#( he may still have tens of thousands of years left. sure. but you know that those will go by and he’ll disappear in the blink of an eye. )

[pastel-rights]

And then I finally end it off with some doodles of them… they make me feel things.

#ringmaster doodles #sona art #( they’re very much the theme of. love in the face of the neverending march of time. ) #( being immortal and knowing you will outlive the man you love because someone else deemed he unworthy of eternal life. ) #( he may still have tens of thousands of years left. sure. but you know that those will go by and he’ll disappear in the blink of an eye. ) #( and you’ll sit there on his death bed. wondering why did things end up like this? ) #( wondering what you did wrong. and if you could have done something different. you’ll always ask yourself. ) #( if he lives a life of happiness and comfort or did he live a life as gruesome and miserable as the wars on earth? but you won’t know. ) #( and the more you think about it. the more you realize it. how nihilistic he was. and how he never seemed to smile even in the good times. #he always seemed to have a frown or a scowl on his face. he always seems bothered and unhappy. ) #( so you wonder if it was something you did. because you know you aren’t perfect. you’re hardly good. ) #( you wonder if he’s mad at you. maybe he was. but he doesn’t have the heart to stay mad. ) #( and that’s love in the face of adversity. knowing that no matter how bad it gets. he loves you as you love him. ) #( and you wonder why he never smiles. because he truly never does. and so you ask him. honest and true. ) #( and he tells you there isn’t anything worth smiling for. nothing in this whole world. ) #( but he smiles at you. it’s always small. and it’s always brief. ) #( but that smile. that smile means love. ) #( that hug. as flimsy as it may be. that hug means love. ) #( of course. he isn’t affectionate. if anything. he detests it. he hates physical contact of any kind. you’ve noticed. ) #( which is a shame. you love your hugs and your kisses and your hand holding. ) #( but even if he doesn’t like it. he lets you do it. because it makes you happy. ) #( and you learn that when you’re happy. he’s a little less miserable. ) #( of course. not all love is equal. and not all love is fair. ) #( the love from a lover and the love from the father can never equate to one another. ) #( no one will love you in the same way a father or mother loves you. in the same manner. no one will ever love you the way I do. ) #( because my love will remain with you. long after I disappear. ) #( and as bitter as the idea of my own existence coming to an end is. knowing I did all of this for. essentially nothing. ) #( that I’ve gone through all this pain and suffering and hardship just for it to all amount to nothing. for it to be fucking useless to try. #I get to die knowing that you’ll always love and be loved. and that’s enough for me… ) #( … maybe there is something worth smiling for after all. )

[tklpilled]

complex

(aether, albedo)

summary: sometimes side effects are more prominent than the actual product.

a/n: this is kinda romantic implied bc i wrote albedo sort of crushing on aether but it could be read as platonic so i'm just keeping it vague lol. more lee aether who is surprised.

[this is a sfw tickle fic!]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

At this point, Aether is used to being a test subject. He came to Teyvat to find his sister, yet now he’s going to leave an unwilling hero and guinea pig — and, by the looks of it, still sisterless.

He can’t count how many times he’s gone through Lisa asking him to try a new spell, or Charlotte telling him to stand still so she can work on her photography, or Lyney practicing a magic trick he’s just come up with. He doesn’t mind it, really, not that much — it’s better than trying to fix all the Archons’ problems for them.

(He’s still hoping for Diluc to join the ‘ask-Aether-to-try-every-new-thing’ club, but considering everyone thinks he’s a teenager and not thousands of years old, he doesn’t think he’ll be doing a wine tasting any time soon.)

Point is, this whole thing isn’t just because of his own stupidity. He made a very understandable assumption, alright?

“Come here,” Albedo says, writing down some notes. “I want you to try this elixir out for me, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Aether nods, although Albedo can’t see it with his head bent down. He walks over to the table and sees two bottles, both filled about halfway. On the right is a pale green, glistening substance, and the bottle on the left contains a much more appetising blue-purple liquid. Albedo doesn’t look up from his notes, so Aether takes a 50/50 chance and picks up the left bottle. He downs it in one go.

Albedo looks up, then tilts his head. “That wasn’t the right one.”

Oh.

If Paimon were here, she’d panic and begin asking every question she could think of — but she’s not here, and Aether doesn’t know how to panic for himself. So, all he says is, “Am I going to die?”

“No,” Albedo says, sounding a little amused at how flat his voice is. “But—”

“Will I be in pain?”

“No.”

Aether shrugs. “Alright then. I don’t see a prob—LEHEM!”

His hands shoot up to cover his mouth, his eyes widening as a sudden sensation washes over him. Albedo looks on with a mixture of pity and curiosity as he sinks to his knees. “Maybe I should have warned you better…”

Aether curls in on himself, arms wrapped around his middle now instead of his mouth. “M-mahahake it stohohop!” he pleads, scrunching up his shoulders to protect from invisible, non-existent hands.

Albedo kneels down beside him, admiring the grin adorning his face. He’s never heard Aether laugh quite so freely before, and it’s very endearing. He finds himself staring for longer than he had intended. Aether is the one being tickled, yet Albedo is the one blushing — that doesn’t make any sense.

“In my experience, it stops after a short while,” Albedo finally says, blinking away from Aether’s incredibly pretty face, “although I took a much smaller dose than you. I’d estimate ten minutes at most.”

“T-tehehen?” Aether squeaks. “I cahan’t — too muhuhuch!”

Albedo can’t help but smile. Aether’s laugh is far too contagious. “Calm down, you’ll get used to it soon enough. It won’t feel nearly as bad in a couple minutes.”

Despite his words, Aether whines through helpless laughter, although he keeps any more complaints he may have to himself. From what Albedo had experienced, the tickling wasn’t intense at all; merely a step beyond tingling, just enough to make one laugh. For someone as ticklish as Aether, he supposes it might be a bit worse, but the overall outcome should be mostly the same.

“It was supposed to be a strength enhancer,” Albedo says, carrying the conversation while Aether is too busy cackling beside him. “It still is, technically. It just has some…very strong side effects. I’m sure if you could manage to stand, you’d find yourself a bit better with that sword of yours.”

“Plehehease,” Aether begs. “Mahahake it stohohohop…!”

“Hm.” Albedo reaches around him to scratch at his side, sending him scrambling away with a shriek.

“I hahate yohou!” he wails, then returns his arms around his waist protectively and kicks against the floor a little. “Yohou’re cruhuhuel!”

“I could leave you here until it's over,” Albedo suggests, making Aether frantically shake his head. “Maybe even make some more for you.”

“Y-yohou wohouldn’t!” Aether cries, although they both know he absolutely would. 

Albedo pokes a spot on his tummy that his arms fail to cover up. “If you say so.”

#don't ask about the title man idk #my fics #arty writes #genshin #genshin impact #gi #tickle fic #albether #albedo genshin #aether genshin #lee!aether #ler!albedo #ish

[place-called-space]

send me an angel [part i of 'sweetest poison']

word count: 2,601

Before they start their search for office space, Matt insists that they stop at Clinton Church—to pray for luck, of course. He doesn't know how Foggy convinced him to pray for a wife, or why he listened, but the next thing Matt knows, the smell of incense and old wood is overtaken by lilies and nectar, and you walk in.

So many things had changed after Matt lost his sight, but the sickeningly sweet scent of incense remained as stifling as ever. After years of being unable to filter through the cacophony of noise surrounding him, settling into the creaky wooden pews of the church with a deep sigh was a welcome reprieve, the incense dulling his senses just enough to stave off the migraines he so constantly found himself the victim of. 

Today was no different except for the presence of Foggy at his side. 

"So, how exactly do you pray?" he asks after several minutes of comfortable silence. "You ask for love and success in exchange for the sacrifice of a virgin?"

"We quite like virgins, actually," Matt corrects without skipping a beat. "They're a rare commodity these days, so we try not to sacrifice them anymore."

"Oh, I see. You just take them for yourselves," cajoled Foggy, nudging him with his foot. The wood of the pew creaked as he leaned back, turning slightly to leverage his elbow over the back. "You Catholics are greedy bastards, eh?"

"And I'm the only one that'll ever admit to it," Matt lamented with a sigh. He poked Foggy gently with his elbow. "Can I go back to praying now?"

"Right," Foggy said immediately, shuffling further away. "Take your time."

Matt shook his head, chuckling quietly before dipping again, fingers fiddling with the rosary held in his hands. He was almost done, with only one more decade to go. Sure, that may be another ten Hail Marys and a Glory Be, but despite how often he'd doze while praying as a kid, the repetition had become therapeutic over the years. Combined with the incense, it was easy to be lulled into an almost hypnotic state of calm, aided by the smooth surface of the beads and the occasional popping of the candles-

"You should pray for a wife."

Matt let out a startled laugh, catching the attention of Mrs. Akers, an old widow who'd been ancient back when Jack Murdock's mom would drag him to mass every Sunday. She turned in her pew but said nothing before turning back to the front with a shake of her head, the movement almost fond. 

"A wife?" Matt asked Foggy, lowering his voice even though he was still chuckling. "I could ask for world peace, an end to poverty and starvation, or even money for our firm, and you're telling me to pray for a wife?"

"In my defense," Foggy said, the slide of cotton against skin betraying the fact that he'd raised his hands in surrender, "hundreds of thousands of people had to have asked for those other things, and all we hear are sob stories about how they were ignored!" He shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know about you, but I don't hear any complaints from the people who've asked for love."

Matt paused for a moment. "No," he said eventually, fiddling with his rosary. "I guess not.”

He shifted in his seat, wincing when his bruised ribs twinged uncomfortably and hiding the expression by bringing his left hand up to adjust his glasses. Foggy wasn't paying attention to him anyway, scraping at a scuff in the floor with the toe of his shoe. 

Years of ingrained loyalty to the church had taught him to be grateful for the small blessings and to never ask for anything more. And for years, Matt had obeyed, stomping on any blooming feelings of want or desire for success or affection. Even now, shrouding himself in black and baptizing himself in blood every night, he avoided asking for anything other than guidance for himself or aid for others, muscling through the pain he endured every night, a true soldier of God. 

Would it… be wrong of him to ask for something for himself, for once? He'd been taking justice into his own hands for some time now, stopping what the police couldn't out of the goodness of his heart, for the betterment of his community. Did he deserve the comfort a wife would provide, the love she’d shower him with?

Matt's heart is practically beating out of his chest as he shifts his grip on his rosary, running his thumb over the little man on the tiny cross as guilt begins to crawl up his throat like bile. What existence would he damn his wife to? A lonely existence with a husband who only joined her in bed a few hours before they were supposed to wake? A life of struggling to make rent when he devoted himself more to the justice he sought at night than the one found in court? A marriage of resigning herself to always being his second priority?

No. Nobody deserved an existence as miserable as that, even if it would make his own more bearable. No matter what he'd done, no matter what good he always strived for, Matthew Murdock would never deserve such a reprieve. 

…But surely, one prayer couldn’t hurt. 

“Are you there, Lord? It’s me again,” Matt started, speaking low enough that only Foggy could hear him. “I need someone to be my friend—”

“Wife!” Foggy hissed. “You have to be specific!”

Matt turned his head in Foggy’s direction, amused. “You don’t think I can be friends with my wife?”

“Of course you can,” Foggy acquiesced with a steely note in his voice, “but you’ve already got one best friend, and I’d hate to claim seniority and break up your marriage.”

That last part got a surprised chuckle out of Matt. “Noted,” he said solemnly, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Maybe send me an angel. The nicest angel you have.”

He spent the next fifteen seconds trying his hardest to keep his face emotionless as Foggy’s head turned ever so slowly until the full brunt of his incredulous expression was focused solely on the man beside him. 

“You,” he started, drawing out the word in his disbelief, “did not just quote Lilo and Stitch.” 

“It’s called praying, Foggy.” Matt shook his head in mock disappointment. “I’d have thought you’d seen me do it enough times to recognize it.”  

Foggy heaved a sigh. “I have had enough of your smartassery,” he said, getting to his feet. “We should leave in a bit if you wanna meet the realtor on time. First impressions and all that.”

“Right,” Matt says distractedly, his attention pulled by the sound of footsteps entering from one of the hallways that branched off deeper into the church. If memory served, that hallway led to Father Lantom’s private office, but the footsteps leaving that hallway were far too light, far too quick to belong to the aging priest. No, this was someone else. 

Well, hello, you. 

Your skirt is long and flowy, made of linen and ideal for the warmer weather they've been getting lately. The hem flutters around your ankles when you walk, but as you pause before the candle-filled altar to light a votive, you raise one foot to scratch at your opposite calf, flashing a bit of soft, bare skin. 

Matt's fingers give an involuntary twitch. Tease. You like a little attention. That much is clear from the tight shirt you're wearing—form-fitting and the sleeves low enough to wrap around your biceps while leaving your shoulders bare. 

Your shoes are clean but well-worn. They smell of grass and soil, gum and sunflower seeds; you'd walked here, but only after taking a detour to soak up some sun in the park, clearly enjoying the weather. Central was too far to be feasible, so it was more likely you'd gone to DeWitt, where the grass was regularly maintained for the baseball season, hence the seeds and gum. 

Still, your childhood must've had some form of worship in it because you're wearing a cardigan concealing the exposed skin of your shoulders. The addition is meant to make the entire ensemble more modest, but the slight tinkling of your jewelry calls attention anyway. No loud bracelets that clashed against each other with every move you made, thank God—only a few sets of hoops and studs scattered throughout the cartilage of your ear to pair with the simple necklace you're wearing. 

Despite the understated embellishments, Matt sees right through the illusion—they're meant to bring attention to the long line of your throat, to the delicate bones of your clavicle, to the regal set of your shoulders. You want attention, but only the slightest bit. Your efforts to look effortless are not wasted—Foggy's heartbeat stutters when he finally sees you, admonishing words dying in his throat as he drinks the sight of you in, and for the first time in decades, Matt is envious of someone else's ability to simply observe. 

The feeling quickly dies, however, because no matter how hard he (or anyone else tries), Foggy's perception is limited to superficial observation, while Matt's is so much more than that.  

Matt can fully enjoy your scent, sweeter than the nectar of freshly bloomed flowers. He can bask in the taste of your skin, still sun-kissed and warm from the outside. He can relish in the sound of your blood pumping through your veins, spurred forward by your persevering heart. That closeness—that intimacy—was reserved for him...

...and him only. 

The thought sent a rush of pride, warped and wicked, through him, and Matt couldn't help the sharp smile that split his face. Despite being born of humor and sarcasm, his prayer had been answered. 

God had sent him an angel. 

He must've looked particularly devious because Foggy dropped his head into his hands with a groan. 

"She's hot, in case you were wondering," he whispered, resigned and conspiratorial at the same time. "Absolutely smoking. But I'm assuming you knew that already."

"I don't care about that, Foggy," Matt said distractedly, too busy listening to the brush of your hair against your cardigan—it smelled of lilies. "What's she doing?"

“Having a moment of silence, it looks like,” Foggy told him. “Which makes my staring at her even more creepy than before. Thanks, dude. Can we go now?”

“She smells so good,” Matt confessed in a hushed whisper, parting his lips to draw more of your scent onto his tongue. He was swaying slightly on his feet, and he grasped at the pew in front of him in a white-knuckled grip as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him—when had he stood up, anyway? “Are you sure we can’t stay a bit longer?”

Foggy startled a bit. “You can smell her from here?” he asked incredulously, the muscles in his forehead stretching as he raised a dubious eyebrow. When Matt didn’t respond, Foggy blew out a long-suffering sigh. There was the scratch of polyester on cotton as Foggy flicked his arm out, raising the hem of his sleeve enough to peer at the face of his watch. "Almost nine-thirty," he said. "We have to meet with the realtor at ten, so you have some time to try and get through the first half of your pickup lines."

And for the first time in years, Matt… hesitated. 

There was a restlessness inside his chest, pushing him to approach you and introduce himself, to flash a smile and hope the dimple Sister Maggie used to compliment so much ignited your curiosity and drew you in. From there, he could go straight into charming you, learning things about you that his senses couldn’t tell him. As the weeks passed, he could bring you to his favorite restaurants, hold your hand, kiss your cheek, taste the skin of your throat as he guided you to his bed, hear what your voice sounded like as you moaned his name-

Okay… maybe not. Maybe…

Maybe he wouldn’t say hello. Maybe he'd accidentally bump into you, have you make the first step in the connection he was already looking forward to fostering. It would undoubtedly be less conspicuous that way—much easier to explain away bumping into a woman you wanted to talk to if you were blind. An exchange like that could end one of two ways: the short, apologetic interaction which didn’t lead to anything substantial, or the extended, flirtatious conversation that might pique your interest and excite you enough into wanting more.  

And even if you chose the former, that didn’t mean he couldn’t introduce himself properly if he, by chance, came across you again, unattended and conveniently available.

And if he was right and the two of you were meant to meet… well, far be it from him to question God's plan. 

Mind made up, Matt sent a distracted smile in Foggy’s general direction. “Just… give me a few minutes, okay?”

Foggy heaved a great sigh, standing from the pew. “I’ll be loitering outside when you’re done. You better not make us late, Murdock!” 

Heart hammering in his chest, Matt felt around for the end of the pew, practically crawling out of the aisle in his haste. He took a moment to run a hand through his hair and straighten the creases in his jacket before stepping forward, tapping his cane as he walked. 

As he approached you, he could tell the exact moment you noticed him. The tapping of his cane announced his presence, and your hair shifted as your head turned to catch a glimpse of him. There was a small intake of breath as your eyes took him in, a slight tilt in your head betraying how you’d looked him up and down. Trying his best not to shrink under your scrutiny, Matt settled into the spot beside you, fingers searching for the candle the nuns kept lit for him at the bottom left. 

You watched him curiously, taking a half step to the side to give him more room. It seemed like you were watching him, silently preventing him from burning himself. And though he was tempted, just for a moment, to let his fingers get singed by a flame he’d strayed too close to, he didn’t, simply picking up the lit candle and lighting another. He set the candle back down, taking a deep breath before bowing his head in prayer. 

He probably looked nervous. He certainly felt nervous, a certain clamminess to his palms that hadn’t been there before. This close, it felt as though you were a magnet, drawing him in, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he was swaying on his feet again, his body instinctively arching toward you without his express permission. Matt’s fingers twitched, aching to reach out and brush against your skin, but he tightened his grip on his cane, determined to at least give off the impression that he didn’t know you were there. 

Your heartbeat was slow and steady in his ears, your breath similar as you, too, ducked your head, your lips moving soundlessly to finish your prayer. 

It was like he wasn’t even there.

Again, Matt grew restless. He’d… he’d expected you to say something. An ‘excuse me,’ at least, not just move away silently as though you didn’t want to be perceived. Because Matt knew you. He knew by how you dressed that you liked a bit of attention, each small but elegant accessory bringing attention to you, accentuating your natural beauty. Every part of your outfit was perfectly tailored to draw attention but not keep it. It was as though you were intentionally keeping in the middle of the pack. No, this… this was done deliberately. 

Well, two could play at that game. 

Letting out a breath, Matt turned abruptly, swinging his cane wide and smacking you in the shin.

part ii: '(don't fear) the reaper' coming soon to a screen near you!

a/n: there it is! honestly, i've been so excited to finally push this out that i accidentally added an entirely new plot point so the next chapter will probably take a bit longer, my bad y'all. in the meantime, feel free to ask any questions about this fic or send any requests!

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #x reader #x reader fic #nmcu fic #nmcu daredevil #daredevil fic #marvel daredevil #no use of y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Snow Over Hawkins

A/N: Another holiday fic? From me, after not posting in months? Who would've thought. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday or simply a peaceful winter! Thank you for reading! This jumps between 1996 and 1986 (the events of S4). Reader does celebrate Christmas in this and there is a lot of Christmas imagery. Also, I make Eddie a rockstar. Because it is what he deserves. :)

Pairing: Eddie Munson/F!Reader

Rating: PG-A soft little, melodramatic thing

Word Count: 10.4k

Summary: Perhaps coming to your ten year high school reunion was a mistake. But, as a blizzard rolls in just in time for the holidays, you may have to confront a specter from your past: Eddie Munson.

