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#also he’s a gossip and that is not a head canon anyone can take from me
djarintreble · 6 months
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Two Lines || e. munson
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pairing: dad!eddie x fem!reader
tags: part of my dad!eddie series, arwen munson asks all the right questions, pregnancy test + positive results, repair shop eddie canon, so much fluff i could cry, eddie being the best dad + husband
word count: 2.4k
a/n: hi friends, it’s been so long! i see all your requests and im working on them slowly but surely! i couldn’t find the post that requested this but it was along the lines of “GIVE ARWEN A BABY BROTHER!” so surprise! the munson family is growing!! ✨✨
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Arwen was always a chatty baby. Taking from her father, she made her presence known anywhere you went. The grocery stores, libraries, you name it. You loved that about her. Eddie always encouraged her and would follow along with her antics creating endless entertainment for you. She was also a smart child. Your husband claims that's a trait she could only carry from you. The combination of both traits created a curious baby who, when words could be articulated, would question everything around her.
At the age of two, she was able to comprehend the fact that she could ask for a sibling. As if that’s all it took to have one. That grocery trip was very memorable. Eddie began to drive away from the store when Arwen asked "Where's my baby?"
Now as she turned five, her observant nature continued to create milestones as she asked yet again, "How much longer until I can have my baby?"
You were brushing out her hair, helping her get ready for her second week of kindergarten. She asked while looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. Her beautiful brown eyes wide as she tapped her legs at a steady tempo, fighting the urge to move as you fixed her hair.
"What do you mean, sweetie?" You asked with a slight smile.
"You've been sick. Heather's mommy said she was very sick when Heather had her baby brother."
You've yet again been left speechless. You have in fact not felt well the past few days. Something was off. They say children and animals know first...
"Well, uh, Arwen... As soon as mommy knows she's having a baby, I'll be sure to tell you. But you can also get very sick for other reasons too. Like eating too much sweets after dinner." You nudged her, giving a knowing look in the mirror. She gave a nervous smile. She's been caught.
"But daddy said I could have them." Your change in topic worked well as you finished putting her curly hair into a loose ponytail.
"Of course he did. It's alright. As long as dad or me say you can. Maybe that's why I haven't been feeling well."
"Eating too much sweets?"
"Eating too much sweets.” You confirmed. “Now let's go. You don't need to start your tardy record this early on in your academic career."
•••••••••••••
You got back into your car after dropping Arwen off for school. Her words seemed to haunt you as you began your trek to the general store.
This trip was originally suppose to be to pick up a few items needed to make dinner and more toilet paper. Now you couldn’t help but steer into the aisle that held the item that might confirm or deny the lingering question in your head. “Was Arwen right about me being pregnant?”
Aimlessly walking through the aisles, you kept thinking through the ‘what if’ questions in case the test does come back positive.
What will eddie say? are we ready? is arwen really at the age to handle a sibling? do we need to move into a bigger house?
The one thing that you didn’t necessarily care about in Hawkins was that everyone talked. You knew that if you were picking up a test and anyone saw you checking out with it, people would talk. Not that you cared, it came with the territory, but it made it real. You grew up here along with Eddie. Eddie was always the talk of the school. Apart of you was always scared, despite being out of high school, of anything causing Eddie or his family to be in the center of the towns gossip.
You picked the most discreet package and quickly checked out with the cashier you knew the least. It felt stupid, but you always wanted to do what you could to keep your life more private in the drama filled town called Hawkins.
With groceries for dinner, toilet paper, chocolate and a pregnancy test, you left bradley’s big buy and headed to the house.
••••• | | ••••••
Two lines.
You couldn’t believe it.
Two lines.
You were expecting another child. Joy clearly painted on your face as your mind raced off all the ways to tell your husband. All the jokes of starting a family band. All the times Arwen asked for sibling.
After pacing the bathroom over ways to tell Eddie, you finally figured it out. Eddie would pick Arwen up from school and they’d both be home in about an hour. It was perfect.
••••••••••
The door opened and you could hear your daughter running into the house as her sneakers squeaks through the halls.
“Hi mommy, we’re home!” she yelled.
You were in the kitchen starting the preparations for dinner. You listened out for Eddie as you continued to hum to yourself, cutting up some carrots. You couldn’t hide the smile that came from the anticipation of sharing the news to your husband and daughter.
“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie entered the kitchen and went straight to wrap his arms around you. You continued to cut up the vegetables. “How was your day?”
Your husband smelled like fuel, forest mint shampoo and a touch of cigarettes. It was a scent you became familiar with and it suited him. He worked at the local repair shop and the fumes always seemed to linger home with him. You didn’t mind it though, it was your Eddie.
You put your knife down to turn around in his arms and look at him. He had his typical messy work ponytail, the coveralls were unbuttoned and rolled to his waist so he was left in a white t-shirt that had some grease stains and his guitar pick necklace laid over the shirt. You could never get over how beautiful your husband was. Sure you agreed to other words, but beautiful was what came to mind in that moment. Maybe it was the hormones.
“Well hello to you,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “Better now that you’re here.” You smiled.
“You know flattery gets me.” He smirked, giving you another peck before letting go and heading toward your room. “I’m going to get a shower real quick. I’ll be right out.”
While he showered you finished putting your dish together to cook in the oven for an hour. This was all the time you needed to share the news.
“Hi mommy.” Arwen said, following you into the living room.
“How was school, sweet girl?” You asked, hoping she’d ignore the guitar case that was randomly on the coffee table.
“Good.” she shrugged. “Ms. Jones said we’re doing a concert for veterinarian day.” Arwen smiled wide, showing off her new missing tooth.
“Veterinarian day?” You puzzled.
“Yeah! Where we sing for the soldiers of America.” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
“Do you mean ‘Veteran’s day’?” You pondered.
“That’s what I said! Veterinar-ran’s day.” Her furrowed eyebrows in confusion made you laugh even more as she didn’t see a difference in her words.
“Well that sounds like fun! Did you tell daddy?” You brushed back Arwen’s fly away hairs as she bent down to sit against the coffee table. Some of her coloring books laid open from her previous drawing session and she continued where she left off, clueless to the guitar case still.
“Yeah he said I’m going to get a solo.” She shrugged again so nonchalantly as she colored it amazed you the amount of confidence one 5 year old have. Well imagine having two.
That reminds you.
“Hey, Arwen, sweetie.” Your daughter looked up at you. “Would you wanna help me keep a big secret? I’m gonna surprise daddy in a second and I need your help.” You whispered. She jumped up and dropped her crayons with a big nod.
“Okay!” The giddiness expressed on her face was enough to make you cry. She scurried over to put herself between your legs as she leaned in to hear the secret.
“Remember you asked me earlier if I had a baby in my tummy?” Her eager nods almost hit your head before you leaned back a bit. You pulled out the test and showed her. “I went and got a test that tells me if you were right. Look, it has one line for no baby and two lines for yes baby. Can you count with me?”
Arwen was learning her numbers so it was important to find any chance to have her count. This seemed like a fun moment to remember. She stuck out her finger and pointed in the air as she counted out loud.
“One… Two… There’s two.” She smiled at the accomplishment of counting properly. By then, she realized just what the two lines meant. With a shriek that could alarm the neighbors, Arwen jumped into your arms and gave you the biggest hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She repeated.
“Thank you?” you laughed. Those were not the words you were expecting.
“I wanted a baby sister for so long.” She beamed.
“Well I can’t promise a sister but we will see! Now listen, I want to surprise daddy but I promised I’d tell you as soon as I knew. When he gets out of the shower, can you keep a secret while I’ll tell him?” You made a shushing sound as you quietly put the test inside the guitar case. When Arwen realized what you were doing, she snickered to herself, covering her mouth with her tiny hands.
“Was that Arwen?” You heard Eddie say from across the house. Arwen looked at you with wide eyes and tan back to the other side of the coffee table to resume her coloring as you sat, pretending to open the guitar case.
“Yeah… She was showing me how she was going to audition for that solo you promised her.” You looked up at your husband who was now fashioning a pair of black lounge pants, a faded band tee and he was scrunching his wet hair with his towel.
“If that’s how you’re gonna sing I might need to take that back.” Eddie laughed. “Is something wrong?” He grew more suspicious. With hearing Arwen scream from his shower and then you messing with his guitar case, he was nothing but skeptical.
Your eyes grew wide as you noticed his eyebrows begin to bunch up the same way Arwen’s did just moments ago. “Yes, Arwen told me she put a toy in your case but I can’t seem to open it to get it out, can you try?”
Eddie looked over at Arwen in a slight disappointment of messing with his guitar case but you reassured her she was okay with a quick wink.
After sitting down beside you, Eddie gave your leg a pat and pulled the guitar case closer to him.
“Let’s see what toy you got stuck this time. If it’s Ozzy Osbear, we’re going to have to have a word.”
As soon as he said that, the clicks of the guitar latches undid and you sucked in a breath. The case opened and you could hear Arwen begin to giggle next to you but to you were too busy looking at your husbands reaction.
Eddie’s face was blank as he stares at the positive test sitting in his guitar case. The quietly controlled giggles from your daughter turned into a fit of laughter and cheers. She jumped up from the coffee table once more and wrapped her arms around your neck as you both waited for Eddie’s reaction.
He hasn’t moved since he opened the case, staring at what signified a new chapter in the book you called life. This was the exact opposite reaction he had when you shared you were expecting Arwen. Then, it was so sudden. You woke up one morning sick as a dog and Eddie suggested you took a test as a joke. When it was ruled positive, it was you that was silent. Eddie was ecstatic, jumping around your bedroom with hoots and hollers before smothering you in kisses.
Now he just stared.
“Eddie, you okay?” You finally asked. He finally turned to face you with an uncertain face.
“We need to move the band equipment to the garage.” He said, randomly.
“What?” you giggled. “We don’t have a garage.”
“Oh.” Your husband responded, contemplating. “Then I need to sell some of it or see if Gareth could hold some of it. We need a house with a garage.”
“Is daddy okay?” Arwen let out. She was just as confused as you were.
“Let him think it out, Ari.”
“Do we need a bigger car? I knew it was stupid to get rid of the van. Maybe a mini van?” Eddie continued.
“Eddie-“
“Did we get rid of all of Arwen’s baby clothes? Maybe we could reuse them to save-“
“Eddie!!” You caught his attention. “Hey, stop that smart brain of yours for one second.” You placed a hand on his cheek to which he had no choice but to lean into.
“You’re pregnant.” He said quietly.
“Yes, I am. And we’re going to have another baby.” Saying it out loud made it a reality and suddenly you couldn’t hold back the tears. “And you’re an amazing father because before anything you’re first priority was to provide. We don’t need a new house or a new car. You’re all this baby,” you pointed down to your stomach, “Arwen and I need. I am so thankful for you.”
Without another word, Eddie pulled you into a deep kiss. One that confirmed with you that he was just as happy as the day you found out you were pregnant with Arwen. It just caught him by surprise.
“We’re having another baby.” He repeated.
“I’m having a baby sister!” Arwen exclaimed. This caught the three of you in a laughing fit. Eddie leaned into you, wrapping his arms around you as he nudged his head between your neck and shoulder.
“Or baby brother.” You responded to which Arwen gave a grimaced look.
“No. A sister.” She shrugged.
“Whatever it is,” Eddie started. He pulled back to place a hand on your stomach, “Welcome to the Munson family band, kid.” He kissed your stomach and pushed back up to kiss you again. “I love you, sweetheart. You’re amazing.” He then jumped up to grab Arwen. “Let’s go, Princess. It’s time to celebrate! MOMMY IS HAVING A BABY WHOOO!” He ran across the house holding Arwen upside down. Her giggles faded as Eddie ventured to the kitchen for a celebratory dessert.
You took the test out of the case and followed after them. If this is what life was like with Eddie and your kiddos, you could totally see having more. Maybe it’s the high of the celebration or the deep love you had for your husband. Either way, it clicked…
You really did new house with a garage because your family, both chosen and given, was getting bigger no matter what.
series taglist: @geekmom3 @ruinedbythehobbit @dark-academia-slut
honorable tags I think would enjoy this story based on previous interaction (I love your comments on the last stories so hi ily): @aesthetic-lyssa @yodelingtea @wintermunsonreads @lovelyladymayyy
eddie munson taglist thread: @catpjimin @senthiasworld @foxsmvlder @a-lil-pr1ncess @cryuki-patootie
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corazondebeskar-reads · 2 months
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live to rise - chapter one
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live to rise series
one: they'll find you, burn you
series masterlist | next chapter
gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader
word count: 3.7k
summary: The Last of the Mandalorians have fallen; their Mand'alor captured. Stripped of his armor, his weapons, his people. Din rises to fight another day, grasping onto the hope that his son still lives.
No fighter has won their freedom from the Empire's arena before. With the help of a servant girl, can he hope to break free?
warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, captivity, forced proximity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, prisoner of war, indentured servitude, fight to the death, au where the empire wins, discussions of genocide, discussions of war, graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, gore, brutality, religious themes, fictional religion, mand'alor!Din Djarin, major character deaths, many minor character deaths, Din has hearing loss, angst by the bucket, Din Djarin takes the helmet off (kind of)
Please heed the warnings. There will be major & minor character deaths in almost every chapter. This is not a happy story, but I hope you find it worthwhile anyway.
also on ao3
dividers by @saradika-graphics
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It’s morning when the news breaks.
By lunch, datapads are discarded in favor of gossip. It’s as useless as the Imperial rags parading as official broadcasts—all speculation and slander.
While the details of the Mandalorians’ final stand for their homeworld circulate above, the stiff air of the lower complex is thick with the question: to whose barracks will the fallen king be assigned?
You know the answer. Your datapad had pinged early, much before your day should have begun. Much before the news went live across the galaxy.
Cell C-5 had been scrubbed clean on your perennially bruised knees the day before when Dup, a young Gungan whose face was bruised as if he’d already gone a round, had failed to return from the arena.
He had been brought in late the previous night, shaking and weeping and not speaking a lick of Basic. Those were the hardest. There was no comfort, no preparation, no honor you could give them.
He didn’t return after his first battle.
It was the way of things. Many never saw a second sunrise.
As caretaker for Barrack Cresh, whether your fighters eat, drink, bathe, get medical attention and fresh clothing, or, well, anything, falls on you.
So you stocked C-5 with the basics, but the Mandalorian King’s file is barren when your clearance arrives. You bristle at the lack of biodata. How are you supposed to provide proper clothing or order his dinner?
It becomes obvious when he arrives that evening.
You’re not.
It’s past curfew when they bring him in, and normally, you’d be in bed. But one of yours had come back a few minutes earlier from the medbay and you know the state they usually return in, so you’re in C-2 with the door shut.
The ex-Rebel pilot, Gino, doesn’t argue as you dab the shallow cuts on his face with an alcohol swab, but he does flinch when you tug the split skin on his calf together like a stubborn bedsheet to apply suture tape. They had used just enough bacta for his serious injuries and left the rest to bleed.
“Sorry,” you hiss, but it’s lost in the pneumatics of the door.
Gino is on his feet immediately, shushing you with a finger to his lips. You can’t risk being seen through the little window, so he minds your space as you flatten to the ground and peek through the delivery slot.
At first, all you can see are boots. So many boots. And among the shiny black rubber is the oddest pair of worn brown leather. It’s been so long since you saw anyone in shoes but the guards; your stomach churns with fear.
Gino taps at your head, and you let him help you up to peek once they’re past the cell.
It’s the Mandalorian. There are five of the Moff’s personal guards in their black kits restraining him, and they still have to jab him with an electrostave in order to shut the cell door fast enough.
He’s snarling, the modulator of his helmet warping and crackling the terrible cacophony. He’s also huge, and the strip of lights shines off his dark armor like someone took a handful of the night sky and smudged it across the wall of the cell.
You brush away the errant question of how much of his bulk is the armor and how much he comes by naturally. You’ll find out tomorrow, like everyone else.
The hype alone ensures a sold-out arena. The officers and their simpering spouses and sycophants are salivating for the battle—or at least for the profits.
The headlines fill seats to a swarming mass, everyone vying to see the latest and shiniest trophy.
He won’t be shiny for long.
Not after they strip away the beskar that protects one of—if not the last of—the “galaxy’s greatest warriors” and see if he’s worth anything underneath.
They don’t expect him to survive. They don’t want him to, really. They want to crush the will of any who would still defy the Empire. A very public, humiliating execution is the Moff’s wet dream.
The Mandalorian is gone before your morning rounds, dragged up to the arena’s cage to watch his fate play out on the faces of others. Either end is the same, really.
And if he survives, it won’t matter. Sure, prisoners can earn their freedom through a percentage of the money they bring in from wagers, or they can die trying.
But no fighter has made it out alive. Not even close.
You’re close, though. Not that you’re in an arena contract. But you’re nearing the end of the third year in a five-year indentured servitude sentence, and it carries a lower fatality rate.
Which isn’t saying much, really. It would be hard to have a higher fatality rate than the fighters.
There are twelve of you and ten barracks, not counting the fluctuating number of sponsored champions who have private accommodations.
Sixty standard fighters, never more or less as the sun rises.
Sometimes, you return to six empty cells.
Only once have you found your flock all home. You fell to your knees and cried right then, bringing acrid dread to a boil as you knew it would never, ever happen again.
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Just three days ago, Din Djarin had stood in the grand hall at Keldabe, knowing it would be the last time.
It was still. Silent. Not yet in the chaos of war, but just on the edge, as when rainfall is a distant specter and the uneasiness cloisters in your lungs.
He takes in the art behind the throne with quiet reverence, eyes following the sharp lines and bold colors, the stories of their ancestors dutifully and beautifully eternalized.
The shame creeps up his neck again, but he shrugs it off. It will work. He’s known for his tight and effective strategy, and his advisors had agreed to the plan.
He only hoped the Ka’ra would accept his soul into the Manda all the same. That the blood of his brethren wouldn’t deny him the peace that he ached for.
He thinks once more of Grogu, breathes through the pain, and then clears his mind.
Turning from the throne, he strides to the grand windows—to Paz. With hands clasped behind his back, he follows his general’s focus to the TIE fighters breaking through the atmosphere.
Troopers are within the walls. The Destroyers won’t be long, now.
“Vod,” Din begins, angling toward Paz.
“Do not deal me the insult of an out,” Paz snaps.
“I would never,” Din says, throat cinching around the words. “It’s an honor to have you at my side.”
Paz dips his head. “It’s been an honor to serve with you, ner Mand’alor.”
Din knows he speaks true. Though they may not have always gotten along, they were still vod. Still loyal, until death.
Death they now stood on the brink of.
Outside, the fleet falls fast. Din grimaces as their ships careen to the surface and crush the city into crumbs. Fire spreads, and he has to pretend the homes are empty. That everyone got out in time.
The Empire assumes each Kom’rk-class fighter is full of Mandalorians waiting to drop into battle. They target them with glee, thinking they’ve devastated the sky and ground teams in one fell swoop.
But each ship has only a pilot. A pilot who climbed into the cockpit knowing they would certainly die. Willing to take the place of their vod.
Mando’ad draar digu. They will live on in him until he draws his last. More importantly, they will live on in their families, who—if he’s done anything right—will live far beyond him.
“Par Manda’yaim,” Din says.
“Par Manda’yaim,” Paz echoes.
They are to be the last words spoken to one another.
Inside the palace, the fight leaves no breath for such things. Not that they need it; their movements are fluid and equal.
It takes half the platoon to take Paz down and the other to take Din.
Unlike his vod, they do not grant him a warrior’s death.
In the arena, they’ve left him in the armor as he paces the cage. Every moment with it spurns the barb deeper in his gut, the terror turning terrifying as his rage becomes a tsunami.
The fights are nothing. The Imps who thought he’d be intimidated by them have clearly never seen an average Mandalorian brawl. These ended with a little more finality and a little less bickering over the winner, but the actual fighting? Mostly pathetic.
