed so zealously in his country and his purpose, abused by a powerful older man, that he did many horrible things and believed they were right. until finally he did something that he couldn’t process and broke down.

there’s two reoccurring, underlying assumptions i’ve noticed behind why this theory seems to be so compelling and popular:

caleb just seems so remorseful and traumatized by his double patricide. there’s no way he would’ve willingly murdered his parents. ikithon must have known and decided to preempt his inevitable betrayal.

everything we know about bren, especially from the horse’s own mouth, suggests that he had been willing (at least up until his mental break) to murder his parents. he was literally an extreme nationalist���a fascist, if you will. he was lawful evil (twitter source). he gratefully executed many “criminals” put in front of him, more than likely by burning them to death based on his ptsd. victims whom we now understand may not have been guilty of anything at all.

he was glad to do what he thought was best for the dwendalian empire, and he truly thought being volstrucker was the correct path. trent ikithon, his abuser, treated him as his favorite (e110, 3:30:58). because he believed.

that fervent faith, in fact, is the key to something like his breakdown in the first place. hearing the dying screams of his parents, bren was forced to confront a violent dissonance between his radical beliefs that condemned traitors (as he believed until the cleric’s healing) and the intuitive horror of murdering his parents that he couldn’t reconcile. this fathomless sense of betrayal is why caleb so deeply despised ikithon and himself.

a young evocation wizard who didn’t want his parents dead would’ve run into that burning house, feebleminded or not. someone magically compelled to set that fire would’ve understood what happened as soon as the charm left him and would definitely remember every detail once the cleric healed him.

caleb is remorseful and traumatized because he willingly murdered his parents. as well as many others.

it can’t be that simple. caleb was institutionalized for eleven years just because his abuser pushed him too far? there must be a more nefarious reason. ikithon even said he basically stored him for later.

putting aside the fact that bren having a breakdown in the way he did makes complete sense for his situation, ikithon’s “claim” that he orchestrated all of caleb’s subsequent years is not only something he never actually says (e110, 3:16:34)—it is a claim that’s patently absurd.

i’ve written meta that discusses this in the past (link here). essentially though, the number of moving pieces and assumptions that would be needed for such a series of events is ridiculously improbable. even assuming that ikithon feebleminded him—so that caleb’s mind would be intact when he ‘woke up’—even assuming that ikithon somehow procured the service of a cleric of the archeart—a banned deity in the empire that would oppose ikithon...

why in the world would he ever reasonably believe that caleb widogast, the man he viciously betrayed and lied to and abused, would do anything to benefit ikithon?

trent ikithon is a mortal man. he has power, yes; enchantment magic, authority, and a history of abuse and manipulation over caleb’s head, yes. but ikithon is a mortal man. not a puppeteer in the sky piloting people’s bodies.

he certainly wouldn’t have led caleb to a whole new family that would change everything about his life for the better. a family that would love him, truly—a family that would help him heal, bear the weight of his guilt, and find a real future waiting for him again instead of a self-destructive end. a family that would fight tooth and nail for caleb’s sake against ikithon.

abusers lie. their biggest lie, the one they always circle back to in the end, is that their victim is unique: that there is something which makes them deserving of abuse, and that their abuser is both right and inescapable.

ikithon is read as honest because he chooses his words carefully and has the self-confidence to believe it. everything he’s claimed about caleb and his past have either been implications that he encouraged others to reach for him or platitudes empty of everything except gaslighting intent.

caleb has escaped. and everything ikithon wants is to convince caleb and his friends that he continues to control caleb’s life, that caleb is special, so he can regain some influence over a man who’s come to command so much power.

the idea that caleb must’ve been feebleminded—that he couldn’t have just had a mental breakdown like so many other prospective volstrucker before miraculously, then strenuously, recovering to create a hopeful future for himself—falls into the trap of validating ikithon’s lies.

trent ikithon didn’t see and believe in caleb’s ‘full potential’ before anyone else did. he didn’t foresee a single ounce of the man’s struggle to put himself back together after what he suffered. caleb was not institutionalized to serve as a toy to one day pull back out of the closet. there was no feeblemind or other secretive plan that could only serve to obfuscate the brutal truth:

ikithon abused a boy until he shattered, and tried to hide the evidence. a crime that he’s committed against countless other children. plain and simple.

so that’s my piece.

caleb widogast—bren ermendrud—was not the victim of a premeditated feeblemind from ikithon, based on the mechanics of the spell. even more importantly, the narrative of his and ikithon’s stories would suffer if he was.

now,

A LOGICAL POSSIBILITY I WON’T DENY.

what if ikithon feebleminded him as a method to subdue him after the breakdown?

this is more or less an alternate theory that’s irrelevant to the points i actually wanted to make. but i want to talk about it anyway because it’s kind of fun.

fact the bonus: bren spent eleven years in the sanatorium.

eleven years is a long time. he would’ve been able to save every 30 days after the initial failed save. the exandrian calendar has about eleven 30-day periods every year. assuming a feeblemind spell cast on him just prior to his institutionalization, that’s somewhere around 121 possible save attempts, give or take a few.

what’s the likelihood of him actually saving? to go through the mechanics:

normally, feeblemind reduces a person’s intelligence score to 1, modifier -5. caleb, as a variant human, possessed the feat keen mind from the beginning both mechanically and story-wise. this would make his intelligence score 2, modifier -4, even after feeblemind.

as a level 1-2 wizard, he would’ve had proficiency in intelligence saves. this would be +2 to his save.

in total, the modifier to bren’s intelligence saves would be -2.

in order to cast feeblemind, trent ikithon would have to have been a minimum level 15 wizard. this leaves two possible proficiency bonuses to determine his spell save dc: +5 or +6.

it’s probably safe to assume that his intelligence score is at least 18–20, likely 20. this would be a modifier of +4 or +5. (his intelligence could be 22+ if matt wanted to be a real dick, but let’s assume otherwise.)

spell save dc = 8 + spellcasting score mod (for wizards, this is intelligence) + proficiency bonus.

this means trent ikithon’s possible spell save dc is somewhere from 17–19.

therefore:

at minimum—17 being ikithon as a level 15–16 wizard with an intelligence score of 18–19 at the time of casting—bren would have to roll a 19 or nat 20 to make the save with his -2 save modifier.

at a dc of 18—ikithon either being level 17–20 or having an intelligence score of 20, but not both—bren would have to roll a nat 20.

at a dc of 19(+), it would be impossible for bren to save without additional bonuses such as bless.

i don’t have the brainpower to calculate some real statistical probabilities, but depending on your opinion of trent ikithon’s probable capabilities at the time of bren’s mental break, he may have been able to save against feeblemind sometime during the eleven years he spent at the sanatorium.

naturally, this has the earlier-mentioned conundrum of remembering that return of clarity once he was healed by the cleric, should ikithon have been retrieved to recast the feeblemind and altered his memories. nevertheless, it may or may not be a fun thought to play around with.

[eyayah-oya]

Return to Me

Clone Ship Week | Day 6 | Post-Battle - @cloneshipweek

Cody/Rex

Rating: G

Warnings: mentions of Point Rain, canon typical violence, disgustingly cute happy ending

Ao3 link

           Geonosis was just as awful as every vod had ever described. It was hot and dusty, of course, but Cody didn’t really care about any of that.  It was the number of brothers he’d lost on the way to Point Rain, the hundreds more killed by the bugs and their weaponry, on top of all the droids that seemed to come in never-ending waves.

           Cody and the rest of the 212th were going to join General Mundi and the 21st Nova Marine Corps on the other side of the planet while Rex and his men worked with Gree and the 41st under General Unduli.  They would be taking on the enormous droid factory the next day, and Cody would not be able to help any of them.  He would have his own mission to run.

           There were hundreds of vod’e all over the fortified base they’d managed to find and set up camp in.  Brothers from all four battalions mingled and shared increasingly exaggerated stories.  Cody had spotted Corporals Fives and Echo talking to some boys from the 21st, and he’d seen the medics fussing over the injured vod’e and generals.  But there was no sign of Cody’s cyare.

           “Lieutenant!” Cody called to 2nd Lieutenant Jesse of the 501st.

           Jesse snapped off a sharp salute.  “Sir!”

           “At ease, Lt.  Have you seen Rex around recently?” Cody asked.

           Thinking for a moment, Jesse slowly nodded.  “I think I saw him over by the remaining gunships, sir. He was talking to General Skywalker about half an hour ago.”

           Cody nodded and clapped the trooper on his shoulder. “Thanks.  Make sure you take some time to rest, Lt.  We’re in for a rough campaign.”

           “Of course, sir.  You do the same and see if you can get Rex to sleep, too.”

           As Cody walked away, he chuckled to himself.  Little brothers were getting uppity.  At the start of the war, there was no way any trooper, let alone one from a different battalion, would have talked to him so casually.  It was a testament to how well the men of the 501st were relaxing around their Jedi and learning how to be something besides soldiers.  It was nice.

           Cody prayed to whatever gods watched over clones bred for war that Rex hadn’t gone back up to the Resolute already.  He needed to see Rex and make sure his cyare was alright. Too many vod’e were walking wounded, and even more were severely injured or dead.  As much as he knew it was a real possibility, Cody did not want to ever consider a reality where Rex marched on ahead of him.

           “Hey, Commander!” Commander Tano chirped from out of nowhere.  She smiled up at him with bright eyes that hadn’t been weighed down by war yet.  She still had hope and Cody prayed that she would never lose that.  Yet another thing he prayed for to unknown gods.

           “Hello, Commander.”  Cody dodged a pair of vod’e carrying a crate full of supplies and glanced down at Commander Tano.  “Can I help you with something?”

           “Jesse said you’re looking for Rex?  I know where he is!  But we have to hurry before my Master pulls him away again.”

           If Commander Tano was willing to help him find Rex, Cody was definitely not going to say no.  Especially after the massacre they’d just faced.  “Thank you, Commander,” he said, warm affection warming his chest briefly. “I appreciate it.”

           Commander Tano waved away his thanks.  “It’s no problem.  I get it.  Master Skywalker practically ran to Master Kenobi’s side as soon as we got here, and I know Jesse went to go find a batchmate of his from the 41st. Sometimes, you just need to make sure everyone’s alive.”

           “That is very wise, Commander,” Cody said.  He really shouldn’t be surprised, but in his mind, the Commander was just so young.  She shouldn’t have insights into how war worked, and why they needed time to recuperate after a bad battle, if only to reassure themselves that their loved ones made it out alive or to mourn the ones that hadn’t.

           There were far too many mourning vod’e.

           “I have a great teacher,” Commander Tano said with a warm smile.  “Rex said you taught him a lot of what he knows and he’s been passing some of that down to me.  It’s helped me in some tough situations, so I should be thanking you, Commander.”

           “No thanks necessary, Commander,” Cody managed to say without choking or giving away his emotions.  Not that it probably mattered since Jedi were attuned to the people around them.  Only General Kenobi had ever thanked him for anything, and Cody was convinced that his General would thank Ventress after she stabbed him with her saber.  Karking di’kutla jetti.

           “Anyway, Rex is over in that tent, hopefully taking a nap. Coric was threatening him earlier with sedation, so he might have followed through on that threat.”

           And with that, Commander Tano skipped away, most likely to terrorize some poor shiny who wouldn’t know how to deal with an overly friendly shiny Jedi Commander. Cody privately wished he had a holo of their flailing.  It would provide some good laughs in the future.

           Cody strode over to the tent Commander Tano had pointed out, and knocked on the frame.

           “Come in,” Rex called and something inside of Cody’s chest loosened.

           He undid the fastenings and stepped inside, taking his bucket off immediately.  Rex was sitting on the cot, a datapad in his hands, likely going over the initial casualty reports for the battle.  Most importantly, he was very much alive.

           “Rex,” Cody gasped out with a strangled breath.

           Rex jerked at his voice and then a second later, Cody had his arms wrapped around his cyare, breathing him in as he held on as tight as he could.

           “Cody!  You’re okay!” Rex said.  He pulled back to give Cody a sharp look.  “You are okay, right?”

           “Yes, I am.  I didn’t end up getting injured.  That was purely my General,” Cody said, trying for some dry humor but it fell flat in the face of their combined relief.  “What about you?  I heard you got thrown off a wall?”

           “Karking Fives and Echo,” Rex growled.  “General Skywalker and Ahsoka caught me, so I wasn’t hurt.  Nothing beyond a few bumps and bruises.”

           Cody ran his eyes over Rex’s body, as though that would tell him if Rex was hiding any injuries with the armor in the way.  Once he verified that there wasn’t any gaping hole or crack in Rex’s armor, Cody dropped his helmet to the ground and pulled Rex into a bruising kiss.  His cyare responded eagerly, clinging desperately to the hard, sharp planes of Cody’s armor.  There was no finesse, no sweetness in the kiss.  Just pure, heady relief and a desperation to prove that they really survived.

           Rex gripped Cody’s hair tightly with one hand, the other wrapping around his waist to pull him as close as their armor would allow. He sucked on Cody’s bottom lip and gently nibbled before letting go and pressing his head against Cody’s in a soft keldabe.

           “I was so worried when we heard that most of your gunships went down, including General Kenobi’s.  You’re usually flying with him.”

           “We decided to split our forces.  It was a really close call a few times, but we made it.  We both made it,” Cody answered.  He was shaking from relief at having Rex in his arms, alive and unharmed.  Nothing would ever be able to beat that heady feeling of overwhelming gratitude to whatever gods were listening.  They’d listened to at least one of his prayers today.

           “Stay alive tomorrow,” Cody demanded after a moment of just breathing each other in.  “That factory is going to be really dangerous.”

           “I know.  Gree is a solid vod, though.  He’ll have my back and I’ll have his.  Plus, we have the Jedi to help keep us safe.”

           Cody very carefully didn’t think about the many times General Skywalker had gotten men killed by doing something reckless or stupid. The R2 droid was not important enough to sacrifice his padawan, Rex, and three other men to General Grievous.  Out of four, only Rex and Denal had made it back, and Commander Tano had nearly been killed by Grievous when she kept Grievous from killing Rex, all for a droid.  Cody was skeptical, but he also had faith in Commander Tano and General Unduli and her padawan.  They’d protect the men while Skywalker handled whatever crazy idea he had.

           “We will be safe,” Rex said, giving Cody a shake. “While you’re off with the Marines, you should talk to Bacara.  They’re out of contact with most of the GAR.  Only Neyo and Jet can get through the blockades to deliver supplies and intelligence to Nova.”

           A frown carved the worry lines on his face deeper as Cody absorbed that information.  “I’ll talk to him.  See what we can do,” Cody swore.

           Rex nodded.  “Good.  He’ll keep you alive.  Bacara already told me he’s planning on sharing all of my embarrassing ARC training stories to you while you’re on campaign together.”

           Cody grinned.  “I’ve been trying to pull those out of Neyo, Keeli, Thorn, and Thire for ages now.  And Bacara’s the one to spill the beans?”

           Rex grumbled and buried his face against the crook of Cody’s neck.  “He said I don’t have enough blackmail material on him to keep him from blabbing. He also said I don’t scare him because, and I quote, “I’m as terrifying as a sleepy baby nexu cub buried in a pile of nip”.”

           “That—is strangely accurate,” Cody choked out, laughing at Rex’s offended growl.  “You’re a little prickly, but everyone knows you’re just a softy.  I mean, you’ve been teaching Commander Tano what I taught you?”

           His cyare shrugged.  “She’s in the middle of a war, and she doesn’t have the training we do. I don’t want to see her die when I could have prevented it.  Nor do I want to see my vod’e die because she makes a bad decision.  I’m giving her all the tools she’ll need to be successful and survive this war.”