**1996**

Oh no.

There were too many people. Maybe if you just…turned right around and left, no one would know you had even come and-

A shout of your name quickly quashed that plan but your shoulders fell a fraction from around your ears as you spotted Robin weaving her way through the crowd to get to you. She was quick to throw her arms around you in a tight hug as if she hadn’t just seen you when she dropped you off at the hotel an hour ago and you two didn’t have a standing agreement to get together every two weeks at the little café down the street from your apartment in New York.

“God. Why did we come here?” She mumbled into your hair before pulling back.

“You were the one who said we should rub it in everyone’s faces that we are rich and successful and they peaked in high school.”

Robin groaned. “Must you remember everything I said?”

“I must.” You sighed and glanced over her shoulder at the milling crowd. The gigantic Christmas trees were bleeding green and red lights all over the large space. The event center for the reunion was an abject holiday wonderland, complete with fake flickering candles and artificial snow. Christmas songs were playing over the speakers, muted beneath the conversation between old classmates. Even the sign that read, “Welcome back, Tigers! Class of ‘86!” was made of red and green paper. “Nancy said she and Jonathan would be here, too. Have you seen them? Their flight left before ours.”

“Not yet. But you know who I have seen?” There was a conspiratorial gleam in her eye that had you frowning.

Before she could answer, someone darted by you with a squealed, “oh my god, I can’t believe it! I thought they were on tour!”

Your heart dropped to your feet. “Robin-”

“Nothing has to happen. He just happens to be in the same room as you for the first time in over ten years and-”

“And it changes nothing. He’s still…” The words trailed off as you dropped your chin to your chest. Robin rubbed a hand on your arm with a hum, she was always tactile with you, knowing when you most needed a friendly touch. “Pathetic, right? Ten years and thousands of miles and he still makes me feel like a little girl with an unreciprocated crush.”

“It has always been more than that.”

You winced. “That doesn’t help, Robs.”

She linked her arm with yours and started tugging you toward the table set up with hot chocolate and all the fixings, dodging a hulking pair of men in ill-fitting suits who you were sure never went to Hawkins High. Someone had been “kind” enough to leave little bottles of alcohol in a messy pile, too, so anyone could spike their own drink if wanted.

A glance back at the crowd nearly had your heart stuttering, already bruised. A headful of dark curls and warm eyes immediately caught your attention and suddenly you were a teenager again. Turning your head away felt like a herculean effort and you reached for one of the small bottles of whiskey and dumped it into your cup.

**1986**

Your head was spinning. There were monsters in Hawkins. …or not in Hawkins, but in a different dimension that you were currently trapped in. Running the school paper with Nancy was supposed to be a safe extracurricular activity—something to bolster your applications to your dream university. But after watching Fred fucking

levitate

and hearing his bones snap under the power of something unseen, you were sure it was one of the worst decisions you’d ever made. And now you were here after jumping out of the boat, your hand in Nancy’s. At least now you know why Robin and Steve had been extra cagey about the mall fire over the summer.

“You’re bleeding a bit,” Eddie said, crouching near you as you huddled beneath Skull Rock.

“What?” Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming you’d just done, arms aching from beating the damn bat creatures with a broken oar.

Eddie said nothing as he tore at his shirt and then pressed it to your temple, wincing alongside you. “Sorry, sorry. Just didn’t think you’d want a bleeding head wound in a place like this.”

You almost snorted. And it was probably the head wound and the adrenaline coursing through your system but your tongue didn’t tangle as it so often did around Eddie. “Oh? You come here often?”

Eddie’s cheeks bloomed with color, visible even under the grime. “Oh, c’mon. Can’t have a pretty girl bleeding.”

**1996**

“Gimme a sip of that,” Nancy said instead of a greeting as she stormed to your side. She took a hearty swig of your spiked hot chocolate and nearly spat it out. “What did you put in that?”

“Whiskey.”

“Jesus!” She wiped at her mouth, eyes watering.

Jonathan was a few paces behind her, wrapping his arms around you in a quick hug before doing the same to Robin. “Seems to be quite the turnout even with the storm rolling in.”

“Imagine if we all get snowed in. Trapped with all these people,” Robin said, dread dripping from every syllable.

“I’ll walk back to my parents’ house in the snow. I don’t care,” Nancy said, only relaxing when Jonathan stepped to her back and wrapped an arm over her shoulders.

“Tough day?”

“My editor called and said he wanted a rewrite by midnight for this article-”

“You got it done,” Jonathan quietly murmured.

“But I shouldn’t’ve had to do it at all! No one else’s articles get that kind of treatment. Goddamn Greg can write a puff piece about when to watch the cherry blossoms in each borough and use the wrong ‘there’ but he doesn’t even get a sternly worded email.”

You and Robin wore matching winces and hid behind your hot chocolate. “Didn’t you say The Economist was trying to poach you after your big editorial about that governor?”

Nancy nodded and sunk a little further into Jonathan’s grip. Her engagement ring sparkled in the twinkling lights. Their long-awaited engagement party just a few blocks from your apartment had been hosted a handful of months ago where you’d readily accepted Nancy’s invitation to be a bridesmaid. It certainly took them long enough. “And I’m considering it. But we’d have to move to London.”

Another twittering laugh drew all of your attentions and you saw Eddie stand and wrap and arm around someone you vaguely recognized as someone from the debate team as another person took a picture, the flash of their disposable camera nearly blinding even across the room.

Nancy’s blue eyes quickly zeroed in on you. “Have you talked to him?”

“No. He’s surrounded. Has been all night. I don’t want to be…that girl, anyway. Probably doesn’t even remember me.”

**1986**

“Look, I’m all for you, like, actually telling Eddie how you feel but maybe you could think of a more romantic setting for all this?” Robin nearly hissed as you continued on through the rotted forest of the Upside Down.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are making googly eyes at him—and he’s reciprocating! That guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you once since you beat that bat to death.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what really gets him going, Robs. Sure. Keep your voice down!” You grumbled in return, trying to ignore the heat in your chest.

You’d had a crush on Eddie since last year when you were paired up in History for your final project. Your sessions in the school library had become the highlight of your week pretty quickly after you realized how kind and funny he was, how brown his eyes were, and how they really sparkled whenever he spoke of something he was passionate about (which was never history, but you would let it slide because you loved his smile). You didn’t even mind that he gently teased you about your favorite song, Flaco’s “Rock Me Amadeus” and promised to “teach you about real music.” After passing the final project with flying colors, Eddie had gifted you a mixtape with a shy smile and pink cheeks “Just to say ‘thanks,’ you know, for helping me pass. I might not graduate this year, but I don’t have to repeat this class again and that was all because of you. But here’s your first lesson on real music, Amadeus.” Before you could say anything, he kissed your cheek and turned away, letting you get swallowed by the moving bodies of the hallway. And Robin, who you’d befriended while working at the mall over the summer (you worked at the lingerie store right next to Scoops Ahoy) had been your first confidante about your feelings. Steve, bless him, had guessed correctly after you came into the ice cream shop moping one Wednesday after you’d watched Eddie flirt with the bartender (again) at The Hideout during a Corroded Coffin gig. And then he was offering his “advice,” too, and telling you that your secret was safe with him, even if he didn’t really understand your feelings for “The Freak.” At all.

The feelings that hadn’t faded for over a year.

Steve and Robin hadn’t judged you, as so many others would, and you had earned Robin’s secret in return, an easy friendship blossoming right before the mall burnt down. As your senior year started and you once again found yourself at Eddie’s side more often than not in the hallways and shared classes and your easy comradery with the three-peat senior developed into inside jokes and more mixtapes disguised as ‘lessons,’ Robin and Steve had always encouraged you to at least try. And you never did. You’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all. And he was…he was your friend. A good friend who always smiled at you from the stage at The Hideout, who seemed to actually do his homework when you jokingly said you wouldn’t hug him anymore, who always made you smile when you had a shit day. Confiding in each other about your shitty parents (his were felons, yours were drug addicts) and then being raised by others had been another thing that bonded you. You had your aging grandparents and Eddie had Wayne but you both knew that it was different. Always. He’d hold your hand when you cried about feeling like you were missing something and you always told he’d amount to more than his parents when he struggled, too. You were there for each other in ways your other friends couldn’t understand. And that almost made it worse.

“All I’m saying is that he is obviously into you. Like a lot. But maybe wait until we aren’t in the sixth circle of hell to act on it.”

“This isn’t the sixth circle…this would be, like, the tenth. I think.”

Robin smacked the back of her hand into your arm with a pointed look “You’re avoiding the topic.”

“I’m avoiding nothing except these stupid vines!”

Eddie jogged to your side with a tired smile. “Hey, think we’re getting close to the Wheeler house?”

You nodded and glanced ahead where Nancy was leading the way, ignoring how Robin pinched at your side. A quiet shout of Robin’s name had you all turning and Steve was waving her back to his side and she darted away, leaving you alone with Eddie. Heat bloomed in your chest as he smiled at you, as it always did. A comforting warmth like settling in front of a roaring fireplace on a cold winter’s night.

Eddie knocked his shoulder into yours as you all continued on, another smile on his face. Only Eddie would be able to smile in a place like this. “You know, I’m glad you’re here with me in all of this.”

And now you had to smile, too, despite everything. “In the Upside Down?”

He blushed and stuttered something unintelligible before knocking his shoulder into yours again, pulling a quiet laugh from you. “Yeah, next time we have to fight monsters, I’ll make sure we’re at Enzo’s.”

“It’s a date.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to shove them back down your throat. Dammit. “I mean, you know, not a date, but yeah, we can keep fighting monsters together.” You winced at your messy jumble of words. Great. “I’m…For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here with me, too.”

**1996**

“What do you mean you didn’t listen to any of their music?” Robin asked, taking your hot chocolate away from you.

“I tried! But then he started singing about this person’s pretty eyes and wanting them to leave lipstick stains on his throat and I turned it off.” You sounded like a petulant child but you couldn’t help it. Hearing about how Eddie wanted something like that with someone who obviously wasn’t you hurt. It ached like a dull knife twisting between your ribs. The years hadn’t lessened the pain at all.

Robin and Nancy looked at each other, some silent communication that had you gritting your teeth. And then Jonathan patted your shoulder like you were some sort of idiot. “You really should have listened to it.”

“It wouldn’t change anything,” you muttered. “It has been ten years. Look at him.” Waving a hand at the ever growing crowd around Eddie, you tried to ignore the burn of tears at the back of your eyes. “He is a rock star. How many Grammy’s does he have?” (You knew he had two.)

Despite avoiding listening to any of his music, you had watched his meteoric rise to fame with a bittersweet happiness. It was what he deserved after everything. Being accused and then cleared of murder actually seemed to bolster his image as a rock god and helped Corroded Coffin land their first record deal. There was always a quip about it in every magazine or gossip rag that interviewed him or ran an article with his face at the center. It was part of his “mystique” as one journalist called it.

And the town that had always hated him now celebrated his success as their own. There were former football players and cheerleaders waiting their turn to get his autograph or take a picture with him, arm slung over his shoulder as if they were old friends. As if they hadn’t tried to hunt him down after Jason fucking Carver branded him a vessel for Satan. The lights caught on his hair, shining and soft, and a little shorter than it had been in school. Red then green then red again. Still so handsome. Even more so now, with a bit of stubble lining his jaw. He’d always be handsome, wouldn’t he?

Just as Bing Crosby started to croon, a woman with an orange tan stepped onto the small stage and tapped the microphone. “Hi everyone! My name is Tina-”

“We’d never forget you, Tina!” Someone shouted from the middle of the crowd.

She laughed and the microphone protested, screeching with feedback for a moment. “Well, as head of the Hawkins Alumni association, I welcome you all back to Hawkins. Can you believe it’s been ten years?”

As she prattled on, you and your friends grabbed seats at a table toward the back. She started to go through a slideshow of pictures from your senior year, taking an overly dramatic pause “in remembrance” for “Jason’s” victims and everyone else who died or was injured during the earthquake. Nancy’s foot knocked into yours beneath the table and you both rolled your eyes as Tina wiped a tear from her eye. Then, to your horror, she clicked onto the next slide that was a picture of you, holding Eddie’s leather jacket, exiting the hospital covered in bruises and blood and the grime of the Upside Down and patched up like a terrible pantomime of healthcare.

“But we have always been a class of survivors!” She continued on, speaking about the “tragedies” that befell Hawkins as if she knew anything about them. It was all a dull roar in your ears as she clicked through a few more pictures of the town being rebuilt. She’d just glossed over one of the worst days of your life as if it was nothing. Just another picture for her welcome speech.

“I need some air.”

Nancy squeezed your arm as you stood, slipping out of the room without a look back.

**1986**

You handed Dustin his nail-riddled shield and watched him and Eddie pretend to block invisible enemies, laughing with each other. You wanted to join in. Wanted to laugh and revel in being alive a little longer but the sinking feeling in your gut kept you from doing anything other than continuing to batter nails in through a trashcan lid and hope it would be enough.

Would it be enough?

Even if you all lived through this, would the alibi you and Nancy cooked up to cover for Eddie be enough? It was already set in motion when the police had questioned you after Fred’s death and you made no mention of Eddie, but would they believe you?

“Hey.”

You looked up, fingers curled painfully around the hammer, to see Eddie standing in front of you. The dying sunlight framed him, casting an ethereal glow around him and piercing your chest. Beautiful.

He moved to sit on the carton beside you, knee bumping yours as he swiveled toward you. “Gonna tell me what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours, Amadeus, or should I guess?”

Despite everything, you felt your lips curling up the slightest bit at the sound of the ridiculous nickname. “Guess.”

He hummed, stroking his chin with a dramatic flair. “You’re wondering if I have any weed on me and the answer is yes.” Then he pulled a (decidedly damp) baggie from the pocket of his jacket and dropped it onto your lap. “I wouldn’t smoke that though. I’m not entirely sure what lake water and…those spore things have done to it.”

You tossed the bag back to him and he almost caught it. “Try again.”

And so, he tried again and again, his guesses getting more ridiculous as the time passed until you were giggling, heart a little lighter and the final shield finished.

“Would the fair maiden take pity on her poor jester and tell him what made her so sad?” He asked, his warm hand curling over your knee and squeezing twice.

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head. “Just worried, ‘s all. Worried about Max. Worried about Robin. Worried about Nancy. Worried about Dustin. Worried about Lucas. Worried about Steve. The only person I’m not worried about is Erica—she’s going to rule the world one day, I know it.”

“Worried about me?”

And that just about broke you. “’Course I’m worried about you, Eddie. I’m always worried about you. Even without Jason and Vecna looming over everything, of course I worry about you.”

He squeezed at your knee again until you looked at him and then he was reaching out to cup your face, thumbs gently swiping against the slope of your cheeks. “Always, huh?” His grip didn’t falter even as you nodded. “Well, it sounds like you have enough to worry about, don’t need to add me to your list.”

“Eddie-”

“Hey.” Gently, he angled your face up so he could look at you properly, dark eyes staring into yours. “I promise you, I’m going to be fine. And you are, too. All of us are getting out of this.”

“Promise?” You whispered, the syllables cracking in your throat as your shaking hand covered his.

Eddie leaned forward to press his forehead to yours, your eyes fluttering shut. “I promise.”

**1996**

One look out the window let you know that this snowstorm was probably one for the history books. Giant white flakes were falling in a rush from the dark sky, already sticking to the sidewalks and hazing the light of the lampposts. The outdoor Christmas trees just a few feet outside the window were nearly covered, too, the snow making their lights glow like candles. It was pretty. Sure, you’d grown accustomed to the holidays in New York, but snow in Hawkins during the holidays? Almost nothing could beat it.

Nat King Cole’s voice echoed down the hall, providing a soft melody to the quiet moment, and nearly had your wounded heart calming. Nearly.

The door opening behind you pulled a sigh from your throat, expecting to hear one of your friends call out to you. Instead you heard a loud giggle and the tapping of heels against the linoleum tiles, steps unsteady and uneven. Nancy knew how to sprint in heels and Robin didn’t own anything other than sneakers and brightly colored flats so it wasn’t them-

“-can’t believe how she just got up and left!”

“I know! So rude!”

While obviously drunk, the women who probably called you names in high school for being a little socially awkward and not having the newest clothes, were not high on your list of potential “catch-ups.”

God. Why did you even come here? All the people you wanted to keep in touch with from high school, you already did. You had a small group of them in New York and you had scheduled phone calls with Steve and the kids, too. You didn’t need to come here. You definitely should not have.

But it didn’t matter now anyway. As the voices grew louder, you skittered further down the hall and wrenched open the nearest door and all but threw yourself inside, leaving the door open just enough to let a bit of light in, waiting to hear the women pass. You nearly stepped onto a tangle garland as you slunk into the shadows. The closet was filled with extra decorations. Stockings, wreaths, and tangled bundles of lights lined the shelves and had you flinching as something snapped beneath your shoe.

“Oh, but did you see Eddie?” One of the women asked. You immediately hated her tone. It sounded like something you’d accidentally come across late at night, when a few of the channels played more risqué films.

“How could I miss him?” There was a strange noise, it almost sounded like groan. Was it supposed to be a moan? “If I had known he’d be a rock star and looked like that, I wouldn’t have called him a freak in high school.”

“Oh, shut up Carol, yes you would’ve! Probably just not to his face!”

Their answering cackles echoed down the hall and you grimaced behind the door—the one small victory was that they seemed to be walking away from you, rather than toward. Still, you didn’t understand how people could still be so needlessly cruel. Eddie had always been handsome. Always. And he’d never been a freak. He just liked his roleplaying game and making his music. Sure, he was outspoken and a little abrasive to some…but he was a good man. He had always been a good man.

And those women obviously learned nothing from how they’d treated him in high school.

Your forehead knocked against the door as you continued to hold it barely open, and you tried to suck in a steadying breath. You never should have come. Even without talking to him, Eddie was still looming like some sort of Ghost of Christmas Past.

You sounded pathetic, didn’t you? It had been ten years since you’d parted ways and lived separate lives. You were one of the curators up at the Met in New York; your dream job in a vibrant city. You were paid well and had an ironclad support system with your friends. But Eddie still ached, a pain with a beautiful face. Wasn’t it time you moved on?

Yes. It had to be. (But how many times had you told yourself that?)

Straightening your shoulders, you moved to open the door only to have the knob ripped out of your hand as the door was thrown open and then you were all but shoved into a stack of wreaths and the door shut with a sharp snap.

“Jesus!” You nearly shouted, scrambling to stay upright in the dark and only mildly succeeding, your palm slapping against a shelf and toppling a neat stack of ribbons.

“Oh shit. Sorry!” A familiar voice answered and your heart leapt.

In the dim light of the closet, you recognized the curls and the soft cut of his jaw. “Eddie?”

**1986**

“Don’t try to be cute.” Steve’s warning only made you roll your eyes, pushing at him to rejoin Nancy and Robin.

“You’re the one who managed to accessorize before going into battle, Harrington. You’re cute enough for the both of us.”

Steve huffed and tugged at your wrist to press a hard kiss to your forehead. “Take care of Dustin, okay? Take care of both of them.”

“I will. Take care of my girls, too.”

“Hey, Steve?” You both turned at the sound of Eddie’s voice to see him take a few steps forward, mouth set in a firm line. “Make him pay.”

Steve nodded, intentions clear. But, just before he turned back toward Nancy and Robin, he reached for you again. “Tell him. Tell him and fight like hell so you can actually do something about it.”