He doesn’t look upon them with scorn, though. These are beings stripped of all dignity, underfed, and devoid of hope. The Empire has ground them into the dirt beneath their glossy boots, and he expects that for many, death is a kindness.
In the end, he lets them take the beskar’gam from his bound body. They hold him, scanners at the ready, the whole of the galaxy waiting to witness his final defeat in real time. The giddy grins tell him what he already knows—they are certain this will break him.
He holds eye contact with Gideon just to see the shock that strikes him at Din’s defiance. He aches to smirk or snarl or sink his teeth into the man, but he won’t give him the satisfaction.
They don’t give them weapons for this fight. At least they’re being honest about their intentions.
Hand-to-hand combat with a Wookie should be a death sentence. Should be, for a lesser being. But the Mand’alor is far sharper than their blades could ever hope to be, and he wields his mind and body as expertly as he would a blaster.
Din doesn’t speak Shyriiwook. He wishes he did, for when he asks his opponent for their name, he fails to capture the response. It slips from his grasp, slick as his hands are from the Wookie’s blood.
Bare hands that have rarely dealt such tangible death. Dust stirred up from the struggle sticks to the thick, hot carnage. He’ll feel the give of the Wookie’s eyeballs under his thumbnails for days. The crack of his skull under Din’s knee, driven like a wedge into the soft cartilage, is at least slightly more familiar.
It’s not a long fight. After all, Din has something of which his opponent has long been deprived: something to live for.
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The Mandalorian isn’t back by dinner drop-off, but your captain sent the cart loaded with a tray for him, so you dutifully set it on his cot atop the folded blanket.
There’s been no clean-up call, and the roster is empty. But you don’t have to wonder over his whereabouts for long.
In the servants' barracks—which are actually barracks and not a soft word for cellblocks—the reports are already underway.
Some of the attendants get to watch the fights. Or, rather, they have to, bound as they are to a single combatant. The mandated proximity is unforgiving, and no one likes to watch.
After all, there’s very little difference between you and the fighters. Instead, the attendants take on the solemn duty of letting the rest of you know how your residents fared or fell.
“He was a berserker,” Hali says in hushed whispers. “They took all that armor off, and he just looked like a man. A pretty man, but… just a man. But when it started, he moved so fast. It was over in, like, two minutes.”
“Shut up,” says Eli, your bunkmate. “He did not take down a Wookie in two minutes.”
“No, he really kriffing did,” hissed one of the new attendants whose name you hadn’t caught. “It was brutal. The whole arena went quiet. And he just stood there, covered in blood, looking at the crowd.”
“Okay, whose block is he in?” Eli demands. “Someone needs to spill now.”
“Mine,” you say quietly.
“You haven’t said a kriffing word this whole time? What’s he like?”
“I don’t know,” you confess. “I only saw when they brought him in last night. He was still armored. And terrifying.”
“I saw him,” Hali says. “He was in the lounge.”
“They took him to the lounge after his first fight?” you say, jaw hanging open. The after-party was a grotesque performance, with sponsored fighters forced to smile pretty and play nice with their benefactors after a victory.
“No,” Hali’s face is grave. “They displayed him. They’ve chained him up next to his armor.”
You cover your mouth to stem the nausea. “No,” you hiss through your fingers. The disrespect hurts, raking through like a nexu claw to the chest, and you don’t even know the man.
Eli sets a hand on your knee from where he sits cross-legged beside you on the bottom bunk. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“I know,” you say. But he knows you, sees it written between your brows, and hears it in the crack of your voice.
It’s a weakness; you know it. It had been a strength back home. Every single being that passes through your barrack doesn’t have long. The small hall of cells is a port, and you are the ferryman. Knowing each of them for the last scant moments has only made you love harder and faster.
To try and ease a soul’s journey is a burden you have always chosen to bear.
Come morning, sure as the stars, your cells are full. The Mandalorian is not the only new face—there’s a humanoid woman in C-1, too. The Klatoonian had been gone before the noon bell prior, and his cell cleaned by your hands within the hour after. Ovesu had survived four battles over ten days, but no trace of him remains now.
You start with her, Reen Sala of Drall. She’s on the roster for early afternoon, and you want to make sure she’s got food in her.
You tell her as much.
“Today? Already?” She wraps her fingers around the window bars, peering at you.
“Yes,” you say solemnly, sliding the tray through the slit at the bottom of the door. “Eat quickly. They’ll be coming to get you any minute. They’re going to take you up and prepare you and make you watch the day’s first battles.”
She has a steadiness to her eyes and stock to her build, just enough to have a chance. When she begins to eat, her hands only shake slightly.
“Are you a farmer?” you ask, watching her broken, stubby fingernails wrap around the metal cup of water.
She nods, gulping down quickly to add, “Mostly grains. Eggs. Basics.”
You give her a wan smile, the image of her in a sun-soaked field behind your eyes. It would have to be enough. If she held on, maybe she could fill in the picture.
“Thought so. Me too. My parents have a grove on Hetzal,” you say.
You chat for a few minutes, exchanging tales of her chasing tipyip and you sneaking honeyfruit and shuula during harvest.
“Good luck,” you murmur when you finally step away.
You don’t linger with Disdraa, the Twi’lek in C-3. She took a nasty blow to the head yesterday, so you slide her tray in as quietly as possible, hoping she’ll steal some extra rest.
Which brings you to the Mandalorian. He has no other name in your database. A mistake, you wonder, or an erasure?
When you knock on his door, you keep your eyes downcast. The decision you made in the lift was impulsive, but clear. He will have this respect here, if nowhere else.
“Good morning,” you say.
It’s silent.
You slide the tray under the door. “Do you need anything?”
Nothing.
“Okay, I’ll be back this evening if you think of something.”
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Din rolls his eyes in the dark room. Does the quiet, simpering little act really work on the other prisoners? He vaguely considers rejecting the tray just to irritate you.
But he’s a Mandalorian. He doesn’t give in to petty spite when survival is on the line. He has battles to win and to do so, he must eat.
The food is bland but nutritionally complex, so if he keeps up a routine, he should be able to maintain his strength. He’s already run through and decided the optimal calisthenics and body weight routines he can do in the confines of his quarters.
He’s not stupid enough to think all the fights will be so quick or easy. The only benefit, and he’s unwilling to call it that, of not having his armor is that he’s so much faster.
He’ll get out.
He has a promise to keep.
When the Death Star fell three years ago, it took nearly the entire Rebel Alliance with it. The rest were scattered in the ash. And when the Empire barely flinched, the Mandalorians knew their time was running out.
With one loss notched on their belt already, they would have to strike swift and sure.
And so Din’s life as the rebel liaison began.
When he went to Gideon’s cruiser, he had no backup. Technically, no one even knew where he was. But espionage and false diplomacy took too long, purged time they did not have. And he wasn’t going to get another chance to try.
He lost the intel in the skirmish but gained a sword he knew not how to wield, a title he knew not how to bear, and a son he knew not how to raise.
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The guards come for Reen, forcing you to finish your deliveries in a tense, silent two minutes.
She doesn’t come back. You paint her picture that night while her soft face and sun-streaked sangria widow’s peak are still fresh in your mind. It, as with most of your books, is stained with errant tears.
Eli had convinced you to keep the ones you ruined with grief, when you first began, desperate not to forget.
“It’s just more proof they were alive if they were also mourned,” he said, flipping reverently through the pages.
It goes against the practice, but it’s not even the most egregious way you’ve had to compromise, so you let it go. This is not the Hall. You have no easels, no canvas, no priestess.
You wonder who’s taken over your space, who they plucked from the apprentices to take over the memorials.
The pictures are small, stacked across the page like a quilt. Most of them have a name, maybe an age, maybe a planet, inked into the corners.
It's certainly not the scale you’re accustomed to, and your colors are limited to the pigments you can press from your dinner, unblessed and unpurified, but you make do.
You never paint them while they still live, not wanting to tether their souls to the pages while they have a chance. But they are yours, and so you will take the burden of remembering from their souls.
“Tray, please,” you say after knocking on the Mandalorian’s door that evening. He’s slow to respond, but you don’t mind. It’ll be a bit before he gets accustomed to the routine, if he makes it that long.
Most don’t.
It grates against the floor when he kicks it out, and you exchange it for the full tray of dinner.
“Do you need anything?”
Silence.
“Okay, have a good night.”
You don’t have hurt feelings. It’s the way of things. Some of the beings who come through never speak a word to you. It doesn’t change your loyalty or your duties.
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Din is determined to puzzle you out. Why the farce? Everyone else he’s encountered is open in their disgust and amusement. He’s a novelty, a prize, a disgrace. What purpose does your feigned care serve?
“—dining with us tonight?” calls the inmate to his right in C-3.
You make a show of rolling your eyes, taking the last two trays from the cart. You slide one to the Twi’lek who had spoken.
“Depends. Are you going to behave?” you say.
“I always behave,” the fighter lies.
You seem to laugh, just a silent huff of amusement, and sit down with your back against the wall between the two cells.
He can’t see you from here, but he can hear snippets of you making light conversation between bites.
Something you say gets a lighthearted rise from the Devaronian in C-4 across the hall.
“Old? You want to talk about being old?” he booms.
C-3 groans. “Don’t get him started, come on.”
You laugh. “—else to bitch about. I’m saving— trouble.”
“…that I should suffer your disrespect,” C-4 is trying to say over you.
“Yeah, yeah, Vrar, you’re a terrifying grumpy—,” you tease.
A pause. A murky mumble from C-2.
“—you, Mandalorian? How old—?” You ask, tearing a chunk off your bread roll and popping it in your mouth.
He doesn’t answer.
After you leave, it grows quiet. A few moments pass, as if he was just waiting for you to get out of hearing range, before Vrar speaks up.
“Mando. You holding up? Any injuries?”
Din sits silently on his cot, leaning against the wall.
“Alright, I get it. You don’t have to talk to me. But can you be more respectful to the girl?”
If it’s bait, it works. “I don’t make a habit of being respectful to my captors.”
To his surprise, Vrar barks a hearty laugh. “Is that what you think? She’s a slave, Mando, same as the rest of us.”
Din feels hot guilt rise in his throat. “My mistake. I’ll do better.”
Vrar grunts his approval, and that’s that.
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The next morning, when you ask if he needs anything, he tells you, “No, thank you,” in a soft but sure tone.
You straighten a little abruptly and try not to look shocked. “Okay. Good luck today,” you say, and move on. You’re pretty sure if you draw attention to it, he’ll never speak again.
You aren’t privy to the way things operate up top. All you know is that they take your fighters randomly, with at least one day between as a rest. Sometimes, it’s longer between fights.
But not for Mando. For the next two weeks, it’s every other day like clockwork. They’re capitalizing on his novelty, you think, but also hoping to wear him down.
Rumors tell you he’s become a quick crowd favorite. It should mean he has a shot at earning his freedom, but rumors also tell you he has the highest price on record.
They don’t want him free, and they don’t want someone to buy him.
No, they want him to die in the arena.
next chapter
thank you so much for reading! i live for your feedback, and i'm not above begging so if you have any thoughts pls let me know
*title from "Get Out Alive" by Three Days Grace
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darling--core · 1 year
Note
Don't mind me just thinking of cuddling with the teammates, just Oli being all warm and cuddly and Dec reading me to sleep and gossiping as pillow talk with sky as we drink hot coffee (cause coffee makes me feel super sleepy for some reason)
Had a rough week, so thinking about some comfort headcanons and crying myself to sleep, anywho-
How's my love? Have you drank water, Maz? Eaten a full meal? Taking care of yourself? (Better be!)
-🌺 (Hopefully this one doesn't get eaten)
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oh no my love!!! :( im so sorry you're having a bad week!!! ( and im doing my best!!!)
have some mini head canons with the soccer bois so i can hopefully make you feel better :(
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OLIVER would absolutely be the best cuddle buddy when you're upset!! he's warm and super accommodating; he's cool with big spoon, little spoon, or any other configuration you want to be in!! he's good at giving massages, too~ and he'd talk about whatever you wanted, telling as many jokes as he can think of to make you smile. be prepared for a million face kisses also!! if you have long hair, he'll be running his fingers through it, drawing soft shapes on your back, generally being the most gentle, soothing guy of all time tbh.
SKYLAR will not only make you some of the best coffee you'll ever have, but he's taking over your skincare & general self care routine. you don't even have to move; he'll keep your hair out of your face (if you have hair that length), and he'll he so gentle as he washes your face and applies cleansers & moisturizers. and he's SUCH a gossip the whole time, too, thats 100% accurate. he also tells you all about the restaurants and shops and other nice places he wants to take you too, all the nice things he wants to treat you to.
DECLAN is totally the type to read you to sleep. he has such a deep, soothing voice; if you lay on his chest, the gentle rumbles and vibrations will put you right to sleep for sure. and he wont move once you're asleep. he's staying put until you wake up. it's like when a cat falls asleep on your lap, and it's basically illegal to move. he doesn't care if his arms fall asleep, he's holding you close and letting you rest for as long as you need. and he WILL be glaring at anyone (oli) who accidentally makes too loud of a noise, even if it doesn't wake you up.
cuddle piles with all three of them?? literally a religious experience, all the good things from the above sections combined.
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karahalloway · 25 days
Text
(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 17 - News Flash
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Fandom: TRR
Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)
Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.
Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions
Chapter Summary: Harper and the Beaumonts get on a plane to Italy… but they are not riding solo
Word Count: 4,500
Rating/Warnings: M (using the Lord's name in vain, shocking revelations, possible ulterior motives)
Chapter theme song:
A/N1: And… we’re back! I know this is a bit delayed, thanks to my new Heaven’s Secret distraction, but I am hoping to refocus myself on this continuously neglected series again for the next few weeks/months so we can make some headway towards wrapping it up. Also, I know we all miss him, and he hasn’t had as much page time as we all (Harper included!) probably want, but I promise that after this chapter there will be a lot more Drake again 🥃
A/N2: Astute readers will probably notice that there is nary a train in sight (in this chapter, or any future ones). This is deliberate because (i) I never understood why PB went in that direction in canon (is a travelling boutique really that important?!), and (ii) trains don’t make sense from a security point of view anyway (apparently the UK’s Royalty and Specialist Protection — which provides close protection to the royal family — used to hate it when Elizabeth II travelled by train, because it was always a massive headache to ensure her safety as trains travel on a fixed route and schedule, with no opportunities for diversion or evasion of things go to pot). So… planes it is ✈️
A/N3: Finally, another special shoutout to @thegreentwin​ for giving me the inspiration to have a crack at creating the tabloid cover page featured in this chapter. If you have not read The Rebel Prince, please do so! It is cute, funny, insightful and the gossip magazine covers that accompany several of the chapters are something else!
Chapter 17 - News Flash
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"I thought we're going to Italy..." I remark the next morning as we pull to a stop on the tarmac of a secluded private airfield.
"We are," confirms Bertrand, jamming a fedora onto his head to protect against the ferocity of the morning sun... and hide the brutal sunburn he managed to acquire as a result of spending the entirety of yesterday's Festival outdoors without any SPF protection.
"Then what's with the literal mountain of luggage?" I ask as we step out of our customary limo.
Bertrand fixes me with a red-faced glare over the roof of the vehicle. "Have you learnt nothing from the social season?"
I throw him a deadpan look. "You mean apart from the fact that you insist on packing everything, including the kitchen sink?"
Maxwell's snort drifts up from the backseat.
The elder Beaumont is not impressed with my clapback. "The engagement tour will be one high-profile event after the other, which means that we will have neither the time nor the opportunity to engage in slap-dash shopping sprees. Not only would such proletarian behaviour be rude, but it would be misguided as well, given that we need to ensure that for each event we abide not just by the formal dress code indicated on the invitation, but also that we do not clash with, or indeed overshadow the hosts — or the King and future Queen, for that matter! — in terms of style and colour, all while being thoughtful in ensuring that we incorporate elements from both local and Cordonian designers to visually showcase the strength of the bonds that knit our respective nations together. On top of all that, it is imperative that we—"
"How the heck is anyone expected to pull all that off?" I blurt in disbelief.
"Through careful planning and coordination," Bertrand declares as he comes to join Maxwell and me on the other side of the limo. "Which is why I have taken the liberty of pre-selecting each outfit for each event of the tour, in consultation with the Palace's Master of the Robes."
My mouth drops. "You... Put a wardrobe together? For me?"
"Yes," comes the diffident affirmation. "Given that all eyes — not just those of our fellow Cordonians, but of our host nations' — will be on us constantly, we cannot afford any fashion faux pas."
I stare at my former sponsor mutely, mouth opening and closing like a dumbfounded goldfish.
Maxwell attempts to diffuse my slap-faced reaction with a jovial grin. "Bertrand used to lay my clothes out for me all the time when we were younger. I know he doesn't look it, but he has excellent—"
I shove an accusatory finger out. "He tried to foist me into a Medieval cosplay dress! That is the exact opposite of excellent taste!"
The elder Beaumont bristles. "It was hardly—"
"And how the hell did you afford all of this anyway?" I interject, throwing my arm out towards the carefully stacked Eiffel Tower of suitcases. "Because last time I checked, you were flat broke!"
Bertrand's already ruddy complexion darkens further. "There is no need for you to concern yourself with—"
"How?!"
After the way Maxwell had tried to sell covert photos and Christian and me from New York to the press in a bid to make bank, I am not willing to take any kind of half-baked deflection when it comes to the Beaumonts and money. I've been used one too many times for someone else's gain, so my trust is virtually non-existent at this point.
Bertrand swallows thickly as he averts his eyes. "I... I may have made recourse to an old sewing machine I found in the attic..."
My eyes just about pop out of my head. "You what?!"
I'd expected any one of six million other explanations — he'd sold the vineyard... remortgaged Ramsford... auctioned off every last chair and curtain from the manor... Even offered his soul to the literal Devil...
But using a sewing machine...? To make actual clothes...?
I had obviously caught the sun yesterday as well, and am now suffering from heat stroke...
"Bertrand has always been interested in fashion," explains Maxwell with a perfectly straight face. "He even wanted to enroll at the world-renowned Istituto Marangoni International in Milan to study Fashion Design. But then our father took unexpectedly ill, and—"
"Yes, yes..." interjects Bertrand with an embarrassed wave of his hand. "No need to revisit broken dreams and unfulfilled promises. The point is that I made the best use of what meagre funds and resources we had at our disposal to curate a serviceable selection of outfits for each of us. With a little help from Maxwell, of course."
"I was the mannequin," he declares proudly. "I admit, I got poked a few times in the line of duty, but it was worth it. Bertrand did a stellar job – you're going to love what he made for you."
"I... I don't know what to say..." I admit faintly.
And here I'd been thinking that Bertrand's closet Harry Potter obsession had been a big reveal...
"Yes... Well..." Bertrand clears his throat uncomfortably. "We each have our unique talents. Speaking of... I trust you have been practicing your Italian?"
I frown. "My what?"
"You were supposed to give her lessons!" cries Bertrand, smacking his brother over the back of the head.
Maxwell's retro '60s sunglasses fly off his face. "My Prada’s...!"
"What about French?" Bertrand demands, rounding on me with all the intensity of a furious tomato on the verge of exploding.
"Allard and Schweitzer have been teaching—"
"Some initiative at last!" exclaims Bertrand, throwing his hands up in the air in deliverance. "Good — you'll have some semblance of a basis, then. However, while both languages share a common root — that being Latin — as a result of roughly a thousand kilometres of physical separation, and over fifteen centuries of linguistic divergence, Italian has become markedly different from its Gallic cousin, so we will have our work cut out in making you even semi-proficient by the time we land in Rome. So, I hope you brought pen and paper with you."
My shoulders slump as I watch Bertrand stride off towards the waiting plane. "Great..."
There goes the next hour and a half of my life...