           “You’ve adopted her.”  Cody couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before.  Rex had always loved with all his heart, as evidenced by the numerous vod’e who loved him unconditionally.  Of course, Commander Tano would have made the list.  “If she’s yours, then she’s mine, too,” Cody said. “We’re in this together.”

           Rex finally peeked his head back out from where he’d hidden it against the small sliver of skin on Cody’s neck.  “Really?”

           Cody didn’t hesitate.  He nodded and bumped their foreheads together.  “I promise.”

           For the first time since their first kiss, Cody had the amazing opportunity to see Rex completely and totally flustered.  He blushed bright red, sputtering and coughing as he tried to find something to say.

           It took a few minutes for Rex to completely compose himself and then it was Cody’s turn to be flustered.  “Are you asking me to be your riduur?”

           “What?” Cody spluttered.

           For a second, Rex faltered.  But then he squared his jaw and firmed his spine as if he was facing the worst of odds in a battle.  “We are one when together.  We already do that, and have done that since we were cadets.  We are one when apart.  At this point, I don’t think there’s anything that could separate us, even when we’re fighting on opposite ends of the galaxy.  We share all.  We tell each other everything.  You said it yourself.  What’s mine is yours, too.  We will raise warriors.  We are raising Ahsoka together, since we share all.  Not to mention all of our men that we’ve both trained since this war started. If that doesn’t count, I don’t know what would.

           “So, are you asking me to be your riduur?”

           As Rex laid out each point, Cody found himself agreeing. He and Rex were already married, they just hadn’t said the vows to each other yet.  And honestly, there wasn’t a better time than now.  Cody would rather be married to the love of his life for a few hours, then never have married him and watched him die in battle.

           “Yes, Rex of Torrent.  I am asking you to be my riduur,” Cody said, determination in every cell of his body.

           Rex lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Cody, bringing their foreheads together.  “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde,” Rex swore fervently, his whole heart bared for Cody to see.

           “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde,” Cody echoed the vow, offering Rex his heart with every breath.

           They shared the same space for a moment, pressing into the keldabe more firmly before their lips brushed together.  Like a firework had been set off in his bones, Cody tugged Rex into a passionate, over-whelming kiss that stole their breath away.  He could feel his heart swelling with the amount of love he felt for Rex, bursting out from behind the dam he kept on his emotions most days.  It rolled over him until the only thing he could think of was that Rex was alive, in his arms, and that they were now married.  What more could Cody care for in that moment?

           Eventually, air became a necessity, and they broke away from each other to breathe.  Rex gave a soft chuckle.  “You do realize that means you’re going to have to adopt Ahsoka, too, right?”

           “YES!  I get two dads AND Cody has to call me by my name now!”

           “Shh, they can hear you, Soka.”

           “Oops!  Everyone scatter!”

           Cody laughed.  His heart couldn’t contain the joy he felt, and he would carry that joy throughout the war as a hopeful flame for when they could all have peace again. But in that moment, he had all night with his riduur, and Cody planned on making the most of it.

[jgvfhl]

THE NUMBER LADS ARE STILL HERE!!

Some of these chapters might be uh... less than consistent with the actual chronology of TCW but that's what they get when they don't air the episodes in order! (Read Part 1 and Part 2!)

CT-2222 = Do-si-do = Double Trouble

CT-3333 = Trees = Leafs

ARC-5555 = Fives (duh) = high fives

ARC-1409 = Echo (honorary number lad) = BetterDomino

CC-6666 = Sixes/Death = DEATH

ARC-7777 = Sevenset = RedBoiiiii

CT-8888 = Loops = Loopy

Trees had almost forgotten about the Numbers meeting. Honestly, the only thing reminding him of the day of the week was his own internal clock. A lot had happened, okay? Geonosis was never “fun” for anyone, and he was just glad it was over. His general and commander had both nearly died there--which was only a first for Commander Offee, because that had been the second campaign to Geonosis, and that wasn’t even including the damn brain worms--kriffing sithspit he needed a nap.

But a nap would wait until he could tell the others he was okay. Fortunately, he’d set a reminder for it, so at least he wouldn’t be getting half a dozen comms from Sevenset or Do-si-do about being late. The rest of his squadron was sound asleep by the time the meeting was supposed to start, so out of courtesy, Trees walked to the mess hall, which, at this time, was all but empty. One or two others milled about, looking just as exhausted as Trees felt. He took a seat in one corner, setting the holoprojector on the table and waiting for the transmission to start.

And trying not to fall asleep.

Sevenset started the meeting, Fives and Echo standing beside him like they had last month. They were approaching graduation by now, weren’t they?

“Hey, Trees,” Sevenset smiled.

“Hi.”

“How was bug world?” Fives asked.

Trees gave them a deadpan stare. “How do you think? I’m sure your friends in Torrent have plenty of stories.” The 501st had also been on Geonosis--their Commander Tano had been with Commander Offee onboard the medical transport infested with kriffing brain worms.

Echo smirked. “Yeah, we heard General Skywalker and Commander Tano threw Captain Rex off a building.”

“They did what?” Loops had appeared just as Echo had started speaking.

“Yeah, they’ve done it a lot, apparently,” Fives nodded.

“Kinda sad I missed it,” his batcher said.

“Devastated.”

Trees blinked slowly. “You aren’t. Believe me.”

Sevenset chuckled. “Yeah, you look like you’re falling asleep over there.”

Trees rubbed his face. “Yeah well,” he sighed, resting his chin on his hand, “when your general and commander nearly die twice on the same campaign, and somehow it involves mind controlling parasites, you’d be a little tired.”

The other four all raised their eyebrows at him. Before they had time to ask questions, however, a third hologram appeared. Trees recognized Do-si-do instantly, sitting at a table instead of in his cockpit like normal. But next to him was a new face--as it were. Judging from the glasses on the table and the shifting lighting, they were at 79s on Coruscant. Lucky bastards.

“I found zero!” Do-si-do announced happily. The man next to him gave a little two-finger salute.

Right after that, two more holograms appeared, which made Trees blink and sit up a bit straighter. He was used to Commander Sixes by now--honestly, he was--but after years of training to recognize COs and react accordingly, it was hard to shake the urge to go to attention. But the commander wasn’t the only one joining. Judging by the dull fuschia color of his armor, this was number four, from the Nova Corps.

He looked like he would rather crawl under a rock. Trees had felt similarly upon being press-ganged by Sevenset and Do-si-do to join them.

Sevenset’s face lit up at the two new holograms. “Commander!”

“Stow it, ARC,” came the immediate gruff reply.

“We’ve got two ARCs now,” Do-si-do was quick to point out, tapping the pauldrons of the man next to him.

The commander looked at the newcomer, then looked back at Sevenset. “He knows who I mean.”

“Indeed I do,” the ARC in question answered. “But hey! Two whole new numbers!” Trees couldn’t help the small smile forming on his face. Sevenset’s joy was contagious. “What do we call you guys?”

“I’m Zero,” the man next to Do-si-do replied. He had dark green paint over his armor, --maybe now Trees could convince Sevenset to change his name in the group chat to something other than Green Bean. His pauldrons were both green, and there was an inverted chevron visible over his grey chestpiece. Zero’s head was shaved on both sides, leaving a wide strip of curls down the center, and a tattoo on one side that Trees couldn’t quite make out from the hologram. He also caught sight of wide loops set into his earlobes. This guy almost had Sevenset beat for aesthetic.

They all turned their attention to the marine, who shrank back minisculely from his holoprojector. “Uhm…” He looked like he’d bolt at the next opportunity.

“It’s just your name, marine,” the commander prompted.

Instantly, the man answered, “Fours. I’m Fours.” Fours looked almost regulation from where Trees was sitting. It was hard to tell over hologram, but there might have been the remnants of a dye-job in his short hair, but it was too overgrown to be recognizable. The Nova Corps really didn’t get much time off. The armor they could see on him had vertical stripes painted over each shoulder, ending mid-way down his chestplate, as well as one down the center of his chest, and stripes down each shoulder bell.

Sevenset beamed at them both. “Well, welcome to the party. I’m Sevenset. I see Fours has already met the charming Commander Sixes.” The rest of them introduced themselves one by one, with Sevenset mentioning Echo’s “honorary number status” briefly.

“So… what do you guys actually do in these meetings?” Zero asked afterwards.

Several of the older members shrugged. Sevenset answered, “Eh, just chat. Or… I dunno, spread gossip.”

“They’re largely useless,” the commander said plainly.

Trees smirked at Sevenset’s eyeroll. “Yet, you keep coming to them, Commander,” the red ARC reminded him.

Do-si-do added, “He’s actually never missed one since you dragged him into it.”

Trees could confirm that--he often kept tabs on attendance just so he knew when to be worried if someone missed out. But he also wanted to keep watching Sevenset and Do-si-do taunt Death.

Zero and Fours both looked surprised, although Fours’ expression was a bit harder to read. He was still pretty on-edge. “How did you get Commander Death to join, anyway?” Zero asked, swirling the contents of his glass.

“Sheer willpower,” Sevenset answered smugly.

The commander crossed his arms. “I’m actually waiting for your last functioning brain cell to die from lack of stimulation. It’ll be funnier on camera.”

Fives and Do-si-do both burst out laughing--a problem for the latter, who had just taken a mouthful from his drink and consequently sprayed half of it across the table. Echo and Loops simply had huge grins on their faces, an expression Trees found mirrored on his own face. Sevenset had a sort of strained smile as he waited for Fives and Do-si-do to recover.

“I’m touched you have so much concern for me, Commander.”

“Oh, I’m concerned, alright.” The remark made Fives and Do-si-do break up again.

The commander was definitely warming up to the group, even Trees could see it. He would probably never admit it, but since his first meeting, he’d thawed a bit. Trees almost wished he could have seen their first meeting on Kamino, just to know how close the commander had been to wringing Sevenset’s neck. For old time’s sake.

Once the laughter had died down into smiles, Zero looked to the two batchers standing with Sevenset. “When are you two graduating, anyway?”

“Next week!” Fives announced, beaming with pride.

“Yeah, we get our new gear tomorrow,” Echo smiled.

“Which means this guy,” Fives added, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders, “is going to stay up all night reading about it, right Echo?”

Echo shrugged his arm off with a well-worn scowl. Trees frowned a little. “Hey, reading up on the kit isn’t a bad idea. I did it. I’ll probably do it again when Phase Two comes out, whenever that’s gonna be.”

Vindicated, Echo folded his arms and lifted his chin at his brother, who rolled his eyes. Zero tipped his glass towards them. “Well, you survived this long. Have fun next week.” He drained what was left of the drink, then slid the glass to the center of the table. Trees really couldn’t wait for leave… he needed a drink after Geonosis. And not just the stuff the boys managed to sneak onboard.

“Hey, Zero,” Loops spoke up, leaning forward a little. “Why haven’t I heard much about the one-eigteenth?”

A good question. Trees knew rather little about Zero’s legion, aside from knowing it was in the Seventh Sky Corps along with the 501st and the 212th. He didn’t even know which Jedi led it.

“Probably--” The green ARC started to answer, then something out of frame caught his attention, and he held up a finger. He stood up and they heard him shout, “Incident! Off the ceiling! Troll, stop helping!” He leaned down. “Hang on.” Then he disappeared out of frame.

“Is someone actually on the ceiling?” Fives asked, looking to Do-si-do for answers.

The pilot nodded, his attention directed upward. “I don’t know how he did it. But he did.”

“Okay, so Torrent should never meet them,” Echo said. “I think we’d watch as the captain went grey from stress before our eyes.”

Fives grinned. “I dunno, it could be fun.”

“No, it would be fun,” his brother agreed, “right until you blow something up and get yourself and others hurt. Then Kix would have your balls.”

“Worth it.” Echo looked between Sevenset and Fives, who had both spoken, then rubbed his face with both hands.

Commander Sixes shook his head. “Never have these problems with my boys.”

Zero returned a minute or two later, another drink in his hand. “Okay. Sorry about that, someone got a balloon stuck in the rafters, and Incident thought it was a good idea to retrieve it.”

“Did he get it?” Loops asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“Because he got a reward for climbing to the ceiling to get it, and he’ll probably try it again later.” He took a drink. “Anyway. One-eighteenth. We’re pretty small for a legion, which is probably why you haven’t heard of us. One company of the two-twelfth is probably most of our troops.”

“Who’s your General?” Echo asked.

“General Veekah Bala.” He got mostly blank stares and couple heads shaking. “Yeah, well. She’s pretty awesome. Togruta, double-bladed lightsaber. Kinda young, like Skywalker, but…” He paused, like he was looking for the right words.

“More sane?” Fives offered. Trees smirked. Skywalker had quite the reputation.

Zero shrugged. “I guess? Dunno, maybe she’s just crazy in a different way.”

“What do you guys do when you’re that small?” Loops prompted further.

“Special stuff--kind of like Rancor, actually. The demo jobs, the stealth missions, that kind of stuff. Each company has a specialty.”

Do-si-do bumped their elbows together lightly. “What’s yours?”

“I’m in Whisper Company. We do stealth and recon and stuff like that. Firebolt is our demo team--that’s… where Troll and Incident are.” He cast a glance towards the ceiling.

Motion drew Trees’ eye to Fives, who had leaned over to whisper something to Echo. Echo thought for a second, then shook his head, a small smile on his face. With Torrent’s reputation, they might like Firebolt, from the sounds of it.

“The other two are Blitz, who hate clankers and bugs more than anyone I’ve ever met, and Enigma, who have made it their sworn mission to hack General Grievous,” Zero finished.

“Hack him?” Sevenset repeated, voicing the confusion on the others’ faces. Except for the commander, because his helmet was still on.

Zero sighed, scratching his head. “Yeah, I dunno. They figure because he’s a cyborg, they can hack his cybernetic parts, right? They’re obsessed. The general totally enables them, too. The Enigma hazing ritual is to hack into a B1 as fast as you can.”

Trees’ face scrunched up slightly. They just kept battle droids around for initiation? That… didn’t seem safe. He and Fours seemed to have similar skeptical reactions to it, but Fives and Echo were nodding along like it made perfect sense. Trees was so glad to be in the 41st.

“What about Whisper?” Loops wanted to know.

Zero just smiled slyly and held up something so they could see. Trees recognized it. Most pilots he’d met had a lucky charm of some kind, either painted on their armor, or their ship, or it was an object they kept with them at all times. Do-si-do had the latter kind: his charm was a dark brown rock with a hole through the center, always in his utility belt. But suddenly it wasn’t.

Do-si-do’s eyes went comically wide for a second, then his hand was flying to the empty pouch on his belt. “What--hey!”

Zero put the stone on the table and slid it to him. “That’s what we do.”

“Steal stuff?” the pilot shot back, snatching the stone up and clutching it to his chest.

“We always give it back.”

Do-si-do was still frowning darkly as he carefully replaced his charm in his belt.

“Huh,” Sevenset nodded. “You guys sound pretty cool. Shame I only learned about you now, honestly.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, we’re usually out of the way, anyway. You know what that’s like, right, Fours?”

The marine stiffened at the sudden attention, and at the subsequent attention from everyone else. Poor guy. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Oh, hey, how’s that mission with Death going?” Sevenset asked him, looking between the marine and the commander. “That’s how he found you right?”

Fours nodded. “Yeah. It’s… good, I guess?”

“They needed the help, that’s for sure,” the commander added. “Although, Bacara’s doing a pretty good job without the general around.”