And god…you wanted to scoff, tell him that now as definitely not the time for confessions of any kind. You were trying to stay alive! But you couldn’t scoff. Couldn’t roll your eyes. All you could do was tap at his chest with a grimace you hoped looked like a smile. “Stay safe, Steve. Come back. All of you. We’ll see you on the other side.”

Then, he was jogging back to the others while you turned to see Eddie and Dustin waiting for you. And their hopeful smiles were a knife between your ribs. “Let’s get this started, okay?” You said, clapping your hands together. As you busied yourself with trying to fortify the Upside Down version of the Munson trailer, you tried to tell yourself that this was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. In a few hours, you could walk into the police station, clear Eddie’s name and no one would realize how close you all came to apocalypse.

But it didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel…safe.

“Hey…”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a warm hand closed over yours, halting your attempt to screw in a bit of sheet metal over a window. Your next breath wheezed out of you as you looked into Eddie’s molten brown eyes. “Eddie.”

“You okay?”

“I’m, yeah, I’m fine. As fine as we can be, about to provide an absolutely insane distraction so our friends can kill an interdimensional super villain. Yeah. Fine.”

Eddie stepped a bit closer, gentle hands sliding up your arms to cup around the back of your neck, pulling you closer to rest his forehead against yours again. “I made you a promise, didn’t I? We are going to be fine.”

You could tell him right now. Just open your mouth and say it. But the words turned to molasses at the back of your throat and you could only nod, tugging at the bottom of his vest and zipping it up properly.

“C’mon, sweetheart. We’ve got a concert to play.”

**1996**

“What’re you doing in a closet?”

“What are you doing in a closet?” You quickly retorted, embarrassed heat starting to curl around your throat.

“If I had to take one more picture with someone who called me a freak in high school, I might actually set something on fire.”

You laughed, clapping your hands over your mouth before the noise could truly escape. “Jesus, sorry. I thought you…were doing well.”

“I just needed a break.” You could hear the exhaustion dripping from each letter. “Gimme a crowded stadium any day over that.”

Before you could do anything else, you were nearly knocked onto your ass by Eddie abruptly turning and throwing his arms out, fingers dragging against the wall in search of something. “What’re you doing?”

“I need a light. I want to talk to you in the light—need to see your face.”

Oh, the heat was nearly suffocating now. He could still make you feel like a teenager. When it seemed he wouldn’t be finding the switch, you went to open the door and then felt your heart drop to your toes. “Eddie.”

“What, Amadeus?”

Despite the smile you felt pressing at your lips, muscle memory and Eddie’s ineffable charm slotting between your ribs like a missing piece of a puzzle, dread pricked at the back of your mind. For good reason. “I think we’re locked in.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment before his warm, guitar-string-roughened hand closed over yours as it continued to jiggle the door knob and then he tried, too. “Shit.”

“Shit,” you agreed.

“J-just hang on.” He stepped back and you heard him rummaging blindly in the dark before twinkling white light nearly blinded you. Somehow, he’d found a strand of Christmas lights and an outlet, illuminating the cramped closet in their butter yellow light. “There we go,” Eddie said, sounding more than a little pleased with himself. He stood straight, still holding the bundle of lights like something precious. His dark brown eyes reflected the soft light, almost making them sparkle.

And your poor heart could scarcely handle it.

“God, Amadeus. It’s been too long.” He moved forward like he wanted to do something else, maybe hug you, but stopped short.

Your smile faded as you glanced down to the cluttered floor beneath your shoes. “Yeah, um, ten years or so. B-but you’ve done well for yourself, Mister Rock Star.”

Eddie’s cheeks bloomed with color but he did not look away. “You listened to my music?”

If the world could open up and swallow you whole, you would appreciate it. But apparently Hawkins had had enough of earthquakes and you were forced to tell Eddie the truth, your feet on solid ground, in a small closet filled with Christmas light. “I…I couldn’t.”

His smile wavered. “Oh.”

“I-it isn’t that I think you make bad music. I actually quite like it! It…it is just…” God. Stupid. So stupid.

“You still prefer your pop nonsense, yeah?” Eddie drawled, dropping the bundle of lights onto a shelf.

“I mean, yeah, but tha-that isn’t what I’m trying to say!” You turned away from him, trying not to hate yourself more. You missed the days when you could talk to him easily. You missed the early days after everything blew over and the gates were finally closed and you’d talk for hours on the phone after you settled at NYU, trying to keep each other up-to-date on the happenings in your lives. They’d been a highlight of your week, dashing to the phone in your dorm at exactly six o’clock to make sure you’d never miss the call. But the calls had dwindled after Corroded Coffin’s first single topped the charts. You tried not to feel rejected when he missed more and more calls. But the nail in the metaphorical coffin had been when Wayne, good and sweet Wayne, had picked up the phone and told you, gently, that Eddie was going on tour and wouldn’t be back again. You received a postcard here and there after you graduated from university, from different cities around the globe where Corroded Coffin was touring. The ink would be smudged and faded by the time it got to you, but you kept all of them just the same. Pressing your fingers against the messy handwriting, stilted letters saying he missed you, as if that would be enough. And it never was. And then those stopped, too. He’d left you behind.

“You just have it all, Eddie. And I don’t know how you ever...” The words trailed off and you shook your head. None of this mattered now. He’d moved on. You were a ghost to him, too. Fruitlessly, you tried to open the door again with the same result: you were still locked in. And then the closet was too small, too warm all at once. The handle jiggled uselessly in your grasp. Were the walls inching closer? Had the lights caught fire? “Can you open this lock?”

“Just because I can hotwire a car, doesn’t mean I can pick a lock, Amadeus.” There was almost a hint of a tease in his tone. Almost. “Must’ve missed that lesson.”

You nodded, eyes trained on the unopened door. “Right. Sorry.” You needed to be let out. Needed to run far, far away before you made a complete ass of yourself.

“Good to know what you think of me.”

You turned abruptly, nearly falling—again—as you reached for him with uncoordinated fingers. “That isn’t what I’m saying, Eddie! I…” The words were sticky toffee at the back of your tongue. Unmovable and hard. “I…”

“Why didn’t you listen to my music?”

**1986**

Everything had gone wrong in a matter of moments. You had watched, heart in your throat, as Eddie played his heart out—you recognized the song. It had been on the tape he’d given you just last week.

Lesson 17

was scrawled across the shell’s spine alongside a smudged demon. Eddie had been glorious and every inch a rock star and the plan had worked and it still all went to shit.

The bats were coming too fast. There were too many of them. You and Eddie all but shoved Dustin up the knotted rope and then Eddie made sure you went up next. But then he had the stupid, beautiful, tragic idea that he needed to be a hero. He was already a hero. Had always been a hero. But he still cut the rope as you and Dustin yelled and pleaded for him to stop.

He didn’t.

Then you were dragging the small table near the door under the gate and leaping leaping leaping until you could grab at the edge and haul yourself up and through. The world swam in front of your eyes as your skull bounced on the dirty floor but you still got to your feet and rushed out with a scream of Eddie’s name. Bats swarmed in the distance, too preoccupied with something else in the distance—and you knew exactly what it was…or who.

The first bat nearly took you off your feet with a screech, tail looping around your ankle. But you pushed forward, even as another tore at your neck and another burrowed between your jacket and your shirt and ripped through the fabric like a red-hot knife through butter. But you only saw Eddie. You continued to push through until you could fling yourself over his prone form. The serrated teeth of the demobats continued to try to devour you both as you tucked Eddie’s face into your neck and hope it was enough. Even in your scrambled state, you tried to keep the important parts covered.

And you hoped.

Because that was all you could do aside from scream.

Blood coated the back of your throat, either from the force of your screams or from the blow to the face you’d taken earlier. But it didn’t matter when you heard the bats suddenly go silent before falling to the ground in a terrible downpour. The last one hit the ground with a splat and you were surging to your knees to look Eddie over.

“C-can you stand for me?” You asked as you knelt beside him, already shoving your hands beneath his shoulders.

Eddie struggled for a moment, blood-caked teeth gritting, before falling back to the ground. “Just…give me a minute.”

This was not good. Not good. Even if the bats dying meant that the plan might’ve worked, Eddie was still… You shifted, putting his head in your lap as you pressed down against the larger of the bites on his chest, feeling his blood soak your skin immediately. “Take all the time you need, okay? I’m not…I’m not leaving without you.”

Eddie made a noise. It almost sounded like a laugh. “Was just trying to buy more time.” Each word had his chest heaving.

“You were trying to be a hero, Eddie,” you almost scolded. “You didn’t need to do that. Y-you were already a hero. You already helped.” Tears started to blur your vision but you blinked them back, trying to keep him in your sight even as the strange spores, the bastardized Upside Down version of snow, started to coat you both. You wouldn’t take your eyes away from him. Not now. “Silly boy.” You pulled him a little closer, trying to ignore how slick your hands felt, pressing tighter against whatever you could reach. “You made me a promise, Eddie,” you whispered. “You promised.”

“I know.” The words were garbled. Wet. Teeth stained red. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The tears stung and burned but you didn’t have the energy to will them away this time. He could feel it, too. “Dust-Dustin’s on his way. He can help. And Steve an-and Nancy and Robin. They’ll be here soon, too.”

Eddie nodded and you could feel his next breath stutter and stall beneath your hands. “I’m…I’m glad it’s you with me.”

“Eddie. Don’t. Don’t talk like that,” you pleaded, voice cracking. Your vision blurred even as you pressed tighter, crimson bleeding across white. You just needed him to hold on a little longer. Just a little longer. You could help him get better if you just had a little more time. “You’re going to be fine. You have to flip off Higgins, remember?”

“Y-yeah, Amadeus. I remember.” He sighed and his dark eyes found yours through your tears. “But at the end of the world? I’m glad I get to see it with you.”

“We can see everything together. Okay? Anything you want, we can go see it together.”

He nodded and then a shaking, bloody finger reached up to barely graze against your neck before falling back down to the ground. “You’re hurt.”

The adrenaline was keeping most of it at bay, you were sure. The bats had done a number on you. But right now? Right now it didn’t matter. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Eddie’s mouth opened, some retort on his tongue but all that came out was a wet wheeze and you felt his heartbeat stutter beneath your palm. “Eddie, no, Eddie, no, no, no. You gotta stay with me, okay? Stay with me!” You pressed harder at his chest and looked out to the grey horizon, hoping to see your friends, hoping to see some sort of salvation. “Help me,” you screamed. “Help!”

But all you saw was the strange snow.

**1996**

It was a simple enough question, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you listen to his music? Maybe now really was the time to move on. Your hand slipped from the doorknob and you crossed your arms over your chest as if that would protect you or offer comfort. Bing Crosby was singing now, muffled behind the door.

“You are a rock star, Eddie. I always knew you’d make it. Always. You were destined to be one of the good ones, one of the greats. Do you remember me bribing the guy at The Hideout just to let me in because I was underage? I just wanted to listen to you play. I wanted to see you the happiest I’ve ever seen you. I sang every song. I studied every mixtape you gave me like my life depended on it. And then you…made it. You made it, Eddie. And you left me behind.”

Eddie’s face fell, all traces of anger draining away in a second. He murmured your name.

But you weren’t done. “And I told myself that it was okay. It was okay because I just wanted you to be happy. And I thought I could, I don’t know, move on or something. I got my dream job. I live in the best city in the world. I have good friends and my grandparents finally got out of this shitty town and are living it up in Albuquerque.” You hadn’t even realized you were crying until Eddie reached out to you, gentle yet roughened fingers pressing at your cheeks to catch your tears. And your poor heart stuttered at the simple touch. How long had it been since he’d touched you like that? “And I heard about your adventures through Jonathan or Steve. Nancy even did an editorial on your band the first time you headlined at Madison Square Garden, remember that? But you never asked for me. Never reached out.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, still holding you close. His voice was low but strained, like he wanted to pull away but couldn’t force himself to do so, as if his fingertips had seared themselves to you. “You could’ve asked any of them for my number, my address, anything-”

“You were the one who stopped taking my calls, Eddie.” The simple sentence was ripped from your throat between sobs, over a decade finally cracking open. “And then you were singing about girls leaving lipstick stains on your throat and it would never be me. Never me no matter how much I loved you.”

Eddie’s face twisted and something you didn’t understand flittered across his face, something almost like heartbreak. Something almost like betrayal. Something almost like self-loathing. “You think I don’t-”

And then the door opened.

**1986**

Hawkins had been ripped open. While Vecna had been killed by Nancy and Eleven, he’d made one last ditch effort to bring the Upside Down to your world and had cracked open three gates; earthquakes shattering the small town.

Max’s knee was broken and she’d need physical therapy to walk normally again.

Lucas had a concussion from his showdown with Jason.

Steve needed a skin graft.

You were finally able to pull the three dozen stitches out of your skin after a few weeks but the doctor’s harried voice had echoed cruelly in your mind, “if that cut had been any deeper, you would’ve been dead in seconds.” Comforting. You’d been all but shoved onto a hospital bed and rubbed down with alcohol pads before dozens of stitches were sewn through your skin and you were told to leave to make room for others. The hospital had been a mad house when you’d stepped out into the hall, filled to bursting with people needing attention, battered and bruised and bleeding.

But it had been okay. It had been okay because your little ragtag team of friends had won and Eddie was alive and he gave you a slow, sleepy smile as you slipped into his room. “Hey, Amadeus.” He didn’t seem to care about the handcuff chaining him to the bed.

It didn’t last long, anyway. Your and Nancy’s alibi, Jason’s mysterious disappearance, his goons’ ramblings about seeing Max lift into the air, coupled with the well-timed reappearance of Chief Hopper helped the town begrudgingly accept that Eddie was innocent. There were still whispers, of course. Some thought that Eddie used his “satanic powers” to possess Jason into killing Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick, but you made it no mind after the cuff around his wrist was removed and you sat in his room, waiting for him to wake up between surgeries. You passed the time by doing the take home work your teachers had given you with the promise that if it was completed, it would take the place of any final exams and you’d graduate with no problems. Then, when that was finished, you did Eddie’s stack, too. You met his Uncle Wayne and he gave you a small smile when you introduced yourself, like he knew something you didn’t. He had been the one to give you Eddie’s jacket, saying he knew you’d keep it safe, on the first night at the hospital.

“He’s gonna be mad when he learns you did all that for ‘im.”

You shrugged and took the proffered hot chocolate he got for you at the hospital cafeteria. “He can be mad at me all the way across the graduation stage.”

“He did say you were a stubborn, sweet thing.”

The pencil nearly fell from between your fingers and you gaped up at Wayne before looking at Eddie at the bed, looking healthier by the day and just out of his third surgery. “He said that?”

Wayne only gave you that same, secretive smile. It was the same smile he gave you as Eddie dragged you over to take a picture, your green graduation caps and gowns shining in the summer sunlight. Your grandparents were close behind, each brandishing a camera and telling you to smile. It was redundant as you hadn’t stopped giggling since Eddie flipped off Higgins, as he’d promised. But, just as Wayne raised his camera, Eddie pressed a kiss to your cheek and knocked the breath out of your lungs.

“That’s a framer,” your grandfather said, clapping Wayne on the back and inviting them to a celebratory lunch.

Their acceptance was on the tip of their tongues—you knew it—but a man in a dark suit loomed at your side and drew everyone’s attention. “Edward Munson?”

Questions upon questions ricocheted in your mind. Who was this man? Was Eddie in trouble? What-?

He held out a small card with a smile, looking at Eddie over the rim of his probably-expensive sunglasses. “I’ve heard good things about you and your band.”

**1996**

The two hulking figures you’d spotted earlier were crowding the doorway and all but pushed you aside to reach for Eddie. You stumbled, elbow knocking against one of the shelves and pain rippled up your arm with a hiss. “Jesus.”

Eddie was quick to grab at your other arm, trying to keep you stable and you hated how you liked how warm he felt, even through the thick bulk of your sweater. “Guys, c’mon, be carefu-”

But they paid you no mind. “The party’s over, boss. You can get your dick wet later. We gotta get out of here before…” The rest of the sentence was drowned out in the scuffle as he was yanked out of the closet and into the surprisingly busy hallway. Elvis was warbling about a Blue Christmas but you barely heard it over the bustle of everyone leaving in a rush. You blindly stepped out into the hall, feeling like someone had stuffed rumpled tissue between your ears. The entire world felt off kilter as someone ran by you, knocking into your shoulder. What was Eddie going to say? Why had finally telling him how you felt leave you aching?

A hand wrapping around your arm pulled you from your reverie and you looked up to see Steve Harrington giving you a familiar, soft smile. “Time to go, sweetheart. The others are waiting.” He quickly explained that Robin called him, asking him to pick them all up after all the taxis (not that there were many in Hawkins) had refused to take them anywhere in the storm.

As soon as the others reached your and Steve’s side, a feat considering the mad rush toward the door, he was all but shepherding you out to the startlingly white parking lot, the snow now up to the middle of your calves. Robin claimed the passenger seat, leaving you, Jonathan, and Nancy to squish into the back seat. The others chattered about how ridiculous the reunion was as you all waited your turn in the long line to exit the parking lot, more than a few cars already sliding or getting stuck in the snow. Steve was patient enough. You knew their conversation was mostly just to pass the time, to let you know they wouldn’t pry (yet), giving you an escape. You gave an anecdote or two, making them laugh when you mentioned how drunk everyone seemed to be. Steve nearly beamed as you commented on how nice the car seat digging into your leg was. “I read, like, six different books about what the best car seat was! The little lady loves it,” he said, using the nickname he was fond of for his daughter.

Robin was the first to be dropped off, after chattering about her PhD program, giving you all awkward hugs from her seat so you wouldn’t have to get out into the cold. She suggested that you all go to Paris the next time a reunion comes around, “you know, so I don’t want to contemplate murder again,” before scrambling out of the car and into her parents’ house. The snow had nearly blotted out the simple line of Christmas lights along the roof, but still shined through in twinkling greens and reds. You took her seat with a sigh, crawling over the center console as Steve shouted about seatbelts, sounding like the mom you knew him to be. Nancy leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your cheek as soon as Steve slowed to a careful stop in front of their hotel—they’d told you, repeatedly, that they were not about to stay at either of their family’s houses for the holiday, no matter how much they loved them. Jonathan squeezed your arm and the pair murmured their thanks to Steve and they reaffirmed the plans to get together with all the kids at the Byers-Hopper house tomorrow, weather permitting, for the party you knew had been planned for months.

That left you alone with Steve and it took exactly forty-two seconds for him to ask, “so, you and Eddie in a closet, huh?”

“It-it wasn’t as salacious as you’re thinking, Steve. We both went in there to hide—separately, you know—and then the door somehow got locked and it was just a…fucking mess.” Slowly, an embarrassed heat pooling in your neck, you told him everything about how you’d finally, pathetically, told Eddie what you’d felt for over a decade.

Fat, white flakes continued their downward parade and the windshield wipers provided a steady beat to your disjointed story until you fell back into your seat, drained and tired. You could spot a few Christmas trees lit up behind half-closed curtains, their decorations a festive break against the growing snow. You frowned as Steve clicked off the radio, Wham’s Christmas earbug suddenly halting. He leaned over and grabbed something from the glovebox.

“Steve?”

He popped a tape shell open and pushed it into the tape deck before tossing the shell onto your lap. You turned it over to see a familiar album cover—it was Corroded Coffin’s latest album. Will Byers had been the one to draw the artwork, filled with bats and broken guitars. “Just listen, okay?” Steve asked, hand on the volume dial.

It wasn’t as if you had a choice, was it? But maybe it was time to finally do it, another way to close the chapter. So, you nodded, and Steve cranked the dial as soon as he fast-forwarded enough to the song he wanted.

The music started low and then quickly roared with heavy guitar and bass and an incessant drumbeat. It was all Eddie. It was Eddie. It was all Eddie and your fingers almost hurt as you clutched the little plastic case. The lyrics were good, and you could imagine this song getting your stuck in your head for weeks, painting a story about the a looming apocalypse, something you knew well. Then, Eddie’s voice came through, clear as day with the chorus, “at the end of the world, I’m glad it’s you…”

Oh.