"I knew I had forgotten something..." admits Maxwell, rubbing the back of his head as he retrieves his sunglasses from the tarmac. "But I thought it was just my second favourite pair of boxers."
"It's fine..." I assure wearily him as I begin my own trudge towards the jet. "It wouldn't be a true Beaumont travel experience without a droning Bertrand lecture..."
Though I guess it could be worse. I could be stuck on the royal jet with Christian and Madeleine. Which — after what happened yesterday — would be like staging an aristocratic rendition of Squid Game... 20,000 feet in the air. So, on that basis, I'll willingly subject myself to Bertrand's monologuing any day of the week, if it means I can—
"And there she is..." remarks a familiar, though very much unexpected voice as I step onto the plane. "The woman of the hour."
Jerking my head to the right, my eyes land on Olivia, lounging on one of the cream-coloured leather seats, her killer spike stiletto boots dangling over the armrest as she casually peruses a broadsheet.
"What are you doing here?" I ask in disbelief.
Olivia lowers the paper to meet my eye with a quirked brow. "You mean, on my own aircraft?"
I cast a glance in Bertrand's direction as I make my way down the gangway. "Guess your meagre funds and resources didn't extend to sourcing jet fuel?"
Bertrand coughs evasively as he stores his briefcase in the overhead locker. "Since we are all heading in the same direction anyway, Lady Oliva was kind enough to—"
"Shut it, Beaumont," Olivia snaps. "I am doing this as a personal favour, not an act of charity. As Lord knows that I wouldn't normally tolerate sharing recycled air with this many people in a confined space. So, if you want to stay on this plane, you will save the histrionics for the Italian President."
Bertrand promptly clamps his mouth shut to sink into his seat without another word.
"Wow..." I say, settling in across from Olivia. "He must've been really desperate to come to you for help... No offence."
"None taken," she replies with a breezy shrug as she flips the broadsheet closed and nods to the cabin attendant. "Because the request didn't come from the Beaumonts."
My head snaps up in surprise. "Then who?"
She regards me for a long moment, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she lets out a resigned exhale. "Drake."
My jaw hits the floor. "What!"
Olivia scrunches her mouth up ruefully. "He twisted my arm into agreeing to look out for you while he's off playing desert soldier."
I stare at her. "How in the world did he—?"
Maxwell thrusts his head 'round the back of Olivia's seat. "Drake's playing video games! Instead of coming to Italy?”
The Duchess of Lythikos shoves the intruding face away with the palm of her hand. "No, you imbecile! Drake's gone to Dubai." Glancing at me she adds, "I presume they know?"
"They do now," I concede with a sigh.
Thanks to the slew of quick-fire developments at yesterday's Festival, followed by the rabid packing to get ourselves ready for the international leg of the tour, I haven't had a chance to bring the Beaumonts up to speed with everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours.
But they're bound to find out about Drake's last-minute side-trip at some point, so this is as good a time as any to level with them.
Maxwell’s mouth drops with an aghast look. "But I didn't hit him that hard!"
Olivia quirks a brow at me.
"Long story, don't ask," I tell her wearily. Glancing up at Maxwell, I add, "He's gone after Tariq. Bastien found him hiding out on some rich cousin's yacht out in the bay."
"Oh." Maxwell scratches his head abashedly. "That makes more sense..."
"How do you put up with these two?" asks Olivia with a shake of her head as Maxwell sinks back into his seat.
I give her a shrug. "They have a weird way of growing on you..."
"Like some deadly fungus..." she mutters with a roll of her eyes.
"I heard that!" objects Maxwell from behind her.
"Well, maybe you shouldn't eavesdrop, then!" she throws over her shoulder snidely. Turning back to me, she adds, "And speaking of funguses, you can remind your boyfriend when he gets back that you both owe me. Big time."
My gaze darts to hers. "I— We're not—"
"Thank you for confirming it," she interjects with a sly smile. "But also, I'm not an idiot. It's obvious to anyone with a set of eyes that the fool is in love with you... and you with him. It's all quite disgusting, really..."
I feel my cheeks redden. "So, why help us, then?"
She heaves a low breath. "Because you stuck your neck out for me when you didn't have to. Despite everything I did to try and undermine you during the season. And because we have a common enemy."
She tosses the broadsheet that she'd been reading over to me.
Catching the copy of the Cordonia Sun before it has a chance to slide off the table between us, I glance down...
...and my heart sinks as I take in the unflattering picture of myself seemingly facing off against Madeleine under the sensationalist headline.
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I shove the paper angrily away. "Hey. I didn't start it..."
"And yet you somehow always manage to find yourself in the middle of it, don't you?" she counters with an arched brow as the jet revs its engines for take-off. "The half-nude pictures... The Beaumonts' financial troubles... The speculations about the real reason Christian gave you a duchy... I mean, even the Duchess of Sussex would have a hard time competing with you when it comes to front-page scandals."
"And you think Madeleine is behind it all?" I ask tightly, indicating the tabloid.
"She would certainly have a lot to gain from waging a targeted media campaign against you," Olivia affirms. "She isn't married to Christian yet, and after what happened with Leo, she no doubt feels threatened by your continued presence at court. So, discrediting your integrity in the eyes of the Council would help her ensure that Christian can never formally pick you over her to become Queen."
"Because she doesn't know I turned him down..." I grumble dejectedly as the plane pulls into the air.
"And certainly would not believe you if you told her, either," she adds. "But she is not the only one with something to lose."
I sit up straighter. "You mean there are other suspects?"
"Yes," she nods. "Namely Godfrey and the Queen Mother."
Bertrand erupts from his seat at the mention of the two names. "That is an outrageous accusation! The Queen Mother would never—!"
"Madeleine is her niece," counters Olivia flatly. "Given that she has no children of her own, she practically treats that golden-haired harpy as if she is her heir. And since she was the one who brokered the original marriage contract between Leo and Madeleine, she clearly doesn't want all that work going to waste."
I frown. "But if everything was in place already, why have a social season at all? Why not just sub out Leo's name for Christian's in the contract?"
"To give Christian the illusion of choice."
My jaw drops. "You're not serious..."
"It would have been in poor taste to simply swap one prince out for another," Olivia advises. "Leo hadn't died... merely abdicated. But that decision nevertheless rocked the kingdom to its core."
"It's true," supplies Maxwell, leaning around with a mouth full of jelly worms. "The headlines were vicious."
"So..." I muse with a frown. "The Palace needed a distraction?"
"Yes," Oliva affirms seriously. "To draw attention away from Constantine's failing health."
"Wait," I cut in. "Constantine is dying?"
Olivia nods. "Prostate cancer. By all estimates, he has less than a year to live."
"Oh, my God..." I gasp, hand flying to my mouth. "No wonder Christian didn't want to talk about it..."
"The Palace is under strict instructions to keep the whole thing tightly under wraps..." she explains. "At least until after the coronation and wedding are both out of the way. They don't want the news to overshadow the first few critical months of Christian's rule."
"So, how did you find out?" I query.
She cuts her eyes over at me. "Like I said at the Masquerade Ball... Christian and I share a special connection. There are no secrets between us. Also – look at who you're talking to. I have files on each of the suitors from the social season. You seriously think I wouldn't know about something as vital to the functioning of the kingdom as the state of the King Father's health?"
"I guess not..." I concede, still trying to process this bombshell. "But how does giving Christian an illusion of a choice during the social season help cover up Constantine's cancer?"
"In the wake of Leo's abdication, support for the Rys family fell to an all-time low. The press started to question Constantine's policies, and the direction that the kingdom has been heading over the past few decades, implying that the country's current trajectory was unsustainable... and uncorrectable."
"I remember reading something about that on the flight from New York..." I recall. "There were suggestions that Leo abdicated because he didn't believe in the future of the monarchy."
"Which wasn't the case at all," she cautions. "But the Palace was worried that such intense media scrutiny would unearth evidence of Constantine's ill health... which would in turn intensify the calls from the republican factions of the country to abolish the system of hereditary rule completely. So, in a desperate bid to reunite the people behind a common cause, and shore up support for the monarchy, the Palace decided run the season again."
"But why?" I ask, still not seeing the connection.
"To charm the country with the fairytale of a royal romance," denotes Olivia sourly. "Because people apparently go ga-ga for that shite..."
Bertrand narrowly avoids choking in his seat across the aisle. "That is a crude and absolutely salacious interpretation of—!"
I whirl across the aisle. "Wait. You knew about this?"
Bertrand folds his arms across his chest. "I am a serving member of the Council. Of course I knew about the Palace's decision to run the social season again. But to suggest that it was all done simply for the sake of—"
"God, you're thick..." interjects Olivia.
Bertrand blanches. "I beg your pardon?!"
"You've been at court long enough to know that the truth is never the whole truth — there is always some hidden purpose or ulterior motive."
"But to suggest that—"
"The Palace needed a believable story — one that could capture the public's imagination — while still serving the needs of the kingdom," Olivia states. "A story of duty and love."
"Between Christian and Madeleine?" I ask sceptically. "But they don't even like each other."
"So?" scoffs Olivia. "The aim was to sell the lie to the populace. Everything else is inconsequential. And can be made to fit the narrative."
"But if you knew all this," I counter, "why did you join the competition?"
"I joined exactly because I knew the season was a sham," she replies heatedly. "To give Christian a genuine choice... not just the one that everyone else was determined to steer him towards."
"Because you love him..."
Olivia nods tightly. "Yes. And I knew it was a long shot. But even if he wouldn't end up being able to choose me — Regina would've made sure to stack the Council votes in her favour — at least I could be there to support him... as a friend."
I feel my heart go out to her, knowing from personal experience how difficult it is to be in a situation where you desperately want to be with someone, but can't because of circumstances that are outside of your control.
"But then, of course..." adds Olivia, once again with her customary breeziness, "you show up from out of nowhere with your hideous accent and relatable backstory—"
"Hey!"
"—and the whole country — Christian included — loses their collective minds. With the result that Regina's plan to make her niece Queen begins to unravel at the seams."
"Which is why she decided to set me up..." I surmise heavily as the jet levels off.
It's been fairly obvious from the start that I'm not Regina's favourite person... But the knowledge that she'd go to such lengths to publicly blacklist me? That's just inexcusable.
"You have no proof of that!" objects Bertrand, butting in again.
"Not directly, no," Olivia admits. "But all the evidence we have to date fits. The money Tariq received for his involvement came from a numbered account located in Switzerland. The blackmail letters distributed at the Coronation Ball were printed on Palace stationery. And as far as motives go, the Queen Mother would have more reason than most to influence the outcome of the social season."
"I cannot believe I am hearing this...!" decries Bertrand with a shake of his head. "The implications alone would be—"
"Ruinous to the Rys family," confirms Olivia. "I am aware. Which is why we must tread carefully in order to avoid tarring Christian with any of this. The monarchy would not survive the ensuing scandal."
"What about this other guy?" I ask. "Godfrey? How does he fit into this?"
Olivia throws her hands up. "Lord, you're more clueless than him!"
"Excuse me for not knowing every single Cordonian nobleman by name," I snark back. "I've only been a duchess for a day..."
"I'll send you my files," Olivia huffs wearily. "All two hundred of them."
My eyes widen. "There's two hundred—?"
"There's more, but those are the important ones," she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And if you want to be an effective duchess, I suggest you study up because you need to have the entire contents of those dossiers memorised and ready to deploy in any given conversation."
"Sweet Jesus..." I gasp faintly, making recourse to Drake's favourite invective, as it certainly fit the magnitude of the task Olivia has just dumped on me.
"You didn't grow up in this world, so you have a lot of catching up to do," Olivia shrugs unabashedly.
"Yeah, I'm very much aware of that..." I concede dryly, rubbing my temples. "So, who is this Godfrey?"
"The Third Earl of Huntford, and Duke jure uxoris of Krona."
My brows furrow in recollection. "Krona... Does that mean he's—?"
"He's Madeleine's dad," supplies Maxwell, popping his head into the aisle again, this time in the company of a CapriSun juice pouch.
My eyes widen. "The man at the garden party! But what does he have against me? I've never even met him!"
"The fact that you are still here..." offers Olivia blandly. "Competing against his daughter for the attentions of the King."
"It's not exactly a competition," I scoff. "I'm not trying to steal him away from her."
"Except that isn't how the press is portraying it," counters Olivia pointedly, tapping the front page of the Sun.
I open my mouth again, but quickly shut it, realising that Olivia is right. As regardless of my personal reasons for being back at court — as the Royal Consort, no less! — the view from the outside presents very differently. And given that Madeleine herself clearly feels threatened by my continued presence at Christian's side, it's no small jump to imagine that her father — who, based on what I saw at the garden party a few days ago, is just as power-hungry and image-conscious as his daughter — would also feel the same.
"Crap..." I huff, falling back into my seat dejectedly.
"Not the most elegant of phrasing," muses Olivia. "But certainly succinct."
"What am I going to do?" I ask morosely, starting up at the cabin's air vents.
"Help me gather as much proof as we can during the course of the tour," Olivia instructs. "So we can narrow down our suspect list... or indict all three of them. In either case, we will be more effective if we work together."
"That plan is akin to sedition!" cries Bertrand, clearly aghast by the very suggestion. "Bordering on treason! All of us are in enough hot water already without—"
"Which is why it is imperative that no word of anything that we have just discussed leaves this aircraft," declares Olivia with a steely look. "Or I will personally hunt you down and turn your face inside out."
I gulp at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "What... What about the staff? Can you trust them?"
"They are all Lythikosians," Olivia states. "Who have sworn blood-oaths to House Nevrakis. They would never dare betray me."
"Good to know..." I admit, watching the cabin attendant re-appeared with a selection of drinks, and wondering if underneath her uniform she is as armed to the teeth as Olivia supposedly is.
"I presume the same goes for your beefcakes?" asks Olivia, nodding her chin towards the back where Allard and Schweitzer have taken up residence for the duration of the flight.
"Yes," I confirm. "I trust them with my life."
She dips her head in approval. "Good. So, as first order of business, I suggest—"
"Can we tell Hana?" interjects Maxwell, bobbing up from behind Olivia again. "She's helping us, too!"
Olivia heaves a breath. "Yes, fine. But—"
I hold up a hand. "And Drake will probably want t—"
"Yes, fine!" she snaps irately. "Anyone else? Your maternal grandmother, perhaps?"
I bite my bottom lip as I peek up at her. "Do we tell Christian?"
Olivia holds my gaze for a long moment. "No. Not until we have concrete proof. One way or another. He has enough crises to manage right now without lumbering him with a major constitutional one as well."
I nod in understanding. The mere suggestion that his godmother and future father-in-law have been conspiring to put Madeleine on the throne (potentially with his fiancée's own buy-in!) would be soul-destroying. Which is why we need to find that smoking gun — ideally several — before we present our accusations.
"Not sure if it will be of any help at all," I say, "but Ana de Luca managed dig up some information on the freelance photographer Tariq was working with on the day of the Jamboree."
"Did you bribe her with another exclusive?" chaffs Olivia dryly.
"We'll need someone to help us set the record straight," I affirm. My shoulders slump suddenly. "But I gave the flash-drive to Drake."
"Which he gave to me," smirks Olivia, pulling the device from the pocket of her jacket.
I gape at the piece of plastic in her hand. "Drake really trusts you, huh?"
"More than most," she shrugs coyly, flipping the drive over to me.
I catch it with both hands. "We should review whatever is on here. Who knows? Maybe the photographer is part of the press corps covering the tour."
"I have my laptop with me," Maxwell offers. "I was going to use it to mix some tunes, but—"
"You'll only get one chance to unravel a high-stakes aristo racket!" I quip, dangling the drive between my fingers.
"God, your incessant American optimism is stomach-turning..." Olivia groans. "And you've clearly spent too much time with Walker."
"Hey," I hit back. "This is the best lead we've gotten yet. We shouldn't discount it. This photographer could be key to linking Regina and/or Godfrey to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season."
"Assuming you can find them..." counters Olivia. "And get them to talk."
I meet her eye with a level look. "Good thing that's your area of expertise, isn't it, Duchess?"
The corner of her mouth lifts craftily.
"But what about Harper's Italian!" disparages Bertrand. "We'll be landing in less than an hour, and she still doesn't know the proper way to greet the President in his native tongue without insulting him!"
I swallow a groan. "Do I really need t—?"
"Being able to carry a conversation with the Head of State in Italian will go a long way in demonstrating to both the public and the press that you are serious about your new role as Duchess of Valtoria," he advises frankly. "And will score you some much-needed diplomatic points with our hosts as well."
"Guess we have our work cut out for us, then," I accede with a sigh. "Any chance for some coffee?"
"Turkish, Irish, or Sicilian?" asks Olivia.
"Which is closest to a latte?"
"Probably the Sicilian," she advises. "If you make it into a granita di caffe."
"I'm feeling Italian already!" I gibe in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.
Bertrand groans loudly from his seat. "Oh, Dio..."
The story continues in Chapter 18 - Diplomatica
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saikokirakira · 9 months
Text
Part 2 of 2: Pagtingin (Feelings) [Steve Harrington x Reader]
a/n: hello. it me. i definitely did not forget to post part two. if you would believe it, i was actually getting sick every week the past month because of the insane hours and workload of my new job. so, umm, probably not lasting long there... i wanna be pretty again and lose all the stress hives all over my body.
summary: based on this blurb on a hanahaki au/flayed!reader
word count: 12k words (big boi over here; i definitely bullied our girl throughout this entire chapter)
warning: barely proofread, only edited twice; no use of y/n; steve is an oblivious himbo (but i'll excuse it because he was the ultimate bbg in s3); ANGST TRAIN, hurt no comfort; moms of hawkins summer '85 (i have 911 on standby); billy "walking red flag" hargrove; unrequited feelings / pining; minor violence; body horror (it's hanahaki, what'd you expect?); writer's torture of a self-insert character; stranger things season 3 canon, but Alexei lives fyuck canon actually; metal goodboi cameo
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You despised summer. You didn’t used to hate summer, but working in the summer heat when your recently recurring childhood asthma gets triggered by intense heat wasn’t the best option for you. While you couldn’t pass off as a lifeguard at the Hawkins Community Pool, your neighbour and acquaintance, Heather Holloway, pulled some strings to have you manning the snack bar.
It wasn’t ideal, but it certainly opened up the opportunity to listen in to a lot of gossip all around town. Not your favourite pastime, yet Heather enjoyed the very juicy ones, something you noticed she most likely inherited from her father, the chief editor for the town’s paper. Every time her shift ended, so did yours and either you share interesting stories of the day while you drive home or to the newly opened Starcourt Mall.
“Ew, those women are either married or divorced,” your nose wrinkled in disgust at Heather’s favourite gossip topic, Hawkins group of moms. Specifically, their scheduled visits to the pool whenever Billy Hargrove would be on duty as lifeguard.
“He likes the attention, I guess,” Heather shrugged, “and the moms get to ogle eye candy.”
“Still a minor, Heather.”
“Uh-uh, he turned 18 a few months back,” Heather argued, though the distaste was apparent on her face. “The term is barely legal.” Then she suddenly giggled. “I’m still calling the police when they make a direct move,” she half-joked. “I know they call me a bitch behind my back.”
“You’re a menace.”
“And you’re a sissy,” Heather shot back. “When are you going to ask Steve Harrington ou— JESUS!” She clung at the grab handle when your foot landed too much on the gas pedal. “No need to take me with you to hell just because you can’t get a date.” Then with a cheeky grin, she added, “I heard Steve can’t get a date either, and he talks up anyone at that ice cream place.”
You slammed the brakes. “That’s it!” you exclaimed. “You’re walking the rest of the way to Starcourt!” The only reply you had was Heather’s maniacal giggles at getting you so riled up.