Trees nodded, remembering General Mundi had assisted on Geonosis, and likely hadn’t been cleared to return to the Nova Corps yet after the assault. Some of the others looked a little lost, though. He reminded them.

“How long do you think he’ll be out?” Fours asked quietly. Trees couldn’t tell if it was genuine concern behind the question or curiosity.

He shrugged. “No idea. I never actually saw him, he was with the two-twelfth most of the time.”

The commander made some nonverbal reply to that before adding, “Well, at least he’ll be coming back. Geonosis has done worse before.”

He would know. Trees had looked him up after his first appearance, just like he had done for them. Commander Sixes had taken part in the first assault on Geonosis over three years ago. As Trees had dug a little deeper, he’d discovered almost nothing but casualty reports in connection. The commander had lost all but three of his original unit that day. Of the three left, two had died in combat, and the third just had a lot of “unknowns” in the report. That might explain the prickly shell of a personality.

Yeah, well, there weren’t brain worms the first time, Trees thought, rubbing his face tiredly. He then realized he’d spoken out loud when the guys who hadn’t been there first balked at him. Whoops.

“Brain worms?” Loops repeated, recoiling, his nose scrunched in disgust. Fours had a similar, though silent, reaction.

“Should’ve had Blitz Co there,” Zero remarked, barely fazed by the revelation.

The commander was oddly silent.

Trees shook his head. “Yeah, well, I’m tired, so I’m gonna turn in. Make sure you add Fours and Zero to the comm link.”

Sevenset nodded. “Will do, Green Bean.”

Trees leveled a deadpan stare at him. “Zero’s green too, get creative. And you’re not the only ARC now, ‘ARCBoi with five i’s,’” he told him, then clicked off the holoprojector.

-------

RedBoiiiii: [image file]

RedBoiiiii: LOOK AT THE NEW ARCS LOOK AT THEM!!!!!

Double Trouble: Yes!! Congrats, guys!

d0nut man: yay! nice paint

high fives: hey how’d you get that so fast??

RedBoiiiii: i know a guy :)

Fives+1: thanks do si do

high fives: echo what is your name

Fives+1: *long sigh*

RedBoiiiii: lol you can change it if you want. i’m the only one with the power to change other people’s names bc i created the chat

BetterDomino: got it

high fives: hey

Double Trouble: oof

d0nut man: hey my buddy Pixel has a handprint too

d0nut man: but he sprays paint around his hand instead of putting the paint on it to make the shape

high fives: oh neat

d0nut man: what’s yours for echo?

BetterDomino: captain rex put a handprint on my original kit on our first mission

high fives: in blood

RedBoiiiii: BLOOD???

BetterDomino: not human blood to be clear

Leafs: and that makes it better???

Leafs: oh maker’s sake, sevenset, really? Leafs?

RedBoiiiii: >:3

BetterDomino: it was rishi eel blood

d0nut man: oh okay

Double Trouble: that tracks

Double Trouble: oh does this mean you’re heading back to the 501st?

RedBoiiiii: yes :’((((

high fives: yeah we got back a couple hours ago

RedBoiiiii: i cri

DEATH: sack up sevens, kamino has enough water without you adding to it

RedBoiiiii: why do you only come into these chats to roast me?

DEATH: you keep standing in firepits

Double Trouble: ouch

high fives: commander sixes sir

BetterDomino: oh no i saw his face

high fives: that was amazing

BetterDomino: aaaaaaand fives has a new idol

high fives: hey echo you wanna come down off your bunk and say that?

BetterDomino: nope im all comfy

Leafs: kick his ass fives

high fives: >:)

Loopy: okay well you guys have been busy

Loopy: oh! Congrats domino the kits look awesome

RedBoiiiii: LOOPS!

BetterDomino: thanks loops!

Loopy: hi sevenset, how are those burns treating you?

RedBoiiiii: what burns

DEATH: you know

Loopy: yeah those :)

RedBoiiiii: ah

WELL IT'S BEEN A SIZZLIN' SECOND SINCE I POSTED PART 2 but that's okay :) Life has been a bit hectic, and also I forgot. Also!! Zero belongs to my dear friend @23-bears and the 118th lads and General Bala have their own blog: @118th-special-forces. Go say hi! And yes, I have part 4 written, so hopefully it won't be another EON between chapters 😬

@blsmjoon @nintendolover13 @darth-void @glubtheflyingfish @peacefulwizardfox @theultimatesandwich @alamogirl80

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt16  /  on AO3

 Nie Huaisang learns more about his future self, and gets burdened with yet another annoying mission

Winter was never Nie Huaisang’s favourite season to begin with. It was cold, and wet, and grey, and generally unpleasant in every possible way. To make it worse, that year he wasn’t even allowed to head out of the Unclean Realm for a bit of bird watching, nor indeed to go alone in Qinghe to check the food, or just wander around and have fun. Nie Mingjue might not have been too upset about his brother failing his classes but he was still generally angry. He had apparently been worried sick about him disappearing, fearing the Wens had decided to take his brother from him, after having murdered his father.

After Nie Mingjue had confessed that fear to him one evening, Nie Huaisang stopped complaining against being grounded. Once, merely a year earlier, he would have called his brother paranoiac for jumping to that conclusion, and continued whining until he got his punishment lifted. Now though, with his older self’s promise of a war to come… It made him wish he could have found another way to rescue Xue Yang from his fate without worrying his brother. It also pushed him to make more of an effort to be a nice and obedient brother, though all that got him was Nie Mingjue thinking he’d gotten sick and asking the sect's doctor to check on him several times.

So Nie Huaisang was stuck in the Unclean Realm, bored beyond belief, constantly aching from all the training his monster of a brother forced him to do, wishing he could just go for a walk and do a bit of bird watching or find a nice landscape to paint. It was truly hell. Though at least, being constantly home gave him a chance to practice the guqin (he’d bought one of his own on the one and only outing to Qinghe he’d been allowed, after which Nie Mingjue complained at length about him spending too much money as always) and to keep a close eye on Xue Yang. That was nearly a full time job.

It was almost a relief when one night, his future self appeared in his room as he was preparing for bed. Unpleasant as their encounters tended to be, at least Nie Huaisang would know if his great plan had worked. So he sat cross-legged on his bed, and waited for the scolding that was sure to come.

“I should have come earlier,” his future self said with some annoyance, looking no angrier than he always did. “But my last visit drained me more than planned. When are you returning to the Cloud Recesses?”

“In a week,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, pointing at a pile of trinkets he’d just gotten around to unpacking from his previous stay. “Da-ge said to wait until after the new years celebration to start preparing, because I always bother the servants otherwise, and they’re busy enough already, and…”

“How is da-ge?” his future self interrupted. “Didn’t he hurt himself during a Night Hunt around this time?”

Nie Huaisang nodded. It had worried everyone when Nie Mingjue had returned from a Night Hunt with long gashes on his chest due to a particularly nasty fierce corpse, and they’d all made a big fuss of it. But in the end it hadn’t been anything threatening, and Nie Mingjue had healed quickly. In fact, he was currently absent on another Night Hunt, this time with Lan Xichen. That didn’t seem like a detail worth mentioning.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Nie Huaisang said, increasingly puzzled that his older self wasn’t scolding him yet. “It’s just, I’ve been wondering, you know and… well, is he alive now?”

His future self glared at him.

“What?”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang clarified. “I’ve changed things, right? He’s got to be alive in the future now, right? You’re not on your own anymore, are you?”

His older self went still and stared at him with wide, shining eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. After a moment the older man regained control of himself and turned away, opening his fan with a sharp gesture.

“That’s not how it works,” he hissed. “I thought it would be, but… but it’s not. I cannot change what has happened for me. My da-ge is dead, and nothing can change what happened to him. It’s… I don’t care. I’ve made my peace with that. He wouldn’t like what I’ve become anyway, and I couldn’t bear to lose him again, not like that. But I need to know…” 

He paused, and Nie Huaisang thought he heard a soft sob. 

“I have to know there’s a place out there where da-ge is alive. Not just alive, but he’s safe, he’s happy. No matter the cost to others and to myself, as long as da-ge is well… that’s what matters to me.”

For all the dislike Nie Huaisang had accumulated toward his older self, his heart ached to know that the man would never even get a chance to see Nie Mingjue again. It made him want to take his older self to have a chat with their brother, to see Nie Mingjue smile at him. Maybe he’d be a little less of a prick like that.

But since his older self was a prick, and unlikely to accept such an offer, Nie Huaisang instead jumped off his bed and went to take his hand to comfort him.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “Thanks for… thanks for saving my da-ge. I’m so sorry for yours, it must be…”

His older self turned around, tearing his hand free with such rage that Nie Huaisang stumbled a few steps backwards.

“I won’t be pitied by anyone!” the man hissed. “I’m not sorry for myself, and I forbid you to pity me, you stupid little brat! If I’d been smarter at your age I wouldn’t have let him die, so how dare you pity me?”

Nie Huaisang lowered his head and hunched his shoulders. His older self should have been happy: any pity he’d felt vanished instantly.

“Now tell me what I came here for,” his older self ordered. “Is Xue Yang dead?”

“He is,” Nie Huaisang lied, and he found it easier than he’d have expected, now that he knew the truth couldn't be discovered.

A certain tension left his older self’s shoulders at that answer. In fact, he seemed relieved enough that it worried Nie Huaisang a little, and almost made him confess the truth. If Xue Yang was really fated to become such a horrible person…

But he wasn’t horrible. Not yet, anyway. No more than a lot of other people were.

Xue Yang was a brat, sure. And he struggled with a lot of common decency, doing things like stealing from other kids, or stashing food away, or trying to fight teachers that disciplined him. But in those few weeks, Xue Yang had also made a lot of progress already. He’d started understanding that nobody would let him starve, so he didn’t need to hide food that would rot somewhere, and should instead eat everything that was presented to him right away if he was hungry. He was also slowly learning to accept that, a lot of the time, if he needed something he could ask for it instead of stealing it from someone. He still had a problem with authority, and that might never change, but he sometimes seemed to understand that the teachers were not his enemies, that they only wanted to help him learn.

But the turning point had happened just three days earlier. Xue Yang, with great reluctance, had finally explained how he’d lost his finger. From the defensive manner he told that story to Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue, it was likely that those he’d shared it with before might have mocked him for being naive enough to think he'd ever have gotten the sweet he'd been pormised. But Nie Mingjue, instead, asked if he remembered any names or precise locations, if he could recall when it had all happened, any details at all that might help if they decided to confront Chang Ci’an for what he’d done. In the end, Xue Yang’s memory had been too fuzzy to think of building up a case, something for which Nie Mingjue had expressed great regret, before saying he'd still keep an eye open in case he might discover who was the man whom Chang Ci'an had insulted.

The expression on Xue Yang’s face was one that Nie Huaisang wouldn’t ever forget. He’d looked… young. Like he really was an ordinary ten years old kid, instead of the tough criminal he tried to be. Like he might cry, just because someone was showing just and deserved horror over what had been done to him.

There was no saying whether Xue Yang would turn out good or not, whether the efforts of Qinghe Nie would be enough to bring him onto a more righteous path than would have been his, but they were going to try.

“This is wonderful,” Nie Huaisang’s older self said, fanning himself a little too fast, as if unable to contain his excitement. “I’ve always hated that little creep, even before he started slaughtering entire sects. Now the world is safe from that at least, and that’s one worry less for da-ge. Now, on to your next mission…”

“Are you ever going to stop giving me orders?” Nie Huaisang complained. “Every time I do something you say, you tell me there’s more to do!”

“Welcome to adulthood. Now shut up.”

But I’m not an adult, Nie Huaisang thought. He was just going to turn sixteen, there was an entire four years before he’d be considered fully grown. Even Nie Mingjue, who always complained about him being an immature brat, never actually demanded from him the things he’d have expected from an adult. After all, Nie Mingjue knew too well what it was to be forced to leave one’s youth behind too early, and he’d said multiple times he didn’t want that for his brother.

Too bad Nie Huaisang couldn’t extend the same courtesy to himself.

“I’ve had to give a lot of thought to the problem that is Wei Wuxian,” his older self said, starting to pace the room. “I still haven’t come up with a satisfying answer. On the one hand, it was so convenient to all of us when he left the established path during the Sunshot Campaign and became a horrifying master of death. But I can’t decide if it’s worth all the trouble it created after the war, when his new skills were no longer required. And it’s not like I could ask you to simply kill him after he’s stopped being useful because…”

“I appreciate that, actually.”

“I can’t ask you to kill him because you’d never be able to,” his older self dryly finished, pausing his pacing just long enough for a glare before he resumed walking. “Wei Wuxian is only the most brilliant cultivator of our generation, skilled in every martial art, a genius who has invented talismans and tools beyond your imagination. He’s already so talented you could never harm him now. By the time the war ends, the only way he could die is through self-destruction, as we’ve all come to learn.”

That sounded scary and, quite frankly, Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure he wanted to get anywhere near such a person. Geniuses tended to be difficult to deal with. Like his own brother, who was always so intense about everything, and didn’t have any hobbies except cultivation and leading their sect. Or Lan Wangji who was very intense as well, and had even less conversation than Nie Mingjue. Or Lan Xichen who…

Well. Actually, Lan Xichen wasn’t so bad these days. In fact, Nie Huaisang missed their music lessons, and he missed chatting together immensely, because Lan Xichen was one of the most interesting people he knew, along with Su She. Nie Huaisang couldn't wait to see him again. But it had taken a while to get there, and before they’d found common ground, Lan Xichen too had been boring and difficult to get along with.

The problem with geniuses, Nie Huaisang figured, was that they didn’t know how to have fun.

“Here is what we are going to do,” his older self announced, stopping his pacing and closing his fan to point it at Nie Huaisang. “You are going to befriend Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, as you were always meant to do. But you must also get closer to Lan Wangi…”

“What? But he’s awful!”

“...and make sure he befriends Wei Wuxian as well. None of that pining for a lifetime nonsense! If they become close earlier and realise their love as youths, then Wei Wuxian will probably not go dark quite as easily as he’s done from where I stand. And Jin Guangshan will hesitate a little more to antagonise Wei Wuxian if he thinks Gusu Lan too has close ties to him. Yunmeng Jiang was easy to pick on, but Gusu Lan is of a different class. Its sect leader might have been spineless, but anybody would think twice before crossing Lan Wangji. I think that’s our best course of action.”

Even more than before, Nie Huaisang became convinced that this Wei Wuxian had to be the least fun person in the world. After all, if someone like Lan Wangji could fall in love with a person, then that person had to be absolutely awful and boring. Wei Wuxian was probably a stickler for rules too. 

“Can’t I just help them without being their friend?” Nie Huaisang begged.

“Why wouldn’t you want to be Wei Wuxian’s friend?” his future self retorted, sounding puzzled by the request. “Whatever else he becomes later, I remember he was one of my favourite people when we studied together. I’ve always felt it was a shame he got kicked out so early. If he had stayed longer…”

The older man trailed off, his hand clenching on his fan, then promptly shook his head

“Nevermind,” he muttered. “Jiang Cheng was there the whole year, and that didn’t change anything to how shallow our friendship turned out to be. Just… just make sure to get them to like you, and help Wei Wuxian befriend Lan Wangji. But don’t get attached. No matter what promises you exchange with others, remember you don’t actually matter to anyone, so don’t let them matter to you either.”

“I won’t,” Nie Huaisang easily promised.

He didn’t think he was at any risk of ever liking someone who had Lan Wangji’s approval. And as for Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang had thought him to be a pretty interesting person when they’d met in Yunping City, but he was fairly sure the feeling was not mutual in the least.