Oh.

Shaking fingers pressed to your mouth as the song continued on, filled with lyrics about blood and darkness and looming death…and the saving touch of someone’s hand.

“I’m glad it’s you…”

“I’m glad it’s you…”

You flipped the case over and cursed the tears that blurred your vision as soon as you spotted the name of the song. The only song it could be.

Amadeus, at the End of the World

It was for you. But then Steve ejected the tape and put another in before you could truly let it sink in, a million and one thoughts coursing through your mind.

“Remember when you held me close with bloodstained hands?” Eddie sang on another song.

“Remember when you kept me breathing?”

When that song finished, Steve switched to a different track.

“Who worries over you, my girl?”

“Let me be the one to feel your heartbeat…”

And then he switched to another tape, never taking his eyes off the road.

Through raucous rifts and a bassline you could feel rattling your bones, Eddie sang, “you’re sunlight sweet and I’m your freak-Just give me your lips!”

Steve clicked off the radio as the song ended and you wiped fruitlessly at your cheeks; the tears had started during the first song and hadn’t stopped. “I’m so dumb.”

“You both are,” Steve agreed with a smile. He even patted your arm in consolation. “He asked about you all the time and then swore us to secrecy about it. He kept saying that if you wanted to reach out, you would have.”

You sniffled, the burn of the bright snow blurring. “I didn’t have his number. I don’t even know where he lives.” There was a small mess of tapes and their shell cases in your lap by the time turned the Christmas music back on and you fiddled with each of them, as if the pieces of plastic would let you turn back time and make different choices.

“Don’t worry about that,” Steve said with a conspiratorial smile.

It was only then that you realized you weren’t anywhere near the hotel where you were staying. “Steve?” You were clear across town, actually, near the newer developments and high end houses that had been built after the earthquake and property prices had plummeted. Now, years later, you were told that these houses were easily worth over half a million dollars. Each were spaced out, with plenty of land, with brick and mortar mailboxes near the street.

“Just trust me.” He pulled down one of the long driveways and parked in front of a tasteful, craftsman-style home. Sparkling white lights were looped around the porch’s banisters and bloomed soft light across the growing snow. The large bay window near the front door had its curtains opens and a large tree was at its center, decorated with ornaments that looked homemade and adorable. But that wasn’t what caught your eye.

It was Eddie, adjusting the sparkling tree-topper as he chatted with someone you couldn’t see.

“He has a house here?” You asked, feeling even more stupid.

He shook his head. “He bought this place for his uncle after their first album won him that Grammy. Apparently, Wayne was almost too proud to accept it. But you know how stubborn Eddie can be.” He turned to you and gently squeezed your arm, comforting. “Go in,” Steve said. “I can come pick you up, if needed.”

You sniffled and nodded, giving him a watery thank you and another promise to see him tomorrow for the party, before climbing out, the tapes still in your hands. The snow crunched beneath your shoes and you nearly stumbled at the top step of the porch but continued on until you knocked at the front door. Your cheeks were cold but at least your tears had stopped. You must look a mess. But there was no turning back now. The door swung open a few moments later and Wayne stood in front of you, eyebrows pinched. As soon as he recognized you, he was quick to grab at your arm and urge you inside with a murmured, “now what’re you doin’ outside in this kinda weather?” Familiar affection dripped from each word. The door shut with a soft snap behind you. The inside of the house was beautiful and warm; a wall filled with hats and mugs almost had you tearing up again. Eddie must have never stopped buying him those for every birthday, Father’s Day, and Christmas. One of Burl Ives’ Christmas albums was playing on the record player in the corner and two mugs of hot chocolate were set on the table near the tree, steam curling above.

“I…” You rubbed at the end of your cold nose, jostling the tapes in your hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude-”

A smile started to push at Wayne’s face as he noticed what you were carrying and then glanced at something behind you. “Well, you know I’ve always been happy to see you. But I don’t think you’re here for me.” He waved a hand and you turned to see Eddie a few paces away. The light from the Christmas tree was behind him, making his curls and waves nearly glow. His dark eyes darted down to the jumble of tapes in your hands and then he looked back up at you.

“Can we talk?” You asked.

“‘Course we can, Amadeus.” Gently, he took your hand and pulled you into the living room. A handful of presents were under the tree and two stockings were hung over the roaring fireplace. Wayne, bless him, shut the door quietly and made himself scarce.

You sat on the edge of an overstuffed leather couch and Eddie settled beside you. One by one, he took the tapes out of your grip and set them on the cushion beside you before reaching out to curl one of his hands over yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles softly, the simple touch making you shiver.

“Eddie, I…” You shook your head. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, ever. I-I just-”

His gentle grip tightened a fraction. “I think we both have been a little less than stellar at this.”

You laughed, a low raspy thing. Your other hand folded over his and you tried to keep your heart from lodging itself in your throat. “Did you mean all of it? All that stuff you sang?” Eddie moved a little closer on the couch and his knee knocked into yours. “Every word.”

“It’s been over ten years, Eddie,” you whispered, not moving your gaze away from his face. His dark eyes reflected the lights on the tree and you almost wanted to cry again. He’d always been so handsome.

Eddie raised your joined hands to press a kiss to your fingers and your poor heart hammered behind your ribs. “It’s always been you, Amadeus. It will always be you.”

You sniffled and winced but didn’t pull away. “God, I’ve cried too much today.”

Eddie, gentle as ever, dropped your hands to grasp your face and wipe your tears away. “I’ve never wanted to make you cry.”

You shook your head and sighed. “And I never wanted to hurt you, either. Those songs…god, all those songs, Eddie. They were beautiful.”

“Not your pop nonsense,” he teased, thumbs smoothing against the half-moons of skin beneath your eye. “But you like them?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I really did.” You paused, licking your lips. Now or never. And you didn’t want to wait another ten years. “I love you Eddie.”

He chuckled, low and soft and your heart jumped. “I know, Amadeus. You told me in the closet.”

A terrible, familiar heat burned at your throat and you went to pull away but Eddie’s grip tightened just enough to keep you still. “Eddie-”

“And I have loved you since you sat next to me in history class, humming that awful song. And I will write you another six hundred songs if it meant you finally believe me.”

He loved you.

He loved you.

He had always loved you.

“We certainly wasted enough time, didn’t we?”

He smiled and it’s as bright as the lights on the tree, near blinding. Heart stopping. Perfect. Then, slowly, he leaned and brushed his lips against yours. Finally, finally, finally. He tasted like peppermint chocolates and smoke. And it was fucking perfect.

**1997**

It was snowing again. The weatherman said to expect another six inches before dawn and for the roads to be a nightmare for a few hours, too, before the plows were able to clear everything up. But you didn’t mind. You adjusted the star atop your Christmas tree right before a familiar pair of arms looped around your waist. Lips skimmed up the back of your neck until you were giggling and squirming in his grip.

“We’re gonna be snowed in, sweetheart. Just you and me for days. Maybe even a week.”

You swatted at his hand with a laugh, loosening his hold just enough for you to turn around and sponge a kiss to his jaw with a hum. “Nice try, big shot. There’s no getting out of Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding tomorrow. It’s just up the street. We can walk.”

Eddie groaned, melodramatic, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Remind me why we have to go?”

“I am a bridesmaid and you are a groomsman. There’s also going to be lots of fancy food and all of our favorite people are already in town and will be there, too. You promised Nancy that you’d keep Dustin in check. You know how he gets about weddings.”

He sighed and you bit back a smile, knowing he was teasing. “I’m not convinced.”

So, you leaned closer and pressed another kiss against his jaw, and then another and another until you made your way up to his lips and steal a kiss there, too. Eddie chased your mouth to kiss you again, smiling against your lips. “And, my bridesmaid dress is really fucking sexy. If you’re good-”

“I’m always good,” he whined, halfheartedly pinching at your side just to make you squeak.

“-I’ll let you peel me out of it as soon as Nancy and Jonathan leave the reception. Deal?” You squealed as Eddie suddenly dove for your neck, kissing at the scar over your pulse. You sagged in his grip and moved to kiss the matching scar on his neck, too. It was a strange routine you’d settled into by accident. A gentle reminder of what you’d come through. Together.

“But what about tonight?” He whispered into your cheek, the beginnings of a smile pressing into your skin.

“Well, tonight…” You started to tug him away from the tree with a smile and toward your shared bedroom down the hall.

(Eddie’s plan worked. You hadn’t spotted the small box he’d hidden in the branches of the Christmas tree. He’d waited over ten years to finally call you his. He could wait a few days more.)

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson #female reader

[convexicalcrow]

Cairo, 1921

It's been a long season of exploration for Pix, leading expeditions into the oases west of Egypt in search of new discoveries. Much of what he'd found was rubble, or buried several feet under sand. But it had not all been for nothing! He was particularly interested in what some enscriptions call an invasion of the Sea Peoples towards the end of Dynastic Egypt which seems to have plunged the country into chaos. There's more records in Greek and Roman sources, but they're much more sedated in their descriptions, and mostly talk of Egypt falling into ruin. Concerning, but not that concerning for a civilisation that had lasted for thousands of years relatively unchanged.

The problem was, such an invasion was unlikely to leave much evidence behind, if some of the stories aare true about the scale of the slaughter. Which, of course, could have been for dramatic effect. To the victor goes the spoils. Certainly, in Bahariya Oasis, he'd uncovered some broken pots with various bits of papyrus in them, and evidence to suggest things had once burned. The temple that once stood there was barely standing anymore; it was just a few columns and stelae and statuary half-buried in the sand.

And now that the digging was over, he was now tasked with recording his finds and writing up a report for his benefactor, so he might continue exploring next season. Most of the papyri in the pots seemed to be letters to the dead, though there was no record of these sorts of papyri being buried in pots. Still, this could mean it was ground-breaking research and that was exciting! Well, as exciting as reading through such personal expressions of grief could be, Pix mused.

On their own, they were pretty standard. Children talking to their parents. Parents calling for their children. Others calling for other family members or friends, some who may or may not have been buried. They seemed to be the newest Egyptian artefacts found in terms of dates, as the hieratic they were written in was only from this late period around the time of this supposed invasion.

It was when Pix looked at them together that it kind of hit him how grief doesn't really change. These could have been written twenty years ago and no one would think them odd. And there were so many of them! Some were dated, some not, but he had uncovered over 115 of them in one necropolis, and another 97 more in a second necropolis further towards the outside of the main town in the oasis. That was a lot of grief, and might not have even been all of them. All of them written in the space of, perhaps, ten years or so, as if something calamatous did indeed befall the oasis. The letters are vague about what happened, but given the dates, Pix is sure it can only mean one thing. Some invading force reached this far-flung oasis and left a lot of people dead.

Pix finds himself returning to one letter in particular. It's written from a son to his father, with writing that's erratic and disjointed. Some of the ink has smudged, making parts of it unreadable. It's also remarkable that it contains no names. The son simply calls him, father, and himself, his beloved son. Which is rather unusual indeed. The remembrance of the name was considered vital to a good afterlife, so why would this letter remain so anonymous?

He picked it up to examine it. It was a small piece of papyrus, torn in places, and folded hastily and shoved into the pot, unlike the others that were rolled and tied with a piece of cloth. It suggested some reluctance, or haste, or perhaps he was disturbed in the process of writing to his father. Perhaps he'd never know. But some of the words just kept echoing around in his brain, as if somehow, these were people he once knew. Which seemed absurd of course! He was no ancient Egyptian! But something nagged at him. It was just-

"A letter from a son to his father. It begins, 'Praise to my father, who died for Ma'at, who rises with Ra into the sky from the belly of Nut! Praise to you, O Wesir, who gives life to the lifeless, shine on with my father, may he be justified! Please… keep him safe. I know not where you are. You would not recognise me today. My heart is. weary. How can I mourn when there is so much at stake? I have few friends in this world. Your beloved son misses you, and perhaps, one day, when my heart no longer rages, perhaps then I will find peace. Please just let me know you are okay. Let me know you made it to Wesir's court, that you are an akh in the skies, who lives forever. Every day I am met with uncertainty. I remember the last time I saw you. I remember the fear in your face. I think I knew then, that this would be the end. I was too young to understand, but somehow, I knew. I' and then it cuts off. I feel this son's sadness and confusion as if it is my own. But why though? Who are you? Who are you who haunts my dreams?" Pix said, staring at the papyrus as if it might give out more secrets.

He sat back in his chair, letting the papyrus sit on the desk. He could see- candles. A dark place with candles. Some kind of weird memorial. Nothing Egyptian, it looked nothing like that. And as soon as the image was in his head, it was gone. A fleeting imagining of something. Or a sign he was up too late again. It was, after all, after midnight, he confirned, checking his pocket watch. Perhaps sleep will cure him of his ills. Perhaps another expedition out to the oasis will yield more finds. Perhaps then he might be able to put these letters to rest, along with those who were being remembered.

#hermitcraft #empires smp #fanfic #pixlriffs #the lost prince au #reincarnation #past lives #letters to the dead #ancient egyptian au #i couldn't help myself #this is so self-indulgent #but archaeologist!pix is so precious to me #i had an idea and ran with it #so sue me lol #hermitfic

[dathen]

(late to the party in the Dracula part of gothic lit but) Do you think if the novel was written before the Wilde trial it'd have been more explicit about the Dracula/Jonathan (albeit abusive) homoeroticism?

Short answer: Somewhat. I feel, for example, Stoker may have left the “Tonight is mine!” line in. Maybe even actually shown the scene of Dracula drinking his blood.

Long answer: I don’t know enough about the actual people to say for sure, but I feel the trials were far from the only sources of fear in Stoker’s life. If I remember correctly, he wrote his “I still have my shackles and have no wings” letter to Walt Whitman (and hid it in a drawer for years) well before writing Dracula. Plus, the actual laws that Wilde went on trial from were still in place before the trials happened. Between society and his own internalized issues, I don’t think he strikes me as the most daring on that front.

That said, learning that the absolutely deranged rollercoaster of The Beetle was very popular with Victorians has changed my opinion of how much homoeroticism they were willing to put up with by uhhhh a LOT. That said, the framing of it as horror is ten thousand times stronger than Dracula’s: instead of a spicy sexy kidnapping fantasy with a strong, tall, fascinating older gentleman, it’s paragraphs and paragraphs of repulsion so far.

Maybe Stoker could have gotten away with more blatant homoeroticism if he portrayed it as pure grotesque horror, but given the earliest inspiration for Dracula was not one but TWO homoerotic swooning rescue scenes (brides + dracula’s guest), I don’t think he would have wanted to.

#dracula daily #the beetle weekly #homophobia cw #studying these old dead authors under a microscope

[lumi-klovstad-games]

"No Love Lost" aka "Ailani Meets The Emperor Again"

A short scene in which Ailani, the recently returned Second Primarch, meets what's left of the Emperor for the first time in 10,000 years to declare her intentions. And finally get a lot of crap off her chest.

Gonna be honest, this is basically Daddy Issues: The Fanfic.

Ailani had made it before the Emperor at long last. She barely remembered what he’d looked like, if she’d ever known even a fraction of the truth of his appearance at all, for all his psychic posturing. But what sat on the Golden Throne was barely the man who was barely her father. A massive, decrepit corpse, more skeleton than man, more deceased than deity. Yet the pressure in her brain told her that something connected to that body was still VERY much alive… and it was at least somewhat aware of her.

The Emperor’s Daughter failed to bow or kneel, and this did not go unnoticed by the attendant Custodes. She stood there, sizing up this undead monument to a single man’s arrogance, ego, and mistakes. Her green-stained eyes looked him over. Her ears heard the whirring and clicking of the ancient machinery of the Golden Throne.

There was much silence for a long while. It had been ten thousand years, and their last exchange had almost come to blows much as their first had. Her last act in his Imperium was to fire on his soldiers and betray his trust by favoring her people above his orders. What was there she could possibly say? Would it even do her any good at all? Was whatever was left of the Emperor even cognizant enough to answer in any way? There was only one way to find out.

“I've returned.” Ailani said, breaking the silence.

Her head filled with unfiltered thoughts that were not hers.

TRAITOR

DISGUSTING

DISAPPOINTMENT

ABERRANCE

The Second Primarch laughed darkly. 

“Yeah. It’s nice to see you too, Dad. I suppose we both are just going to have to accept that we’ll always be a disappointment to each other. I for not being who or what you wanted me to be, and you for being an irredeemably arrogant bastard. I mean, I admire your ability to consistently remain true to your character, even if that character has always been less than stellar. I'm not sure what was more impressive: your ability to remain consistently unpleasant around me or your knack for making enemies you didn’t have to have.”

ABOMINATION

MISCREANT

APOSTATE

REPUGNANT

“You know, I never liked you much either. But the ideals you sold me? Those were maybe the only good you ever put in my life. I never really believed in your Imperium or your Crusade. I certainly never believed in you – how could I when the first thing you ever did around me was express your revulsion for my identity and then try to kill my parents?”

FALSE

KIDNAPPERS

CORRUPTORS

HYPOCRITE 

“Still refusing to admit you’re wrong. 10,000 years and how many wars to end all wars and you still haven’t changed. Well, you may not have believed a damn word you said when you poured honey in my ears to get me to come to Terra the first time, but they were words worth believing in. And as far as I’m concerned, you already got what you deserved.”

The Custodes reached for their weapons, but did not draw. Not yet.

SANCTIMONIOUS

UNGRATEFUL

UNNATURAL

BROKEN

Ailani let out a judging laugh.

“Ungrateful? Ungrateful?! My legion and I did good work. We did what we were told to do. What we were MADE to do. Made, BY YOU, to do. And we did it well. Our lives were dedicated to your mandates, your purpose. But because I wasn’t the child you WANTED, you never trusted us. You took my family, my community, my whole WORLD hostage to ensure my loyalty. But I did the work. ‘Maybe,’ I told myself, ‘maybe if I work hard enough, if I prove my usefulness, he might ease off. He might see that I’m just as worthy as my brothers. He might realize that he doesn’t need to hold a sword over my family’s necks to make me keep my promise.’ But you never did. Nothing I did was EVER enough for you! I will ALWAYS be a deviant in your eyes. A freak. A mistake. But I’ve finally realized, that’s not MY problem. It’s yours. And I’m done letting the people of this Imperium suffer for this grudge. I’m back, and you’re not. You can just sit there and simmer. I’m done with you, and I don’t expect I’ll speak with you again. I’m a healer. I learned triage a long time ago. I know better than to waste energy and resources on a lost cause when there’s ways to use them to do more good elsewhere. So that’s what I’ll do. The Imperium is wounded. It’s sick. It’s in pain. Untold teeming billions upon billions are crying out. They need help.  So I’m going to help them however I can. They didn’t ask for any of this. Yes, they’ve done SO MUCH WRONG. They are so afraid and hateful, but that isn’t their fault. They’ve never known another way. It’s just another way they’ve been injured. And for all your faults, I know neither one of us ever wanted this for them. We both believe in a better tomorrow, and a better mankind to live in it, after all. On the oath I swore ten thousand years ago, I swear I will keep trying to make the Imperial Ideal the Imperial Reality. You can trust me, just like you always could and should have.”

The Custodes relaxed as Ailani turned to leave. She stopped at the door to the Throne Room. She had a feeling she needed to.

REMISS

THANK

YOU

̲D̲A̲U̲G̲H̲T̲E̲R̲

Ailani smiled. 

“Maybe I will see you again, actually.”