You and Heather parted ways when you arrived at Starcourt after telling you that she’d be getting a ride home with her date. You waved her off and headed to Scoop’s Ahoy. A group of girls were giggling as they were leaving when you got there. You also noticed the whiteboard that Robin, Steve’s co-worker, held up, adding another tally on the “You suck” scoreboard.
“See what I have to deal with?” Steve immediately ranted, jerking a finger at Robin’s direction. “If you worked with me, I don’t have to be subjected with workplace abuse.”
You and Robin snorted in sync. “You poor baby,” you cooed teasingly while pinching Steve’s cheek. “How can I ever live without the longer shifts, ridiculous uniform, and being your wingman?” You earned another laugh from Robin while Steve scoffed before shooting you a pout.
“Well, you certainly miss me since you constantly visit as soon as your shift ends,” Steve shot back.
“Sure, I’m definitely not here as Heather’s chauffer to her movie date,” you said, “or just hanging out at the comic book store.”
“You want me to come wi—?”
“Bye, Robin!” you ignored his offer yet still blowing Steve a raspberry to which he rolled his eyes at. Exiting the ice cream shop, you made you way to the pharmacy first before the comic book store. It was mostly empty when you got there, so it was a breeze in getting your prescription inhaler.
It’s been forever since you had asthma, the last one during your elementary days. Your wheezing fits had only come back since that occurrence in those tunnels that you still see in your nightmares. However, after the countless tests and screening from military scientists, they cleared it to just “your body shifting from all the trauma.”
You’d think after opening gates to other dimensions with monsters, they’d be able to create a cure for asthma.
The thought was highly amusing to you that you almost missed the fiery redhead that just entered the pharmacy. Your eyes watched Max Mayfield carefully as she walked through the aisles with her head low, trying to be inconspicuous. Grabbing your bag of prescription, you slowly followed where Max wandered off, which happened to be a shelf of bandages.
You almost let it go, knowing that her skateboard hobby always led her to a number of scrapes and bruises. But when she reached for the bandage wrap on the high shelf, her shirt sleeve revealed a hand-shaped mark wrapped around her pale wrist. Trying to be nonchalant as possible, you approached her and grabbed the bandage for her, ignoring how Max quickly put her arm down and tugged at her sleeve.
“Skateboarding mishap again, red?”
Max’s signature cocky smirk covered the surprise on her face. “It’s one of my better falls,” she said. Then her eyes wandered to the prescription bag in my hand. “Still have those? They said you’d be better in a couple of weeks since the incident.”
“Well, I didn’t, so here I am,” you shrugged. “Hey, listen, I’m heading out to the comic book store if you want to tag along. My treat.”
Once you were at the community pool. Though you resorted to buying your carefully as she skimmed through the new arrival stack. You didn’t really have anything worth buying since most of the comics you read are from Dustin’s collection that he recommends and lends to you every other week. Sometimes you get the appeal, sometimes you didn’t. Still, it was a great way to pass the time when things are slow from working the snack bar at the comic book store if you want to tag along. My treat.”
Maybe you should’ve offered to buy Max a cone from Scoops Ahoy instead.
“You got any good recommendations?” you randomly asked the guy who just walked in. You seem to have caught him off-guard, the look of surprise that you were talking to him. “Munson, right?”
“Yeah, Eddie,” he said after a brief pause. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to read comics.”
You thought so too. But you also didn’t think that monsters that live in an alternate dimension exist.
You shrugged. “I read almost anything to pass the time,” you said. “Henderson lends me a lot of X-men.”
Eddie was about to reply when Max approached you with two Wonder Woman comics. “I can pay for the other one,” she offered.
You scoffed lightly and ruffled the top of her head. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you said. “Didn’t I say it was my treat?” Before she could argue, you snatched both copies from her hand and headed to the counter with her trailing behind you. “See you around, Munson.”
You and Max wandered aimlessly around the mall. You offered to go watch whatever movie was in the cinema, but Max turned you down, saying that she had plans with the party later that week once their campaign planning was through. After you ran out of things to do, you offered to drive her home, which she sheepishly accepted.
Before you could even pull out the parking area, Max said, “I know you saw the bruise. You didn’t have to do all that to make me feel better.”
A surprised smile tugged at your lips, impressed on how quickly she caught up on your intentions. “I don’t really have any sisters to dote on,” you said, “so it isn’t entirely on pity. I know you can stand up for yourself, red.” You continued, “But promise me one thing?”
Max nodded.
“You tell me when anything gets too much, okay?” You held her hand to show your support. “I’m always going to be here for you.” Trying to lighten up the mood, you added, “Billy is a prick anyway.” Then you pulled the car into drive.
“He has it worse than me.”
You tried to hold in your composure, but you couldn’t help your eyebrows rising up at the unexpected information. You always suspected something going on with Billy. No one suddenly becomes an asshole overnight. That you knew from being friends for a long time with Steve. Aside from the horrible friends he used to have, Steve grew up with his parents barely around, and even if they were, his father was always either hard on him or emotionally absent.
“Well, it doesn’t give him the right to take it out on you.”
“I know.”
Later that week, you were at your usual spot at the snack booth. The heat was especially brutal that day at it almost felt that your lungs were constricting every time you tried to breathe out. Not even ice water seemed to help, and when the thin clouds cleared, the blaring sunlight only made it worse, even though you were under the shade of the booth.
“Hey, watch the stand for me?” you said to your co-worker who mostly just tried to look busy by restacking cans of soda and rearranging the chips as a way to avoid kids yelling out their orders. He sighed but nodded, getting up to man the counter. On your way out of the booth, you pulled out your inhaler out of your backpack and staggered into the searing sunlight to make your way to Heather.
As you took a blip of your inhaler, you didn’t notice the person near you and collided into them, sending your inhaler flying. “Shit,” you muttered, picking up the plastic case. “Sorry about that.” You looked up and paled upon the realisation that you bumped into Billy Hargrove.
Billy didn’t seem to mind and just grunted before brushing past you. If anything, he looked as disoriented as you, dishevelled and profusely sweating. He had an obvious stumble to his step on his way to the locker room to what you assumed was to get ready for his shift.
You had half a mind to approach him when you heard “Hey! No dunking, Curtis!” from the pool area. You were suddenly reminded of your current task and shrugged off the Billy’s concerning state. For all you know, he was still probably drunk from whatever party he was at last night. It was summer break after all.
You carefully avoided being splashed near the poolside as you circled over to where Heather was stationed at the lifeguard post. Unfortunately, you almost tripped from another dizzy spell again and collided with another person. Just your luck.
“Oh, dear,” a woman this time voiced her concern. “Are you okay, hon? Maybe you should stay out of the heat.”
You steadied yourself and stared into the eyes of Karen Wheeler. “I’m okay, Mrs. Wheeler,” you wheezed. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Drink some water!” Mrs. Wheeler called out before walking off.
Finally, you were able to tell Heather that you were cutting your shift short and that you couldn’t drive her to her dad’s office as you agreed on earlier that day. She waved you off and told you to drive carefully, assuring you that she could always call her mom to pick her up later.
On your way out, you noticed Mrs. Wheeler coming out of the locker room looking distressed and teary-eyed. She didn’t seem to notice you staring at her as she made her way back to the pool area. A few moments later, Billy came out of the same room, still looking as physically uncomfortable as before.
For the past weeks of working at the pool, it was no secret that one of Billy’s favourite moms was Mrs. Wheeler. But was there really some illicit affair between them? You probably wouldn’t put it past Billy, but the woman had three kids, for goodness’ sakes. You made a mental note to ask Heather what she knew about it tomorrow.
After a gruelling half hour drive while cranking your A/C up to full blast, you finally got home. You barely got a mouthful of ice water when your door rang. You wondered who it could be when the neighbours knew that you and your parents were usually at work during the entire day.
“Hey, can you drive us to Starcourt?”
You stared into the wild grins of El and Max, standing excitedly on your doorstep. Fifteen minutes later, you were back in your car, playing chauffeur for the two girls giggling from the backseat of your car.
“I’m telling you, El, boyfriends lie,” Max insisted. She poked you. “Tell her.”
You chuckled dismissively at their tween antics. “I wouldn’t know.”
Both El and Max paused and focused their attention on you.
“You haven’t dated anyone?”
“I’ve been on dates,” you clarified, “but I never really dated anyone.”
“Why?” El asked. It was more inquisitive than mocking or accusatory. She was very curious, that one.
“Because she has the biggest crush on Steve.”
“Oh, my God!” you exclaimed. “Does everyone just know about that?”
“Well, anyone with eyes, yeah,” Max said, rolling her eyes for good measure. “The only reason why he hasn’t caught up is because boys are dumb.”
That made you laugh out loud despite the discomfort in your ribs.
When you arrived at the mall, you expected to have them run off to who knows where while you hung out at the waiting area, taking advantage of the air conditioning, but those two dragged you to every clothing outlet at the mall. You tried to not exert yourself, but it was hard not to match their energy when they were clearly having so much fun. It was even so endearing to see El emerging from her shell, trying out outfits that she genuinely liked and not those lumberjack fits that Chief Hopper had her on all the time.
By the third store, you insisted to sit that one out and merely watch them try on a bunch of different hats. You giggled at them posing at the mirror as if they were at a fashion show. However, you only had a moment of peace before Max approached you with a sundress that looked way too close to your size.
“No,” you stood your ground.
“Yes.”
“No!”
“Yes, then we’re going to Scoops Ahoy to get cones after this.”
“Ask Steve out on a date,” El urged, smiling encouragingly.
“What happened to ‘boys are dumb?’” you said, raising your brow.
“He’s not going to ask you out first, so you will do it for him!” Max said. She and El both grabbed each of your arm and pulled you to your feet and into the dressing room then tossing in the dress and pulling the curtain shut.
You stared at yourself in the mirror and the dress you held in front of you. You hated to admit it, but it was a pretty dress. Even if you couldn’t score a date with Steve, at least you had a great addition to your wardrobe. With that positive thought in mind, you pulled your shirt over your head and hung it on one of the clothing hooks.
You carefully pulled down the zipper on the dress when you noticed something odd on your reflection. Peering closer on the mirror, you stared at your ribs, noticing the almost black veins that almost seemed to be moving underneath the skin. What the…
“Are you done?!” Max called out from behind the curtain.
You snapped out of it and quickly pulled on the dress. All your initial worries faded once you saw yourself in the mirror. For good measure, you pulled your hair out of your scrunchie and let your tresses fall out in waves over your shoulder.
“Wow,” El and Max chorused.
You didn’t even notice them pulling the curtain open.
When you made your way to Scoops Ahoy, Max and El apparently had already made plans that you don’t come in with them. “Let it be a surprise,” Max had said. It was almost ridiculous that you were letting 14-year-olds dictate you on how to get a date from your crush.
“Okay, here you go, you got a strawberry and then a vanilla with sprinkles, extra whipped cream.” Steve paused and looked at the two girls suspiciously, especially at El. “Wait a second,” he thought out loud, “are you even supposed to be here?”
The two girls giggled, and El said, “A pretty girl drove us here.”
The words ‘pretty’ and ‘girl’ caught Steve’s attention. Predictable. “Yeah?” he grinned, leaning forward as if asking for more details. “She still with you?”
“You know her, silly,” Max giggled before running off with El. On their way out, they both flashed you a thumbs up and mouthed, “good luck.”
You stepped inside Scoops Ahoy with a newfound confidence. It was definitely the dress, and you hope it paid off. When Steve caught sight of you, his eyes brightened up and flashed you his charming smile.
“Hey, stranger,” Steve greeted. “I see the girls made you their babysitter and chauffer.”
You tried not to let your smile falter when you didn’t get the reaction you hoped. You laughed, trying not to give off the fact that your confidence was quickly crumbling. “Yeah,” you said, “my shift ended early at the pool.”
“That’s great!” Steve cheered. “Listen, Dustin just caught Russians on his new radio thing, and we’re trying to translate it. Spy shit and all.”
You blinked. “Dustin’s back?”
“Yeah,” Steve nodded animatedly, “he’s at back with Robin translating the tape. Well, mostly Robin. Didn’t even know she’s amazing at languages.” He continued, keeping his excited energy, “She already knocked down a couple phrases. Isn’t that cool?”
Then it clicked.
Steve liked Robin.
Too late again.
“Listen, we can use your help because there’s this music at the end that I couldn’t remember where it came from,” Steve said. “Robin and Dustin say it’s stupid, but you can back me—”
“Um,” you breathed out. You cleared your throat, wondering why you started to get out of breath again. “I still have to drive the girls home before dark,” you said, gently turning him down.
“Oh.”
“Um, call me if you find something cool?” You didn’t wait for him to reply and turned your back on him. As soon as you left Scoops Ahoy, you pulled your inhaler out your pocket and took a blip, but it seemed to only make your lungs angrier and cramp even more.
As agreed upon earlier, you found the girls at the main doors of the mall, but they were in a heated conversation with Mike and the rest of his party. You sighed and quickly approached them before it turned into a full argument.
“I dump your ass!” El declared, making you stop in your steps. Lucas and Max were flabbergasted at the outburst, except Max looked somewhat proud. Mike just looked lost and was clearly at a loss for words. Will just looked uncomfortable enough to be witnessing the entire thing.
“Okay, that’s enough,” you interfered. “We’re leaving, come on.” You looked at Will who seemed to be the most aware among the boys at the moment. “You guys need a ride?”
He shook his head.
“You take care, okay?”
Will nodded.
The walk to your car between you and the girls was quiet. Though Max decided to break the silence when you pulled out of the mall compound. “What happened?” she asked.
You simply shrugged, ignoring the burning in your ribs from the simple motion. “Boys are dumb.” Then the car ride was silent again.
Later that evening, you laid in your bathtub in cold water, finally relaxing when you can breathe easily again. The summer heat fatigue really got you today, you thought. Suddenly remembering what you saw in the fitting room, you looked at your ribs again and was relieved when all you saw was nothing but your usual skin.
You were pulled back to your thoughts and remembered the beautiful sundress that was now laid discarded on the bathroom floor. You groaned at the memory of what just occurred this afternoon. You sighed and slid down to submerge the rest of yourself in the almost freezing water, leaving all your worries for the few seconds you had underwater.
Don’t be afraid. It’ll be over soon. Just stay… very… still.
You were scared. You couldn’t open your eyes, and the water suddenly felt too thick. The searing pain that was becoming too familiar in your lungs felt like it was begin to crawl out of your chest and into your throat.
But it was all gone in a split second.
Panicked and scared out of your wits, you immediately crawled your way out of the bathtub, not caring if you were curled up naked on the bathroom floor. You reached for the first thing you could grab to cover yourself, until you realised that it was still the same damn sundress. Suddenly, all the air just left your body, and you were starting to wonder if it was still an asthma attack.
You hoisted yourself up on the sink, both coughing and wheezing, trying to do everything you can to get yourself some oxygen.
“Sweetie? What’s going on?” the familiar voice of your mom came muffled from the other side of the door. When you replied with nothing but aggressive and painful coughs, the knocking became incessant, and her calls turned to worried cries. “Open the door!”
The same sensation of something crawling out of your throat came back. This time, you were more aware than your paralyzed state a few minutes ago. You stuck your fingers in your throat, feeling for any obstruction.
And you did.
With one forced cough, you were able to pinch out something smooth but foreign. You yanked it out, clenched it in your fist, and spat whatever fluid it brought out. You were initially worried that it was blood, but as you looked at the white ceramic of the bathroom sink, it was black.
When the bathroom door burst open, you quickly opened the faucet, flushing down whatever it was. Your mom rushed over to you and covered your hunched figure with a bath towel before pulling open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror to fish out your emergency inhaler.
“Come on, sweetie,” she carefully urged the inhaler in my mouth, pressing down to dispense a dose, but you could barely bury it down. “Let’s go to your room. You’re freezing.” She led me step by step to my bed and laid me under the covers, but the warm blankets only made me feel worse. “Your dad is coming with the nebulizer. Don’t worry. Just careful breaths.”
You didn’t remember how long it took for you to fall asleep that night, but you woke up the next day to your mom entering your room, already dressed in her office attire. She must’ve seen the panic on your face when you realised that it was way past your alarm.
“I called you in sick at the community pool,” your mom said. “Your dad will be picking you up after work to bring you to the hospital. In the meantime, just rest, okay?” She pressed a kiss on your forehead before she left the room, and you were alone again.
Then you felt the soft thing that you had in your fist the entire night. You raised your hand and held the foreign object over your head.
A black petal.
Panic bubbled up at the base of your spine, and you wasted no time in getting out of bed and getting dressed. You needed to tell Chief Hopper or Mrs. Byers. Or even just any one in Mike’s party.
And Steve.
Suddenly, it hit you. Dustin would still be around Steve decoding whatever Russian code they were on. The kid can easily call a code red for your situation. You grabbed your keys with the intent of going to Starcourt.
Just as you locked the front door, Max and El came rushing in their bikes, looking as alarmed as you are. They rushed to you, especially El who gave you a pleading look.
“It’s Billy.”
~
“As much as I appreciate you calling a grown up to investigate, this seems highly unnecessary.”
You were clearly uncomfortable as you turned the corner to Cherry Lane. You already gave them an earful when they admitted that they were spying on random people during their sleepover last night. Personally, you didn’t think that Heather would suddenly go for Billy when she just went on a date with someone else the other week, but maybe Billy was just that convincing.
“But the screams,” El reasoned.
“When Billy is alone with a girl, they make, like, really crazy noises,” Max argued, making you laugh at her words. Case in point.
“That’s surprising,” you noted. “I assumed that because he’s such an asshole he doesn’t…” you trailed off when you caught El’s clueless look from your rear-view mirror. “Never mind.”
“They scream?” El voiced out her confusion.
“Yeah, but, like… happy screams.” Then Max turned to you. “Oh, just that house right there.”
Your laughter came out in breathless snorts at this point. You pulled the car in park around the curb. “Okay, that’s enough,” you interrupted. “You don’t need to know about that yet, El.” You watched the house and hummed in thought. “His car’s not there. This’ll be easy.”
The three of you went inside the house and headed to his room. You knew that their family was very far from a loving one, but you tried to wrack your head for a reason as to why Billy’s bedroom door had a hinge lock from the outside. You barely had any thoughts about that little detail before Max pushed the door open.
“Why do I get the feeling we’re gonna find all sorts of wrong here?” Max said.
“Well, his tastes in music aren’t half bad,” you commented, flicking through his stack of cassette tapes by his stereo. You pulled open his bedside drawer and laughed at its contents. “Jackpot.”
Max rushed over to peek, only to see his collection of ‘printed ladies.’ “Ugh!” she exclaimed. “Gag me with a spoon.”
Then we heard El calling us from the bathroom.
We followed her to see empty ice packets around his tub. The unsettling feeling crept in again as you remember that you were also trying to keep yourself cold last night. But you weren’t the only one who was unsettled.
El, who was breathing heavily, stared off into the corner, and when Max and you followed her line of sight, there it was. Blood. You carefully opened the trash bin and pulled out a utility bag from Hawkins’ Community Pool.
“Let’s go.” You didn’t waste any time leaving the house and getting into the car.
Despite the darkening skies and thunder rumbling, you got there in record time. You ran to see a co-worker of your closing the pool area. Protocol. But he definitely wasn’t pleased to see you.
“Didn’t you call in sick?” he said, sounding annoyed. “You’re the second person to bail today.”
“Heather didn’t come in?” Max asked.
“Obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing thi— Hey!”
The three of us ran back to the car to figure out what to do next.
“We can go back to my place,” you suggested. “Wait out until Heather comes home next door.” Then you remembered. “Shit,” you cursed, turning on your car before the girls agreed. “My dad is supposed to pick me up for a doctor’s appointment.”
Luckily, your dad wasn’t home yet when you got back. Probably due to the storm. However, the girls already had their own plans in mind when they walked over next door to the Holloway’s.