“Excellent. I’ll cut this visit short then,” his older self announced. “Hopefully I will have recuperated enough for a brief visit in a month to hear about your progress. At worst, I’ll check on you for Qingming. Do not disappoint me.”

“I’ll try,” Nie Huaisang promised, but the older man had already disappeared.

It sounded like he had a very boring year ahead of himself.

And to make it worse, Su She was going to be so annoyed if he started hanging out with Lan Wangji.

[melanielocke]

Conceal don't Feel - Two

Love is an Open Door

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @alastair-appreciation-month @writeordie-4 @amchara

AO3

Previous chapter: One: Do You Wanna Build a Snowman

Next chapter: For the First Time in Forever (to be posted)

Cordelia had never been so disappointed in her entire life. She’d been promised a guest, someone closer to her and Alastair’s age, someone who could end her days of loneliness and be her friend. Father had told her about it himself on one of his better days, he’d invited someone of her generation to come help Alastair. She knew the guest would be there mainly for her brother, of course, but Alastair hated being around people and she was sure whoever the guest was would have plenty of time to spend with her instead. She’d longed for someone to end her loneliness for such a long time she had started fantasizing about the person who would be staying until she’d gotten some admittedly unrealistic expectations. Instead, Charles Fairchild had arrived.

He wasn’t as close to her age as had been promised. Instead, he was eight years older than her, which she guessed was technically her generation, but he found himself far too mature to spend time with silly little girls like her. Not to mention, of course, that he was here for Alastair, and Alastair alone. With Father sick so often and Mother filling in, Alastair needed someone to teach him how to be a king. Somehow, her brother tolerated Charles’ presence whereas he still told Cordelia to go away and leave him alone whenever she approached him. After a few weeks she learned Charles had a younger brother around Cordelia’s age, but of course he hadn’t been invited.

With a groan, she returned to her practice with cortana. It was all she had these days, all she cared about. Even if she was all alone and her brother had barely spoken to her in years, she had been gifted the family sword, both a great honor and responsibility. She wondered sometimes why Alastair had chosen to gift her cortana, as it was tradition the sword went to the heir to the throne.

‘I knew it was important to you,’ was all he’d said when she’d asked, but for Cordelia that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. Giving her a powerful sword that was rightfully his because he knew it was important to her implied he loved her, yet nothing else Alastair did or said showed he even cared about her a little bit. If he loved her, he would spend time with her, not hide in his room and yell at her to go away.

Nowadays, he would only ever spend times with Charles, because of course while Cordelia wasn’t good enough for him, Charles was everything. They deserved each other, Cordelia had decided. They were both boring and stupid and could only ever talk about politics. The only time Charles paid Cordelia any mind was when he told her a princess shouldn’t be eating so much chocolate and maybe she should try losing some weight. He had a point, princesses were supposed to be slim and small and Cordelia wasn’t, but he didn’t have to be so rude about it. She didn’t understand why Alastair followed Charles around like some lost puppy. He used to shut the world out, and it seemed like he’d opened the door, but right after Charles had entered it had shut down with full force once more.

She wished she could let it go, and forget about her brother, but she couldn’t. She still remembered the fun they used to have when they were little, how he’d looked out for her and helped her build the most amazing snowmen. It had all happened so sudden, one day they were playing in the snow together, the next he wouldn’t leave his room and refused to even speak to her. Perhaps there was an explanation, something that would make it all make sense. But then why was Charles the exception, and what did Alastair see in him?

***

When Charles arrived in Arendelle, Alastair redoubled his resolve to get this power under control, to never let it show. Letting Thomas see had been a mistake. He’d trusted Thomas, had cared for him, and now they would never see each other again and how could he be sure Thomas hadn’t shared his secret? He had no reason to assume Charles would even accept the way he was. He could never know.

‘The palace of Arendelle is beautiful,’ Charles said. ‘A different style from the palace of the southern isles. Not that that is still in use, it has been turned into a museum. A real shame.’

Charles made no effort to hide the disdain in his voice as he said the word museum.

‘Why?’ Alastair asked.

‘Because there’s no monarchy anymore,’ Charles said. ‘My mother was the Queen of the Southern Isles until two years ago. She ended the monarchy and was elected as president instead. She thought it unfitting for an elected leader to live in a grand palace, so she decided it should be a museum instead to preserve our country’s history.’

Alastair stared at Charles with wide eyes. ‘That’s a possibility? I could just end the monarchy and have elections for a leader? And whoever has good ideas on how to improve the country could just sign up?’

He imagined all sorts of people would be willing to give it a try, and Alastair had never wanted the throne anyway. He had no idea how he’d be king and meet with cabinet members and foreign officials and never show the ice that rested inside of him.

Charles chuckled, as if he’d just said something ridiculous.

‘Perhaps not,’ he said quietly, already feeling stupid.

‘Being a Crown Prince is an honor, Alastair, a great privilege. Who in their right mind would give that up? Why would you not want to be king?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I guess you’re right. It’s just a lot of responsibility, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.’

‘That’s alright. That’s why I’m here. I might not be a prince anymore, but I have a lot of experience being one and later I helped with my mother’s presidential campaign and presidency. I know how to run a country.’

His friendship with Charles might have been a bit rocky at first, but Alastair soon learnt to trust him more. It was a bit like with Thomas, when Charles was near Alastair felt calmer and could control the ice.

Charles was knowledgeable and took his time to educate Alastair on everything he thought was important for a future king. He was often willing to make time for Alastair, even when it was not convenient for him, and Alastair thought as long as Charles was here, everything was going to be alright.

‘What will you do, when you return to the southern isles?’ Alastair asked him one day.

‘Run for president myself,’ Charles said. ‘It’s not the same as being king, but there’s still much good I can do for the southern isles. My mother has done a good job, but I fear she is too sentimental. I can make my country strong again, that is all I ever wanted.

Don’t worry, I won’t be leaving anytime soon. You still need plenty of my help, and I think together we can set up some better trade routes, build an alliance and find new ways in which we can help each other. I think both Arendelle and the Southern Isles could benefit from a closer relationship.’

Alastair was intrigued. Alliances with foreign kingdoms were what he feared the most of being king. He wasn’t charming, too blunt and straight forward to flatter, but perhaps with Charles he could get started on a good alliance without those skills. ‘Of course. Whatever you need.’

***

Cordelia was beyond excited. Alastair had asked her to join him for a picnic on the palace grounds this afternoon. This would be her chance to get her brother back and a picnic was a decent start. Perhaps someday coming winter they could build a snowman again. Cordelia firmly believed you were never too old to build a snowman.

She picked out her nicest dress, eternally grateful it still fit as she was always growing out of her clothes, and went out to meet Alastair in the gardens. For once he wasn’t with Charles, which was nice because Cordelia did not want to talk about politics all afternoon. She had more important things to discuss.

‘I’m glad you came,’ Alastair said.

He was tense, Cordelia could tell. It was hard to read his moods with Alastair, he rarely showed any emotion, but she had learnt to recognize the slight tension in his shoulders, his stiff demeanor, as if he was forcing himself to speak. She wondered why he would be tense.

‘Of course I came,’ Cordelia said. ‘As far as I know you’re still my only brother.’

‘I’m sorry, for the past years,’ Alastair said. ‘I know you must have been very alone.’

Cordelia nodded. ‘Yes. I know you have to study and prepare for being king and all, but why can’t we at least open the gates every once in a while? Maybe invite some girls my age, or even Charles’ younger brother?’

She knew spending a lot of time with a boy her age would be considered inappropriate, but that was still preferable to keeping the company of the portraits on the wall. She had so little experience with social interaction she didn’t even know how to speak to someone her age, and Father expected her to get married when she was older. How was she supposed to do that when she never met anyone? There was no way she was marrying Charles.

‘I’m sorry,’ Alastair said quietly. ‘We can’t do that.’

‘Father could invite Charles,’ Cordelia protested. ‘Surely we can invite someone else. I still don’t have a lady in waiting.’

‘That’ll have to wait, Layla. I’m sorry. I wish it were different.’

Alastair had called her Layla since she was a little girl, after a girl in a story their mother used to tell them, and it was a bit of a weak spot of hers. Still, she was determined not to let it go, because nothing Alastair said made any sense.

‘But why?’ Cordelia asked. ‘What are you so afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid of anything,’ Alastair bit at her.

There was that temper she remembered from his childhood. It was good to see he still felt anything at all, but Cordelia did not want to make him angry the first time she’d spoken to him in years. Perhaps she should be a little more tactful about this instead of forcing answers out of him. One thing she knew for sure though, there was something Alastair knew and she didn’t. Perhaps more than one thing, Alastair always seemed to know much more than he let on. It was infuriating.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said and she hoped he would believe her apology was sincere. ‘I just wish I could have friends too.’

‘Maybe when you’re older,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ll do what I can, alright? But no promises.’

Cordelia decided to accept that for now. ‘Your life must have been very boring too. I mean, you have company, but it’s Charles. That might actually be worse than being alone.’

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘He’s not boring. He’s a politician, and a very good one. He knows everything there is about being king, even if he won’t be one himself anymore. It is very generous of him to come here and help me.’

Cordelia made a face. ‘I don’t like him. Most of the time he ignores me, which honestly is fine, but he also tells me I eat way too much chocolate and need to lose weight.’

Her weight had become a bit of an insecurity lately. She was at the end of her growth spurt and quite tall, which she liked, she was even taller than Alastair, but while she’d stopped growing in length, she kept getting wider and had to throw out dresses all the time. Her mother had told her this was normal for girls her age, but Cordelia was pretty sure most girls her age were much thinner than she was, and princesses were expected to be small and skinny.

If Charles was to be believed, it was because of all the sweets she ate, and reminding her of it was hurtful, not to mention he was always rude and condescending about it, as if she couldn’t possibly know what was good for her.

‘I’m sorry, I’ll ask him not to bother you,’ Alastair promised. ‘But I really need him here, alright? I will be king one day, and I desperately need his help.’

Cordelia snorted. ‘Maybe if you wanted to learn how to be a better king, you could actually go outside and spend time with the people of Arendelle instead of hiding here in the castle.’

‘That’s not possible,’ Alastair said stiffly.

He was worried. Cordelia couldn’t tell what it was, but she was determined to find out.

‘Are you scared to leave the palace?’ Cordelia asked. ‘I read a book some time back about someone who was scared to leave their house. It was very intriguing.’

‘I’m not scared, Cordelia,’ Alastair hissed, but something about his stiff mannerism revealed otherwise.

She nodded. ‘Alright, so you have a fear of going outside like that character in the book. Maybe there’s a doctor somewhere who can help you overcome your fear since I have no idea how it’s done and I imagine dragging you outside might make it worse. But that’s alright, I could go out and into the city for you and report back what I learn. We could be a great team, like we used to be.’

‘No, Cordelia, that’s not… I’m not afraid.’ He stopped abruptly, twisting his fingers together.

Alastair was wearing a pair of fancy black gloves. Now that she noticed, he always wore gloves. Perhaps if he was scared of going outside, he was also scared of dirt? The palace was cleaned, of course, but some rooms weren’t cleaned as often because of the limited staff and would collect dust. She did remember her brother had always been rather neat, that had to be it.

‘We’re done here,’ Alastair said. ‘Goodbye.’

He stood up and walked away. They hadn’t even eaten anything yet. Cordelia ran after him.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Back inside. I changed my mind, I don’t want to have a picnic with you.’

Cordelia didn’t understand. He’d invited her, he’d wanted to spend time with her. Had she done something wrong to change his mind? It didn’t make any sense, she might have been a little pushy, but he had to understand it was for his own good, right?

‘Why? Am I suddenly not good enough for you anymore?’ Cordelia yelled, grabbing his shoulder.

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia,’ Alastair hissed. ‘I mean it.’

Cordelia was taken back by the sudden vehemence in his voice.

‘Fine, go back inside to stupid Charles and his stupid lessons!’ she yelled after him as he walked inside.

He didn’t look back, not even once. As if she was nothing. Great, that was her one chance to win back her brother, to improve her situation here somewhat. Now she had no idea what to do.

She returned to the picnic site and collapsed onto the blanket she’d laid out for the two of them. She stuffed some chocolate into her mouth. Chocolate she’d specifically requested for Alastair, because she knew he liked anything sweet, and loved chocolate most of all. Cordelia did too, curse stupid Charles and his stupid comments about her eating habits. She was the princess, she could eat as much chocolate as she wanted. She needed some way to cope with being alone all the time and if Charles thought it was bad for her maybe he should go find her a friend. As it was, she returned to days of loneliness and practicing with cortana. What else was she supposed to do?

***

‘Your father didn’t show up to our meeting again,’ Charles said. ‘We were supposed to discuss your progress weekly, but most of the time he isn’t there. Do you know if he’s alright?’

‘He’s just sick,’ Alastair said, terrified Charles would find out about his father’s drinking. ‘No one knows what’s wrong with him, but it’s been getting worse. Mother has taken over most of his tasks so he can rest. Thanks to you, I can start helping out too. I’ve been working on my correspondence, and I was wondering if you could double check my letter to the Duke of Weselton?’

Charles nodded. ‘I’ll look at your letter. I am sorry to hear about your father’s illness, Alastair, I know it’s been hard on you. How’s your sister under all this?’

Alastair sighed. A couple of months ago, he’d thought he was making progress. Around Charles he felt so much better, he felt as if the ice wasn’t even there unless he called for it. He had thought maybe he could give his sister another chance and he’d invited her to a picnic. If everything had gone well and he’d felt in control around her, he could have told her the truth there, and show her what he was capable of. But when he’d met with Cordelia, everything came back in full force and he’d have to fight with every bit of his willpower to repress his fear and keep the ice inside of him. Cordelia was still mad about his sudden departure, but he’d had no other choice if he wanted to keep her safe. When he’d gotten back to his bedroom, he’d lost control and caused a snowstorm. While he thought his control had improved since Charles had come, the size of any outburst that slipped through had grown.

He was lucky Cordelia hadn’t seen it and at least now that Father was drunk all the time, he wouldn’t notice and put Alastair in chains. He knew it was all his fault though, his father wouldn’t have started drinking if it weren’t for him.

‘I think it’s difficult for her,’ Alastair said. ‘She mentioned you made some comments about her eating habits the other day. I know you mean well, but she doesn’t like it.’

‘I’m just concerned for her. It’s unhealthy to eat so much chocolate,’ Charles insisted. ‘She’ll thank me when she doesn’t have to throw out another of her custom made gowns.’

Alastair didn’t think it was fair to shame her for growing out of clothes when he did the same. He’d started his growth spurt lately and most of his suits had become too short. They weren’t thrown away either, they were sold second hand, as were Cordelia’s old gowns.

‘I think she’s insecure about how she looks,’ Alastair said. ‘And she has plenty to worry about, I don’t think she should be worrying about her weight on top of that. Your comments aren’t helping her.’

He didn’t understand why his control was so much worse around Cordelia. A long time ago, he’d hurt her, and he was terrified it would happen again. Perhaps that was different with Charles. With Charles he could not feel, like he was supposed to.

The problem, of course, was that with Charles he did feel. Just like he had with Thomas. It had not appeared as fast as it had with Thomas, but it was so much stronger now that he’d gotten to know Charles, had spent nearly a year with him.

He wanted Charles. Loved him, even. Alastair didn’t understand why he felt this way. Years ago, he’d met his cousin Jem who’d told him how he loved both Will and Tessa romantically. Alastair couldn’t imagine loving more than one person at the same time, nor could he imagine loving a woman, but perhaps some men longed for the love of other men instead of women.