#my ocs #warhammer 40000 #my oc stuff #warhammer 40k #wh40k #fanon Primarch #Second Primarch #lost primarch #fanfiction #Ailani #god emperor of mankind #emperor of mankind #dialogue heavy #female primarch #trans primarch

[anarchytaken]

Ruler of the End - Chapter 8

Twisted Wonderland x Male Reader

It was a few days after the disaster of the Unbirthday party that Tenebris approached Cater during lunch. Upon witnessing how strict Riddle was on rules, Tenebris wanted to get some insight from other people. The orange-haired male was seen walking toward the cafeteria before the dragon stopped him. “Mr. Diamond, may I have a word with you?”

The male blinked at him in surprise before smiling, “Sure, but make sure this doesn’t take long. I got a meal to eat!” 

Tenebris led him to an empty corridor before facing him, “You recall the Unbirthday party a few days ago, right?”

“How could I forget,” Cater sighed. “It was a real mess, never thought a freshman would make Riddle so mad. I mean, he does have a short fuse but that was extra.”

“Has Riddle always been this hellbent on rules?”

“Ever since he got here,” Cater scratched his head. “Why are you asking?”

Tenebris frowned as he cupped his chin, “This is gonna be a problem. Sorry for bothering you, go and eat now.”

“. . .Alright, if you say so,” Cater said, but reluctantly left.

The dragon stared after the male before he turned to go back to Ramshackle. Once entering the garden, he harvested his crops before storing them in storage barrels and replanting the seeds. This could last them for weeks if this keeps up.

Sitting down on one of the couches that were there, Tenebris leaned his head onto his hand and sat there in thought. Riddle’s need for discipline and order is not bad - at first - but how strict he is, it’s quite restricting. He could think of kingdoms that brought their rulers down because of how they breathe down their citizens' necks and how harsh they were. It’s quite like a parent whose expectations are so high that a strict training regime was in order for that child to reach those expectations. . .

. . .or that’s the thought process of said parents. But that just leads to a lot of mental illnesses and issues for the family. It’s also one of the reasons why their children never visit them.

Still, Riddle’s way is unhealthy and if he doesn’t become at least a bit lenient, then his dorm members will snap and revolt. And the dragon didn’t want that to happen to the redhead, despite his strict and overbearing nature, the young man actually is a decent guy underneath. Despite his anger issues, he’s a good man.

A good man with flaws.

“Ace is planning what!?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s stupid.”

The face that Tenebris makes doesn’t help his hilarious exasperated and befuddled exclamation lessen. Yuu snickered under their hand as they held the dragon child in their other arm. The daughter of Tenebris. She was like her father with tufts of dark hair growing out of her head, and patches of scales on her cheek, arms, and legs that were rough and scaly, (yes, that was a pun). When she opened her large round eyes with dark thick lashes, her scleras were a lovely violet hue while her irises were a dark purple that reminded them of amethysts.

The child was larger than an average human baby but perhaps average for a dragon-born, she was almost the same size as Grim, who was curled at their side asleep. The enderman - woman? - that brought the little darling to this world was named Corinth, according to Tenebris, and Yuu made sure to respectfully not look at her eyes. That’s one of the top ten rules when playing Minecraft: Never look at an enderman’s eye unless you want to provoke them.

Still, they couldn’t help but be in awe of the enderwoman, how regal and powerful her entire being seemed. And ancient, did Yuu forget to mention she felt like she was a thousand years old? No? Their bad.

While they held and cooed at the dragon child, the father paced around as he ranted. “Challenge Riddle, the house warden!? He didn’t even stand a chance at the party! I mean, I understand that his actions were overbearing but to challenge him. . . can’t they just talk to him!? Discuss with him his behavior!?”

“I doubt that would work since everybody is going along with his orders and it actually bore fruit. Even Senior Trey didn’t have the heart to correct him.”

“And that’s because of what happened in his childhood?”

Yuu nodded.

Tenebris combed his fingers through his hair as he sighed, “By the three realms, this is gonna be a shitshow.”

No shit, Yuu agreed as they rocked the baby in their arms. And as if by coincidence or timing, Ace and Deuce slammed the door open, waking Grim in a noisy manner. The monster even jumped off the couch in surprise.

At least the baby got a kick out of it, laughing adorably.

“It’s not funny!” Grim yowled at the infant, who only gurgled in response.

“We’re back!” Ace announced, kicking his shoes off to the side of the door. Both of them were in their athletic uniform, sweat dripping from their foreheads. Their collars were gone since Tenebris managed to break them out of it - thank God for blessing Yuu with an overpowered dragon house-husband with a cute baby. 

Deuce was the first to take notice of the newest addition of the house members, “Who’s baby is that!?” he asked with wide eyes, pointing at the bundle in Yuu’s arms. Ace whipped his head to them, which Yuu winced since that might have hurt, to gawk at the infant. “Yuu you gave birth!?”

“She’s not mine!” they retorted, their faces going hot at the accusation. 

“She’s mine,” Tenebris, bless his heart, spoke as he walked towards Yuu to get his child from their arms. Yuu let him as he smiled gently at his offspring, making a warm fondness at the precious moment. Which was broken by a cough from Ace. “So,” Ace started. “That’s your kid from the otherworld?”

“That’s right,” The father looked at them with the child in his arms.

“Congratulations, “Deuce said, walking to take a closer look at the infant. The dragon tilted a bit for the blue-haired male to see and his expression absolutely melted upon seeing the dragon's infant. “She’s really cute,”

“Yeah, congrats man.” Ace plopped himself on the other couch and let himself be devoured by the soft cushions. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’s the lucky girl?”

“Lucky girl?”

“Yeah, the mother of your kid.”

“Oh, I gave birth to her, actually.”

Cue Ace choking on his saliva, Deuce letting a loud eh!?, Grim hissed at them to be quiet, and Yuu to be dealt with the aftermath.

Somehow, the baby didn’t mind the noises, only gurgling as she raised a stubby hand at her father, which he let one of his fingers get caught. Deuce looked bewildered as he spoke, “You gave birth to her. . .how?”

“When I was dying, the magic in my body came together and stored itself to create a living being. So when my body finally combusts, the magic creates a protective shell that’ll secure the rest of the magic that’s creating my offspring.”

Ace, who was coughing out his spit that went through the wrong pipe, let out a deep exhale. “Man, you surprised me, dude. I actually thought you have a uterus or something.”

“Oh, I do.”

Cue another round of chaos.

Well, that just kinda confirms that Tenebris is a virgin. Yuu doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe good since the dragon doesn’t have STDs yet. Do they have STDs in this world?

After enduring that tiring interrogation of his biological sex, (he’s a male thank you very much, it’s just that his species had to adapt due to population problems. Hence why he has a vagina.), and giving Ace and Deuce an earful of their stupid decision of challenging the house warden, they turned in for the night.

Unluckily, the dragon isn’t able to sleep since the anxiety of what would come kept him up. He stared at the ceiling with empty thoughts and a swirl of anxious thoughts, restless for the night. His daughter left Corinth back to the world of Minecraft and most of the residents here were asleep. He frowned as he got up from his bed and went outside to get fresh air. The night was cool as the sky was littered with stars, the moon high and bright to shine its way to the world with the light it borrowed from the sun. But its light was different from the bursting, blinding sun of the day and the dimly lit yet visible stars of the night, the moon is soft yet bright when it’s in its full phase.

The cool breeze greeted Tenebris when he stepped out of the dorm, stepping onto the grass with bare feet. He breathe in the cool yet refreshing air as he looked at the sky before his surroundings. Moments like these were able to relax him when his thoughts wander. 

His spine stiffened a bit as he sensed he was not alone, glancing when a familiar voice made its presence. 

“My, it has been a while, Ender Dragon.” Tenebris smiled as his eyes landed on familiar eyes, dark raven hair, and majestic horns.

“It has been a while, Malleus. Although, I go by Tenebris now.”

“A suitable name, did you pick it out?”

“No, Yuu picked it. They’re a human that’s not from this world as well.”

“Ah, I nearly forgot about them.” The said fae smiled back as he made his strides toward the dragon, “But putting that aside, how have you been adjusting so far? From what my retainer told me, you’re working as a handyman for this school. Correct?”

“Correct, although doing some simple cleaning and fixing isn’t so bad. I find them enjoyable enough to keep me occupied. Though with my daughter and the situation with Mr. Rosehearts, that might have to wait.”

Amusingly, Malleus’s eyes seemed to widen at the word daughter, “You have an offspring?”

“Yes, though I died before she hatched from her egg.” Tenebris pouted, “I still haven’t thought of a name for her yet.”

“A name? Didn’t the mother of your daughter give her a name?”

“I’m the one who gave birth to her.”

The fae blinked at him in surprise, “. . .You have a womb?”

“I learned that it’s rare and uncommon for the males here to have both reproduction organs, but yes, I have a womb. But my daughter wasn’t born by natural means. She was born through the last of my magic before I combusted and died in my old world. The magic creates the child and another layer of magic creates a protective shell to protect the child while it’s still trying to complete its form, resulting in an egg.”

“That’s quite destructive and . . . sad. To lay an egg only for you to not meet your child.”

“It has been that way for a long time to preserve the Ender Dragon species. My line is the only one left.”

Malleus gave him a look of sympathy and understanding, “I suppose I could relate to your kind in some way. My parents died before I hatched so I didn’t quite get to meet them.”

Tenebris placed a hand on Malleus’s arm in an attempt to comfort him, “I’m sorry for your loss,”

“It’s quite alright, I have gotten used to it but sometimes I wonder what they were like.”

The dragon smiled a bit at the fae before deciding to change the subject to lighten the mood. Though it was sad to hear that Malleus went through something similar, it was a kind of a relief to find a kindred spirit.

It was the weekend when Tenebris woke up and prepared breakfast for the four youngsters. It was also the day when Ace and Deuce will duel Riddle for the position of House warden. According to Yuu, the head mage will be there to supervise but Tenebris decided to come along just in case of any trouble. 

When everyone ate and was dressed, they headed first thing to the Heartslabyul dorm where a crowd of dorm members was there as witnesses along with the head mage as the referee and Riddle at the other side with Trey and Cater at his sides. Truly a queen with his soldiers, Tenebris thought as stood with Yuu and Grim on the sidelines. From the corner of his eyes, the rest of the dorm members squirmed as they try to subtly distance themselves from him. They’re not very good at being subtle.

Especially when he caught them glancing at him one too many times or outright staring at him.

No matter, his attention is not on them, but on the battle that will unfold. The head mage in his bird mask and top hat cleared his throat before announcing the event, “Today, we are about to commence two challenges for house warden in the same duel. The challengers are Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade and the one they have challenged is the current house warden, Riddle Rosehearts.”

The said house warden eyed the two freshmen with a frown, “I see you had Mr. Tenebris remove your collars.”

“And am I glad about that,” Ace retorted, “But I’ll make sure I won’t be collared by you again!”

A haughty smirk made its way on the redhead’s lips, “We’ll see about that. I can hardly believe that you two have the gall to challenge me. I almost thought you were bluffing\\

 about this.”

“This is no joke,”

“I hardly joke about things like this,” Deuce added, stick - pen, Tenebris corrected himself - ready in hand and magic stone glowing. 

After a few minutes of idle talking, the head mage held a mirror in his hand. “The battle will start when this mirror shatters. Ready. . .” Tenebris, who was near the head mage, accidentally shatters the mirror with his tail in excitement. He averted his eyes as he felt the exasperated stare of the man, “. . .Begin!”

The battle ended as fast as it started.

“Off with your head!”, a spell used by Riddle that efficiently defeated his opponents as Ace and Deuce grunted at the sudden attack before they even got a chance to shoot. “Not again! I didn’t even finish my spell!” the heart-marked boy exclaimed.

“He shut us down like it was nothing.” Deuce gasped, trying to adjust the collar.

“Imagination is one of the key factors to being a great magician, one that Mr. Rosehearts had mastered. The greater the imagination, the faster and more precise your magic effect will take.” The headmage explained.

Riddle scoffed in distaste at his freshmen, “How foolish, you dare challenge me when this is all you are capable of!? You must be humiliated, mother was correct; a man who does not abide by the rules is a man who will not achieve anything.”

Deuce gritted his teeth, “I agree that rules should be followed, but forcing others to follow silly rules is similar to tyranny—“

“Then you agree that breaking rules is wrong,” Riddle huffed. “And in this dorm, I am the rules. Therefore, those who cannot follow my decisions should not use the heads that they use to complain!”

“That’s not right!” Yuu shouted from Tenebris’s side, who noticed their clenched fists and the slight shaking as they protested. “While breaking rules is wrong, you should have the common sense to see that some of these rules are literal nonsense! And some of these rules don’t hurt anybody if they’re not followed, rules are there to only keep order-”

“Silence! Clearly, you don’t see the importance of rules if you encourage them to break some of them. I wonder what kind of pitiful education you went through to learn this?”

At the look of Yuu’s frightened face, Tenebris had to reign in the rage he felt as he spoke in gritted teeth. “Rosehearts, that’s going too far.

“I’m only stating facts, if they do not follow rules, they’re no different than ruffians!”

“Shut your spoiled little mouth!” Ace cried as he ran and delivered a right hook to Riddles’ face. Cater and Trey cried for their house warden followed by the head mage, the crowd just stated the obvious. Grim had a little dance of joy as he gloated in glee at Aces’ actions. 

Ace, who was panting, then sighed. “That’s it. Forget Riddle or the duel, I’m done.” he looked down at Riddle, who had fallen to the ground from the punch and was in shock at the events. “Kids are not their parents' trophies, and their achievements are not determined by their parents’ worth. It’s not only your parents’ fault but also yours’ — you haven’t made a single friend that’ll tell you from right to wrong!”

Riddle gritted his teeth, “What are you on about — !?

“Sure you’re from a strict and overbearing upbringing with a tiger mom, but is that all you are!? A copy of her!? Think for yourself and not about your mom! Red Queen my ass — you’re nothing but a baby who’s good at magic!”

“A baby!? You don’t know anything about me!”

“Perhaps so,” Tenebris spoke up, looking down at Riddle with a frosty stare. “But a person’s attitude can reveal a lot of their background and childhood. Apologies but while I feel sympathy for your situation, the way you’re acting is similar to a brat having a tantrum. Especially with how you insulted Yuu.”

Riddle turned red with anger, “Shut up! Shut up! My mother is right so that means I’m right too!” From a surface level, it just looks like the redhead is having a fit, but to a keen eye, they could see the rise of magic in the air as Riddle got angrier. Even with Trey and Crowley trying to calm him down, he was on the verge of snapping, his fist curled around his staff in preparation of being used.

The final stretch was an egg being thrown at his head before it snapped.

“An egg. . “ Trey trailed off, looking at the gooey unfertilized egg with the yolk sliding off his childhood friend. No one wanted to give away who was the culprit when their dorm leader asked — in a demanding tone. That was the last straw before he snapped, laughing maniacally. “You’re fed up!? I’m the one who’s fed up with all of you! No matter how strict I get, no matter how many heads I cut off, you all keep breaking the rules! The only thing you all care about is doing what you want to do! If the culprit won’t step forward and receive his punishment, then the rest of you will have to be judged!”

From there, it was chaos. With a command and flick, the dorm members were all collared. Shocked and fearful at what’s to come next, they started running around like headless chickens. Rose bushes were knocked down as every member was scrambling to escape from their dorm leader’s mania. 

Tenebris held Yuu and Grim to his chest as he endured the shoulder shoving from the dorm members, gritting his teeth as  they showed no care for their well-being. The mania didn’t end there as the rose bushes nearby started to float in the midst of the chaos. “The rose bushes are floating!” Grim stated the obvious.

“That’s some serious magic—!” Deuce exclaimed.

“Mighty rose bushes, tear this brute apart!” Riddle exclaimed before sending the rose bushes towards Ace. 

The headmage isn’t anywhere near Ace to save him, leaving the dragon to the job. His instincts were primal as his wings spread and raced towards the endangered human, the jeans he wore tearing as his legs grew. Once in reaching distance, he pulled Ace towards his chest and let out a heavy breath of fire that burned the bushes to ashes. Smoke curled out of his nostrils as he huffed, looking down at the shaken boy who just had his life flash through his eyes. “Ace. . .?”

The boy breathed in and out a few times before managing to reply, “I-I’m good.”

“Don’t lie, you were almost obliterated.”

“Tenebris!” Riddle’s scream caught the dragon’s attention, swerving to meet the furious eyes of the redhead. “I thought we were on an understanding this afternoon!? But are you truly here to prove me wrong!?”

“Mr. Rosehearts, there are moments when you have to acknowledge what is appropriate and when things have gone too far. And what you have done and almost commited was going too far.”

Before the house warden could retort, Yuu’s voice distracted them. “The collars are gone!”

DIrecting his gaze to the dorm members, Tenebris noticed that the collars that were around their necks were gone. Did Riddle’s magic tap out? he wondered. Cater answered his question, “This is Trey’s ‘Paint the Roses’! But how. . .”

“I told you,” Trey heaved, fixing his fedora. “My magic can overwrite the components of things for a certain time, so I made Riddle’s magic into my magic.”

“That’s seriously OP!?” Yuu gasped, holding Grim to them.

Riddle, furious and in denial, tried to summon his magic repeatedly only for cards to appear instead of the collar. Around the dragon, the murmurs of the dorm members caught Tenebris’s ears;

“He was really going to tear him apart!?”

“He seriously went too far.”

“What a monster. . .”

Tailing whipping, the dragon brought Ace to Deuce and the Ramshackle duo where they were a good distance away from Riddle.

A whiff of something horrid and unpleasant caught Tenebris’s nose making him wince and grimace, as it rose to dangerous levels as the redhead’s magic did. His fingers twitched anxiously as Riddle’s tantrum continued, knowing he should do something but Riddle was too far gone in his anger to be reasoned.

Even with Trey and the headmage — who wasn’t doing anything useful at the moment other than scolding Riddle — the house warden couldn’t be calmed.

“ But I’m right! I’m the one who’s always right! THERE IS NO POSSIBLE ALTERNATIVE!”

And in a blink of an eye, Riddle transformed into something horrific. His childhood friend called out to him as something sticky and black exploded out of nowhere and wrapped itself around the house warden, as if it was a cocoon or a chrysalis of an insect. And what appeared was something terrifying and dangerous.

His skin was pale as a corpse with inky-like tattoos  decorating his skin and arms, forming a pair of gloves. His clothes was a tattered red, white, and black dress that trails behind him, white roses tainted darkly popped out of his hip line like a belt. His eyes changed to an orange red with a flaming fire over one of them. Behind him was a giant creature with a tattered dress with the same colour scheme as Riddle, a rose bush as its weapon, a broken pot of ink for a head, and a tiny tiara on it. Its arms were similar to a doll, stitches were the joints are supposed to connect the bicep to the arms and the arms to the hands.

From there, it became a battle.

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#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x mincreaft #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x male reader #ender dragon #ender dragon reader #x male reader

[iguana-eyanna]

Come Home

Pairing: Racer X / Rex Racer x reader

Summary: Racer X visits his past when he realizes he could lose everything once again

X's footsteps were heard loudly in the hospital. He was frantic, eyes bewildered as he couldn't control his emotions.

He goes up to the front desk, trying to form a sentence.

"Hi, I'm here for the racers?" He asks.

The nurse points to the wing to her right and makes his way, running towards it. He enters to a waiting room and sees Speed Racer sitting frantically in a seat, moving his leg up and down. Speed turns and sees X standing in the middle of the room.

"X, what are you doing here?" Speed asks, getting out of his chair.

"When you expressed on the phone about your nephew, I just wanted to come and support you all." He said.

"Thank you, you don't know how much that means to us. We've been trying to get his mom to rest but she can't leave his side."

"If it's alright, I'd like to meet her." He said.

"Of course, she's down five rooms from here." Speed said.

X's feet carried him to where he'll find her.

Now, he sees you by the window sitting by your son's bed, your hands holding a small pendant that's around your necklace.

In Rex's eyes, you haven't changed in the past ten years.