“Shit, shit, shit,” you hissed, jogging over to them. “Don’t go running off without me.” You looked at the now open front door. “Did you just unlock the door? This is trespassing!”
“She’s inside,” El whispered. She and Max entered the house, and you had no choice but to follow.
The three of you carefully treaded towards the voices in the dining room. There you found Billy with Mr. and Mrs. Holloway chatting away. The sight of your three by the hallway halted their conversation.
“Um, hey, Janet, Tom,” you greeted. “We tried to knock, but you probably didn’t hear us over the storm.”
“What on earth are you doing here?” Billy cut in, his eyes trained on Max and El.
“Where is she, Billy?” you asked firmly, staring straight into his eyes.
“Where is who?” Billy smiled innocently, but it didn’t give you any ease.
“Well, they’re a little burnt! I’m sorry.” Heather walked in from the kitchen, carrying a tray of cookies. “Oh, hey, girl! Is your shift over?”
“Heather!” Billy called. “This is my sister, Maxine.” He gestured to Max before his eyes landed on El. “I’m sorry. I did not quite catch your name.”
“El.” Eleven responded with her eyes pointedly trained on Billy.
“El,” Billy echoed, his polite smile turning into something menacing.
It definitely unnerved the three of us. Your hands held onto their shoulders and pulled them behind your back, leaving you to face Billy. “You guys weren’t at work, so we got worried,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Heather wasn't feeling so hot today, so we thought we'd take the day off to nurse her back to health.” Billy turned to Heather. “But you’re feeling just fine right now. Aren’t you, Heather?”
“I’m feeling so much better,” Heather smiled, but there was something about it that didn’t seem right to you.
Max and El tugged at your hand. You looked at them to see them silently pleading at you with their eyes. You gave a brief shake of your head before turning back to Billy. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” you said carefully. “I’ll take the girls home.”
“Thank you for looking out for my sister and her… friend.”
You made sure that the girls walked ahead of you, and right before you passed the front door, Billy pulled you to him. You barely could get a noise out as he pressed his hand over your ribs.
“You’re one of us,” Billy whispered before he shoved you out and shut the door.
It all happened in a split second that the girls didn’t even notice the exchange. The fear stabbed you deep in the gut that you basically dragged them back to your house, forcing them not to look back. Only when you got inside your house that the tension released from your body but only just.
“I’m taking you guys home, and tomorrow, we’re meeting up with the party, okay?”
“You’re not going anywhere, young lady.”
You winced and found your dad staring you down with his arms crossed.
Damn it.
~
“As soon as we’re done here, you’re grounded for a week.”
You groaned and held back the urge to roll your eyes. You were in the hospital waiting area for your family physician, but because there were a handful of minor accidents because of the storm, the wait was a bit long, especially when you were not priority. It was fine during the first ten minutes, but after half an hour, you were starting to get cranky.
“I’m going to the restroom.”
Your dad made a move to get up, but you stopped him. “There’s literally a storm out there, and you drove me here,” you pointed out. “Where else can I go?”
Your dad just scoffed but leaned back in his seat, waving you off. “Bring me back a coffee then,” he said.
You walked down the hallway but turned to the payphones instead of the restrooms. You dialled in the number you were so familiar with and hoped that he’d be home by this time.
“Hello?” Steve’s voice rang through the speaker, sending relief through your body.
“Pick me up at the hospital,” you said.
“Wait, what?”
“Oh, and do it in half an hour.”
“There’s literally a storm outsi—”
“I’m also staying at your place tonight.”
“Hey! What is going—”
“Thanks, Harrington.”
Steve arrived at the hospital in twenty, still dressed in his sailor uniform. With your dad still busy with his coffee and a random medical pamphlet, you cocked your head to the side and sent Steve a signal where to wait while you made your escape. For the second time, you got up to your feet.
“I think I want a coffee actually,” you said. “Be right back, daddy.”
Your dad hummed, not even lifting his eyes from the pamphlet.
For a split second, your heart seized at the sight of your clueless father. You wanted to tell him and mom about the monsters and how they were this close to taking you, but they were better off not knowing. It wasn’t worth risking their lives when it could be just you.
With a heavy heart, you kissed the top of his head and walked down the hallway, heading for the exit and into Steve Harrington’s getaway car.
“Okay, but what the hell is going on?” Steve asked, pulling the car in drive.
You didn’t answer and just hugged your knees to your chest while crying silently. You’re one of us. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to level your breathing, which now felt like such a laborious task. Now that you knew the truth, it was almost like you could feel it all inside you. Taking every piece of you.
You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by a warm hand clasping yours. You raised your head and looked at Steve, who kept his eyes on the road, but continued to squeeze your hand. You managed to stop crying and thread your fingers through his and bask in his warmth.
You knew it was just temporary. You knew who he really liked. And as if the universe was aware of your feelings, they decided to cut the moment short by sending your chest squeezing and blocking your airways again. You dropped Steve’s hand and clutched at your chest as you exploded into another coughing fit.
Steve panicked and quickly glanced between you and the road. “What’s happening?” he asked frantically. “Should I take you back to the hospital?”
You violently shook your head. “N-no,” you managed to wheeze out. “Dr-drive.”
“Where’s your inhaler?” Steve asked to which you left unanswered.
Finally, you managed to cough out a chunk of something, freeing your airways. You quickly shoved it in your pockets without checking before Steve noticed it. You exhaled in relief and leaned back in his seat.
“It didn’t use to be that bad,” Steve pointed out.
“Yeah.”
“Was that why you were at the hospital?”
“Mm.”
“We should go back.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re near your place anyway.”
By the time you got to Steve’s house, he rushed to his parents’ room to find you something to wear from his mom’s closet. “Go take a shower and warm up!” he called out from the second floor.
You dragged your feet into the downstairs bathroom and rinsed your mouth. As you spat out the water, swirls of blood and black goo circled around before disappearing down the drain. You pulled out the clump that you hid in your pocket and teared up at the sight of a fully formed flower.
It was cruel that something as hauntingly beautiful as this was killing you from the inside.
When you flipped the flower over, you noticed thin tendrils from where the stem should be. You were horrified that the tendrils were actually moving like tiny tentacles. It reminded you of that day when you were in the tunnels under the pumpkin farm.
Without any more thought, you dropped the flower in the sink. Remembering that they were susceptible to heat, you immediately turned on the faucet to its hottest setting. As the water hit the flower, your lungs were suddenly set on fire.
Out of instinct, you turned the faucet off, relieved that the flower immediately dried out and broke off into ashy flakes. The burning stopped as well but still lingered under your skin. Almost tripping over your own feet, you staggered over to the shower, stripping yourself of your drenched clothes and turning on the water to its coldest setting, and only then did you find relief.
You’re one of us.
It took over almost half an hour to compose yourself and figure out what to do from here on out. You put one of the fluffy robes in the bathroom and headed out to the living room where Steve was already lounging on one of the sofas, shirtless but with a towel hanging over his neck. He only seemed to notice your presence when the sofa dipped beside him under your weight.
“You okay?” Steve asked when you rested your head on his shoulder, not minding that his hair was still dripping wet. “Jesus, you’re freezing.” He moved to grab the throw blanket and pulled it over both of you then rubbed his hands on your arms to warm you up.
Meanwhile, you wrapped your hands around his waist and just closed your eyes at the sound of his heartbeat. You were mad that his was steady when you couldn’t even control the fast drumming of your own heart whenever you were near him. Still, you held Steve as if you were afraid to let go, as if he was your only reminder that you were still you. But why did it hurt, even physically, so much to hold on?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Steve whispered, stroking the back of your head. “I don’t think we held each other like this since middle school,” he chuckled to himself at the memory. “When Vicki Carmichael took stole your partner for the Snow Ball and kissed him in front of everyone? You slept over and cried in my bed, telling me you hated her for it and me for going with Tammy Thompson.”
You wracked your head trying to remember what Steve was talking about. Maybe because it was a long day, but you couldn’t remember him holding you like this in middle school. Still, it must have been a beautiful memory if even Steve remembered it.
Sometimes it felt like you were the only one holding on so tightly in this relationship with him.
“Don’t you remember?”
You just hummed and snuggled closer to Steve.
“Okay, how about when Lewenski and I got into a fight because his girlfriend tripped you up and you skinned your knee pretty bad?”
This one, you remembered. “Your dad grounded you for a month, and you got benched for two games,” you chuckled softly.
“And you still cheered for me in the sidelines,” Steve said, sounding relieved that you were finally talking. After while a long pause, he said, “What happened? You used to tell me everything.” He continued, “I know I joke about it a lot, but I was really worried when you didn’t sign up with me at the mall. And you being sick all the time now?”
“Steve, just drop it,” you said, almost in a plea. “We’re okay. You never have to worry about me.”
Steve scoffed playfully. “That’s never going to happen,” he argued. “I’m always gonna worry about you. You don’t even notice how much trouble you get yourself into without realising.”
You tried not to think about it, but for the rest of that night in Steve’s arms, you almost felt like the vines were moving inside you, growing and taking up what was left of you that you haven’t already given to Steve.
~
“So, basically you’re a fugitive now?”
You chuckled and tiredly patted Dustin’s back. “Man, I missed you, kid,” you said. “And to answer your question, technically yes. I’m facing a lifetime of being grounded if I’m caught.”
“Let me get this straight,” Dustin began, his eyes trained on your plain black shirt that obviously belonged to Steve, “Steve snuck you out of the hospital, and you stayed in his house the entire night?” He leaned close to you. “And nothing happened?”
“Jesus, Dustin,” you wrinkled your nose at him. “People serve food here.” You gestured at the small cup of ice cream you were eating as breakfast slash brunch. Though you were wallowing your sorrows in cold, cold sweets, it did make you feel like a kid again.
“Steve is so stupid sometimes it amazes me,” Dustin thought out loud.
“I’m surprised you caught on. Seems like everyone in the world knows except him.”
“That’s because I’m me,” Dustin grinned proudly. “I bet the rest of the party doesn’t even know.”
“Who doesn’t know?” Steve entered the backroom with Robin in tow.
“Probably that you’re a dingus,” Robin snickered. Then her eyes trailed over to you. “So, we have another addition to the team,” she pointed out. “Who’s bringing her up to speed?”
“Dustin,” Steve said the same time that Dustin also said, “Me.”
Of course, it was Dustin.
While Dustin explained to you that the Russian military was most likely running a secret base right in the Starcourt Mall, you worried about El and Max, especially with not-Billy on the loose. Though they probably were already with the rest of the party right now and alerted Chief Hopper and Mrs. Byers. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.
Right?
“Got it?” Dustin finally said before narrowing his eyes at me. “Were you just zoning out the entire time?”
You snorted. “What do you take me for?”
“Fine, what did I just say?”
“Okay, I probably zoned out halfway through,” you admitted. “But your problem is pretty simple.”
Steve, Dustin, and Robin waited for you to continue.
“You just need the blueprints for the mall.”
“Why haven’t you called her the moment we were cracking the code?” Robin said, rushing outside and grabbing the tip jar. Ignoring Steve’s calls for her, she was off leaving us three at Scoops Ahoy.
~
“Touch my butt! I don’t care!”
“Can we keep it PG in here?” you frowned at the ridiculous show Steve and Dustin were putting by trying to get into the air ducts. “Just pull the boy down before someone gets hurt.”
“He can’t get hurt. He’s missing bones like Gumbo.”
“Like what?” you tilted your head.
“He means Gumby,” Dustin corrected, grabbing hold of Steve’s shoulders as he got hoisted out of the vent, “and that’s not how cleidocranial dysplasia works, Steve. I’m missing collarbones, not nerves.”
“Whatever,” Steve said. “We just need some else who could fit in there.”
Just as Steve said those words, Robin burst in the backroom, looking like she had an epiphany for the second time today. You were beginning to think she was the reason how Steve and Dustin had gotten this far. Behind her stood Lucas’ younger sister, Erica. Ah, the epiphany.
It only took the rest of the day of convincing her. The kid knew how to play hard ball. You’d give her that. She wouldn’t take anything less than ice cream for life. Frankly, you’d do the same.
You waited until the mall closed, though Robin and Steve cleared up Scoops Ahoy a few minutes early. So far, your parents were a no show, though you assumed that they didn’t think you would be hiding in the backroom of a very crowded mall. Frankly, they probably wouldn’t even believe you that you were infected with a monster from an alternate dimension and would rather help your friends with a Russian invasion than go to the hospital.
“Free ice cream for life,” Erica smirked smugly as soon as the thick sliding doors – actually odd for a simple storage room – slid open for us.
It didn’t take much snooping to find vats of glowing neon green vats of unknown substances hidden in regular delivery boxes. Without much thought, you grabbed one and made your way to the door. “Let’s just go before someone catches us.”
Again, the universe… just hated us.
“Uhh, which one do I press, Erica?” Dustin asked, insistently pressing the “OPEN” button.
Panic began to rise among all of us as mechanical whirring buzzed between the walls. Between that and the fact that we were trapped, we definitely knew we were screwed. While all of them fussed over the buttons that were no longer working, you stepped back, feeling something prickle under your skin.
“Just open the door!” Robin cried out, echoing into someone… something different.
Open the door.
Open the door!
Open the goddamn door!
Suddenly, you were on fire. You barely noticed your screams rising over everyone else’s. You fell to the floor, convulsing in agony as flashes of different people appeared in your head as if you were them. An old lady in a hospital bed, Heather, her parents, so many people who barely even knew in Hawkins… then Billy.
It was quiet with him. You saw flashes of a beautiful blonde woman calling out to him, her face concealed in a sunhat, then the beach with sand in between your toes. There was a moment of peace and tranquillity, and like someone playing a sick joke, you were in a dark place, standing in Billy’s place in front of people who were lifelessly standing still right in front of something. Something that you didn’t recognize but was so familiar to you, inside you.
He made me do it. It’s like a shadow, like a giant shadow. Please believe me, Max.
“Billy, it’s gonna be okay,” Max’s voice echoed in his head as if it were yours.
“It’s gonna be okay,” a different voice filtered through from all the noise.
“She’s unconscious. How is her inhaler going to help?” “I’m pretty sure that’s a seizure, nerd.” “Check for a pulse, Steve.”
Your consciousness fell right back on you like a pile of bricks. Your eyes fluttered open to see Steve hovering over you with your inhaler tucked between your lips. Once your eyes locked with his caramel ones, a huge wave of relief washed over his face as he pulled you into his arms.
“Oh, my God,” Steve gasped, clutching on to you for dear life. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“Get… out.”
Steve tensed and pulled away to look at you. “What?”
You weakly pulled up your – actually Steve’s shirt up to your ribs, revealing angry black veins that were now crawling over your torso. You cried out and clutched at you. “Get it out!”
“Holy sh– what the hell is that?!”
You rolled to the side and fell into a coughing fit, your back hunched over. Your nails clawed at your throat, feeling something trying to crawl itself out. Whatever happened somewhere in Hawkins pissed off the plants inside you, and you can feel them twisting and curling throughout your torso.
With much straining and the remaining oxygen in your lungs, you managed to pull out the parasite from your oesophagus. The action made Dustin and Robin gag in the corner, while Steve and Erica warily looked at the slithering vine with a fully bloomed flower you dropped on the floor, leaving a trail of blood and black goo.
“You guys, by any chance, have a lighter?” you panted, pressing your cheek against the cold metal floor for any cool relief you can take.
Silence told you no. You hoisted yourself up with much difficulty and leaned back into the crate then immediately had an idea. Albeit, a bad one. With shaky knees, you got on your feet and lifted the vat of green goo that rolled away when you dropped unconscious. You looked for the right twist to open the container when Dustin stopped you.
“What are you doing?”
“We have to kill it,” you said nonchalantly. “I mean, I could just drink this to get it over with, but I don’t want to die that quick.”
“Are you…?” Then Dustin’s eyes widened. “That day. You were… because you saved me.”
“Wait, wait, are any of you nerds explaining what’s going on?” Erica interrupted.
You sighed. “Monster,” you pointed at the vine. “Infected,” you pointed at yourself. “Must kill monster with something. Preferably fire.”
“You killed one of those before?” Robin asked.
“It was smaller last night,” you shrugged, finding the latch to open up the vat. “Hot water took care of that sucker easily.” Twisting the lid a certain way, it clicked and released. “Aha!” you exclaimed. “This is gonna hurt.” You eyed the goo apprehensively.
Then Steve snatched the lid and sealed back the vat. “There has got to be a way to do this without you in pain,” he said.
“We don’t have time, and we’re stuck here in a metal box with a monster crawling towards Erica’s sneaker!”
“Why are you yelling?!”
“I’m not yelling!” you shouted. Then you turned to Dustin with a much softer voice. “How did Will get rid of his the last time?”
“Space heaters, a lot of them,” Dustin answered. “Anything from the Upside Down hates the heat, including D’Art.”
“Well, we’re not waiting until you cough all the flowers out, so I say we dump you into a hot tub and crank the heat to full,” Steve suggested, keeping the vat out of reach. “Once we get out of here, of course.”
“Boiling her alive,” Dustin scoffed. “That’s genius, Steve.”
“Or,” Robin interrupted, “we just use the same space heaters. It worked before, so it might work again now.”
“Thank you,” you said, pointedly looking at Steve. “At least someone is trying not to kill m—” Suddenly, your lungs were set aflame as you dropped into a heap on the cold floor, convulsing in agony with your mouth open in an open scream. You briefly heard Erica speaking before ultimately passing out.
“What? You only kept one of that green acid away from us. At least the monster’s dead.”
After passing out for the second time that night, you seemed to be sleeping much longer, but when you woke up, it wasn’t much of a surprise to hear Dustin and Steve still bickering. You opened your eyes to see Steve’s legs hanging from the ceiling. Again, not a surprise.
Probably nothing else would surprise you at this point.
“Shh! Jesus Christ!” Steve hissed before disappearing entirely to the top of the elevator.
Now that spiked your curiosity.
Robin was preoccupied with Erica, and both of them didn’t even notice that you were awake. You sat up and climbed on the stacked boxes leading up to the opening on the elevator ceiling. The burning in your ribs and your shortness of your breath was easier to ignore now that you were too lightheaded to actually feel the discomfort. Still, you managed to poke your head out the opening, accidentally ending up eavesdropping.
“I heard you guys talking all night,” Dustin whispered to Steve before his eyes landed on you. He winced and shot you an apologetic look.
Steve turned and saw you by his feet, making him jump in surprise. “What are you doing up?!” he scolded. “You scared all of us last night. I thought Erica killed you.”
“Gee, your welcome!” Erica called out from inside.
“’Last night’? It’s morning?”
Dustin smiled emptily. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been trying to reach anyone on the radio since the mall is open. I think we’re too far down though.”
“Okay, take Dustin down with you please,” Steve said, facing the wall. “I’m gonna take a leak.”
“First of all, ew. Second, good morning,” you said, hopping back down with Dustin right behind you.
“This is one looong sleepover,” Steve called out before the sound of a stream hitting the ceiling echoed inside the elevator. “Two nights of being your personal pillow!”
“Two nights?” you muttered to yourself. “Was I with Steve the other night?” you turned to ask Dustin, who gave you a weird look.
“You stayed over his place, and he drove you to the mall, remember?”
“He did?”
“Hey!” Robin called out. “We have company.”
One fight with a Russian later, which Steve won – finally – you and the rest of the group snuck into the comms room of the secret Russian base and found out why your lungs had been reacting different once you walked further down that tunnel.
“The gate.”
You, Steve, and Dustin looked at each other in horror before turning back to the machine that was trying to pry open the gate that El had shut down last year. It was your first time seeing it, but the same dark familiarity was tugging from the deepest part of your mind. There was no reason to dwell on it, so you tugged Dustin and Steve, urging them to leave and quickly warn the others as soon as possible.