Perhaps being in love was what calmed his moods, as long as he wasn’t scared. Right now, he wasn’t, not yet. He knew it was unlikely Charles felt the same way. That was alright, because he still wanted to be near him and then everything would be fine.

‘You know, I always found it unusual how empty this castle is,’ Charles said one day. ‘No one else ever stays, your parents always travel to meet foreign leaders and never invite anyone over. There aren’t half as many cleaners and servants as there were in my old palace.’

‘We minimized the staff,’ Alastair said. ‘It seems wasteful to spend money on staff when that could be spent on improving the kingdom.’

‘You don’t even have friends,’ Charles said. ‘No other noblemen visit, ever. You don’t have any companions, nor a page. You sleep alone. It’s odd.’

Alastair frowned. ‘How is it odd that I sleep alone?’

‘When I was still a prince, I had a page. A boy around my age, who shared my bed at night. It was normal at home, for noblemen and women to have a page or lady in waiting share their bed. A good way to make sure your virtue remains intact and you do not share your bed with a woman you are not married to.’

Alastair wasn’t sure that would be effective. Who was to say nothing improper happened between the nobleman and the person who shared their bed?

‘There’s no one here I could lose my virtue to,’ Alastair said. ‘But I know what you mean, my mother does share her bed with Risa, her lady in waiting. My father doesn’t though, he sleeps alone.’

No one could find out he was a drunk. No one would believe in him as a king anymore, and therefore it was up to Alastair to keep anyone from finding out, just like he had to keep everyone from finding out about the ice inside of him.

‘I imagine you don’t have a page anymore at home?’ Alastair asked.

‘We had a fall out shortly before my mother gave up the crown,’ Charles said in a tone that indicated he did not want to talk about it.

Charles did not bring the topic up again for some time, not until he was complaining about his younger brother one day.

‘He’s been campaigning for the right for men to love other men,’ Charles said with a sigh. ‘And for women to love women. Here I was thinking he’d never give up on being silly and going out partying, but this is worse.’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘Why? Is he not fighting for a good cause?’

‘He will make everything much harder for me, for our family,’ Charles said. ‘People are shunning him, of course. They’re wondering, why is he campaigning for this, what does it mean about him? And my brother does not have the good sense to hide he likes both men and women.’

So Charles’ brother was like his cousin Jem, then? Alastair had not met Matthew Fairchild, but it was difficult to hear Charles talk like this. He felt a familiar tingling in his fingers, a warning he might lose control. Something he had not yet felt around Charles.

‘That is very brave of him,’ Alastair said.

‘I prefer to think of it as foolish,’ Charles said. ‘The people won’t accept him, he won’t change a thing. He’ll just make everything harder for himself, and for me. People will watch us more closely. No one batted an eye when Daniel, my former page, shared my bed for years.’

Alastair gasped. ‘You mean to say you love men?’

‘Unfortunately I do. It’s not easy for someone like me. I have to keep it a secret, or I risk losing everything. No one would vote for a man like me to be president. But with the proper precautions, I’ve been quite successful at hiding my affections and desires while still indulging in them. I wish my brother understood that.’

Alastair put his hand on Charles’ and felt the tingling fade. It wasn’t gone, not entirely, but he wouldn’t lose control. ‘Does your brother know about you?’

‘No. I never wanted him to. You’re the first person I’ve told after Daniel, I know I can trust you to keep my secret.’

Alastair felt special to be entrusted with such a secret, and could it mean Charles returned his feelings? Had Charles told him because he hoped Alastair might want to be with him?

‘When I’m king, I will do what your brother has been campaigning for, I will change the laws and allow two men or two women to be together,’ Alastair promised. ‘Get married, even.’

Charles waved his hand dismissively. ‘Don’t be silly, Alastair.’

His heart sank, the tingling increased. He had to tell Charles about his affections, or else everything would become snow and ice.

‘But I’m like you,’ Alastair said. ‘I like men. And I don’t want to hide forever. What’s even the point in being king if I can’t change such things?’

‘They’ll cast you out, Alastair,’ Charles said. ‘Don’t waste your birthright on something the people will never accept. Best to keep your affections a secret. You’re a prince, you can pick any boy you like to be your page or companion and share your bed. No one would suspect a thing.’

Charles put his hand on Alastair’s shoulder, a bit too long for it to be called friendly, right?

‘What about you?’ Alastair asked. ‘I feel choosing a page to be my love would be unfair. Like, would he even get a say in that? It wouldn’t be like that with you.’

Charles smiled and cupped his cheek with his hand. It was smooth, the hand of someone who had not done manual labor. ‘You’re in love with me, aren’t you?’ he said, his voice gentle.

Alastair rubbed his hands together, forcing the tingling to stop. He felt frost underneath his gloves, but it was still hidden. Conceal, don’t feel.

‘Yes,’ he whispered.

‘I suspected as much,’ Charles said. ‘I like you too, Alastair. You’re smart and beautiful, and you will be a great king someday. But this has to be a secret. You understand that, don’t you? I will be with you, but only as long as you can keep your affections concealed.’

Alastair nodded. ‘Of course.’

Then Charles kissed him, and it was like fire, a sudden heat that melted his frozen heart, that stopped the tingling in his fingers, that calmed the storm inside of him. Perhaps love was the answer after all.

Alastair and Charles explored much more than just kissing together. Charles came to share his bed, claiming it was improper how Alastair slept alone all night. No one suspected a thing, but then of course, there was no one who could suspect. It was the first time in years where Alastair felt he might be happy. Even if he was still too dangerous to be around his sister. He tried once more. No promises this time, he just sought her out in her room to see if they could talk. The storm returned almost immediately and Alastair realized his sister would never be safe if he went near her. The only one he could be around was Charles.

It was amazing at first. Long nights together, Charles touching him, making love to him. He’d never known being touched by someone could feel so good, nor that it would melt the ice inside his heart. Charles knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted, and Alastair was happy to oblige.

It was wonderful outside of the bedroom too. He loved how Charles would gently touch his shoulder, his wrist as he guided him through their lessons. But it didn’t take long for the secrecy of it all to start to weigh on him. Charles’ younger brother had fled farther south for his own safety, confirming Charles’ beliefs it was better to keep their love a secret. Alastair was scared the same might happen to him, but what could possibly be worse than people finding out he was a monster with ice in his heart?

Perhaps it would be better to leave, to flee into the woods and snow touched mountains and make his home there. The cold didn’t bother him, he would survive. But Charles could not come with him there, and so he stayed. Even while Charles mocked his ideas, told him he was still too young to understand what it was to rule a kingdom and treated him like was a child despite being old enough to be Charles’ lover.

Once he’d been in control around Charles, but not anymore. He wasn’t sure why it had gotten worse, why he was so scared Charles would leave him, that he wasn’t good enough anymore. He redoubled his resolve, made sure to read everything Charles asked him to, be everything his lover needed him to be. Charles was all he had, he didn’t think he could survive being abandoned. They stayed like this for several years. Alastair never took his gloves, not even when they had sex, and never explained why. Charles thought it was odd, but had come to accept it.

Even when he lost control, the gloves kept it in for a little longer, offered a bit of protection, and the time to get away before the storm began. Whenever he didn’t trust himself anymore, he went to his own private bathroom, a place even Charles wasn’t allowed to enter. Now that Charles shared his bed, his bedroom wasn’t a safe place to lose control anymore and he couldn’t exactly ask Charles to leave. So instead, this bathroom had frozen several times over, and whenever he was going to lose control he just told Charles he needed to use the bathroom. At this point, all the pipes had broken, so nothing could be used, but everything had been cut off from the water network long ago and his outbursts didn’t affect the other bathrooms. Charles had not uncovered his secret, and although it was difficult to keep it from him, it was for the best.

***

Cordelia took her father’s hand. ‘Where are you going? Are you sure you’re well enough to travel?’

‘I’m feeling much better, Cordelia dear,’ he said with a smile. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it.’

Cordelia wasn’t sure where exactly her parents would be traveling. It wasn’t the first time he left, of course, to meet with foreign nobles, but this time he would be going on a much longer journey, and it had been a while since he’d traveled anywhere. He’d been too sick and Mother had written letters to keep up relations instead.

‘Can’t I come with you?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Not this time,’ her father said. ‘But I promise on my next journey you can come with me. It’s almost time for you to be presented to the world. But this is something I have to do myself, I’m afraid.’

The idea of being presented to the world sounded good, but perhaps that would be a bit much all at once. Perhaps it would be nicer to start with a smaller group of people who could be her friends.

‘What if the people won’t like me?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Of course they will. You are beautiful, compassionate and nurturing, what’s not to like?’

Cordelia could always count on her father to tell her she was beautiful, even if not long ago she’d had to throw out nearly all of her gowns because she’d gained too much weight to fit into them.

‘I’ll still be here, azizam,’ her mother said, which surprised her.

‘Oh, I thought you were going too,’ Cordelia said.

‘I was, but Alastair insisted he was not ready to take over while I was gone and needed me to stay,’ her mother explained. ‘I know that’s not true and Alastair is more than ready, but I thought staying would put his mind at ease.’

Cordelia supposed that should make her less lonely, but her mother spent all her time on filling in for her father and she wasn’t sure where that left her. She knew everyone was keeping something from her, but she couldn’t figure out what and it was frustrating. She’d tried asking her father, who had told her not to worry, that everything would be alright in the end. Then she’d asked her mother, who’d told her that her brother was going through a difficult time, without offering any explanation. Apparently, boys his age often went through times like this, except in Alastair’s case that had been years now. Not that Cordelia knew any other boys Alastair’s age to compare his behavior to, but that was hardly her fault.

It turned out her father wasn’t back before she knew it. It took months to even get word from him. Of course, it was a long journey by ship and it made sense they did not hear anything at first, but after a couple of months Cordelia began to worry. They should have heard something by now, what could have become of him?

‘He’ll be alright, Cordelia,’ her mother had said. ‘We’ll hear from him soon enough. He must have decided to stay longer than intended and it would take time for a letter to reach us.’

But Cordelia could tell her mother was worried too, more so with every passing day during which they did not hear from Elias. Several months after he’d first left, a messenger came.

‘I am terribly sorry to bring you this news, Your Majesty,’ the messenger said, addressing her mother. ‘The King’s ship went down in the southern seas. There were no survivors.’

Cordelia had been in shock at first. Then she’d burst into tears. Mother had cried too, although a bit more concealed. Alastair though, had not shown a thing. He’d taken the news quietly, asked a few questions, and then retreated to his room. As if he didn’t feel a thing, as if he didn’t care.

The funeral was a quiet ceremony, and Alastair didn’t attend. She had been forced to ask Charles where he was and why he hadn’t come to his own father’s funeral. Charles didn’t know the answer either, said something about Alastair being upset and indisposed, but she could tell it didn’t make sense to him either.

Determined not to let him slip away from her like he always did, she went to his room after the funeral, knocking on the door. No response. When she was younger, Alastair would yell at her to go away, he would get angry that she had the nerve to bother him. As awful as that was, his silence was worse.

‘Please, Alastair,’ she said. ‘I know you’re in there. I don’t know why you didn’t come to the funeral, and maybe it was just too hard… But people asked about you, where you’ve been. And I want to be there for you. Just let me in, and we can talk about.’

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia!’ she heard from the other side of the door. He didn’t open it. ‘I don’t care Father is dead, that’s why I didn’t go the funeral. You shouldn’t either.’

It was not the answer she’d expected, although it wasn’t the first time it had seemed like Alastair did not love Father. Sometimes she wondered if Alastair could feel anything at all. She guessed not. There was ice inside his heart, and Cordelia did not know how to reach him anymore. Perhaps it didn’t matter.

With Father gone, her mother was Queen-Regent for now, taking on all of Father’s duties with some help from Alastair here and there until his coronation. Her mother was pregnant, and Cordelia didn’t think it would be good for her to spend so much time working while expecting a child. At least the pregnancy meant that once the baby was here, she would have someone to play with.

In four months, Alastair would turn twenty one and would be crowned king. He only ever spent time preparing for his coronation and his reign, Charles always hovering around him. It was impossible to catch him alone.

Of course, a coronation brought opportunities. Alastair couldn’t be crowned in a small, private ceremony, people from all over the country and even beyond would be invited. Cordelia would finally have a chance to meet actual real life people.

***

Alastair did not attend his father’s funeral. He’d expected knowing his father was gone would bring relief. No more hiding the empty bottles, no more covering up his sickness. No risk Cordelia would find out. Most of all, no risk Father would decide he was too dangerous and would chain him in the dungeons. He had never forgotten that day and even now he still had nightmares. Father had always been cruel to him, and he thought his death would set Alastair free. Instead, he felt empty, he felt a horrible guilt for hating a man who was now dead. He felt the snow and ice tingling against his fingers, seeking release. He pushed it back down with all he had. Conceal, don’t feel, that was what his father had taught him. No emotion, push it all down. Alright then, he would not feel. He would not mourn Father, would not care that he was gone. He would not attend the funeral and pay his respects, it was too dangerous anyway, and Father did not deserve that.

He knew people would ask why, where he’d been, and he made something up about being too sick and overcome with grief to attend. It was a lie. Even without the risk of exposing his ice, he would not have wanted to attend. He hated his father, and he couldn’t bear to listen to people speak on what a great king he’d been. Worse, what a great father he’d been. And there was no one he could talk to. Charles didn’t know what Father was really like, he believed in the lie of his illness. Cordelia was the same, worse even, for she adored Father, she always had. He’d considered telling her the truth, but that would be selfish. It would break her heart, and for what? And Mother had loved Father. Now that he was gone, she wanted to remember the good parts. She was having another baby, and was devastated the baby would never meet his father. Lucky child, he thought. That almost sounded like he resented the baby for getting the safe and carefree childhood he had never had, but that wasn’t true. He was almost glad Father was gone for their sake, and he hoped the baby would grow up happy and loved and protected, even if Alastair could provide none of that himself. It was too dangerous and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to the baby because of him.

***

‘Alastair, are you in there?’

No response. Sona had gotten used to that at this point. She had grown more worried every day. Alastair was to be king in a couple of months, but he had barely left his private quarters since Elias’ death. The only person he spoke to was Charles, and even then Charles had confided in her that he felt Alastair pull away from him. That he wasn’t sure Alastair was ready to be king.

She’d thought, perhaps, as his mother she could reach him. Charles didn’t know about the ice despite them being very close. But with her and Cordelia, all Alastair did was push them away.

He had seemed happy, at least, when she’d told him of her pregnancy, excited to meet the new baby. Mostly, he’d been terrified though and Sona thought perhaps Alastair was scared he’d hurt the baby. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She had to protect her baby, of course, but Alastair was her child too and she didn’t know how to reach him.

Sona knocked on the bedroom door once more. He couldn’t hide in there forever. It was Charles who opened, wearing a dressing robe. Sona knew Charles had been sleeping in Alastair’s bedroom for the past years. It was a way, apparently, to make sure Alastair’s virtue was intact for marriage. Not that Alastair had shown any interest in getting married and with his ice, Sona feared it was too dangerous. She wasn’t sure how Alastair had managed to keep his ice from Charles while sharing a bed, but that was impressive, right?

It pained her, she wanted nothing more than for Alastair to be happy, but she didn’t know how. She’d considered going back to Tessa, had asked Elias to reconsider, but he’d refused. ‘Alastair belongs here,’ Elias used to say. ‘That witch will only take him away from us.’

And now he was to be crowned king and it was too late. At least Charles had been good for him, right? Sona had noticed the way Alastair lit up around Charles, the way he seemed so eager to please him.