You were the woman who had once stolen his heart and made him believe in love. But he had to make the hardest decision of his life, and now Racer X found himself standing outside of the hospital door, feeling a mix of nervousness and hope. He had readjusted his mask, making sure that his true identity remained hidden, as he didn't want to jeopardize his secret life as a racer.

As he knocked on the door, his heart raced. He hadn't seen you since that fateful day when he had disappeared from your life without a trace, leaving you heartbroken and confused. But now, he had a desperate reason to reach out to you.

The two days he saw you last was when he left home. You couldn't understand why he had to this, but he was trying to take down those who were disgracing the art of racing. You knew he had to do it, and that was the last night you spent with him before you lost him.

When Rex faked his death, all he could think of was you. He was holding onto a tree, far away from the funeral service. He saw his family, crying and mourning the lost of their eldest son. The last person standing over his grave was you, and you placed your hand over your belly, realizing that your unborn child will never meet his father. Rex realized what happened, and he vowed that day he'd to get away in order to protect you two no matter the cost.

He had to break his vow today.

The door opened, and there you stood, just as beautiful as he remembered her. Your eyes widened with surprise as you took in the figure standing in front of you. You couldn't describe it, but there was something about him that felt familiar, as if your heart recognized him before your mind could catch up.

"Racer X," You said softly, voice tinged with curiosity and caution.

He nodded, unable to find the words to speak. He had rehearsed what he would say a thousand times in his head, but now that he was here, facing you, his tongue felt tied in knots.

But he didn't have to explain. Not yet. Instead, he simply said, "May I?"

Your expression softened, and gestured for him to come inside. As they sat down, he noticed the young boy who was asleep. He saw at the edge of the bed, he read the young boy's name.

Rex "Archie" Racer Jr.

His heart clenched, knowing that the boy was his son, their son.

"How old is he?" He asks, still standing.

"He just turned 10 two weeks ago." You said in a small voice.

The silence became loud as the two didn't say much to each other. All you could do was stare at your son.

"He just started to ride in those cars Speed had when he was a kid. Then he got a fever that never went down. I knew something was wrong, and once we got to the hospital..." You sobbed, breaking down.

X couldn't take it seeing you like this. He walked up carefully, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned around and hugged him tightly as you cried.

"He's AB negative. No one in the family matches his blood type except- except for his father. the hospital is trying to find a donor, but they're still searching. I lost my world ten years ago, and I can't lose my son too."

Maybe you were just lacking sleep and were holding onto something close to keep you sane, but the same feelings you had once seeing him came back.

"Why did you come?" you ask Racer X.

"I- I had to." X said.

You lightly scoff, looking down at the ground.

"You know, Speed told me this ridiculous story that somehow you were his brother Rex. But I didn't believe it... because if it was him, he would have stayed." You said.

"All I just wanted was for him to come home. So, please... if I think this actually you, Rex, tell me now.”

Racer X took a deep breath, and for the first time in years, he removed his mask, revealing his true identity. Tears filled your eyes as you looked at him. He didn't have the same features he once had, but you knew this was the man you had once loved and lost.

He kneels down next to you so both of you were on the same level.

"I know I made a mistake," Rex said, his voice filled with regret. "But if I stayed, a lot of people would've hurt the family. Our family. And I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you two... But now I'm here, and I want to help."

You looked at him for a moment, your heart torn between anger and longing. But the love you had once felt for him was still there, buried deep inside your heart.

"Fine," you finally said, her voice trembling with emotion. "But this doesn't mean I forgive you, Rex."

Racer X nodded, understanding the hurt and pain he had caused you. He couldn't change the past, but he was determined to make things right now, for their son's sake.

"Mom?" a small voice called out to you.

You turn around and see your son slightly awake.

"Hi baby..." You whispered, wiping away your tears so he wouldn't see you sad.

"Who's that?" he asks, squinting at rex behind you.

You stare back at Rex, unsure of what to say.

All Rex could do is get up and go next to his bed, giving him a small smile.

"I heard you were sick, I wanted to help by donating my blood for you. Seems we're a match." Rex said.

"Really?" Your son asks, with hope in his voice.

Rex couldn't help but smile back, tears pricking in his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm here for you, and for your mom too." Rex said, looking back at you with a grateful smile.

Once the doctors found out that Racer X was a match, they wasted no time setting up the transfusion.

You told your family that Racer X had the same blood type and the transfusion was a success. They all rejoiced, but you could see Speed looking a bit skeptical. He knew he'll catch on, but for now, you needed to focus on the matter at hand. While they watched over Rex Jr., you visited Rex in his recovery room.

He sat up once he saw you, awaiting the results.

"He's alright?" He asks.

You nod, smiling as you sat next to him.

"Yeah, Archie is going to be alright." You said.

Rex releases a sigh of relief and sits back.

You were about to say something until Rex places his hand on top of yours.

"I know what you're going to say. I don't deserve a 'thank you,' I would have done anything to save him... and you."

"I know, Rex. But, did you want come back to us if Archie wasn't sick?" You asked.

Rex looks at you with broken eyes.

"After all of these years, I thought me being gone was the best thing. I wanted you to move on."

"Can't you see that I haven't? Pops, Mom, Speed... we still think of you every single day. And when I look at Archie's eyes, all I could see is you, Rex. And I still, I still love you dammit." You said, tears falling down your face.

Rex reaches over and wipes your tears softly, kissing your tear stained cheeks. His lips come dangerously close to yours and looked at you.

"Not a day goes by where I want to melt in your love again."

You move closer as you hold him in your arms, touch starved.

"Then come home, Rex."

Without hesitation, Rex kisses passionately. You hold onto him, afraid that he'll slip through your fingers. But he didn't.

And that's when you knew he was here to stay.

#racer x #rex racer #rex racer x reader #rex racer fanfiction #racer x fanfiction #speed racer

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Yexiao: Thousand Wishes

Designer’s Reflection: Thousand Wishes

Obtained: first Chinese New Year hell event

Rarity: UR

Attribute: Green/Fresh

Awakened Suit: Thousand Memories

Story - transcripts from Design’s Reflections

Chapter 1 - Blossoms Fall

Chapter 2 - Blooming Flowers

Chapter 3 - Winter Arrives

Chapter 4 - Spring Returns

Chapter 5 - Blooming Again

Story - summarized

Everyone ages, but not Yexiao. Ten years could pass by, and not a single part of her will change. She used to live with a family of three and spend time painting with the little girl. Unfortunately, the other villagers were scared of her unique trait and formed a mob to try to run her out of town,

The little girl rushed to defend Yexiao, leaving the child with a scar on her arm. Tearfully, the two of them said goodbye. So, Yexiao drifted from town to town, never staying longer than a few years at a time. And every time she left, her memories would fade. It was like starting over with the seasons, but it still hurt to let go of something so precious.

During one of her moves, she comes to Cloudcrest, to the home she currently stays in. An elderly lady lives there, too, and Yexiao finds contentment caring for her and painting the blossoms in the yard. Just as she is getting comfortable, a young man finds her and asks about her paintings. He mentions a legendary designer of old who would make similar paintings to Yexiao’s.

She worries that this man has figured out her secret. After he leaves, she packs her belongings and tries to leave. But the old lady falls ill, and while her last living child lives in town, she still needed attention. Yexiao decides to wait until the lady is better before leaving Cloudcrest.

Seasons change, but the old lady is still sick. When spring comes, the young man comes to call again. This time, he shows a painting that came from the same yard that Yexiao and the old lady live in. It’s not Yexiao’s painting, so that means it has to be the old lady’s.

But something in the painting is familiar. Memories resurface, and Yexiao asks to check the old lady’s arm. Sure enough, there is a scar there - the same scar the little girl had when she defended Yexiao from the angry mob.

This is that little girl! A hundred years have passed, and she is still here.

The young man knows, but he never had any attention of tattling on her. His name is Qin Yi, and he only wants her help in finding the Puzzle Solver. Otherwise, he leaves her alone.

Yexiao enjoys the rest of the season painting with the old lady in the yard.

Connections

-Qin Yi asks if Yexiao is the Puzzle Solver. In Vol. 1, you help Nikki find the Puzzle Solver to unlock the secret of Leonid’s Manuscript.

-This is not the first time Yexiao has had to deal with her immortality. In Mind Maze Ch. 5, she used to live in Banyan Town, which was a perfect village that lasted forever - until waters from the Ocean of Memories seeped through and slowly destroyed everything, except Yexiao.

-While the Yexiao we know was “born” on the Ark (and therefore can’t age or die by natural causes), we time travel to the past in the Dunhuang hell event and see Yexiao working for Queen Joyeux. This may very well be Yexiao’s “original self,” who could still age and change.

Fun Facts

-During the hell event, when Nikki and Momo collect wishes in Luming’s place, they find Yexiao’s wish. All she wants is to live a content life, to enjoy her life, and that nothing changes again.

-In Chinese symbology, peaches are tied to immortality.

-The old lady has severe dementia, which not only impacts your memory but disrupts certain behavioral patterns or functions. It’s why she gets stuck on certain “loops” like asking for someone’s parents or insisting she go outside to find someone.

#yexiao #shining nikki #hell event #chinese new year #ur designer #green attribute #fresh #thousand wishes #hanfu #memories #dementia #forgetting #peach #peach tree #immortality #never changing #seasons #cloudcrest

[carelessflower]

afterglow

The New York Institute hadn't changed anything in ten years, at least in Magnus's eyes. Even weirder, the shadowhunters were all dressed up today.

A blond girl approached him, hand holding out in a friendly manner.

"Excuse me if I'm wrong, but you're Magnus Bane, right?"

Magnus looked at her, curious. "Indeed, I am. And you are?"

"Elaine Woodstone. But most people call me Elly." She smiled. "I've heard so much about you! I can't believe I get to see the Magnus Bane in the flesh, and today, nevertheless. I told them, again and again, you would show up and nobody believed me!"

Being gushed over by a shadowhunter, of all people, was an experience Magnus never thought he would have. Ten years wasn't the longest compared to his immortal life, but a lot could change in ten years. Magnus was part amused, part curious how much.

"May I ask whether there is any special occasion today? To be completely honest, I haven't been around much, and it appeared I have missed out on a lot."

Elaine pulled a surprised face. "Oh. No one told you? Oh wow, Lightwood definitely sucks at giving out wedding invitations cause there's no way- How can Isabelle- I can't believe she would forget your invitation like that."

Magnus winced. For the past few years, he had been trying to ignore everything sent from the Lightwood, fire messages and phone calls alike. At one point, they stopped trying to reach him and Magnus, along with his liquor cabinet, had their expected reunion. Isabelle's invitation being lost among thousands of his unanswered letters wouldn't be a shock.

Before he could ask the girl for more information, Clary stepped into view, talking about something to Elaine, who made her exit.

"Magnus!" Clary exclaimed, grinning brightly, reaching out to hug him. "I didn't know you would come." Magnus returned the hug, equally happy to see Clary had grown into such a fine young woman. The same fiery glint was still in her eyes, but there was also this maturity that washed over her like a glow.

"Neither did I. But I'm here now." He paused, looking for the right word. "And I wonder which poor soul decides to get married here in this Institute, your decoration hasn't changed in years." 

It wasn't quite the thing Magnus wanted to know the most, but he needed to have that conversation with someone else. Magnus had too many steps to make up for, he couldn't afford to be impatient and impulsive.

Clary looked amused. "I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen, going on something about the symbolism between shadowhunter and downworlder allegiance. Eventually, we all just gave up. Come, let me show you to the venue. We did have a seat saved for you if you decided to show up."

Following Clary, Magnus's mind started to wander. Isabelle had invited him to her wedding, undoubtedly with Simon, the young Lightwood had never managed to hide her affection for that boy. Though Magnus didn't have any gift on him, he could think of some way to compensate for it. Surely a honeymoon to Spain wouldn't be too much, would it?

The wedding venue was nothing sort of stunning, stained glass window and marble floor, an arrangement of daisies, lilies, carnations, and daphne blossomed in the air. It was no surprise that Isabelle would go all out for her wedding, a distant fondness growing in Magnus's chest.

"Okay, you're sitting here. There are some errands I need to check on, but I hope we can catch up later. Again, lovely to see you, Magnus." Clary gestured to the seat next to the aisle, almost front row for him and left.

Many guests already arrived at the venue, old and fresh faces, shadowhunters mingling with downworlders. Magnus had no problems catching up with them, scanning through the room from time to time in the hope of finding a familiar dark-hair, blue eyes figure to no avail.

Bells rang through the venue, and people went back to their seats, Magnus included. Everyone stood up in anticipation.

Maryse Lightwood waltzed into the room, a vision in her elaborate gown, face almost an iridescent joy, but Magnus's eyes were glued to the person next to her. Messy black hair, broad shoulders, a soft smile that was unmistakably Alec's, still as beautiful as the day Magnus last saw him. 

There was a new sureness in Alec's steps towards the aisle, lights pouring through the stain-glass and reflected back in his suit jacket, coating Alec's figure in a stream of golden light.

Gold for a bride in her wedding gown.

All the breath was promptly knocked out of Magnus's lungs.

for @malectober day 31 prompt golden

#malectober #malectober22 #malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane #anh writes stuff #told you i have something waiting

[crimsonlyinglilly]

AMOW 1. Victim of a Curse

I'm back for AMonthOfWhump's March Trope-a-Thon.

Starting with more from Reincarnation woes and a look into the Crescent curse and the problems with cursing an entire bloodline.

The point of view of someone uninvolved in the power struggles of new Orleans who is still effected by it as a mistake brings the crescent curse on them.

Elijah latest life is a change from the last thousand years but an unfortunate twist of fate places him at risk of two curse and sets him on the path of war against the boy he had once taught.

and he thought being born a girl was going to be the most difficult part of this life to deal with.

----

Mikeala Bayes left her family when she was eighteen, after a stranger, a vampire; who was supposed to be her enemy,  killed her parents to save her from becoming a murderer.

He told her to run, warned her and she hadn't thought twice, she didn’t want anything to do with the pack, with the supposed blessing that was in her blood and left to travel the world. 

She only really came back at twenty five to settle when the few relatives she kept in contact warned her about the curse, that it would be safer if she was affected to be at home. 

She was forced to agree, no matter how careful she was, the last thing she wanted was to risk her daughter being left alone somewhere.

The fact Elijah’s stupidly rich father also lived in New Orleans helped, it was getting harder to travel with a growing child and her daughter needed a chance to get to know others her own age.

Those from the pack and other normal human children, Elijah didn’t have the anger that was normally found in their family, the same way she hadn’t been born with the birthmark Mikeala had from her mother’s line. 

It was part of the reason Mikeala hoped Elijah may have somehow escaped the danger her blood carried, what she had grown up with, her baby was calm and smart even compared to the human kids.

It was a good idea, her daughter bloomed from a slightly shy-cold five year old to a bright if reserved eight year old after they settled down, Mikeala also had to admit part of it came from the younger half-brother she had gotten to know.

At least little Kol had more sense than the father, even at five.

Said stupidly rich father lived up to his uses, the man may be naive and blind to everything around him but he was a loving father who never tried to take Elijah from her which put him above most people to her and he made sure Elijah never wanted for anything, the moment Elijah expressed an interest in something; classes and equipment were already ordered.

Which is why they were driving back late one evening from Elijah’s latest dance class when everything was ruined.

They were on the right side of the road, they were going at the right speed, none of that mattered as the other car crashed into them.

She barely lost consciousness but the first thing she did was check Elijah, ignoring her own aches as she twisted around.

Her baby looked at her with wide eyes and a fear she rarely ever saw from her daughter, there was a slight cough as she replied to her questions that Mikeala was sure it was from the bruises from the belt.

Once she was sure the most important person was safe she pushed open her door to check and scream at the idiot who had hit them.

She could smell the booze as she managed to wreck the door open, she was cursing at him before she realised what was missing.

He was too still, her hand reached out for his neck.

“Wake up” she hissed as she felt nothing and refused to accept it.

“Dammit NO.” her voice cracked, she was seconds from begging as the full understanding started dawn on her “Wake up.”

“You fucker, you don’t do this to me.” She swore as she stared at the man, the dead man, the stupid waste who was drunk and had killed himself by her hand and ruined her life.

Twenty eight years she had avoided triggering the curse in her blood, the last ten she had done everything to stay away from her family along with it.

Destroyed in a night by a selfish person who likely had no idea there was more in the world.

The curse didn’t care she didn’t want to be part of the pack.

The curse didn’t care she had left years ago.

The curse didn’t care it wasn’t her fault.

The curse didn’t care that she had a daughter.

She ignores him and runs back to her car. She could feel it creeping over her, feel the magic gathering around her, the curse of her blood and the added one the witches and vampires had cast upon them.

It wasn’t fair she thought as she managed to get back to her car, to her little girl watching with curiosity and concern as she placed her hand on the glass, she wouldn’t open the door, even if she wouldn’t harm her baby, with they’re shared blood. 

She couldn’t risk Elijah wandering away to follow her or getting cold, who knew how long it would be before someone came.

Still she wanted to, she wanted to pull her baby into her arms and never let go.

“Mama loves you,” she tells her, hoping with everything in her that Elijah could hear, Elijah has to know it if it’s the last thing she does.  “I-” she bite back as scream of pain, “need you to remember-”

She screams as the pain doubles and she falls to the floor, panting on all fours ‘like a beast’ her thoughts remind her cruelly, as everything tells her to return to the woods to find her pack, she could smell them.

She didn’t want to- she couldn’t yet.

Dragging herself up she ignores the claws screeching on the metal on her car’s door, the sounds too much for new hearing.

A small hand pressed against the glass.

Dark brown eyes stared at her, little lips twisted into a frown but there wasn’t fear in her daughter's face, for the first time she thinks she sees a flicker of the rage in their blood, in her baby’s eyes.

“I love you, no matter what.” she breaths on the glass, ignoring the yellow reflected from her eyes.

It was her new hearing that helped her hear the little reply.

“- fix this. Love you.”

She tried to stay upright to keep her little girl in her vision, but the next time the wave of pain hits, she hits the road and howls. 

----

The wolf laid in the undergrowth as lights, cars and humans arrived. She watched as the child-pup was taken from the car and carried away, biting back a whine, that was hers. She hurts as the small one vanishes from view into a van.

She starts to follow the pull from where she knows what's hers is, until another wolf appears, she relaxes, it’s not alone, pack. Pack would help her get her pup back.

They don’t, they get in her way, they stop her.

She snarls.

She fights.

She loses.

—--

Elijah sits in the van next to the policeman and breathes, deep, slow and calm, mama alway told her she was so good at keeping her temper. But mama didn’t really know everything.

Elijah Colson-Bayes was once Elijah Mikaelson, and has been enraged for a thousand years, every new life brings more injustices, he loves his brother, he doesn’t blame him, they are each other’s centre stone, the only constant, tied to each other as they were, but every life since had just built on that anger without release.

Elijah has been furious since father tried to kill them for mother to make them monsters, loathing since he realised that Klaus and Rebekah had already been killed before father had come for Finn, Kol and him.

Incensed since he learned Esther had already given his first born child away, since Mikael returned and destroyed everything he had built leaving him alive long enough to sit with the bodies of his wife, three daughters and youngest son, until Kol returned and Elijah had to see the devastation his failure to protect his family had brought to Hale and Kol.

He had thought he was done as he died cursing his parents, until he grew up again to realise papa was Kol.

That was the beginning, this was countless lives later and Elijah was very good at keeping things to themselves but if there was one good thing about all this, they were always underestimated.

Elijah was going to fix this, whatever had caused Mama to change when there wasn’t a full moon, even if it meant tearing New Orleans apart and out of the hands of Klaus’s heir.

#amow tropeathon2024 #day1 #Victim of a Curse #fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #original character #the originals #fic #the originals fic #the originals au #AU - reincarnation woes

[cheetah-roll]

Just letting you guys know, I think that the most important things in this post are the last 3 1/2 paragraphs. Everything above is still, just as important, but it is mostly me just ranting. If you want to read the point that I'm trying to get across, just skip to there. Would still appreciate it though if you read everything however.