Unfortunately, leaving was harder than getting in. Guards were alerted, and all of us were sent into running. It ultimately sent us to the direction of the gate itself with Dustin almost running into the laser machine that was opening the gate if it wasn’t for you tugging the back of his shirt collar.
You didn’t like being that close to the gate. Between the soldiers yelling and Steve barking which way to run, a louder voice was whispering crystal clear voices inside your head. You surrendered to the voices for one second to try and understand what they were saying, which proved to be your mistake.
In that one second, you were teleported to an incredibly vivid memory of meeting Steve for the first time.
“Sweetie, say hi to Mrs. Harrington and Steve.”
Your hand curled into a fist on the hem of your mother’s dress. It wasn’t the first time you saw Steve Harrington. Your classmate pointed who Steve was when he passed you at the hallways of Hawkins’ Elementary. She boasted that her older sister was Steve’s “girl friend” after he kissed her during recess yesterday.
You didn’t know what any of that meant, but when you glanced at Steve Harrington, you thought he was the prettiest boy you ever seen. Steve Harrington was exactly what you imagined the princes looked like that your mother read to you at bedtime.
And now, you were at their front door because your mom worked with his mom, and Mrs. Harrington thought it would be nice to have her and you over for tea.
And Steve was still the prettiest boy you ever seen.
You were catatonic while staring up into the gate opening.
While the rest of the guards were chasing after Steve and the others, the scientists urged that the guards don’t touch you, seeing that your pupils had turned entirely black. Your exposed neck revealed raised veins that they could tell were black even under the dim, unsteady lighting in the lab.
Your blank state was finally broken when the Russians took you in a secluded room, further away from the gate. Your mind was wildly fuzzy as if you were in the middle of sinking badly in your own subconscious. You inner daze didn’t last long when the door opened again, and Steve and Robin were dragged in and also cuffed like you were.
“What happened to you there?” Steve said in a low tone. “You just froze.”
The soldier didn’t like the chit-chat and struck Steve across the face. The sound was loud enough to echo in the room that you winced upon impact. “No talking!” he spat in a thick accent. “Now, who do you work for?”
“I’m confused,” Steve said, trying to sound unphased from the hit. “Do I not talk or do I tell you who I work for?”
That earned him another hit.
~
“We have many stories of monsters from where I’m from.”
“So do we,” you groaned at the man pacing the room. “You’re not that special, dude.”
Robin and Steve were taken away over half an hour ago, mostly likely for their own interrogation. So far, on your end, this soldier has done nothing but talk your ear off about stories from where he grew up while you were strapped in an examination chair.
“I suppose you know about flowers that grow on lungs?” The surprised look on your face told him everything he needed to know. “No one knows where they come from,” he said, “… until now.” He leaned in close to you. “You are very important test subject.”
“Not for long,” you said spitefully. “I’m dying anyway.”
“Well, I suppose you will be buried in Russian soil by then,” he said, sending chills in your spine. “But now, I need to see the flowers itself.”
Your breathing quickened at the thought being sliced open.
But…
They wanted you alive enough to bring you to Russia. That meant…
“Steve!” Your eyes widened at the sight of him as they dragged him inside the room and dropped him in a heap on the floor. Your heart clenched at the blood streaked all over his mouth and his eye swollen shut. “What did you do to him?”
The soldier and the rest of the guards merely looked at you struggling from where you were restrained while Steve remained unresponsive on the floor. The soldier looked displeased at the results before him and barked out another order. Soon enough, Robin was also dragged inside the room, and similar to you, she was as distraught at the sight of him beaten up.
Then… they just left the three of you in the room alone.
“What do they want?” Robin asked. “We told them everything, and you’re the only one not strapped with us.”
You gulped. “They, uh, they know what’s wrong with me.”
That gained Steve’s attention. With much difficultly, he raised his head and slurred out, “They’re not taking you, and we’re getting out of here.”
“Right,” you snorted. “Unless you have a way of getting to those scissors and cutting yourselves free, I’m on the next flight to Russia by the end of the day.”
“Those morons. They left scissors here?” Steve scoffed.
“I think that if we move at the same time, we could get over there, and then maybe I could kick the table and knock them into your lap,” Robin said, her voice rising with desperation. “So, on the count of three, we’re gonna hop.”
You smiled as hope bubbled when they succeeded the first two swivels. But on the third, the chair legs slid, knocking them both on the floor. Robin, who had her back to you, began shaking. At first, you and Steve thought she was crying, until her quiet giggles turned into full-on laughter.
“I’m sorry,” Robin laughed, trying to contain herself, “but I just can’t believe I’m gonna die in a secret Russian base with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, while his girlfriend gets shipped off to another secret lab in Russia.”
“We’re not gonna die,” Steve huffed, “and she’s not my girlfriend, okay?”
“Gee, we’re tied up and have no hopes of escaping, and you choose to correct that?” you snarked at him.
There was a moment of quietness, mostly just to collect our wits, but Robin was the one to speak up again. She talked about Mrs. Click, our history teacher. Turns out she had been in the same class as Steve for the longest time, remembering every detail about him.
Just like you.
“Do you even remember me from that class?” Robin said, her voice lowering into a whisper. “It didn’t matter that you were an ass.”
And her next words just crushed you.
“I was still… obsessed with you.”
There was nothing else to do but watch as Steve’s eyes — well, eye — softened. In that moment, you felt like you were in someone else’s moment, just an audience. But wasn’t that what you always have been in Steve’s life?
“You know, I wish I’d known you in Click’s class,” Steve said, a fond smile growing on his lips. “Maybe instead of being here, I’d be on my way to college right now.”
Last semester, you wrote two of his history papers just so his grades would be high enough for him to play during the basketball playoffs.
“And I would have no idea that there were evil Russians beneath our feet,” Robin chuckled, “and I would be happily slinging ice cream with some other schmuck.”
“Gotta say, though, I liked being your schmuck.”
And there it was…
The burning in your lungs intensified, sending you in a painful fit of coughs. It was hard enough not to curl over because of the restraints on your chest. There was no way to claw at your throat or to grasp at your chest from the twisting pain.
You were too engrossed in trying not to choke from blood and black goo that you didn’t notice the door open. A different scientist came in, this time more sinister-looking, and leaned over you. “I knew it,” he smiled. “He feeds the flowers inside you.”
“W-wha…?” you managed to gasp out. “P-please… can’t… br-brea-eathe… In.... inhal-er.”
In the midst of the black spots tinting your vision, you barely made out a jet injector and something bright blue before you heard Steve yell out and everything went dark.
“… up. Wake up!”
You opened your eyes to see Dustin’s face. “Am I dreaming?”
“Come on! We have to go!”
You were so groggy that you followed Erica and Dustin to a hijacked mini-truck with Steve and Robin giggling along. Both their antics only heightened when we finally ascended back up to the mall. Steve couldn’t stop booping Dustin, while Robin was saying stuff about food and death.
“Did they give you something too?” Erica asked me.
“They probably took something instead,” you rasped out, feeling your throat. “They baited one out and pulled it out while I was trying not to choke to death.”
“Where is it now?” Dustin turned to me, smacking away Steve’s finger from booping his nose again.
“How the hell should I know? I was tied up!” you scowled at him.
“We just saved your asses!” Erica and Dustin chimed back at your tone.
The bickering didn’t end until you were all forced to be quiet as you hid in a cinema that was showing ‘Back to the Future.’ Once upon a time, it seemed to be a fun movie to watch with the kids, maybe even with El, but now, you could barely keep your knees from fidgeting as your eyes constantly watched between Michael J. Fox and the cinema doors for any evil Russians.
It wasn’t long when your lungs began burning again. You didn’t feel the need to cough this time, but it didn’t stop for a metallic taste bursting in your mouth. You grabbed an empty popcorn bag nearby and spat into the paper. Even under the dark theatre, you could see that it was mostly blood now.
You were out of time.
~
“Jesus, you look far worse than El.”
You shot Max a very unfriendly look. “The girl who just pulled a monster out of her leg using your mind powers?” You glanced at El who was cuddled up with Chief Hopper while Mrs. Byers attended to the open wound on her leg.
“Well, both you are bleeding out of your noses, and you are also growing monsters inside you.”
“ERICA!” you screeched while furiously wiping your nose.
“Just the facts!”
“What?!” Everyone else in the party, including the adults, chorused.
“You’re dying,” Will said as if he could still tell. He gave you a look of empathy and a little bit of familiarity. You knew he went through a similar thing last year, and it somehow made you less scared that he was here with you.
You nodded solemnly. “I don’t have much time,” you admitted. “It grows faster the closer I am to the gate… or when I feed it.”
“’Feed it’?” Max asked.
“We don’t have to talk about that,” you waved her off. At this point, you were just desperate to stay alive. All of you were so, so close. “If we close the gate, we can cut off all connections, right?”
“Theoretically,” Lucas added.
Since there was no other option but that, we all based our plan on that ‘theory.’ A man named Murray, who also got into a tiff with Erica, came in with a map of the underground Russian base from a guy named Alexei. With the goals in place, everyone began splitting off into groups.
“You’re coming with us, right?” Steve asked.
You bit your lip as you shook your head. “I’m staying with the girls,” you said. “You go with Dustin and Robin to Cerebro.” At the sight of his worried look, you added, “I’ll be okay.”
Steve shot you a scowl. “Don’t die without me.”
“Hard promise to keep,” you smirked, smacking his hand away from ruffling your already messy hair. Your fingers tangled with Steve’s, and he ended up holding your hand completely. “Don’t die first, Steven.”
Steve chuckled and was about to pull away when you tugged his hand back.
“Hey, Steve.”
“Yeah?”
“I know you and Robin…”
When you trailed off, Steve raised his brows at you, urging you to continue.
You shook your head, waving it off. “You guys just got drugged,” you reminded him. “Drive safely.”
“You say that as if I don’t have any experience from partying.”
“That isn’t comforting at the very least.” Then... you let go.
~
Turns out that it wasn’t just the gate that was triggering the growth.
When the Spider Monster burst through the glass ceiling for Starcourt Mall, the flowers in your lungs reacted the same way when Billy had grabbed you at the Holloway’s. It was one thing to lead the monster away from El, but it was another thing to be hunched in the trunk space of the Wheeler’s hatchback with said monster chasing you down the road.
“The answer to a never-ending story…”
You laughed at the song number from the radio in between coughs. “That definitely takes the sting out of dying,” you said. You can only imagine Erica’s face during this whole ordeal.
“Don’t say that.”
You looked at Steve in deadpan. You kept eye contact as you spat blood and body matter into an empty soda cup you found discarded in the car. It was a low-blow towards him, you knew that, and he didn’t deserve it.
But you were so tired, and you were so mad at yourself for always being late, for being cowardly.
So, when Jonathan turned the car to follow the Spider Monster that turned back to the mall, you immediately hopped off and went looking for El instead of going with them to set off the fireworks. Steve, as expected, put up a fight, insisting that you all stick together.
“I won’t go near it,” you reasoned. “I’m finding El and getting her out of here, while you keep it distracted.” When he looked unconvinced, you added, “The fireworks will also distract Billy. It’s going to be okay.”
“That isn’t comforting at the very least,” Steve said, making you laugh at your early words being thrown back at you.
“Hey!”
You turned to see Nancy Wheeler toss a bundle of fireworks at you. At your raised brow, she shrugged, “Just in case.”
Following a broken gate not too far from where Steve rammed Billy’s car, you found an employee’s corridor where Max and Mike passed out nearby with angry bruises on their faces. You rushed over for Max and shook her awake. Her eyes immediately shot open.
“Billy, it was Billy,” Max said, panicked. “He took El. You have to go. I’ll take care of Mike. Go!” She staggered to her feet, gripping the pipes for stability.
“I can’t go near him or that thing.” You hesitated leaving Max, but when she yelled at you again to go for El, you turned your feet and broke off into a run. Then the fireworks began…
“Fuck!” you screamed, falling to your knees. Every corner of your body was set ablaze. You cried out as the flowers inside you constricted with every blast.
Max and Mike quickly caught up to you, pulling you to your feet. Suddenly, it was quiet, and a wave of calm washed over you. You saw a beautiful woman in a sundress and a hat by the beach. It wasn’t your memory, but it was being returned to someone after being taken away. Billy.
“She was pretty,” you could hear El cry in your head. “She was really pretty.”
Taking advantage of the situation, you sped through the corridor and into the mall. You found Billy beginning to stand up to the Spider Monster. “When I make a run for it, you grab El and get her out of here, okay?”
“What? You just said you can’t face that thing!” Mike told you.
“Just do it!” You pushed your feet as fast as you could to face the monster.
“No!” Billy roared, grabbing the monster’s tentacle mouth to stop it from reaching El.
Seeing your opportunity, you quickly pulled the taped matchstick from the bundle and ignited the fireworks. Swinging your arm back, you flung it as hard as you could into the monster’s mouth. Right as soon as the explosive left your hand, you caught incoming smaller tentacles headed for Billy’s side, slinging two of them to your side from the crook of your elbow.
“I got you,” you said out of breath, seeing Billy’s surprised face. However, your fight had the monster targeting you, sending two other tendrils to your side instead. You barely felt it, even as its sharp tongue stabbed into your abdomen.
Touching the Spider Monster was as worse as looking straight into the Gate. You cried out as flashes of memories of you and Steve, growing up through the years, bombarded you, while the flowers inside you began crawling outside your ribs instead. You barely heard the last firework go off as you felt the vines throbbing under your skin.
An arm wrapped around your waist and pulled your unmoving feet, dragging you away. Your spotted, blurred vision could only see a head of dark blonde curls with a massive dark mass in the background screeching in agony.
“It’s over. It's supposed to be over!" you heard Max’s muffled voice say. “What’s wrong with her?!” You felt hands on your shoulder, shaking you to snap out of it.
“Steve,” you breathed out. You tried to focus on Max, but with a blink, you were trapped back in your memories. Steve telling you to go home every time as he led a different girl up the stairs to his room. Steve dropping you off while thanking you for picking out a gift for Nancy. Watching him smile ever so fondly at Robin. Seeing the smile that you so desperately desired every time.
All the memories of Steve breaking your heart, you felt all at once.
You continued to unconsciously call out Steve’s name. Even when the paramedics began wheeling you out in a stretcher. You vaguely saw them cutting your shirt open, exposing the gore that was concealed by the fabric.
The black vines had reached out on the surface of your skin. The outline of your ribs was exposed, threading black and purple angry bruises over your torso. The right side of your ribcage had completely sank, one rib twisting outwards and leaking a mix of blood and black goo. The damage was extensive, but the monster you grew and fed inside you seemed to be finally lying still, only remaining dormant once the gate was sealed once again.
“… -eral broken ribs and possible internal bleeding!” a paramedic called. “One of her lungs has collapsed. She's in shock!”
Then Steve was there. You couldn’t tell if it was a memory or if it was happening at that moment. He was struggling against two firemen, trying to get to you with one hand reaching out. With the last bit of energy left, you raised your hand, reaching out towards him too.
“Steve…”
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outerbankies · 1 year
Note
ooo bestie would love to know more about the deb!!
*jazz hands*
new light: fade into you — rafe cameron
new light masterlist
summary: To spite your parents, you ask Rafe Cameron to escort you to the debutante ball.
warnings: no warnings except the usual + poorly researched debutante conventions! bc i know nothing besides whatever is portrayed in gossip girl, the summer i turned pretty and southern charm!
a/n: takes place in high school, whenever these things usually happen; unless of course that is not new light canon compliant, because we live in a fantasy world ❤️ also this blurb has a little more background into the deb ball, if you’re interested! just a lil something for y’all while i work through the more complex pieces coming up!
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“If we have to break form one more time, our dance teacher’s gonna kill us.”
You sigh, slipping your dress strap back up and over your shoulder, placing your gloved hand in his again. “I know. Sorry.”
Rafe quirks an eyebrow. “Why are you buggin’?”
“My straps keep falling off my shoulders,” you whine. You’d stomp your foot, too, if you weren’t worried you’d step on your friend’s toe in the middle of the dance floor.
He cocks his head, his eyes lingering on your décolletage. “S’not supposed to be like that?”
You look down, and one of your straps has already fallen down your shoulder again. “No.”
Ready to accept defeat and any riot acts from your mom over it later, you startle when Rafe’s hand leaves your waist momentarily. He must notice, because his hand freezes. “May I?”
“Yeah,” you breathe quietly, still weary of the fact that you’re both dancing in front of everyone on this island, all eyes on the debutantes and their escorts.
His touch is light as a feather, as it has been all night—save for when he’d led you down the stairs in the heels he’d eloquently called ‘death traps.’ Rafe held on a little tighter then.
“There,” he says, looking back into your eyes. He cracks a tiny smile. “I’ve got you.” 
“Thanks,” you say.
“Don’t even,” he shrugs, taking your waist again. “Surprised that dress slipped by your mom’s tailoring workshops. This is the best tux I’ve ever worn.”
You stifle a giggle, knowing it’s not appropriate at the moment. But you remember those workshops, and you remember Gretchen goading you into sneaking over to the guesthouse where the guys were being fitted with her so she could poke fun at them. There was nothing funny about how your mouth dried out, seeing Rafe standing in a cummerbund that should look god awful on him, on anyone. But it had somehow exaggerated his body line in a way you hadn’t thought possible, and you’d hurried back to the main house without so much as a quip about their bowties leaving your lips.
“Probably the only tux you’ve ever worn,” you point out, reaching out to smooth a lapel, even though it’s perfectly folded. 
“I was a ring bearer when I was 12, actually,” Rafe says. “Check your facts, Y/l/n.” 
You roll your eyes at that, turning to look across the dance floor. Kelce and Margot are across the way looking at you, and both of their heads turn away as soon as you make eye contact. When you furrow your brows, your date takes notice.
“What?” 
You turn back to Rafe, and he’s already pushing your other dress strap back up again. “Nothing. And sorry about your shoes, again,” you say, eager for a subject change. “I’m going to make you accept money for them at some point.”
It’s Rafe’s turn to roll his eyes. “When will you let that go?”
“When I can go back in time and prevent my 6-month-old golden retriever from destroying your nice shoes.”
“They weren’t that nice. These are better, anyway,” he says, looking down. You do too, struck momentarily by the image of your waists pressed so closely together, his shoes not even visible underneath the bustle of your white dress. You don’t know if you’ve ever been this close to him before, even in the dance classes. 
“I still feel bad.”
“You’ve gotta relax, kid,” Rafe says quietly, almost a breath above you. You allow yourself to sag in his hold momentarily, exhausted from dancing for so long, from all of the preparation in general. “There you go.”
“When are they gonna start letting other people in?”
“Are you not enjoying my dancing?” Rafe jokes, pretending to be offended for all of two seconds. 
“You’re doing great,” you say sincerely.
“Yeah? Like, all of it?”
“All of it?”
Rafe bites his bottom lip, looking around the room before he’s locked in on you again. Another dress strap falls, and another warm hand snakes up your back. “I was nervous when you asked me.”
“Oh, like you didn’t think you’d be an escort this year,” you say, calling bullshit.
“I didn’t,” he insists. “But Margs got Kelce and you were stuck with me, weren’t you?”
You don’t want him to realize how true that is, because with Rafe you can’t always tell when the joking ends and the self-deprecation begins. “I was stuck with way worse before I asked you.”
His eyes light up. “Oh?”
“Griffin. Matteo wouldn’t have been so bad, maybe,” you consider, even though you know Matteo wouldn’t be pulling up your dress strap the way Rafe is now. “You were a steal in comparison, bud.”
Rafe smiles, big and unabashed. “I’m blushing.” And he is, bright pink dusting the tops of his cheekbones. “Hopefully I can meet expectations.”
“The flowers you sent were gorgeous,” you say, omitting the part where they were the only debutante flowers that had made it past the stairs in your house. Rafe’s pink peonies were in a vase on your desk while all of the others remained arranged around the dining room and other living spaces—wherever your mom wanted them, really. “And you even took off your shells for me.”