‘Your Majesty,’ Charles addressed her. ‘If I knew you were coming, I would have dressed for the occasion.’

‘I am sorry,’ Sona said. ‘Did I wake you? I didn’t realize you tucked in early, I’ve always been a late sleeper myself. I was just looking for Alastair, is he here?’

‘No, he must have left when I was asleep. Usually he goes to the bathroom, his own private one. Even I am not allowed in there. He’s very attached to his privacy.’

Sona knew about the bathroom, the place he went to when he lost control. It was good for him to have such a place right? Somewhere it didn’t matter if the ice became too much for him, because no one would get hurt.

Sona forced a smile. ‘Thank you Charles. I think I’ll look for him there.’

‘I don’t think he’d like that.’

‘He’s my son, and I am worried about him.’

‘He’s been showing progress in his lessons lately,’ Charles said. ‘I do not think you have to worry.’

Sona just nodded, and closed the door. Charles was smart, responsible, and he knew politics, but sometimes she felt he didn’t know Alastair, didn’t understand him. Risa hated Charles, acted as if he’d stolen Alastair away from them, but Sona felt that was a bit too simplistic. It was a difficult situation for everyone, and they were all doing the best they could. Alastair had chosen to spend his time around Charles, and if that was what made him feel better, who was she to judge?

Sona knocked on the bathroom door. No response.

‘Alastair, I’m coming in!’ she called.

She didn’t like invading his privacy, but at least he’d be forced to acknowledge he was in there if he wanted to stop her. He didn’t say anything. Perhaps he wasn’t in the bathroom after all, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

She pulled on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Had Alastair locked himself in there? When she pulled a little harder, it broke open and Sona realized why she’d been unable to open the door. It was frozen. Everything in the bathroom was frozen, about half a meter of snow lying on the floor. It was a good thing the door opened to the outside, or she would not have gotten it open at all.

Alastair was lying on the snow, covered in a thin summer blanket. The cold had never bothered him, but he had always liked to hold a blanket when he slept. When he was little, he would sleep with a thin summer blanket in the coldest days of winter, perfectly content.

Should she wake him? He seemed peaceful, at least, now that he was asleep. But he had lost control in here before falling asleep, and she wanted to know what had happened. He hadn’t responded well to his father’s death, and she knew Elias and Alastair had never had the best relationship, but instead of grieving with her and Cordelia, he’d shut them out even more. Sona didn’t think he was alright.

Before she could make a decision, Alastair opened his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position. Sona wrapped her arms around herself, it was freezing cold in here. That couldn’t be good for the baby, but she was determined to talk to her son.

‘What happened, azizam?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry, maman,’ he said. ‘I lost control.’

‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘What happened?’

‘I was with Charles,’ he said. ‘He told me he’d been writing with the Duke of Weselton.’

Sona frowned. ‘What’s wrong with that? He’s one of our closest trading partners. Charles has not sabotaged our relationship with Weselton, has he?’

‘No, not like that. You see, the Duke has a daughter around my age and no other heir, and Charles wants to marry her. She will be here for the coronation, and Charles intends to propose there. He thinks the Duke is a powerful ally for him as well as for us. And the laws in Weselton are pretty backward, so if the Duke dies his daughter’s husband will inherit the title, the lands, everything.’

Sona knew Charles liked power, of course. Risa hated him for it, thought he couldn’t be trusted, but Sona couldn’t help but see that even if Charles was a little too power hungry for his own good, Alastair adored him. But if he took the title and became Duke of Weselton, why would that upset Alastair so much? Wouldn’t he be happy for his friend?

‘What does any of that have to do with you?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I know, it’s stupid. But he’ll leave me alone if he marries her. He’d go live in Weselton in the Duke’s palace. He cannot stay here anymore. He’s all I have, I couldn’t bear it if he left.’

Sona took his hand. It was ice cold. ‘You always knew he would return home someday, right? Charles was here to teach you and prepare you, and he has done that. You are ready to be king, joon-am. I know controlling the ice is hard, but you’re smart and compassionate and you will do fine if he’s not there.’

Secretly Sona thought perhaps Alastair would do even better without Charles there. She knew Alastair was kinder, and she feared perhaps it came from a place of self loathing but Alastair was not the kind of king who’d put his own needs before anyone else’s.

Alastair nodded weakly. ‘But I’d be all alone. When Charles and I first became friends, it was the first time I could control myself. As long as it was going well, I mean. I did sometimes lose control when he was upset with me, but he never saw. I don’t know what I’ll do when he’s gone.’

Alastair was crying. The tears froze into snowflakes before they even reached his cheeks. Watching her son cry had always been one of the strangest thing, as if he started snowing. It was heartbreaking to watch, and Sona wished she could hug him, but she knew Alastair wouldn’t let her. He was far too scared he’d hurt the baby.

‘You’re going to be alright,’ Sona said. ‘You’re lonely, I know that. Cordelia is too. But the coronation offers opportunities. Perhaps you’ll meet someone else who helps calm your moods and your ice. You could invite someone to stay, if you want, open the gates.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘It’s too dangerous. Charles is the only one I can trust. I tried, maman. I tried with Cordelia, but every time I go near her I am so scared I’ll hurt her and then the ice takes over.’

‘Perhaps we should return to Tessa,’ Sona suggested.

‘No. The coronation is too close. This curse, it can’t be controlled. Best to be alone, and do what’s right for Arendelle.’

Sona guessed if Alastair wouldn’t return to the village, she’d try to send an invitation for the coronation. Perhaps Tessa could come here and help figure out why Alastair couldn’t control the ice. It was the least she could do for her son.

[bxthharmon]

Pink Champagne (1) - Benny Watts x Reader

Words: 2154

Series Warnings: Drinking, substance and alcohol abuse, addiction, smoking

Pt. Warnings: implied alcohol abuse, smoking

A/N: idk how regular updates will be and idk where tf this is going but here we are lol

“masterlist”

“You’re a woman.”

The twelve year old looks up at the speaker, her mother, apprehensive. She does not consider herself as a woman, not yet anyway. Besides, the older woman was drunk - but then again, when wasn’t she? 

“Not only that, you’re a pretty woman, with a kind heart. You’re just like I was.” the mother props her head up with her hands, elbows on the table as she faces her only daughter. “Men will use you. They will hurt you and bring you down and they will break you because they can. Don’t let them. Don’t let them hurt you, be strong. You have brothers, and they are strong, but not like me and you are strong. They fight with their fists and think with their dicks. Us? We fight with our words and think with our brains. Keep your head up, don’t let them push you around.” the women, staring at each other in a conflicting sense of understanding and resentment, stay silent. The mother, resenting her child for still having the opportunities that she missed, and adoring that her daughter could still be something. The young girl, resenting being told how to live her life, but adoring the fact that her mother cared enough to tell her things like this. 

The mother, always the first one to break, stands, stretching, then reaching for another bottle.

-

Paris was everything that was expected. Y/N shopped and drank and fucked in that oddly cinematic way that everything in Paris happened, wasting two months of her life partying. She did a photoshoot for a new advertising campaign for a fashion house she is the ambassador for, and as always, got bored. After six weeks, she wound up in the same position she had been in so many times before, stocking up on months worth of wine, then finishing it within two weeks. After two months in Paris, she lay on top of the covers of her bed, wondering if she should have taken Beth up on her offer. She hadn’t spoken to any of her American friends since she left, and of the people she had seen in person, she knew that they had no connections to her American friends, so she felt safe. 

Out of alcohol and cigarettes, she considered sending the door boy to get some, or even going herself, and decided to do neither. It was at this point that she realised that she had eaten a sum total of four things in two weeks, all of which were snacks, and was drinking herself to death. She decided that she wanted French toast and that overly fancy Columbian pressed coffee from the cafe down the road. She would get cigarettes on the way.  So she dressed and left, greeting the surprised door boy on her way out. She bought her cigarettes, ate her French toast, drank her coffee, then considered her next move.

London was out of the question - she’d only just remembered that she’d sold her apartment. That left New York, Los Angeles or Beth’s offer of Kentucky. Los Angeles never ended well, and she didn’t want to get dragged into anything by her manager. Kentucky or New York? She would have to call Beth  to decide. 

So she traipsed back to her glamorous apartment and dialed Beth’s number, letting it ring out a few times before giving up. So Beth wasn’t at home, was she just out, or in New York? She knew the only way to find out would be through Harry or Benny. She chose Harry. Things between her and Benny were… well, she didn’t know what they were.

“Y/N?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am though - you never call.”

“Phone calls are so much hassle.”

“More hassle than seeing people in person?”

She paused, unable to outwit him, especially given the hangover she could feel creeping up on her. “Is Beth in Kentucky at the moment?”

“Beth? No.” he answered, “Why?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“She doesn’t have any tournaments, so New York, why?”

“I want to see her.”

“Why didn’t you just call Benny?”

“Don’t worry, thanks though.”

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. Bye.”

“Bye?”

She slammed the phone into its holder, sighing loudly. 

She’d always known she would have to see Benny eventually, but even after over two months since that night, she wasn’t ready. Besides, what was to say he wanted to see her? She slumped down into the armchair next to her phone, surveying her room and realising that he had been right - so had Beth - her drinking was getting out of hand. She stood with determination, picking up clothes from around the room and stuffing them into her wardrobe, which was already overflowing, and picking up all the bottles she could find to fill a couple of large paper bags. When she was done, the room felt cleaner, and she dragged the two paper bags out of her apartment and pushed them down the rubbish chute. She returned to her apartment, rummaging around to find a bag in the depths of her wardrobe. Once she had, she carefully picked out clothes, knowing that once she was back in America, the press would be all over her. She had clothes at Benny’s anyway, but she hated travelling without a suitcase - it made her feel bare. Before she left, she grabbed a pair of sunglasses and straightened herself out, checking that she was definitely wearing shoes and that her outfit all matched.

She carried her suitcase down with a little struggle, gave a couple of euros to the door boy for no reason in particular, and caught a taxi to the airport. The taxi driver, having recognised her instantly, seemed restless and kept telling her about how his twelve-year old-daughter wanted to be a model just like Y/N. She brushed it off, paying him well and buying the next flight she could at the front desk, rushing through customs to catch it. She tried to ignore the looks and comments she got as people realised who she was.

She didn’t sleep on the flight, instead ordering drink after drink, wondering what her mother would say if she could see her only daughter. Or Beth for that matter. She didn’t have to wonder what Benny would say, he had said it plenty of times before. When she left the airport, a crusade of reporters were awaiting her, and she had almost forgotten how the press could be. She persevered to a yellow cab, and let it take her to Benny’s. Standing outside, the harsh cold of autumn pushed her towards the door. She descended the steps, pausing when she reached the door, hearing four or five voices inside. Jesus, the whole gang was here. She steeled herself, knocking sharply and stepping away. The door opened abruptly, Beth appearing, at first confused, and then elated. She launched herself at Y/N, the two clinging to each other. Beth stepped back, scanning her friend over, and glancing towards the door. “You look more put together.”

“I don’t feel it.” Y/N admitted, hating the analytical look everyone seemed to give her these days.

“Why are you back here?” Beth murmured, her words kinder than they sounded, “I thought you were in Paris.”

“Well, I was. Then I ended up spending two weeks drinking myself half to death without leaving the room, and thought maybe it was time for a change of scene.”

“You can’t keep running from yourself, it’ll get you nowhere.”

“I know that.”

“Beth!” the two girls turned, “Are you alright out there? Who is it?” 

Benny’s voice, so recognisable, turned into the actual person. He was standing, jeans, a black top and layered necklaces, shock registering on his face. Y/N, who hadn’t proper registered that she was seeing him until that moment, looked like she wanted a black hole to appear beneath her. Pink tinged her cheeks, embarrassment unfamiliar to her, and she stood up straighter, faking confidence.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Benny.” She glanced back at Beth, who looked away. 

“Wait, is that Y/N?”

Arthur and Hilton appeared, and then Cleo, grinning with a drink in hand.

“You’ve been in Paris, eh?” she said, “Of course, you always seem to be there when I am not.”

“I wish you had been.” Y/N grinned, hugging Cleo tightly.

Benny, having come to his senses after the initial shock, stepped forwards, “A drink?”

Y/N looked at him pointedly, “You never have alcohol in this place.”

“But these three always bring some.” he nodded to the three stood next to her with drinks in hand.

“You not drinking at home really sucks ass.” Y/N groaned, concocting herself a makeshift cocktail with the ingredients she had to hand. 

“You know, most people don’t usually have those in pint glasses.” Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Y/N shrugged.

“I’m not most people.” she took a lengthy sip, ignoring the worried glances that her friends shared.

“So,” she looked up from her drink with a bright expression, “what’s going on in the chess world?”

“Well, we’re training Beth.” Benny explained.

“What for? She’s better than all of you.” Y/N frowned, and Beth smirked.

“Paris.” Hilton clarified, the prideful chess players ignoring your comment.

“Let’s do a simultaneous!” Benny offered. 

“Cleo, Y/N, are you joining?” 

“You know we can’t play.” Cleo reprimanded, the pair of you sitting down near the game and watching with interest.

“All of our friends are nerds.” Y/N sighed, “Look at them!”

-

By the time Beth had beaten the other three chess players eight times, Benny gave up. He had decided that Beth could ‘do it’, but was also getting distracted by the fact that Cleo and Y/N had found his records and were blasting The Doors as loud as they could and dancing around his living room. When the game was finished, the apartment was filled with the sound of Soul Kitchen, and any ability to concentrate on the game was impossible. Y/N was standing on his coffee table, eyes closed, bottle in hand, hips swaying. Cleo had her arms in the air, swaying with the rhythm, and the two girls seemed so lost in the music that the four surveyors were almost scared to interrupt. Y/N, murmuring the familiar lyrics, took a swig of the bottle and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a drag, only then noticing that her friends had stopped playing. “Join us!” She laughed, reaching over, grabbing Beth’s arm, pulling her up onto the table, and trying to get her to dance. At first, the woman only swayed, but found herself dancing more excessively. Cleo took the task of dragging the boys in, and soon the party of six were all laughing and dancing. The song began to draw to a close, when Alyssa turned to Benny, “Got any of The Beatles?”

He pointed to the stack of records, preoccupied with trying to stop Cleo from spilling her drink. Y/N found the Abbey Road album and the dancing picked up as the apartment began to fill with cigarette smoke and Y/N retrieved some whiskey. She drank straight from the bottle, and continued to dance, pushing off the gently guiding hands that Benny was attempting to provide. At some point, Cleo, Arthur and Hilton took their leave, and Beth turned the music down, leaving Y/N with her bottle and cigs as she joined Benny in surveying the drunken girl.

“I haven’t seen her like this in a long time.” Benny observed, and Beth sighed.

“She tries to hide it from you, she knows how you feel about it.” Beth explained.

“I didn’t realise it was this bad.”

Beth looked back at her friend, “She’s worse than I was.”

Benny scoffed a little, “I don’t know how to help her.”

“Wait,” Beth raised an eyebrow mockingly, “You, Benny Watts, wanting to help someone? That’s never happened before.”

“I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

“That’s different.”

Benny sighed, “Where are you going to sleep now that she’s here?”

“I can find a hotel?” she offered.

“Not this late. I’ll sleep on the blow up, you two sleep in my bed.”

“Okay.”

Beth walked up to Y/N, gently prying the bottle from her hand, Y/N turned to her, taking her in with wide eyes - she was always childlike when she was drunk. She watched curiously as Benny began to pump up the blow up bed, and Beth turned the music off. She let Beth sit her down on Benny’s bed, pulling her own clothes off and replacing them with one of Benny’s shirts while Beth helped Benny get all the leftover bottles in the bin. By the time Beth was back in the room, Alyssa was passed out on the far side of the bed, curled up into a tight fetal position. Beth lay down next to her friend, the familiar scent of alcohol conflicting her in both comfort and disgust.