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

I went to a funeral prayer for a man who lost 10 family members in Gaza. Ten. Please think about that for a second. Ten lives is ten lives too many. Ten people is practically my whole family, on my mothers side at least. Ten people is my grandparents, aunts and uncles. The twins and Baby Grace. Ten people, is literally all of my friends, plus my sister, gone. No one should lose that many people in such a short amount of time. No one should even lose one person to outright mvrd3r and g3n0c1d3. And we’ve lost thousands of people. Thousands of innocent men, women, and children, and for what? To claim a land that wasn’t even yours to begin with? A land that you’ve slowly taken over, over a course of 75 goddamn years? 

I’ve been well aware of what’s been happening in Palestine since before October 7th. This conflict didn’t start then. It’s been going on since 1948. For years, the Palestinian people have been pushed from their homes, attacked, and killed. They welcomed the Jews into their land after the H0l0c@u$t. Giving them a home. A place to live, and feel a sense of safety. Instead, their land was taken over by people who didn’t even belong there in the first place. 

I$r@3l has tried to erase Palestine. They have tried to make it seem as if it never even existed. That there has only ever been I$r@3l. Well, it can’t. Palestine has always been here. It’s in your goddamn bible. One of the world's oldest churches was destroyed. Why aren’t people upset? Jesus Christ was born in Palestine. Look it up. He was born in Bethlehem. Does it say that Bethlehem is in I$r@3l? Well, forget that. Bethlehem was a part of Palestine before I$r@3l took it over. There is proof. Jesus was Palestinian. You're literally destroying his birthplace. His home. If you love Jesus so much, maybe think about that shit before you blindly start following every stupid Zionist, western, colonist nation there is. Stupid colonists who think that they have the right to just waltz right into any country they please, rob them of their resources, mess up their systems, destroy their land, and just leave. And then, years later, they complain about how corrupt those nations are. How uncivilized, and impure. You’re the reason they’re like this! You think that you have the right to do whatever you please? Well you DON’T. YOU are the ones who put these corrupt people in power. My homeland is  messed up because of these stupid colonist nations. These countries may be corrupt, but at least we’re not like America or Britain. At least we didn’t force Native Americans from their land. The land that was rightfully theirs. At least we didn’t k!ll them all. Right, cause that was fucking America. At least we didn’t capture and enslave generations of African Americans. At least we didn’t drop TWO ATOMIC BOMBS on Japan! You’ve gone and messed up everything that you’ve touched. So many groups have lost so much, or now have health problems or are facing poverty because they still carry the weight of what you did to them. 

Another thing that I would like to point out, which I’ve been told is now common knowledge, but I’m not too sure that enough people know about it. 9/11 was an inside job. It was all planned by the US. They hijacked their own planes. The people flying them were most likely forced or were offered money or some shit. The whole point of 9/11 was to get an excuse to attack Iraq and rob it of its resources. Because America just COULDN’T STAND another country having all that oil. So, they took it for themselves. They STORMED into Iraq, killed so many people, stole their resources, and then left, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. 9/11 caused a huge wave of Islamophobia in the US. Muslims were sent to jail for no apparent reason. Muslims were killed. We were feared. We were called terrorists. A security guard had to walk my mother and other Muslim students to their cars so they wouldn’t get attacked. People were so afraid of us, but really, we were the ones in danger. All this, just so the US could get some oil. Now, because of what’s happening in Palestine right now, Muslims and Arabs are more at risk. I don’t want to be afraid that the mosque I grew up going to will have ugly, red words sprayed onto its glorious walls. I don’t want to feel scared of my visibly Muslim mother going out one day and never coming home. I don’t want my beautiful religion to be tarnished by the hate and ignorance of others. 

I was talking to my mom one day. I asked her if we could hang a Palestinian flag outside our door. She took my hands in her own, looked me in the eyes, and with such resignation and certainty, she told me that if we did that, we were going to get killed. Hearing your own mother say that? That’s scary. Its fucking terrifying. That tiredness in her voice is something that I never want to hear ever again. And the sad part is, I know that she’s right. If we did that, our chances of getting murdered right on our front doorsteps would skyrocket. 

I feel like I’m living in some kind of dystopian, alternate reality. People are dying. You can see it on TV, read about in the newspaper, but no one is doing anything to help. People are just going on with their lives as if a genocide is not happening right at this very moment. They don’t care. Why isn’t this on the forefront of our goddamn minds? Are the lives of millions of people not worth talking about? Is their safety and their future not as important as your own? The people of Palestine are fighting for their lives right now. They don’t have access to food, water, or electricity. They are stuck in an open air prison, with bombs dropping directly on their heads at any given moment. They have been deprived of basic human rights and their dignity. How is any of this okay? How is the murder of thousands of innocents something that people are choosing to actively ignore? This isn’t okay. This has never been okay. And yet, it happens time and time again. Over, and over, and over. An endless loop of oppression, hate, and bigotry. When will history stop repeating itself? When will we learn?

I know that people have been speaking up about what has been happening recently. So many people have been showing their support, which I appreciate a lot. It makes me so happy to see people that I look up to speaking out about injustice and doing their part. I really hope that things will get better. For the people of Palestine, and for the world. A world where I’m judged for the God I worship, the people I choose to love, my gender, the color of my skin, and even for the way I think and perceive my surroundings, is not a world I want to be living in. I want to live in a world where I’m respected. A world where my choices, and my views, and my life is valued just as much as the next person. So please, do your part helping to end the occupation. Every little thing counts. Post about it, boycott companies, donate, please, just do something. Standing by and doing nothing will not solve anything. If you think that your small contribution won’t make a difference, you’re wrong. Your life matters. Your help will make a change. We can do it.

And with that, I will be signing off. I hope my questionable writing skills helped to inspire at least one person. Stay safe everyone, and do your part.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!!

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #i stand with palestine #gaza #gaza genocide #free free palestine #current events #palestine genocide #colonialism #call for ceasefire #please donate #do your part #im well aware that some of this might be seen as controversial #i'm just really upset. i wrote most of this in a fit of rage #i've done my research #but some of this may be wrong #most of it is not #a lot of it is facts #i apologize if things aren't censored correctly #gaza strip #gazaunderattack #israel

[weird-life-of-a-closet-fangirl]

Just finished watching the first ten episodes of Power Rangers Jungle Fury, here are my thoughts:

-Jarrod is initially a jerk. He's also extremely dedicated (been training for ten years) and extremely strong (beat his sparring partner very quickly) and extremely arrogant (bullies Casey and the other cub). I am very excited to see his redemption arc.

-Casey has literally been at the academy for a week. He's got enough raw power to make Jarrod flinch. We stan.

-Master Mao should have chosen one of the other finalists to be the third guardian after he kicked Jarrod out. I'm still not sure why he chose Casey but I like him so its fine.

-If Jarrod hadn't attacked Master Mao, Dai Shi's spirit wouldn't have escaped the box and possessed him. He brought that upon himself because he didn't know how to take the L.

-If this wasn't a kids show it would be a lot more gory and gruesome. Even with the morphing grid giving the rangers enhanced healing and strength and taking part of the damage they recieve in battle, the injuries they recieve while fighting would be pretty bad. Casey got slammed through multiple pillars and poisoned by scorpion venom. Theo fell off a skyscraper. They've all been caught in multiple explosions. Legally, they should be dead.

-Also, the amount of property damage being done by these evil monster attacks... I'm assuming they've got special insurance for that in this universe though, since the power rangers are a regular occurrence.

-Sometimes I remember that Theo and Lily trained with Jarrod for a very long time and get sad because they're fighting someone who used to be a friend. Like sure, Casey only knows the guy as a bully, so its probably not as rough on him, but for Lily and Theo, it can't have been easy to see their new friend go up against their old friend in battle.

-Also, I liked that they took an episode to talk about the rangers' insecurities and fears, with Casey still feeling like an outsider in their group, Lily being worried that her friends might die in the fight against Dai Shi, and Theo being worried that Casey's going to steal his best friend.

-I am THOROUGHLY invested in Camille and Dai Shi's relationship. It seems to me that they had some sort of relationship before his imprisonment (like we're talking super close, because she calls him by name instead of calling him my lord), and Camille is still hoping they could go back to how things were. Whatever relationship they had pre-canon, I doubt it was a good one, seeing how Camille is constantly trying to flatter him and appease him so she doesn't get destroyed.

-But- and this is my personal headcanon- I fully believe Dai Shi may have gone a little insane after being trapped in a box for ten thousand years. Camille also mentions hiding in a wall for ten thousand years but I feel like she might have gone out into the world every now and then. There's also the matter of Flit, who lives in her throat and refuses to shut up- he might have been good company during those ten thousand years that she was hiding. Anyway my point is that Camille managed to stay sane. Dai Shi probably didn't.

-The scene where Dai Shi suggests that Camille should risk being destroyed by the rangers in the process of becoming stronger because "if you truly want my admiration, my love, isn't that a chance you would take?" had me internally screaming, like oh my god this bitch??? And then when she kills Naja and takes his life talons and turns to Dai Shi for approval and he's just. Not there?? And then when she's talking to him later and he says "if you're waiting for a thank you, don't. Loyalty is something I expect." Anyway their relationship is looking a little one sided, and if it's not, Camille should totally dump him bc he sucks.

-Also something else I found interesting is that when Dai Shi brought Carnisoar back, Carnisoar was talking about how he's not at his full evil potential because there's still some good left in him. This, combined with the fact that Dai Shi refers to Jarrod's memories as his own, leads me to believe that Dai Shi is having a hard time differentiating himself from Jarrod since they're in the same body.

-Theo is just like me fr and I love him! His training with Master Swoop was just me him getting therapy for his anxiety.

-The little B plot in ep 9 with Casey teaching the kid about how the choices we make define our character and how they juxtaposed it with Carnisoar manipulating Jarrod's memories to erase every good and kind choice he ever made was a great storytelling move. I also liked the extra insight it gave us into Jarrod's character, because until then, I just thought he was a jerk, but he has a very strong moral code (which Carnisoar forces him to break, allowing Dai Shi to grow stronger as Jarrod's soul gets steeped in negativity)

-I'm very glad I decided to rewatch this because this is fun!

#power rangers jungle fury #long post #I have so many thoughts about this show its so fun #should I add a read more? #im gonna add a read more #edit: had to go back and edit jarrod's name bc apparently i spelled it wrong

[mayasaura]

Okay, pre-Nona posting time. I don't have a coherent theory this time, but here are my impressions:

I'm expecting this book to mostly be setup for the next one, since it was originally just act one. Exposition, worldbuilding, and pieces moving into whatever place they'll need to be to scape some kind of resolution out of this mess. I'm not expecting to see many familiar face from Canaan House, apart from the obvious, because ofnthe timescale we're working with. Silas and Colum are coming back, but I'm not at all sure it'll be in this book.

The letter from Doctor Sex's study has got to be relevant. The "My darling girl, tomorrow you will be a lyctor-" one. This will probably connect with Cassiopeia, and why BOE has intimate but antiquated knowledge of the Sixth House. Hopefully we will also find out if the Sixth House even still exists after the finale of Harrow the Ninth, but maybe that will be left as a point of hanging tension because afaik Palamedes and Camilla don't even know it was threatened.

John is a wild card, and I can't wait to see what he'll do. He reached the breaking point of a ten thousand year long holding pattern at the end of Harrow the Ninth, and we're about to find out what God does instead of buying a firari and experimenting with cocaine because he's been dumped. His invasion? The second Resurrection? What does he have left to lose, and does he care if he loses it?

The Mithraem is gone and John is a creature of habit, so odds are good that he fetched up on the Erebos at some point in the six-month timeskip. Which means we may find out where we stand with Admiral Sarpedon. John ditched them right after one of the worst catastrophes in Cohort history to work from home, and I have a feeling that is going to have ramifications. Sarepedon's whole deal in the Iliad is responsible leadership through showing up and being there to lead.

I'm excited to see if Ianthe and Coronabeth's dual schemes will come into play yet. The Tridentarii have had a long-term plan they've been working on since before Gideon the Ninth. We've only had hints of the full shape of it so far, but it has to do with figuring out how the Resurrection was accomplished and rethinking the economic structure of the Nine Houses. So we're talking large scale, possibly empire crushing and/or apotheosis kind of big. Whatever they're planning got derailed by the events of Gideon the Ninth, but Ianthe has been working hard to get back on track. So has Corona, but I'm not sure if Corona is working toward the same goal as Ianthe anymore. Or perhaps they've course-corrected together; Mercy was able to put Camilla in touch with Harrow, so why not Coronabeth with Ianthe.

I'm almost certain that Blood of Eden intends to return to the Ninth. Wake still has an anchor there, and even if she didn't have unfinished business with the Tomb, her people won't want to leave her bones enslaved. Depending on how aware Wake was of her surroundings as a revenant, she may even know that the Tomb is open for the taking. If she asks, and maybe even if she doesn't, I think Pyrrha would go with them. Pyrrha once watched Wake die in the atmosphere above the Ninth, she liked Alecto, and she knows something about having been buried for a myriad.

Speaking of which I really really hope to hear a bit more about Anastasia. She's so interesting! She's been playing chess from beyond the grave, and I'd love to find out what her objective was.

And to close out, obligatory 'who is Nona' theory. Sort of. If I'm right, she's an ancient divine monster with the body and mind of a desperately sad schizophenic teenager. She loves completely and without conditions in a word seperated by factions, and I hope she doesn't have her heart broken. She's made up of mismatched pieces, and if those parts of her are separated she might not be Nona anymore. A transient existance. Cinnamon roll. Too good for this world, too pure. Alexa, play Simple and Clean by Utada Hikaru.

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth #and now..... I'm ready #pull the lever kronk #long post

[galacticwildfire]

Illicit Affairs | Obi-Wan Kenobi

Thirteen

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Amidala!oc

Rhea Amidala meets Obi-Wan Kenobi when he and his master come to her younger sisters aid and he discovers the queen's sister was once a Jedi, expelled from the order for her unwillingness to forgo love and attachment. The two stranded together on Tatooine find common ground despite their differences, and above all a hope within the other for something greater than themselves.

He hopes for her to rejoin the order, while she hopes for him to leave, and both are left reeling from their illicit affair, until ten years later he is once again called to her sister's service and they are catapulted into each other's lives by a war that will set them on the same path of secrecy and tragedy.

Word count:5.5k

Tags/warnings: a little fluff then a whole lot of angst

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We descend into the atmosphere to find a watery planet consumed by storms and immediately something feels off. There's no need to confirm it with him because I know he feels it too.

"There," I say pointing to a settlement and he finds a landing hub whilst I quickly braid my hair, having a feeling this is definitely going to end in a fight. 

Upon landing I stand and secure my weapons belt, only to still when I feel his hand on my arm and look up at him in surprise as he wraps his cloak around my shoulders to protect me from the rain and I smile up at him at the gesture. 

"Thank you," I say softly and he squeezes my shoulder with an equally soft smile.

"Come on," he says with a hand on my back as we exit my ship and hurry through the rain to get indoors, him catching my arm as I almost slip and we're both laughing as we head in through the doors. 

He's soaking wet but he doesn't seem to overly mind considering the thickness of his robes and I wrap his cloak tight around me as we walk through the entrance and we're surprised to find one of their species already waiting for us.

"Master Jedi," she addresses Obi-Wan. "The Prime Minister is expecting you."

"Expecting?" I repeat and Obi-Wan blinks in confusion, almost flattered.

"We're expected?"

"Of course," she says as if it is obvious. "He is anxious to meet you. After all these years we were beginning to think you weren't coming. Now please, this way."

We share a look to make sure we heard that right, and he keeps a hand on my back as she guides us through the building, something about the very design of the place feels uncomfortably clinical and sure enough the white light is blinding as we're brought into a room where a man who must be the Prime Minister waits for us.

"May I present, Lama Su, Prime Minister of Kamino."

We both bow our heads in customary respect, or at least hoping that's the custom.

"And this is Master Jedi..."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he answers and introduces me formally "And Lady Rhea Amidala, General of Naboo."

"I trust you are going to enjoy your stay," the Prime Minister says, inviting us to sit in the pod chairs that are lowered.

I sit with my legs crossed and back straight, having had my lacking regalness of youth quickly beat into me by Count Dooku, while Obi-Wan leans forward with his legs spread, truly commanding attention without even realising it. Even now soaked from the rain, or rather especially so, he truly is a sight. Quickly I pull my eyes from him as the Prime Minister begins speaking.

"And now to business, you will be delighted to hear that we are on schedule." At the next words I go cold. "Two hundred thousand units ready with a million more well on the way."

I gulp feeling a chill wash over me and look to Obi-Wan who struggles to hide his bewilderment. "That's... good news."

"Please tell your Master Sifo Dyas that his order will be met on time."

For me the name is vaguely familiar, but Obi-Wan asks them to repeat it as if he's not hearing them right.

"I'm sorry, master...?"

"Jedi Master Sifo Dyas is still a leading member on the Jedi Council, is he not?"

I know enough to come to the conclusion that he certainly is not.

Obi-Wan glances at me, a brief flash of panic in his eyes before he says "Master Sifo Dyas was killed almost ten years ago."

"Oh," the Prime Minister says, surprised. "I am so sorry to hear that, but I'm sure he would have been proud of the army we've built for him."

The air goes cold and Obi-Wan looks at me as I sit there dumbfounded. This- this isn't the army Dooku's been trying to acquire, he wants battle droids not whatever cloners make.

"Army?" I repeat and try to make it seem like we are aware of it. "I have built an army myself for Naboo, please tell me of the one you have built."

"A clone army," he clarifies and I try to keep my face neutral. "And I must say, one of the finest we've ever created."

"Tell me Prime Minister, when my master first contacted you about the army did he say who it was for?" Obi-Wan asks, likely suspecting what I do, that it's for the Separatists but neither of us could have expected the answer.

"Of course he did," he answers. "This army is for the Republic."

That's when my stomach falls. The Military Creation Act. It's already underway, it has been for years. This attempt might not be Dooku's work after all if the bounty hunter is working with the Kaminoans, it's the Republic. Of course they would try to kill the leader of the opposition when their army has already been created.

I need to tell Padme.

Obi-Wan can sense my alarm and gives me a careful tilt of his head to remind me to keep up with the ruse and I give him a reassuring nod.

"You must be anxious to inspect the units for yourself."

"Yes," I say getting to my feet, knowing this is no longer a simple investigation into a dart, this is potentially the biggest scandal the Republic has ever faced, and my sister is leading its opposition, the very thing that has to be the reason behind the attacks. "That's why we're here, isn't it Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, it is," he says getting to his feet, more bewildered than anything else. 

And so he brings us to them.

Side by side we're led through the halls until we're brought into a factory and thankfully until now I've never seen anything like it. Obi-Wan and I's disturbance is equal as we walk past cloned fetuses in capsules.

"Very impressive," he says, hiding his horror perfectly.

"Yes," I agree, not able to do quite as good of a job as him. "I've certainly never come across anything like this."

"I'd hoped you would be pleased," the Prime Minister says. "Clones can think creatively. You will find that they are immensely superior to droids." Immediately I can name about ten violations of intergalactic law just looking at this room but still can't argue with his assessment regarding droids. If only Dooku would have bloody listened to mine. "We take great pride in our combat education and training programs. This group was created about five years ago."

He brings us to see a group of identical children, clones, all working quietly just as any other children would but this... this is science at its most horrific.

"You mentioned growth acceleration," Obi-Wan says doing the talking while I'm too shocked at what I'm seeing and what it means for Padme to have any sort of curiosity.

Despite being a Separatist I was never opposed to the bill, believing a Republic army of volunteer soldiers from willing planets would only be beneficial. It is something I had proposed to Dooku time and time again for the Confederacy. 