Before you can decide against it, your hand that’s meant to be on his shoulder moves to his neck, your fingers slipping under his shirt collar just slightly, where the cowrie shell necklace usually rests. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a tan line.
“M’not an amateur,” he teases, and the vibrations from his vocal chords make your hand recoil, moving back to his shoulder. “But I might embarrass you later, once the DJ gets here and I can break out my flask.”
“Rafe Cameron,” you say, scandalized. And your wandering hand gets the better of you again, feeling for his breast pocket. When you find it empty, Rafe’s already looking down at you once you meet his gaze again, a glimmer in his eyes.
“You really think I’d jeopardize the sanctity of this event for reindeer games?”
You quirk an eyebrow. “Literally yes. That’s exactly what you would do.”
He tugs you into him then, so close you’ve definitely broken form. But as you look around you see other couples have, too, as the rest of the invitees start to make their way onto the floor. “Nah, wouldn’t risk it tonight.”
“Who has it then?” 
“Top.”
You search for your other friend, to find him twirling Emily around as things start to ease up—all of the formalities of the evening done and dusted. “How’d you bully him into that?” 
“Drew straws,” Rafe says shortly. “Hey, look at that. We survived.” 
You know he’s referencing the fact that the formal dance is over—that you’re free to break apart and mingle, do whatever it is you’re meant be doing right now. Your sure your mother is in a beeline, ready to go over exactly how your walk could have been more graceful, or how your shoulders should’ve been looser. Or god forbid, your dress straps. Which mysteriously have not bothered you in ten minutes and counting.
“Y/n?”
Rafe’s looking down at you, the two of you still holding onto each other. If anything, the crowding of the dance floor had only pushed you further into your friend’s embrace. “Hm?”
“You good? Lost you to space for a moment there.”
“I’m good,” you say. “Tired.” 
 His eyes soften in understanding, and you’re practically standing on his toes at this point, he’s so close to you. “Too tired for our after party?”
“Way too tired,” you immediately clarify. Rafe doesn’t seem surprised—it’s not unlike you to skip out on shenanigans. “Plus, I know my parents will want me accounted for.”
“Well you are the most accomplished debutante in Kildare.” 
“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, hiding your face in his chest, where he smells less like sand and surfboard wax than you’re used to. You’re not sure if you like it or not.
“Did you hear she wants to write children’s books when she’s older? Or that she helped organize a beach cleanup last summer?”
“Rafe,” you say, borderline begging. 
His smile doesn’t dim, but it loses its mischievousness momentarily. “Bet for the life of them they can’t figure out why she wanted Ward Cameron’s boy parading her around these hallowed halls.”
“Could’ve been any one of us debs asking you,” you say. “Small island. You would’ve ended up here somehow.”
“No,” Rafe says easily. 
“No?” you challenge. You realize now you’re still dancing with him, and that your friends are either looking for you or making fun of you, and that the string of pearls your dad gifted you this evening are starting to feel a little tight around your neck. Rafe’s fingers grazes them as he slips your dress strap back into place one more time. “Why not?”
“I would’ve said no to anyone else.”
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ilumin · 6 months
Text
Ragbros brainrot
Okay, first of all, Kaeya's and Diluc's relationship is strictly familiar, no ships here. Self insert thing but it's up to you if it's romantic or platonic.
No pronouns are used for reader, OH and also! Few spoilers from Kaeya's Hangout, and just Kaeya's and Diluc's backstories.
OKAY, I know I was supposed to write something about Neuvillette but... This doesn't want to leave my head. Am I the only one who craves seeing Kaeya and Diluc being just... Kaeya and Diluc?
And no, I don't mean it in their usual way. I need to see them as happy siblings. Both are so traumatized and lonely, they both deserve a bear hug, PLEASE.
I need to see them laughing.
Don't get me wrong, I love their soft chuckles in the game, but I mean, laughing their asses off.
I want to see them just laugh, holding onto their stomachs, wheezing and all that. I want to see them genuinely smile at each other, talk like they used to in the past.
I need to see them being just siblings.
Doing pranks to each other but enjoying each other's company. Gossiping about everything and nothing at the same time as they sit to dinner table at the winery, eating their favorite meals prepared by Adelinde.
I just need them to be family again.
I know their backstories pretty well (I'm fucking obsessed) and I know they both been through a lot, and yet, it physically hurts me to see them so conflicted.
I know that's a canon that they don't really like each other anymore, but with every meeting they have in game, I just like to imagine their life without them being conflicted and just being brothers as they are.
For example, just like when they were kids. In Kaeya's Hangout, Adelinde told us a story from their childhood, about how Diluc once wanted to sneak into their father's basement, where they stored all of the wine, when they were still kids. How he got Kaeya to stay on watch but in the end, they got caught by Adelinde, and were forced to clean every barrel in the Winery. Like when Kaeya decided he'll help Diluc, even if it was mostly Diluc's fault and Diluc's responsibility to make up for his mistake. Why? Because they were brothers.
I mean- IMAGINE
A Spring afternoon, both Kaeya and Diluc are just enjoying their day in domestic way, for example - Helping Adelinde and the rest of the staff clean the Winery. You're there too, of course, doing the same thing as them, dusting and putting all the things to their places. And they're just... So relaxed, jabbing each other playfully, maybe there's music and you three dance as you clean.
Just... Enjoying the moment, forgetting about everything that's bad, all problems are far, far away from you as you laugh, jump, skip and dance like children, not thinking about anyone's opinion.
Adelinde is just standing in the entrance to the main hall, looking at you three with a soft smile on her elderly face, seeing them both finally happy, and with someone who also takes care of them.
Even if there's stock of papers on Diluc's desk to be yet signed that will probably take him entire night to get through, even if there's some affairs in the City of Freedom that Kaeya can't refuse to take care, even if you have your own things to do that makes your head spin...
You guys are genuine happy.
Kaeya once again has a place to call home
Diluc once again has people to call his family
And you, once again, can see them smile.
Gosh, I'm so down for them.
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dr3amofagame · 6 months
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hi your art is so gorgeous I’m obsessed with how you shade and texture hair especially. Also can you tell us more about spaghetti strap collar dream (j!dream??) starting with Why is he dressed so fruity
OMG THANK U :D hair drives me a little nuts to draw i wont even lie
j!Dream ... my j!Dreamogie...
j!Dream starts with the JMAH AU, which involves our favorite mans sam awesamdude getting to do a good old do-over of the prison. Which he takes gladly, of course, with a good heaping measure of god has sent me back to do what's right and this is the warden's duty to bear and other related such sam-isms
of course, things go awry with him, but not before a year of (title drop!) just him and dream in the prison and all of the horrid intimacy and violence that came with it. sam wallows in his failure (and his successes...he did things better this time, right? it wasn't his fault, right? he did everything he could...maybe now he can enjoy true freedom...) while dream relearns how to be free (in the belly of the prison that had swallows him whole and spit him out different. the dispensers are a row of teeth above his head.) it hardly matters at the end, though, because XD has other games to play--this brings us to Four Square, which is the prison-themed crossover meetup with canon of their dreams (heh, Dreams) !! All your best hits are here: the clock! Blood! Drama! More blood! Sam giving the Dreams over for Quackity to torture! Sam threatening Quackity for Dream's sake! Technoblade! Camraderie! Betrayals! Gossip sessions! Raw potatoes! Dream grilling Sam about his reasons! Even board games! Four Square really has it all.
(a lot more. under the cut.)
in four square, a certain point, both prisontrios (jmah edition and canon) get to play monopoly together. in the regular version, the dreams manage to win monopoly, (j!dream does, specifically) and quite a bit happens in the aftermath of this--after getting trolled by XD a bit an having to fight for their lives a lot more, they do (with. some complications) manage to win themselves the upper hand eventually. it kinda brings four square to the more "daedalus" era, with the LN confrontation next (we never finished writing that, though: it probably would've ended quite a bit messier than the LN confrontation, with nowhere to run, but i feel like it probably would've ended with the quackitys hogtied in some corner of the prison while the dreams waited for them to get tp-ed out.)
in the bad ending, though, j!sam wins. and there's a lot about four square that does demand...a level of introspection, for better or for worse, and sam has been on quite the roller coaster of emotions (here, you have him: but only for a day.) dream is in the prison, but sam is really no more its warden than anyone else here--four square is first and foremost a game, and that in and of itself is a mockery. more than anything, he's finding that he wants dream and dream alone; he misses the days of just the two of them in this prison, just the two of them and dream is safe and perfectly under his control. when he wins monopoly and XD gives him a wish...well.
enter mayfair. four square had taken a lot out of them both, dream especially--he was told for a year that sam was protecting him from Worse, that sam wasn't really torture wasn't really that bad, and 24 hours with two Quackities each with a Lays family size bag of chips on their shoulder sure has him pretty damn convinced. sam and him and a new prison only this one has brick walls instead of obsidian and wood flooring instead of blackstone...a little cottage with an impenetrable barrier surrounding them. he's more trapped than he's ever been but look, here's a house and here's sam and here's the sun. here's table set with a vase of roses and a candlelit dinner for two.
in a lot of ways, what happens after is the natural progression of jmah, and then four square, and all their combined horrors. dream isn't even sure that they're on their server (they weren't for four square, after all.) he's tired. he's genuinely, wholly, so fucking tired of it all and sam isn't that bad, when it comes down to it, not as bad as he's been having nightmares about for the last few months--not as bad as he expected, should sam ever recapture him. this is his world now, this clearing and this house and this sam. it would be foolish of him to not try and make the most of it.
for a year and a half, they had been dancing around each other. for the entirety of four square, they had been grilled on the nature of their relationship with no satisfactory answers. there is so much about this house that is just so damn unambiguous, and honestly? honestly, dream just wants to know.
(one week, one week and a half into their new living arrangment, dream sinks to his knees in front of sam in their living room.)
(you want this, a question or a statement? you want this, and it goes both ways.)
the walk-in closet attached to their master bedroom had a little selection of clothing when they were tp-ed in. the whole damn place was kind of a practical joke, a picture-perfect romantic getaway. there's like, sex toys in the drawers. stuff like that. the closet itself is also a mess of different things--some copies of sam's clothes from home, some tunics and hoodies for dream...but also suits, and ties, and dress pants, and dresses. croptops and lingerie. a prisoner's jumpsuit tucked in some corner.
their sexual relationship is ummm UMMMM. it's a little dubious. for flavor. in a weird way, both sam and dream are on the same page of wanting to move past the prison? sam in particular is in an awkward position because...dream escaped! he literally Left, he Got Away, and now that sam has him again he's obligated, as his warden, to Do Something About That. at the same time though, he's giddy from the fact that he does have dream again. that he has real, tangible proof that dream is better, that he does need him and knows that he needs him, that he. Wants Him. the house didn't come with a cell--there is no place that is sam's, and then a separate place that is dream's. they are meant to exist together...and sam is finding that he. quite likes the idea of that.
they're also pent up as hell after uh going well over a year without any sexual activity for them both, and they've spent so much damn time thinking about it and dreaming about it and fearing it and wanting it on both sides without being able to admit any of it. so once the line is crossed, things start snowballing pretty damn fast. it's not something either of them can take back, so they. don't. and there's really nothing that exists to put a real boundary on any of it, any brakes to make things slow down or stop, anything that either of them can cling to as an excuse to force them to pull back. sam is pushing limits (how far will dream go to obey him--) and dream is pushing limits (how much can he use this to change what they are--) and neither of them are in a position where they can afford to back down. So They Don't.
birdhouse, or the timeline where we just get Really Silly With It, is where other variables are added in the form of different Dream AUs that kind of interrupt jmah duo's mutual decision to swan dive to hell. the outfits kinda start from mayfair and progressively get more extreme if dream + sam go unchecked--they're a natural consequence of j!Dream going hey how far can i push this to make sam lose his mind because if he's too busy thinking with his dick then he's probably less likely to get mad at me and other such lines of logic. in the version of birdhouse that begins to involve ff AU, the addition of ff!Sam (eventually) to the sexual dynamic does put another added layer of strain on j!dream in terms of the whole. There's Two Of Them Now. that's also where you kinda see more of him embracing uhh sex as the end-all be-all solution to most of his problems, as a means of getting some power back with regards to Sam and making the best out of his situation and the best (and only) leverage he has and the tool that's both the most pleasurable for him to wield and the most effective in making sam treat him better. Etc.
so he's doing great.
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silkflovvers · 7 months
Note
Hello friend! Did I see a PACIFIC RIM ALBEDO AU?!
Please, may I humbly requeat a snippet for Albedo Day?
A FELLOW PERSON OF CULTURE I SEE
I will forewarn you this AU started as me writing out a summary of an idea in a discord server that just eventually got out of hand and became too detailed to call a summary, so the grammar and all that is not up to par with my other writing. However, it is still all safely tucked away in a 6k word doc and begging to be shared in any form it may take!
Apologies for any inconsistencies anywhere! This is long, so I hope it doesn't cut off anywhere....
"Pacific Rim AU"
Rating: T? Ship: Kaebedo (at least it was end goal, no real romance is happening) Tags: Canon typical violence, minor character death, hurt/comfort
Diluc and Kaeya used to be a Jaeger pilot team because they were drift compatible due to growing up together since a young age, but a battle went wrong and Diluc and Kaeya were both injured. Kaeya had to pilot the Jaeger alone for a few minutes until he blacked out. When he came to Diluc wasn't there anymore, instead there was a rescue team (Amber and Noelle) helping him out of the control room cockpit thing. Whatever you call it. 
So Kaeya is forcibly retired from piloting. He still gets headaches and body aches occasionally, blaming it on Diluc each time, wherever he may be. The fact that he can still feel him lets him know he's out there somewhere, alive.
He hates being barred from piloting his Jaeger, his baby he so lovingly piloted straight into battle countless times. He itches to be back in the suit, but Jean won't allow him to unless he can find a new partner he can safely drift with. Kaeya is stubborn and doesn't want to drift with anyone but his missing brother.
His and Diluc's Jaeger is slowly but surely repaired. Seeing it in one piece as good as new nearly drives Kaeya insane. He sneaks into the hold to check the mechanics' work. Thinking everyone had gone back to the barracks for the day, he strolls through the Jaeger like there's no threats in sight. 
Then, Albedo asks him what the hell he's doing in the Jaeger without safety equipment and the right papers documenting he has the permission to be on board and scares the crap out of him.
Kaeya doesn't like this little blond mechanic's attitude and snaps back that it's his robot. He has every right to be in it.
Albedo, unfazed, informs him it's the Ordo's robot and he needs to see his papers with Jean's stamp of approval.
Kaeya doesn't have any papers.
—————
Kaeya learns that Albedo is the head of the mechanic team overseeing his Jaeger through gossip in the mess hall and probably through some back hallway interrogations of the apprentice welders and electricians on the team that he manages to corner.
From that moment on, Kaeya decides he's going to either bribe or seduce Albedo into letting him into the Jaeger.
Absolute nonsense ensues
Kaeya does EVERYTHING he can possibly think of to convince Albedo to let him in the robot. 
He decides Albedo must be made of stone to reject all of his advances and attempts, but he does learn little tidbits of information about the mechanic.
He learns that Albedo is Klee's big brother, that he's close with Sucrose, and hears some saucy rumors about him and lieutenant Huffman from the strategy sector. He also learns that Albedo is the one who painted the mural in the main lobby and the one in the mess hall.
Kaeya starts to see Albedo as more than just the mechanic he's trying to sweet talk into letting him back in the robot.
By the time Albedo just BARELY starts to soften up, Jean catches on to what Kaeya was trying to do and essentially puts him in time out on paper work duty. He's stuck with Lisa in record keeping for a solid week. They were friendly before, but Jean doesn't realize her mistake of putting those two in a room together, because Kaeya just got a free week of romance lessons and he's going to win Albedo's heart once he's free.
So Kaeya, with new tricks up his sleeve and moral support from Lisa, approaches Albedo for once without the intent to get back in his robot. 
Except, Albedo was actually looking for Kaeya. He needs someone to test the drift apparatus to ensure it’s functional.
All of Kaeya's week-long training gets thrown out the window as soon as the chance to get back in the Jaeger is handed to him without any argument.
Of course he accepts. But, then he remembers the Jaeger needs two people.
He asks who the other pilot is going to be.
Albedo gives him an odd look before saying he'll take the place of second pilot for maintenance reasons.
Kaeya's dumbfounded, obviously.
He shamelessly asks Albedo if he knows anything about how drift compatibility works (Pacific Rim 2, your lack of drift compatibility lore is not welcome here)
Albedo, calmly, asks if he knows who he's talking to, tool belt in one hand and documents in the other.
Kaeya's realizes it was a dumb thing to say and simply asks if he thinks it's safe since they've never drifted before. Albedo simply tells him he thinks they'd be compatible and walks off towards the hangar where the Jaegers are kept. Kaeya follows, but can't for the life of him come up with a reply
So they get all suited up and Kaeya tries his hardest to keep unprofessional thoughts out of his head when he sees Albedo suited up, for safety reasons, not just to be sexy. He knows Albedo will know he thought those things if they do successfully drift and he wasn't about to risk all of Lisa's training turning into a waste.
With the team in the control room and in the hangar on standby, they commence the testing. There's mild turbulence on Kaeya's end, memories of the battle where he lost Diluc, threatening to tear him out of his calm focus. His mind turns to flames and burning oil, overheated cores and alarms ringing. Albedo reaches out to him and brings him back with a cold hand. When Kaeya catches sight of Albedo's thoughts and memories that slip through, he sees nothing but a cold, cold mountain, littered with ruins.
Then he's standing in the snow with his hands both grasped tightly by Albedo's. 
They're drift compatible.
The tests go smoothly without any hiccups and they pull out of the drift.
Kaeya can barely function out of pure shock that someone, someone other than Diluc, successfully drifted with him without either of them passing out, getting a nosebleed, or something exploding.
Albedo pulls off his helmet like this was a normal day for him. The rest of the team is silent over the communications channel. Jean is the first to ask if they're both alright. Albedo answers for the both of them and immediately asks for a run down of the diagnostics.
—————
Kaeya doesn't sleep that night. He lays awake with nothing on his mind but snow covered mountains and the thrill of being back in the Jaeger. He wants to feel it again.
First thing in the morning, Kaeya asks Albedo to be his copilot. Albedo nearly throws his coffee on him. It's 4 am and he was up all night going over the data to make sure the tests were completely successful and that the Jaeger's drift apparatus wouldn't cause any harm to the pilots, however minute it may be. He doesn't know why Kaeya is awake at this hour or why he's energetically saying good morning like a regular person would at 7am at the earliest. And did he just ask him to be his copilot?
Albedo refuses.
Kaeya feels like he's back at square one.
Albedo reasons that he's a mechanic and a researcher. Not a soldier. He's here to build and fix the Jaegers, not pilot them and knock some Kaiju around.
Kaeya pleads with him, explaining he's only the second person who's ever successfully drifted with him. He needs Albedo to be his copilot if he ever wants Jean to let him back in his big metal baby ever again. He doubts Varka would even let him if he ever returned from the other branch across the ocean.
Albert stands firm in his rejection. He's not a pilot.
Kaeya is heartbroken.
But Albedo has softened up to him, and he doesn't want Kaeya to be miserable, even if he prefers not to meddle in other people's affairs. 
With a foreign air of hesitation, Albedo asks Kaeya to keep him company while he works. All that's left to fine tune are the functions unique to Pavo Noctua (Kaeya and Diluc's Jaeger). Albedo reasons there may not be anyone who knows the robot better than Kaeya.
Of course, Kaeya completely falls for the praise, not seeing it for what it is. He does enjoy feeling needed though, after being retired for so long. He was getting tired of training all the new recruits who were more likely to step foot in a Jaeger than he was these days.