[fappellmoan]

happy hawkins holiday hiatus to @mikewheelerthepaladin !! here’s a lighthearted fic + a playlist of songs i listened to a lot while writing, i hope you enjoy 🥳

& a big thank you to @sevensided for putting this together, it’s been super fun <3

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’d never been that hard.

And it sucked. The whole thing. Now that Will is gone, it gnaws at him daily that they could have had more time together. Or a proper goodbye, at least. Instead, he spent a lot of time last summer sitting around, figuring out how to approach El and his feelings toward her, and most of all, alone.

But now the Byers are coming home for Christmas. And staying with The Wheelers, on top of it all.

So, seeking some sort of cryptic universal answer to his life problems, Mike returns to the place of a lot of younger memories, of crowding around machines with Lucas and Dustin and Will, a conglomeration of shouting and booing and cheering when one of them topped a high score, of frantically patting down their pockets for a few extra coins.

All of these wistful memories come to halt, however, when he finds a familiar redhead occupying one of their favorite games.

Max glances at him through the screen. “What do you want?”

“Uh, to play?” Honestly, he doesn’t care; he’s not sure he could focus enough to win much anyway. “Kicking your ass would be a plus.”

“Yeah, as if.” Her gaze fixes back on the colorful pixels dancing in front of her face.

Okay, well, she’s not moving anytime soon. He could probably just walk away, but a part of him wants company, even if it’s from someone hellbent on disagreeing with him.

Even when the Party hangs out now, Mike finds himself bickering with Max over what movies to see, where to eat, nearly anything, even when he doesn’t really give a shit. It’s the principle of the thing, and she gets under his skin. 

Maybe it’s a good thing.

Mike sighs, leans against one of the neighboring games, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

“Well, if you’re looking for me to throw pity money at you, it’s not happening.” After a beat, and losing the level, she kicks at the machine and turns to him. “Now look what you made me do. All your moping and talking - I could’ve beaten that if you would just leave me alone.”

He offers a quarter.

“Forget it.”

“I’ll buy you a pop, then.” She glares at him. “Seriously, okay, this is the first and only olive branch. Take it or leave it.”

After a moment of scowling at him, her arms folded, she slowly concedes, a smug look taking over. “Okay. I’ll take it, Wheeler.”

“So, you’re stalking me at the arcade because… of nothing?”

Mike presses his lips into a line. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “and it’s not - it’s not nothing. I was gonna ask Lucas or Dustin to come, but… I felt like I needed to be here alone.”

Max sips on her drink. “That didn’t work out.”

“Guess not.”

“So you did need to talk to someone.”

“Guess so.”

God, this is borderline painful. Sitting in a shoddy little booth across from Max, whom he never once intended to have a heart-to-heart with, is a new level of desperation. But here they are.

With the most grandiose sigh he’s ever heard in his life, Max straightens in her chair. “Well, I don’t love giving advice to annoying teenage boys, but I’ve been told I’m good at it. Advice, you know.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Was it El who said that, by chance?”

“Bite me.”

Amused, Mike smiles, and he slides the near-empty cup between his hands like a little game, something else to focus on. “Okay, fine, give me some advice.”

Max frowns at him like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Maybe give me a situation to work with?” She mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t bother with.

“Well, the Byers are coming home and staying with us, and I wanted to come up with something really nice to do, you know. I know that they’re really nervous because it’s… the holidays have been rough, the past few years.” He finishes his drink and stares at the lid. “They almost refused. So, I dunno, I figured I could do something to make them feel like it’s still home.”

“Oh,” Max nods, finally breaking into a slight smile, “well, cool, you could set up something really romantic for El! She’d love it.”

Right. The girlfriend. 

He had no clue where the hell they left things when the Byers moved. About a month ago, Mike called to tell her the distance was confusing and they might need to take a break. He figured she would’ve told Max because, from his understanding, they spoke on the phone on an almost daily basis.

“Sure - yeah, yeah, that’s - it’s a good idea. For sure.”

Max falls back into a confused squint. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

Mike isn’t sure how to get it out without sounding like a total airhead. So he copes with it the best way he can. “You know what, this was dumb. I’ll figure it out myself.” He grabs his jacket and stands to leave.

“No, no, Mike - I want to help.” She’s looking up at him with a genuinely nice expression, holding out a hand to stop him from fully up and leaving. “I’m really good at this stuff, just let me know what I can do. No judgment. I swear.”

“I have to get home tonight anyway,” Mike says cautiously. “Told my mom I’d help with dinner.”

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

He frowns, and something digging at his stomach makes him respond with, “Why do you care?”

Max’s jaw sets. She stands up to meet his eye level and sets a look on him. “Even if I didn’t, even if I couldn’t care less about you, Mike, I care about El. And Will. And I want to be a part of their homecoming. So maybe you could figure out a way to not be a dick about it.” She snatches her drink cup and storms off from the table, leaving Mike to scramble after her with more apologies.

He’s gotta get better at this whole ‘girls’ thing.

He catches up to her outside. “Okay, listen - come over after school tomorrow. We can meet outside by the stairs.”

She barely turns to him, says, “Fine,” and then hops on her bike and rides away.

That’s how Mike ends up with Max in his basement, slowly walking and examining his things, but not touching any of them, thankfully.

It’s going alright, thus far. A part of him feels like he should reach out to Lucas and Dustin, too, since they’re also Will’s best friends. But something about this… works. He and Max can’t seem to stay entirely civil in each other’s company, but she gets something. And she hasn’t brought up El even once since yesterday.

“So, I’m gonna come up with a really cool campaign - well, I’ve been working on it, and I can tell you about it - “ Max lifts herself on tiptoe in his peripheral vision, “ - but anyway, we can pull an all-nighter, if everyone’s up for it, and make snacks and drinks and stuff, and we can have movies on for you guys, and I thought I might even look for some costumes because I really think Will would get a kick out of it. I can put lights up, too - “

“You draw?”

Max’s back is to him, as she’s looking over his wall of posters and pinned pictures. As he steps closer, he realizes her eyes are fixed on a sketch that definitely bears some resemblance to him.

“No, Will sent me those,” he says quickly, not wanting to seem like a giant narcissist, because Will’s drawing is - how can he say it - beautiful. “He’s been using charcoal a lot recently, he told me he got some new art stuff. I think he wants to send one of all of us.”

Max turns to him, and he can’t tell if she’s tearing up for some reason, but she quickly wipes any sign of tears away. “That’s so neat,” is all she says at first. There’s a small silence between them, and she’s just looking at him, and he has no idea what the hell he should say. “He’s such a good person,” she adds quietly, “I wish I got the chance to really know him.”

Mike’s breath hitches for a few seconds. “Yeah. I mean, he mentioned hanging out with you a few times.”

A smile lifts the girl’s cheeks. “Yeah, to bitch about you, mostly.”

“Hey!” he protests, but he can’t help but smile too, this time. This might just be their most pleasant interaction to date. “He never mentioned that.”

“I don’t know how he could, all you freakin’ do is talk.”

“Whatever.” Mike messes with some Christmas crafts on the table, holding them up in his vision to see where they might fit in the basement. He clears his throat. “You know, El and I, uh - we split.”

Max nods slowly. “She said you guys don’t call much.”

“No, we didn’t. I mean, I don’t even call Will, we just write.” He leans against the table, eyes glazing over as he looks over years of memories, dorky craft nights, and shitty school projects that he or his mom made a point to keep. “It’s too hard to talk - to either of them, you know. I didn’t think I could hear their voices without…”

Max cuts him off. “I get it.” She crosses over to the table, helping him pull apart old paper snowflakes. “I’m just the opposite. I’m scared if I don’t talk to them, I’ll convince myself it was all fake. And maybe it’d be for the better, but I’m glad I knew them. Even if only for a little while.”

Mike bites down on his lips, attempting to bury all the emotion threatening to spew out of him. “Yeah.”

Max finally looks up at him, and though they seem to have shared a moment, she snaps back out of it. “All offense, Mike, these are ugly as shit. I’m helping you make new ones, okay?”

“It’s for the memory!”

“No more living in the past.” She raises her eyebrows at him, and he pinches his face in annoyance, so she says, “Okay, you can put them up, in like, little corners, but we’re making new ones. Surprise. Work with me here, Michael.”

“It’s my basement, Max.”

“Did you or did you not ask for my help?”

Mike blinks. “Not really.”

She throws a crafty paper star at him. “Shut up, you’re glad I’m here.”

He shakes his head and moves on, but though he may never admit it, a part of him really is glad.

Weeks pass in what feels like a span of days or maybe hours, with Mike and Max sorting out their surprise plans with a typical amount of bickering - but hey, they get it done. Max has lots of opinions about decorations and music that make Mike roll his eyes, but she’s got a good eye and she offers to help with baking, which is not a strong suit of his. Yes, they throw a lot of streamers at each other, and threaten to storm out every other hour, but it gets done.

And the day is finally here.

Mike pulls himself into his best festive sweater and eyes himself in the mirror. He messes with his hair, though the long, wavy curls never seem to fall exactly into place - maybe growing it out was a mistake - and tugs at the creases of his sweater, letting out a huffy breath. None of it is working with him. When he can’t stand looking at himself anymore, he dashes down to the kitchen to help his mom with desserts.

She smiles when he plops into a seat. “You okay, honey? You seem a little tense.”

Mike jolts. “Uh, yeah, just excited.”

“Good! Joyce said the kids haven’t stopped talking about the trip for weeks.”

Great. “I hope we live up to the hype.”

“Oh, Mike. You know you don’t have to try that hard.” Karen stops frosting for a moment to look at him. “Will’s your best friend. El is excited to see you,” she nudges at him, and he coughs out a nervous laugh, “and Joyce thinks you’re an angel-”

“God, mom-”

“I’m serious. Don’t worry so much.” She leans forward on her forearms. “I know you think every problem in the world is on you, but it’s not. It’s enough just to be around the people you love. If anything, you’ve gone overboard.”

Overboard. Hopefully, it’s not too much.

Finally, he caves, exhaling slowly with a simple, “Okay.” He stays beside her, tapping his fingers, and eventually ruining a gingerbread man’s face until she notices and smacks his hand away.

There’s a knock on the door, and while Mike hops to his feet, his mother calls out, “Come in!” earning a panicked look from him. She mouths, ‘Chill,’ but he still half-jogs to the door and throws it open.

Nancy calls down the stairs, “Who is it?”

It’s Max, brandishing a few small wrapped gifts.

“Hello, sunshine,” she says. After a moment, “It’s great to see you too, Michael, allow me to invite myself in.”

“It’s just Max,” Mike calls back. He steps aside, and Max brushes past him, dropping her gifts by their tree and running into the kitchen. 

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”

“Hey, Max, Merry Christmas!”

Mike’s mom seemed to think Max was one of the most charming people on the planet, something they frequently disagreed on, but he can’t be mad at their pleasant chatter right now.

Especially not when the next knock comes so soon.

Probably just Lucas and Dustin, dragging their feet as usual.

Mike opens the door, prepared with a quippy remark for his friends, but his stomach drops immediately.

It’s Will. Holding a bunch of luggage.

Mike is caught up in everything about him. He’s taller. New, floppy hair, tousled and messy in the biting snowy winds. His forearms exposed as his bags push against his jacket. Will.

The boy smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mike manages.

Will looks past him with a tiny wave, and Mike turns to see Max beaming and waving back, and then Max slips back into the kitchen and Will returns his gaze to Mike. “Can I come in?”

“Hey, Mike!” Joyce interrupts from the car, straining to grab something in the backseat. “Merry Christmas, honey!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Byers!” Mike, finally catching up his brain-to-movement reactions, moves to let Will in. “Yeah, come in. I’m gonna, uh, go help your mom.”

“Cool.”

He immediately forgets why he’s moved and attempts to step out as Will crosses the threshold, almost knocking him over, so Mike grabs his arms to stabilize with a, “Sorry - uh - whoops, haha, don’t fall,” and Will chuckles and shifts a bag to his shoulder, saying, “It’s alright,” and Mike spends his walk to the Byers’ car trying not to curse himself out.

“Oh, Mike, thank you, sweetie,” Joyce grunts, pulling a heavy tote bag from the floor of the car. “Can you carry this?” Mike nods and takes it from her easily, offering his arms out for extra luggage. Together, with Jonathan, who greets him with a, “Merry Christmas, man,” they manage to get everything inside in one trip. Mike hardly notices El rummaging through the trunk until she comes stumbling along with a basket full of gifts.

Finally, they’re all inside, and only a beat goes by before Nancy comes bounding down the stairs to greet Jonathan, and Joyce is grinning around at everybody, and then Karen rushes in from the kitchen with excited greetings.

“It is so good to see you,” Joyce says, opening her arms up to Mike for a hug. “You’ve grown so much-'' she looks at Karen and mutters, “-so much-” then looks back at Mike. “We’ve missed you all.”

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Mike says, “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“We couldn’t miss it. Figured it’s best that we’re together, you know.” Her expression falters, but she takes a breath and carries on with moving bags and ‘Merry Christmases.’

Joyce and his mom wind up chattering, and Karen takes off her apron to help transfer some luggage to the spare room. Nancy takes Jonathan’s hand and heads upstairs, grabbing one of his bags from the ground.

Will seems to have disappeared into the kitchen with Max, leaving his things behind, so it’s just Mike and El.

Mike takes in a deep breath.

It wasn’t an ugly breakup; honestly, El seemed unfazed. Their calls were little more than small talk about their days, most of the time, and even though he thought they might hold onto their past, everything they’d been through… it seemed to work best that they didn’t.

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

El smiles easily. “Merry Christmas, Mike.” She lifts the basket slightly for acknowledgment. “Can these go by the tree?”

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.”

El nods and slips by the couch over to the tree, carefully laying out the gifts. After a few moments of Mike awkwardly leaning against the couch arm, thinking up something to say - thank god she didn’t seem too focused on him - Max walks in, her mouth stuffed with a truffle.

“El!” She darts over to the tree, and El jumps up, eyes bright, immediately throwing her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” El giggles. “I brought you a gift.”

“You too. I can’t wait for you to see it. But first, you have to try one of these sweets Mrs. Wheeler’s making. They’re like frickin’ heaven.” She holds out the last bite of her own, and El takes it from her hand, eyes lighting up mischievously as she bites into it.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know. I think we should go sample some of the others.”

Mike calls out to their backs, “You guys better leave some for later on,” and in response, hears Max mimic him. He rolls his eyes and stands up from the couch.

And then it’s just him and Will, who’s beaming at him, seemingly amused by their banter.

Okay, Mike, now or never. “Uh, I’ll show you downstairs.”

“We’re not staying in your room?” Will asks simply, crossing over to retrieve his duffel bag.

“We totally can, I just have something I wanted to show you.”

Will nods. “Oh, okay, cool.”

Mike assists with a smaller bag and leads him to the basement door; before he runs down the stairs, he catches Max’s eye, and she gives him a thumbs up and mouths, ‘You got this.’ Deep breaths. At that moment, he’s incredibly thankful for her presence. 

He watches as Will follows him down, slower, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. His eyes catch on everything Mike and Max put together over the past few weeks, and his footsteps grow slower as he takes it all in.