But not this, never this.

"Oh yes it's essential, otherwise a mature clone would take a lifetime to grow," the Prime Minister says. "Now we can do it in half the time."

"I see," Obi-Wan says as he comes to show us the adult clones dining. They talk and interact like regular men but are being kept here like prisoners and they don't even know it.

"They are totally obedient, taking any order without question," he says and that is what terrifies me the most. An army that cannot resist an order to massacre the innocent. It would make them no better than droids, only more creative in their killing. "We modified their genetic structure to make them less independent than the original host."

"And who was the original host?"

"A bounty hunter called Jango Fett."

That's when I snap out of it. "Bounty hunter?"

"Yes."

"And where is this bounty hunter now?" Obi-Wan asks, him and I needing no discussion as we stand there in unspoken agreement on the plan.

"Oh we keep him here."

"Lovely," I smile, feeling my saber on my hip. "We would be honoured to meet the host of the army."

"That is pleasing to hear," the Prime Minister says. "Apart from his pay which is considerable, Fett demanded only one thing, an unaltered clone of himself."

"A child?" I quickly realise.

"In theory, yes. Curious isn't it?"

"Unaltered?" Obi-Wan inquires.

"Pure genetic replication. No tampering with the structure to make it more docile, and no growth acceleration."

"So a child," I say again, hating the empathy that brings.

I've been prepared to kill the bounty hunter since the moment he escaped on Coruscant, but now things have become complicated. I'm many things, but I have no desire to create an orphan. Once Dooku would have called it a strength by compassion, but now I know he would only call it a weakness.

"General Amidala and I would very much like to meet this Jango Fett," Obi-Wan requests with a cautious hand on my back. 

"I would be very happy to arrange it for you."

Whilst that is organised we are taken by the woman who greeted us onto a balcony where for the first time we look below at the clones in their armour. 

A true army.

Padme needs to know.

"Magnificent aren't they?"

Horrifying is the word I'd use.

Obi-Wan moves his hand to hold mine as we look down at the horror beneath us, knowing what this means for the Republic, for the Separatists, if both sides are acquiring their own armies.

War.

"May we have a moment?" I ask our guide and she nods before dismissing herself. 

Obi-wan looks at me and squeezes my hand as he says "This- this is something else."

"This is war Obi-Wan," I say stiffly. "Padme and I have spent so long trying to prevent it, and here it is."

He nods in quiet agreement and tries to assure me "The Separatists don't have an army, this will ensure they don't go trying to start a war."

I just shake my head knowing just how wrong he is and say quietly "We need to get this information to Padme without it being intercepted, especially now we know the Republic is behind these attempts."

His brows draw together as he asks "How do you know that?"

"She is leading the opposition to this army, it makes no sense for the Separatists to be behind this when the motivation is clear," I tell him. "What better way to get this bill passed than to kill the leader of the opposition and frame the Separatists for it to ensure the senate will vote in favour of the bill to stop them."

I shouldn't be relieved but I am. Dooku isn't behind this, he isn't so far gone he'd order an attempt on my sisters life even if his master wishes it. I knew he wouldn't betray me so cruelly.

Obi-Wan sees the logic behind my reasoning but is still hesitant "You could be right, but still I want to speak to the bounty hunter to find out who exactly is ordering the attacks, if it is within the Republic then we must find out who."

A dark but reasonable thought comes to me and I propose "Who in the Senate would an army benefit the most?"

He lowers his voice as he leans in, finally scandalised "You can't be proposing the Chancellor is behind this? He may be a politician that is not to be trusted but he's the one who requested this investigation."

"Don't underestimate him, Obi-Wan," I warn him. "The guilty man always makes sure he's in control of the verdict, I would know."

"But this isn't a senate led investigation," he argues, as if they're any different. "This is a Jedi led investigation and the Chancellor has no authority over the council."

I shake my head slowly "They're one and the same Obi-Wan, you just don't see it."

His eyes widen but before this can descend into an argument our guide returns and we quickly fall silent as she says "Come, let me take you to Jango Fett."

I walk ahead of Obi-Wan now, confident in my own verdict but to trace this back to Palpatine I need further evidence and if it is... well, I have no hesitation about carrying out my own assassination attempt since I know there'll be no justice with him controlling the senate. 

We're brought to the bounty hunter's chambers, but when the door opens it's just a boy who resembles the other clones and suddenly I'm questioning my own morality knowing what I may be about to do.

"Boba, is your father here?"

"Yep," the child answers.

"We would love to meet him," I smile at the child who's none the wiser but I feel Obi-Wan's cautious eye.

"Sure."

He lets us in and calls out to his father, I feel Obi-Wan's hand on my wrist and he gives me a slight shake of his head, a single warning to not resort to violence.

"Jango welcome back," our guide says as we come face to face with the bounty hunter, absolutely identical to the clones. "Was your trip productive?"

"Fairly," he answers, calm until he catches my face but he pretends he doesn't recognise me as Padme's sister. Anyone assigned to kill her would most certainly be taking me into consideration.

"This is Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi and-"

"Rhea Amidala," I say reaching out to shake his hand firmly. "General of Naboo."

"Your clones are very impressive," Obi-Wan says stiffly, struggling to reign in his horror at it all beneath his cheery demeanour. "You must be very proud."

"I'm just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe," Jango replies and a calm anger washes over me.

"Have you made your way to Coruscant?" I ask him, not being subtle. 

"Once or twice."

"Recently?" Obi-Wan inquires, despite his refusal to see the Republic's role in this he has no desire to see Padme's attacker walk freely.

He doesn't reveal anything. "Possibly."

"Then you must know Master Sifo Dyas," Obi-Wan says, wanting to get to the bottom of this strange army the Jedi have found themselves complicit in as much as the truth behind the assassination attempt.

Jango speaks to his son in a language I don't understand and I keep my eyes on the kid who leaves to go slide a door closed before we can see what is behind it as his father asks "Master who?"

"Sifo Dyas," Obi-Wan repeats as I keep a calculating eye on the bounty hunter, questioning in this moment if having a child is enough for me to want to spare him. "Is he not the Jedi who hired you for this job?"

He steps closer to Obi-Wan, meaning to intimidate as he says "Never heard of him."

I watch the concern in the child's eyes as Obi-Wan challenges him. "Really?"

But the next words leave me cold to my core. "I was recruited by a man called Tyranus on one of the moons of Bogden."

"Tyranus?" I breathe and Obi-Wan immediately looks at me as he feels the shock that floods me and suddenly my saber is drawn at Jango Fetts neck.

"Rhea," Obi-Wan warns but I have no more patience for word games.

"Was it Tyranus who recruited you to murder my sister?" The bounty hunter is calm as he looks me in the eye but I only feel myself coming unhinged as I demand "Tell me!"

"Yes," he answers and I can't hide the pure pain that shoots through me at those words. "I trust you know him then."

"Consider your assignment finished," I order him, something telling me he knows just who I am to Dooku and I withdraw my saber. Obi-Wan stands there in a state of shock as I tell him "I have all the information we need, we're leaving."

I don't wait for his agreement as I storm out of the room and down the halls back to my ship, unable to bring myself to believe it. That it was Dooku who paid this bounty hunter to murder my sister, after swearing to me he would never harm my family, that he would kill those who tried. I knew it, despite my denial I knew it the moment I stepped into that room on Serenno.

I believed in him, I believed in his cause, I believed in his faith in me.

That is all gone now.

"Rhea!" Obi-Wan calls out after me but I don't stop, I can't. 

This man may have been hired to kill Padme, but why is still a mystery. I don't believe it is simply because I could have revealed the truth about Dooku's plans to her, no, this was planned before that. Someone else was ordering Dooku to get rid of her, whether it was his master or a member of the Confederacy, he still organised it. But we need to know why.

Obi-Wan doesn't manage to catch up to me until I find myself marching out into the rain and he grabs my wrist, voice firm "What do you know?" 

I struggle to form words, tears blending in with the rain as I finally force myself to believe it, that the greatest betrayal came from my own master.

"Rhea?" he breathes, looking upon me now in concern as he feels the pain, the shame. 

"I know who Tyranus is," I tell him, voice shaking. "But we need to find out where the bounty hunter is going." 

He knows we don't have time for questions and we look to the other landing dock to see a ship preparing to leave and quickly we scuttle for cover, trying to stay hidden as we sneak around but the kid spots us.

"Dad look!"

"Boba get on board!" Jango Fett yells, now wearing Mandalorian armour.

Obi-Wan and I look at each other with wide eyes, suddenly realising this is not going to end well.

He immediately brings out his saber to deflect the blaster shots while I grab out my blaster, firing at the bounty hunter from a distance only to find his armour reflects the blasts. 

Turns out it's true what they say about beskar.

"Shit," I curse, igniting my saber as he uses his jet pack to evade us and I jump using the force to try and tackle him out of the sky but I'm thrown into the side of the ship and tumble to the slick hard ground.

Just as I'm getting to my feet he fires a blast at Obi-Wan which explodes upon contact and he's thrown back. I let out a scream as the kid fires from the ship's guns at him and I look at the bounty hunter, quickly jumping to my feet and this time attacking from behind, my knees colliding with his back to bring him to the ground, turning to melee fighting to subdue him with my arm around his throat, he rolls us over, a violent struggle on the ground until Obi-Wan pulls him off me, punching him hard and I kick his legs out from under him. But as Obi-Wan goes to reach for his saber Jango uses his jet pack to jump up into the sky and shoots wire around Obi-Wans wrists, tying them together and dragging him across the slippery landing dock, but Obi-Wan uses it to his advantage, banging Jango against the ship until his jet pack is knocked off, exploding.

Jango hits the ground and I move on him, using the wire hanging from his wrist to wrap around his throat, using all my weight to pull him down as he tries to run until he slips and drags us all off the side of the platform, the wire still wrapped around Obi-Wans wrist and me caught in between. My body slams against its slope, quickly letting go of the wire to keep myself from falling but the other two aren't so lucky as they go sliding down off the platform.

I watch in horror as Jango cuts the wire and scream out as Obi-Wan falls, only to use it as a grapple to keep himself from plummeting too far and I turn my attention to the bounty hunter.

"You should have stayed away," he warns me. "Tyranus warned me you could be a problem."

"If you were a smart man you would have killed me first," I say, all qualms about killing him long gone. "You should have known I'd come to finish what you started."

He expects me to draw my saber or to use the force, what he doesn't expect is for me to kick him off the edge of the slop, except I lose my balance as well.

While he plummets fast I'm able to catch myself, grabbing onto one of the edges before slipping down to where Obi-Wan hangs and he grabs my hand, catching me.

"Really? Kicking him was your best idea!"

"You have a better one!"

He swings us onto the ramp below and we run back into the building, getting strange looks as we run through the halls and onto the landing pad only to find his ship leaving, but as it takes off Obi-Wan throws a tracker onto it and we stand there sopping wet and aching in the rain.

"We'll catch up to him," he promises me and arm in arm we stagger back to his ship and once we're inside and safely off that damn planet he looks at me with caution.

I feel his hesitation before asking the dreaded question.

"You said you know who Tyranus is?"

I give a stiff nod and know now is the moment the truth comes out.

"He's Count Dooku," I tell him, fighting tears at the betrayal and when I look at Obi-Wan I see the same sting in his own eyes.

"How do you know this?"

I'm shaking beneath his cloak as I confess "He's my master."

He keeps his face carefully neutral and I know this is nothing he has not expected, he's too smart a man to have not put it together but still I can feel the betrayal as I finally force myself to say it, and yet he still doesn't know the half of it. 

"What else?" he asks me stiffly and there's a roughness that's unlike him as he demands "You need to tell me the truth Rhea, all of it."

The tone of his voice, no matter how calm he tries to make it, still makes me defensive. 

"That Count Dooku is my master and a Separatist who's ordered my sisters death because of the Confederate secrets I know, what else is there to say?"

I feel the pure fear that's haunted me since long before Dooku and I fell out, that the council would not just fear us but condemn us. That if they knew we had the potential to create a new order they would kill us to stop it, kill us out of fear of a Sith resurgence.

Oh little did I know that it was what he planned all along and the moment I accepted his offer I'd signed my own death certificate.

"Rhea," Obi-Wan swallows, feeling my fear as he asks "Why does he go by the name Tyranus?"

"Because- because he's turned Sith," I whisper and the space between us is colder than anything I've ever felt. "I-" I shake my head, knowing he won't believe me if I say I didn't know from the start there was darkness there. "I lied." I force myself to spit it out. "To you, to the council, to myself."

He shakes his head now in horror, Dooku being my master he could have forgiven, but apprenticing for a Sith...

"Why?" he asks me, his own voice shaking now. "Why would you-"

"Seven years ago Dooku asked me to come to Serenno," I begin numbly. "He knew who I was and what we did."

His voice rises slightly at the thought I'd betray our secrets, his reputation, as he exclaims. "What we did?"

"Not that," I grit out, Dooku read between the lines but I never told him the truth of Obi-Wan and I, that it was ever anything more than an emotional affair. "I meant what we did in killing Maul. He told me surviving and killing a Sith lord was no small feat, he respected me. He wanted to know the truth of his apprentices death and so I told him that and then more."

"More?" he repeats gravely.

"That the council discarded of me for my beliefs regardless of where my heart was, regardless of my willingness to return and he told me he understood."

He shakes his head slowly, seeing the manipulation. "You didn't."

"I trusted him because he was the man who trained Qui-Gon," I stammer and he can't look at me. "I needed guidance, I needed someone to tell me I still had a purpose and he did just that. He trusted Qui-Gon's judgement in me and took me as his apprentice."

"Don't," he says with a harshness that has me clamping my mouth shut. "Don't use my Masters name to excuse turning to Count Dooku and becoming his apprentice. That was all you, Qui-Gon would never have allowed-"

"He was gone," I say with tears in my throat remembering just how far I was willing to go for a purpose. "You were gone. I was lost-"

"And so you joined the lost," he replies, finally looking at me and I wish he didn't. He can't even believe the words leaving his mouth as he says "You're a Sith?"

"No!" I say quickly but he looks at me as if I'm a stranger. "Obi-Wan-"

He steps back, whatever theories he had none could have been as horrible as the truth. "Yet your master is one."

"He is not my master!" I insist, begging him to believe me. "Not anymore. Not after I turned on him when I discovered the truth."

His head falls into his hands as he leans over the co-pilots seat, eyes shut like he's in pain which he's most definitely in as he grits out. "I knew you were lying and I thought I knew why. I knew Dooku had to have trained you and that I could accept but not this. For seven years, seven years, you've been the apprentice of a Sith lord!" 

And for the first time I say the words out loud. "Was. I was the apprentice of a Sith lord."

Our eyes meet and I know this is not something he will forgive easily, if ever. "And you would have me believe that you didn't know?" 

"I knew he walked a dangerous line," I tell him but it does little to help my case. "And I know at times so did I, but I was blinded by my disillusion with the order, with the Republic-"

"So you're a Separatist now too?" he retorts, seeing how my eyes burn. "By god you are a separatist."

"You know I am!" I yell, my voice trembling with a new sort of rage at having my worst secrets attacked by the man I thought would understand them. "I told you that. You knew from the start I'd been acquainted with the Separatists!"

"Acquainted?" he questions and exclaims "There's a difference between being acquainted and this!"

"Fine," I breathe and reveal "I was a fucking architect of the Confederacy." His jaw goes slack now and that is something he could never have expected. "Is that what you want to hear? That in my anger I wanted to prove myself, that I wanted to be something greater than what I was. That I was Dooku's heir to everything until he told me he wanted to acquire a droid army and make me its grand general."

"You wouldn't-" he rejects, but yet still he somehow believes in this moment I would, and that's what hurts.

"No I wouldn't," I swallow, barely holding back my rage. "I went and told Padme that Dooku was set on war regardless of the military creation acts result. She told me to find out more and so I went back planning to be the perfect spy but just as I arrived I heard him talking to his master, Maul's master, in that very moment I was told about the bomb." 

He realises then that this is darker than he could have ever conceived "Maul's master is training Dooku now?"

"Yes and his precious master ordered him to take care of me because I was too great a threat unless I turned to the darkside, and so I turned my blade on him and escaped to get back to Padme before he could kill me." He's silent now and so I taunt. "But you know that, you found the blaster singed cloak I'd thrown off the moment I felt you in that damn elevator."

He gapes at me as he puts the timeline of this together "This- this had all happened in the hours before we saw one another again?"

There is the betrayal, that I didn't immediately run to him to tell him what had happened, that I hid the fact I had just faced down one sith lord despite having killed another together. Betrayal that instead of jumping into action I let my heart get the better of me the moment I laid eyes on him and lied so his first impression of me wouldn't be the one he carries right now.

"Yes," I say and challenge him "Go on, we can fight for hours if you believe that for a moment I would ever knowingly serve a Sith."

"Then why didn't you-"

"Because the moment you stepped into that damn room I'd forgotten everything!" I cry out and watch his face change at those words. "Everything except for you!"

He wants to fight, there's an anger in us both that I know damn well neither have us have felt since we met and he tells me "You are going to be the death of me."

"Perhaps," I say, our illusion of lost love returned to us now shattered. "But unlike you I will never compromise my ideals to blindly serve a corrupt order."

"And yet I was never the one who was blind enough to serve a Sith."

"You're right," I say, not forcing back the tears, the anger. "And he betrayed me after swearing he would never let me suffer the same fate as Qui-Gon." At the mention of his master he is utterly silent. "I tried to kill him when I discovered the truth, so go on and tell me I've gone Sith when all I have ever done is search for somebody to have faith in me."

He shakes his head in utter disbelief. "You know I always had faith in you."

There's that word that stings worse than I'd anticipated it would. "Had."

"Yes, had," he says and it's all I can do not to flinch. "How many days now have we been together without a moment's respite? How many days have you lied to me knowing that the man leading the Separatists, the people who are trying to kill your sister, is a Sith? All to save your pride."

The anger in my heart turns to numbness as I swallow that same pride and tell him "We need to go to Naboo. Padme needs to know what we just saw."

"No."

"No?" I repeat at the audacity. "I swear Obi-Wan if you are going to compromise this mission-"

"I'm not compromising anything!" he harshly berates, whatever calm he clung to disappearing the moment I question his integrity. "That is all you."

"All me?" I laugh dangerously. "Considering you've been my willing accomplice in everything we have done since the moment we met you can put in the co-ordinates and stop acting like my integrity is any less than yours."

He chooses to ignore my own accusations on our conduct and stick to the mission. "We need to be following Fett not wasting time travelling back to the mid rim to see your sister."

"Okay, so your plan is to have us follow Fett so he discovers we put a tracker on his ship?" I question and he presses his lips together, biting back whatever words he has. "No we're going to go to Naboo to let him think he's safe so we can then track him to wherever he's actually going without him trying to throw us off his trail." He might be the Jedi but this is my line of work, not his and I know just how dire this clone army is, that it takes precedence over Fett. "Now we are going to go to Padme to tell her the Republic's illegally built itself an army she's leading the opposition against, no discussion."

He angrily puts the co-ordinates in and not another word is spoken as I leave the cockpit, knowing if either of us say another word to each other we won't be making it to Naboo.

I'd rather him scream at me that I'm a traitor than have to feel the harsh disappointment instead. Perhaps ten years ago he would have yelled and lashed out in anger that would drive my own so we could scream at each other until our throats were raw and our anger was gone, but ten years of training Anakin's left him instead treating me in a way that's a brutal reminder of what he's become. 

I was wrong. It's seems that while I've changed little, he's changed more than I could have ever realised until now. No longer is he the sarcastic young man who looked at me like I was the sun, but a master fully devoted to everything I hate. 

And I hate him because I love him despite it.

More than that I hate myself for yet again putting myself in this position knowing exactly how it ended before, and still foolishly I have hope this can end in anything other than pure heartbreak again.

That will be my undoing. Hope. 

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