Streamers of all festive colors and off-balance fairy lights hang along the corners of the basement, phrases of ‘Welcome home,’ hand-cut and pasted on the front wall; at the table, a game mat and figures sit in wait, silly hats placed in front each chair; even the TV is prepared with a Santa hat, the couch covered in blankets and pillows, a few sleeping bags folded on the floor.

“Mike,” Will says quietly, stepping in a small circle, “what is all this?”

“Your homecoming party.” Mike is all jitters; he leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets to disguise any visible shakes. “You like it?”

Will finally looks straight at him, an indiscernible look painted on his face. “Yeah,” he says, nodding rapidly, “yeah, it’s great - but we, uh,” he swallows and shakes his head, “we don’t, um, have to play D&D. I mean-”

“I don’t know, Will,” he ventures to step away from the wall, taking slow steps over to the table. Will follows every move. “I mean, I was really excited to have you back, even just for a little bit. We all were.” He reaches the table and leans back on his hands. “Figured having our cleric back warranted some festivities.”

Will shakes his head, runs his hands along his face, and turns away. The bit of confidence Mike has slowly starts to trickle.

“Is it okay?”

Will shakes out of his stupor and chuckles. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You’ve truly outdone yourself, Michael.” He lifts himself on tiptoe to look at decorations on top of Mike’s shelves. “Are these from our big craft night, like, years ago?”

The horrible crayon work makes Mike smile - they made half of the snowmen evil, citing a Great Abominable Snowman War, and gave them wicked frowns and smiles, claws on their stick hands. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you kept them.”

“I keep everything.” An awkward chuckle breaks from his chest. “Not everything, like, a hoarder or whatever, but - “

Will simply smiles and pushes himself forward toward the back wall, brushing past Mike, to his different pinups. He fixates on the sketch of Mike that he’d sent about a month back. “You know, you should probably take this down. I don’t think you’ll hear the end of it from Lucas and Dustin if you don’t.”

“Screw ‘em.”

“Right.” Will quirks his eyebrow and moves to sit in his designated chair, right next to where Mike is currently resting. “So, they know about D&D?”

“They know.” Mike smiles, and looks at the floor, right where their legs brush up against each other. “They seem pretty excited to have the party back together. To remind you of how badass your first one was,” he adds.

Will peers up at him for a moment before quietly saying, “I never joined another one.” Mike meets his eye for a moment, then, threatened by the silence that follows, clears his throat and distracts himself with a particularly interesting notch in the wood paneling. “Did you guys find someone else?”

“No, no,” Mike assures him. “We haven’t touched any of this stuff. It’s not the same.”

A silence settles between them, one that neither seems to know how to navigate. But Will keeps his gaze steady on Mike, trying to breach some barrier, to fall back into their usual ways.

Something is different, though; it’s not uncomfortable, it never could be, but it’s something intimidating. Will seems more comfortable, at least; he’s not shying away from anything Mike throws at him.

And he tries to break the silence first. “Y’know - “

“Will,” Mike cuts him off, and he’s not sure what he’s saying, or where he’s going with it, but he knows he’s supposed to say this. His name. “I need you to know that I missed you.”

Will blinks at him, cocks his head. “I missed you too,” he says matter-of-factly.

The words are eating at him, right there on the edge of his mind, and Will looks almost concerned and now Mike just wants to drop it because that’s not what he wanted. But he can’t, not now. “I missed you the most.” It sounds so juvenile. “More than everyone else. I missed you before you even left. I just didn’t know how to say it.” He breathes in and out, focusing on Will’s cheeks, the tip of his nose, anything but his eyes. When Will doesn’t say anything, the rest just spills. “I missed you when our first first day of school apart came and passed, and I didn’t even call. I missed you at homecoming. And,” he licks his lips, not really sure where his speech is heading, “I know you had to go, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. But I feel like we haven’t been on the same page in a long time. So, I missed you, and I love you, and that’s that.”

Will looks at him funny, and then his face softens into something like laughter, and Mike is genuinely about to run and throw up somewhere, but then the boy closes his eyes and says, “I love you too.”

Mike blanches. “I don’t think I said that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.”

“Oh,” he nods, mind spinning, “well, you know…”

Will stands to be at Mike’s level, leans forward on his knees. Mike stops breathing. “I do,” he says, “but tell me again.”

Mike swallows down a breath of courage and suggests, “I think I might like you.” His eyes flit to Will’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll allow it,” Will says, a bright smile causing lines near his eyes. Mike smacks at his arm, nervous laughter coming out with a quiet, ‘Shut up.’ Will moves so he’s resting his fingertips on the table. Inches away.

“Same page, then?” Mike asks.

“Same page, yeah, for sure.”

Mike nods absently, distracting himself with the strings on Will’s sweatshirt. “So I don’t sound crazy?”

Will laughs. “I dunno. I always counted on us going crazy together. Figured we might have a few extra years, but hey, I’m all in.”

And then Mike is flashed back to a night on his couch just over a year ago. Knees knocking together, shared smiles. A promise.

So much has changed.

He wants to know what Will meant. A future of being in each other’s lives, maybe, getting old and senile and batshit crazy. Always being there.

He never dared to think about it before.

“So what now?”

Will shrugs. He dips his head to meet Mike’s eyes with his own. “What do you want, Mike?”

And finally, he thinks he might know.

Or maybe he’s always known.

He scoots forward, takes Will’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s just a quick press of their lips, but in that moment, he knows a few things for sure. His heartbeat is going a mile a minute, and Will must be able to feel it; it’s absolutely exhilarating, surreal, insane that he’s kissing his best friend; and, he is definitely in like, or maybe love, with Will Byers.

He’ll probably love him forever.

When Mike pulls back and his eyes flutter open to see Will, flushed, blinking back at him, slightly dazed, he doesn’t want to pull away at all. He did that. Mike’s hand remains on his jaw, lax, and he runs his thumb along Will’s bottom lip, curious to see his reaction, curious about a lot, now.

Will lets out a breathy chuckle. “Wow,” he mumbles, “that’s new.”

“Yeah.” Mike exhales shakily, takes one of Will’s hands, and says, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

The world doesn’t seem to fall apart like Mike thought it might if he ever got to this point, so, that’s nice.

“So…” Mike begins carefully, “you’re gonna have to be slow with me here. This is sort of a lot for me.”

“Me too,” Will replies simply. He squeezes Mike’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Totally.”

Will takes his cheeks in his hands and smiles into a very gentle kiss, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck. It’s soft and sweet and lingering - but not for too long, as moments later the door upstairs busts open and shouts of, “BYERS!” from their dear friends sound through the air, and Mike and Will jump apart, equally startled and laughing.

“Down here!” Will calls out. He looks at Mike, smiles, offers, “To be continued?” and as he walks past, he leans in, just to leave a quick peck on Mike’s cheek.

And all Mike can do is laugh and shake his head and run after him to meet their friends; Lucas and Dustin are horribly late to the surprise, but they collide into Will the second they see him, shouting over each other, ‘What’s going on, dude?’ ‘Merry Christmas!’ ‘You’ve missed so much,’ and everyone is grinning and chattering, and it’s awesome.

Max approaches him, watching all of the madness, smacks a hand to his shoulder, and says, “You did good, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, I did.” She punches his arm lightly, laughing, so he adds, “thank you for everything. Seriously.”

“I think we should work together more often.”

Mike scoffs into a laugh, and says, “Yeah, guess so.”

Max rolls her eyes, but at least now they’re actually laughing in each other's company. It’s great progress from just a few weeks ago.

After a minute of watching the boy’s shenanigans, Max smiles. “Well, Merry Christmas, anyway.”

“Merry Christmas,” he responds, and he watches as she jumps up onto a kitchen stool, chatting and giggling with El.

With everyone back together again, finally, Mike feels really alive; so, he jumps in with all the excited shouting and group hugs and bickering, and celebrates the merriest Christmas he can remember in a long time.

[cosmiclatte28]

One More Night (Jaehyun x you ft Doie)

a/n : I am not forcing anyone to read this, this has sort of a sad angst theme. Jae was abusive here and I don’t mean anything to him.. it’s pure fanfic :”) sorry this is in my head and I had to let this out 

warning : jaehyun is abusive but he is depressed and sad, doyoung is your manager. Sorry for curses and mentions of alcohol, cigarette, and self harm. angst 

don’t force yourself to read this 

You don’t understand yourself. Why aren’t you leaving him? After all he had done to you, his words hurt, his actions pained you, you always go home with bruises, but can you leave him? You can, but your heart doesn’t want to.

Like today, your boyfriend called you again to come to his house. Being the good caring lover, you follow his order. As expected, he called you because he had a rough day.

“I'm tired, i'm so tired (y/n).” Jaehyun slammed his third glass of beer on the counter as he sobs harder next to you.

You extend your arm, to grab his shoulder and rub soothing circles there, seeing Jaehyun broke down like this is more painful than letting him lash out his emotion to you.

“You're strong Jae,” you try to calm him down. He was ranting about his life, how his work life in the leading media corporation is stressful and he got a lot of complains from his director when he submitted this month's proposal.

“I am so done with that company. I'll probably get my white envelope soon.” He scoffs when he finishes his fourth glass. You swore you're confused when did he buy his alcoholic supply. Jaehyun never completes his grocery shopping by himself, it's always you but you never buy alcohols… so who?

“Tell me where did you get these Jae?” you point at the bottles and he chuckles deeply “You question unnecessary things peaches, don’t you wonder why you're here tonight instead?” he pulls you up with one swift swing and brings you to the room.

His breath reeks alcohol, his consciousness was below 50%, you were on your right mind until his soft lips enclosed yours and his hooded sad eyes pierce into your soul.

“You love me don’t you?” the same goddamn question. He traces a finger on your jaw and you choose to close your eyes. Staring into his eyes will only make you fall deeper.

“Answer me,” his palm reaches your cheek and you feel it sting. Here it is, his true self is always out when alcohol and stress consume him.

“I love you Jaehyun,” you whisper tears already flowing out of your eyes. This was not the man you know three years ago. You remember him as the sweetheart of the world, not the scariest man who only come to you for pleasure and ignoring you the next second.

“Then be my good reliever,” he slaps you one more time and the rest of the night you only wish no one heard your sinful noise.

“You're going home?” he asks the second he was tired of rocking you. His half naked torso is laying on the bed. A bud of cigarette was tucked nicely between his lips.

You nod your head as you take your time to redress.

“Stay here, you're my lover.” He pats the empty bed side. Oh you wish you can stay, but with the amount of alcohols he consumed and how your body is already bruising, you knew better to go home.

“I have a schedule tomorrow.” You admit.

Jaehyun sighs “Then sleep here, I'll drive you there tomorrow. I miss you,” he sounds like he had sober up.

You shake your head and lean over to kiss him “You hate my agency Jae, don’t force yourself to come with me.” You run a hand over his hair. He leans into your touch, suddenly the angelic heart throb is here again not the demon of the dark side. He closes his eyes after yawning and slowly drift to sleep.

You take his cigarette bud, turn it off in the ash tray and leave the apartment you once love. Your relationship is toxic but you cannot let him go. Not in this state.

“Wow you do know how late this is?” Your roommate peeks over his room door when he heard you enter the house.

You sigh and take off your jacket “Ah Doyoung, yes it’s very late. Sorry for waking you up. Go to bed you still have time.”

Doyoung shakes his sleep away and walks to you. He knows your relationship with Jaehyun. He was there from the beginning until the time it went wrong. He told you to leave him already, but you cannot.

The man grabs his spectacles and calmly takes your arms and wrists then he twists your body to check your condition.

“He wasn’t that rough tonight?” Doyoung still raises from his seat to take the soothing cream he has prepared for you.  

You sigh “You don’t have to do this Doie, I can take care of myself.”

He scoffs “You've been saying that for the last seven months but you never for once take care of yourself if I don’t do this.”

He begins with the bruises on your wrists, the red cheeks, the wild hickeys on your neck and when he ensures none is skipped, he orders you to lift your shirt up.

He always complains on how your waist can survive the dead grip Jaehyun has, they always leave bruises on your body and Doyoung hates how you always struggle in the morning to cover up your bruises.

“You should really leave him. This is not good for your body and mental.” He presses some alcohol on the open wound and you for once thank Heaven you knew Doyoung who can take care of you.

“I cannot Doie, he needs me. He said I am the reason he is holding on.” You lean to the sofa and moan at the delight of relaxing your body.

“gosh your silly job and crazy company.” He hisses

You bite your lips as you stare into the ceiling. This is your job, taking cover pictures for special magazines. No it’s not filled with lewd pictures nor nudes, just regular pictures that were found to be able to comfort men and women who are breaking down and sad. The company did get a lot of money and you have many fans. All of them have been meeting you virtually and telling you how thankful they are to see you. They said seeing you helps them overcome one more day.

You were not fond of your job at first, until you met Jaehyun a photographer for one of your biggest project. It’s for the anti depression campaign and since then both of you got to know each other. Jae was a lovely man who also tells you he is one of those subscribers who wants to thank your cute pictures for helping them survive and stop overthinking.

That comment and all comments and love mails from your fans made you unable to crawl out of this hole. Doyoung is not one of them, he is assigned to look after you but he detests everything related to this.  It’s just his job and the wage is pretty much high and he couldn’t find another job with higher wage yet.

Jaehyun was good until six months ago he lost his one and only family member, then he regret all of the things he couldn’t do for them. He turned into a mess, your pictures, your comfort words, your presence  itself cannot bring him back. He turned into a monster when he's sad and mad. What happened to him scared you, but your heart cannot leave him.

“It's not silly as long as I can live under this apartment Doie. Look around this pretty apartment is good enough for a payback.” You breathe out. Feeling also emotional after thinking about Jaehyun and holding back the pain you're now feeling.

“You have a schedule tomorrow.” He scrolls his phone and notes the time. He is your personal manager.

“I know-“ before you can finish your sentence a knock was heard on the door.

Both of you look at the door and gulp “Who could it be?” your grip on Doyoung’s hand and your phone rang.

“Shit, it’s Jae.” You push Doyoung out of the sofa and push him to his room direction “Pretend you’re asleep.” You send him a pleading eye, you don’t need a jealous Jaehyun at this moment.

Doyoung just follows your words and hide in his room. You calm yourself down and open the door to find Jaehyun not so sobber, but he is here and you’re surprised he could take a cab here.

“I took the cab, don’t worry. I cannot sleep without you.” He nuzzles into your neck and slumps over your smaller body. With much struggle both of you made it to the sofa and Jaehyun is super messy.

His eyes are wet and he was slurring words while closing his eyes and holding on to you tight “Don’t leave me. Come stay with me again. Why did you leave me?”

He sounds pathetic and you actually want to slap him and yell at him “See yourself and think why I live by myself now or at least not with you….” But you know that will only hurt him more and break him.

“Shh calm down Jae” you card his hair and he relaxes into your touch “I am not leaving you,” at least now your heart whispers. Your eyes fall to his wrist that has been healing slowly from nasty cuts and you plant a quick kiss on his wrist “I am proud of you being strong, stay with me too Jaehyun.”

“If getting hurt is what makes you stay a night more, I’ll bear it with you. Please don’t leave me.” Your tear fell and you kiss his cheek. He did not hear your last sentence for his chest has risen slowly and he fell asleep.

You glance to the half open door, of course Doyoung had to be eavesdropping. He tosses you a free blanket and you’re thankful for his quick wit. You cover Jaehyun up and leave to sleep in your own room. What tomorrow brings, you never know. But tonight, you’re glad at least you help Jaehyun overcome one of his dark nights again.

end

i hope no one has to go through this scenario irl..

reach out for help okay, whenever you feel lonely don’t let the loneliness win over you. you should fight back, or find someone to accompany you