Albedo enjoyed Kaeya's company, even if he wouldn't admit it. But above all, he was curious about what went on inside the pilot's head after the glimpse he saw while they were drifting.
Kaeya too, was curious about the place he saw in the drift. He wanted to ask Albedo about it, but didn't know how many boundaries that may cross.
So he does it subtly. He asks little questions to get to know the blond better as they toil away on circus boards and specialized conduits for one mechanism or another.
—————
Albedo opens up. Slowly. And so does Kaeya.
Eventually, he learns what that mountain means to Albedo, months after they drifted.
That mountain was once his home. He lived amongst historians, archivists, and researchers in his youth. He was raised by a smart, stern woman who expected much of him and kept him fed and safe in return. He doesn't know his parents, but he could guess they were once part of the team exploring the mountain. A terrible snow storm had swept a portion of the team off a cliff years before he heard about it. He was able to piece together that his parents were likely part of the portion that never made it back. 
His guardian left him at an encampment at the base of the mountain to venture into town for supplies. 
There was a breach in the ocean, Albedo could see the boiling waves crash against the shoreline from the tents. A Kaiju appeared. It laid waste to the small town and sent the researchers fleeing up the mountain in desperation. Albedo tripped and fell, injuring his leg and shoulder. He wasn't able to run away with the rest of them.
A Jaeger intercepted the Kaiju before it could come after the people on the mountain. The beast was defeated, but at the cost of many lives. Albedo's guardian and the rest of the research team didn't return. He couldn't be sure how many had fled in fear and how many had perished.
He was rescued by the team that led the Jaeger defense. They took him in when they recognized his potential once he was healed. He took to Jaeger blueprints with ease and became a mechanic by the age of 14, and one with power and respect.
Kaeya asks Albedo if he wants to go back to his barrack for a drink that night.  He doesn't have any naughty intentions, he just doesn't think Albedo looks like he wants to be alone after telling his story.
Somehow, Kaeya doesn't expect it when he agrees, despite his offer.
So they walk back in silence through the hallways. Kaeya finds his heartbeat steadily increasing the closer they get to his quarters. It's not impressive. Each worker has the same size place to call their own, regardless of status. The only difference being that some choose to room together. With Diluc MIA, Kaeya's on his own. Diluc's belongings haven't been moved or even touched since the day he went missing. 
The first thing Albedo thinks when he steps inside is that it's like Kaeya's brother never left. That is, until he sees the thick layer of dust on his bunk.
Kaeya pulls a bottle of wine out from the cabinet along with two glasses. Albedo notices one is cracked.
They drink quietly at first, but Albedo can't help but notice the way Kaeya's facade seems to crumble more and more the further into the bottle they go
Eventually Kaeya starts to share his story, without any prompting from the blond.
He explains that he too, was twice orphaned.
He was left in a strange town by his birth father when they fled their hometown due to the residual radiation from a slain Kaiju.  He was found by Diluc's father, Crepus. He was taken in by the staff and given a new family, though it was small. It consisted only of Diluc and his father. Though, Kaeya often considered the house staff family as well. He was raised alongside Diluc like they were siblings. They trained and grew up to be one of the most successful Jaeger pilot teams on Teyvat. More dead Kaiju under their belts than you could count on two hands. No one had ever faced that many beasts before them and lived to tell the tale. 
But then came the day the category 4 Kaiju breached.
Their father died that day. And it was the day Diluc vanished. Kaeya was left alone, unable to climb back into the one thing he had left without his brother as his copilot. And he lost sight in his right eye after it became infected with Kaiju blood.
Albedo didn't know what to do when Kaeya started crying.
He wasn't the type of person people usually broke down in front of. Most people wouldn't hold his attention long enough to even have the chance to.
—————
Kaeya wakes up in the morning with his head on Albedo's lap. He doesn't know how to feel when he realizes the mechanic didn't leave him alone after his breakdown.
Albedo's still asleep when there's a knock on his door. 
It's Jean and she's been crying.
Kaeya doesn't know what's happening and he's entirely too hung over for all this excitement.
She tells him Diluc is back.
He almost collapses then and there.
He rushes out of the room, leaving Albedo confused and groggy. Jean only gives him an odd look when she notices him on Kaeya's bed in his work uniform.
Kaeya finds Diluc in the infirmary, being tended to by Barbara. 
He's different. Kaeya can tell just by looking at him. His eyes don't sparkle like they did before when he finally looks at him.
Diluc looks like a dead man parading around in the body of his brother. His eyes are cloudy and sunken, his skin even paler than before, but littered in scars Kaeya couldn't even begin to guess how he had gotten.
Barbara leaves the two alone to talk, but Diluc doesn't talk. He flinches away when Kaeya reaches out to him. This man isn't his brother, not anymore.
Diluc is placed in a separate room for the time being, leaving their old shared barrack to Kaeya alone. Almost like he'd never returned at all. It had been 4 years without him. And nothing changed once he returned. Kaeya still felt alone.
—————
Upon Jean's well meaning request, the two climb into their Jaeger. Kaeya doesn't miss the wild look in Diluc's eyes. He knows it's going to end badly before he can tell the control center to stop the drift process, but it's too late.
Kaeya wakes up in the infirmary with an apologetic Jean by his side. He feels like his head was split open twice and sewn back together with barbed wire.
Jean informs him that Diluc is no longer fit to pilot a Jaeger. And with a long pause, she informs him that he and his brother are no longer drift compatible.
Twice. Twice Kaeya has lost his copilot.
—————
He knocks on Albedo's door later that night when he knows he's finished up his diagnostic tests on the core of the Jaeger.
When Albedo opens the door, he explains that it hurts to see Diluc's empty bunk.
The mechanic let's him in without any questions. He lets Kaeya curl around him on the cramped bed suitable for only one person at a time.
It becomes routine until Kaeya's room doesn't even feel like his own anymore. Unless Albedo is there to keep him company.
Slowly, baby steps, Albedo convinces Kaeya to pack up Diluc's old things. He delivers them to the redhead in Kaeya's place.
Diluc doesn't know him. Albedo smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He's been tuning he and Kaeya's Jaeger since they first piloted it, Diluc had just never given him the time of day. Kaeya only met him recently, but Diluc? Diluc was the one he spoke to directly whenever there was something wrong with the robot, yet he acted like they'd never met.
Albedo brushed it off and returned to Kaeya after the day's work. Jean had given the pilot time off to recover, as much as he needed.
—————
It takes time, but Kaeya does recover. 
He gets back to whipping the trainees into shape with a ferocity that puts fear into the hearts of even the most self confident trainees. Jean has to ask him to dial it back so he doesn't scare them all off.
Diluc has taken up a quiet job within the intelligence sector once he settled in. Despite speaking very little since his return, he came back with a wealth of information.
—————
Sucrose, the resident Kaiju researcher, alerts Jean of unusual energy fluctuations coming from a known breach location close to the institution. She suspects multiple Kaiju may break through soon.
Jean contacts other branches that would be willing to lend reinforcements.
She is able to enlist the help of three Jaeger teams from Liyue, Vago Mundo (Zhongli and Xiao), Big Dipper (Ningguang and Beidou), and Evilsoother (Chongyun and Xingqiu). One team from Inazuma is also sent in to help, Frostflake Heron (Ayaka and Thoma). An independent brother-sister duo that had temporarily been stationed in Inazuma, Stella Fortuna (Lumine and Aether), volunteered to join Frostflake Heron in helping the Ordo Favonius fight the looming Kaiju threat.
When the teams arrive one by one with their colorful cast of mechanics, strategists, and managers, Kaeya’s mood sours.
—————
Albedo had started sleeping in Kaeya’s barrack more often than his own, either sharing a bunk with Kaeya or claiming Diluc’s old bed. He’d done so without Kaeya having to ask. He’d simply understood the forlorn look in the pilot’s eyes each night they should have split off to go to their own rooms.
—————
Kaeya is unusually quiet the night of the welcome party for the reinforcements. Apart from customary thanks and greetings as a high ranking member of the Ordo during the start of the celebration, he speaks to no one that night. Even when he drags Albedo into his room for the night, he says nothing. 
It scares Albedo, but he doesn’t understand why.
—————
Only a day passes before the alarms sound through the halls in the middle of the night. The staff are scrambling through the corridors to get to their posts. Two category three Kaiju have breached, just as Sucrose predicted.
Albedo tears himself out of Kaeya’s arms on a mad dash for the hangar. As one of the senior mechanics, he’ll be needed now more than ever. Kaeya, frustrated, angry, and silent, makes his way to Jean’s side in the strategy room. Screens and monitors line every wall. The staff are frantically typing away, attempting to run the proper protocols and start up programs to get everything running. 
The teams ready themselves in their mechs.
Kaeya watches.
He watches as they power up and some get helicoptered out to the location. The Jaegers better suited to long distances and water, are left to travel there on their own. The site isn’t far. Big Dipper cuts through the water like its pilots were aquatic. Frostflake Heron and Stella Fortuna have thrusters that allow them to glide over the water.
Vago Mundo is the tank of the reinforcements. They’re dispatched to the frontlines. Evilsoother is fast and precise, the young team rounds up the two Kaiju and pushes them back into Vago Mundo’s range. Big Dipper arrives next and traps the beasts in with powerful electrical currents that cut through the water from its blade. The amphibious Jaeger’s turrets fire sparkling gold that can be seen from the windows of the strategy room.
—————
Kaeya watches.
Everything is going too smoothly. Two of the Jaegers haven’t made it there yet and the beasts have almost fallen.
Kaeya watches as Sucrose comes barreling into the room, screaming in near hysterics that another Kaiju has breached. It’s category four.
Panic sets deep into Kaeya’s bones. He is tired of watching.
The room erupts into chaos as every communication line is buzzing with frantic warnings.
No one can get through to Stella Fortuna.
The sea bursts open beneath the white and gold Jaeger. A gaping maw of glowing teeth rips them out of the sky and pulls them under the thrashing waves.
Frostflake Heron pursues them into the ocean, only for their communications to turn to static.
One of the Kaiju breaks loose from the tight hold of the Liyue Jaeger teams. It forces Evilsoother under the waves as the other two attempt to put a swift end to the first. The sea is tainted with shimmering blue blood as Big Dipper chops the head off the Kaiju trapped in Vago Mundo’s cage of pulsing spears.
Over the radios, Beidou of the Big Dipper team is informing the others that she and Ningguang will go help Frostflake Heron and Stella Fortuna. Vago Mundo quickly tells them to go and lunges after where Evilsoother vanished under the tide. 
Communications crackle with static and a gut wrenching scream.
It was Ayaka of Frostflake Heron.
Kaeya sprints for the hangar.
As soon as he’s through the door, his eyes lock on to the blond mechanic barking instructions to his subordinates. Without as much as a hello, Kaeya throws him over his shoulder and runs for Pavo Noctua. He flings Albedo inside and yells for him to suit up.
Albedo refuses, he demands to know what’s going on.
Kaeya explains what new events had occurred since the alarms started and tells him he can’t just sit around any longer and watch their reinforcements die. If they fell, all the innocent lives in the Ordo would surely be next.
He begs, he pleads, he’s ready to grovel for Albedo to agree. 
Of course Jean doesn’t know about this when the launch sequence is started. 
The workers in the hangar do their best to flee out of the way. They can hear Vago Mundo and Evilsoother reporting that the second category three Kaiju is down, but they haven’t seen the other three teams. Big Dipper has not returned to the surface yet, nor have the other two.
Pavo Noctua sets off for the last location they were sighted above water and dives. The water is murky and black like ink. Fortunately Pavo Noctua is best suited for combat in poor visibility and Albedo knows how to read every sensor like it’s his first name.
They see four heat sources down deep. One is starting to go cold. 
Big Dipper is slashing away at the jaw holding tight to Stella Fortuna. The Kaiju is slashing back with a sharp prehensile tail. A few broken spines protrude from the limp form of Frostflake Heron and it’s lights are flickering. Stella Fortuna is struggling in the cage of glowing teeth. Something is leaking from their core.
Albedo recognizes the shimmering liquid and dangerous glow immediately and instructs Kaeya to help him pull Big Dipper away before-
The ocean erupts in a blinding light as they whisk Big Dipper away from the beast.
The tail lashes out and sends Pavo Noctua spiraling into an underwater cliff. 
Weapons located in the upper left shoulder are down and using that arm to shoot frozen bullets strains Kaeya’s muscles with a searing pain.
Evilsoother rushes in during the blinding distraction and pulls Frostflake Heron away from the battle and back to the base on the shore. 
—————
Albedo can feel the pain Kaeya’s in from the collision, but they successfully pulled Big Dipper out of the range of the explosion. Stella Fortuna… wasn’t as lucky. They see Evilsoother vanish above the water and feel the rumble as the beast roars.
It’s angry now.
Pavo Noctua takes its battle stance, Big Dipper does the same beside them.
Then the Kaiju’s mouth opens wide and glows brighter than the sharp teeth that line its speckled purple gums. The ocean screams.
A beam of pure radiation cuts between the two Jaegers before they can dodge it.
Kaeya cries out in agony as Pavo Noctua’s left arm is ripped out of its socket from the force of the beam. It melts into the sand on the seafloor. A glance to the side confirms that Big Dipper managed to jump out of the line of fire. Their Jaeger is still in one piece.
The Kaiju prepares to charge forward, Albedo raises his sword.
The flat of Big Dipper's blade smashes into the side of the Kaiju’s skull. It screeches and smacks them away with its tail. They’re sent spiraling over a rocky outcrop.
Fatigue is seeping into Albedo. He’s not a warrior, not even a soldier. He’s just a mechanic stupid enough to agree to copilot a Jaeger without written permission or prior training. Despite Kaeya’s position having more control over the left arm, he feels the pain too through the drift. It’s there and it feels real, but he isn’t the one with sparks shooting onto his suit. There’s a leak somewhere in the Jaeger. They’re taking on water, but it isn’t anything the mech can’t handle or flush out with the mechanisms Albedo designed.
Suddenly, the beast sharply turned and darted towards the other mech it had just sent flying. Albedo does his best to drag them forwards through a break in the rock. Big Dipper’s lights are flickering on and off and the mech lays still. An important component had to have been struck. The Kaiju is headed straight for them. 
—————
Sand bursts around them as something heavy crashes down atop the Kaiju.
Vago Mundo’s distinct, swirling, geometric lights shine through the debris in a subtle glow. The team gracefully wrestles the Kaiju until it’s soft underbelly is exposed and directed towards Pavo Noctua’s blade.
Even with communications down and Kaeya injured, the two get the message and fillet it straight down the middle. Shimmering blue blood leaks from its insides like smoke as it thrashes in Vago Mundo’s hold. 
Eventually the Kaiju’s struggling weakens. It’s body is thrown to the sea floor, only for its skull to be crushed beneath the weight of one of Vago Mundo’s pillars.
They were taking no chances.
—————
Vago Mundo lifts up Big Dipper with ease and starts towards the shore. Pavo Noctua does their best to follow. The adrenaline from the fight begins to lose its potency the closer they get to shore. The pain catches up with Kaeya and the ache of exhausted limbs hits Albedo at full force. Everything goes fuzzy, his head is pounding, and it’s harder to move before he realizes Kaeya has blacked out. The strain of the copilot losing consciousness is too much for him. He faints from the pain of being the sole pilot in a matter of seconds.
Pavo Noctua lurches forward beneath the waves.
—————
Kaeya wakes up to bright lights and Barbara’s startled face as he jerks the IV she was connecting out of his arm. He’s in pain, but he’s numb. He can feel that familiar tug at the back of his eyes, but can’t feel the tearing, ripping pain in his shoulder.
In a panic he asks what happened. Barbara’s smile is sad when she tells him they won the battle. It falters when he asks about the others. She goes down the list, Vago Mundo team came out unscathed, Evilsoother had a few bruised ribs and scrapes but nothing major, Big Dipper’s Beidou suffered a concussion, but is steadily recovering, Frostflake Heron was deprived of their oxygen supply for a few minutes past the line between safe and dangerous, but seem to be fine.
He doesn’t miss the way she leaves out Albedo and Stella Fortuna.
The sibling team unfortunately comes as no surprise to him. He witnessed the explosion. There was no time for the compromised escape pod to launch. There couldn’t have been any survivors.
But Albedo? The lack of his name from her lips had him gripping her wrist until she was crying out in pain.
She explains Albedo spent a concerning amount of time piloting the Jaeger while Kaeya was unconscious and they aren’t sure of what the consequences may be. He’s currently sleeping after being kept awake for observation. But he’s alive.
Barbara tells him not to move too much and to call for someone if he needs something before she leaves.
—————
He’s released after a week of Jean mandated bed rest in the infirmary. The first thing he does is beeline for Albedo’s infirmary room. When he walks in, Albedo’s sitting up in bed with a tray of soup and biscuits over his lap. He doesn’t notice Kaeya when he walks in. All his attention seems to be on the spoon in his hand.
Kaeya tells him that’s an interesting way to hold a spoon. The sudden noise startles Albedo and the spoon goes clattering into the bowl, splashing hot soup into his lap and making him jump again. Kaeya rushes forward and grabs napkins to soak up the hot liquid. Albedo attempts to pick up the rag on the tray, but can’t. It slips through his fingers and he curses.
Kaeya pauses and pulls away. He’s never heard Albedo sound so frustrated. He watches him attempt to pick up the cloth until he eventually gives up. Kaeya’s already wiped up the soup, anyway. He asks the mechanic if he’s okay.
Albedo doesn’t answer.
Then, he asks Kaeya to leave.
—————
Catching him looking lost in the hallway, Jean pulls Kaeya aside to regretfully inform him that despite his heroics, he is permanently retired from piloting a Jaeger. He tries to argue, but Jean stops him with a folder of his medical record pressed to his chest. She reasons that his impaired vision, trauma, and the permanent nerve damage in his left arm from this last battle puts him at too much risk. They can’t afford a liability on the battlefield. She apologizes as his friend and his superior.
—————
He tracks down Barbara to find out what’s wrong with Albedo. Barbara tries to tell him she’s not allowed to share that information with him without Albedo’s consent, but Kaeya talks his way into making her tell him. Once he gets the information out of her, she covers her mouth like she’s done something unspeakable and runs away.
The prolonged time piloting the Jaeger as well as the added impact when the mech toppled over caused a serious brain and spinal cord injury that impaired his fine motor skills. He is unable to hold or grasp things without a large amount of effort and focus. Currently, he’s struggling to walk, but Barbara believes that will improve with time.
Suddenly, Kaeya wonders if this means they’ll both be permanently retired from their respective jobs. He knew this would come one day for himself, though he’d hoped for a few more years in the Jaeger before it happened. But Albedo? He’d thought Albedo would be fixing up the mechs until he was ready to keel over and die. Now he couldn’t even hold a screwdriver.
And it was Kaeya’s fault.
That’s exactly what Albedo said to him three weeks later once he’d worked up the nerve to apologize.
The former mechanic's words cut like knives as he blamed him for taking away everything that made life worthwhile. Barbara was left to stand stunned in the corner and watch as Albedo’s outburst continued. He yelled until tears poured down his face and all he could do was sob. 
Once he calmed down, Kaeya silently got his attention. He still looked furious, but exhaustion was stronger. Before he could say anything, Kaeya picked something up in his right hand and sat it in the palm of his left. Albedo watched him with a puzzled expression. He curled his fingers around it and tilted it sideways. The item fell from his grip and clattered to the floor.
Albedo’s blue eyes stared at the item on the floor for a long moment before he looked back up at Kaeya. The retired pilot simply smiled and told him they’re the  same. His nerve damage causes burning pain if he grips things and even then he can’t judge how tightly he needs to hold something. The nerves in his hand are shot. Neither of them can do what they’re meant to do anymore. He pulls his discharge papers from his jacket and holds them out for Albedo to see.
Albedo asks why he was officially discharged. Kaeya explains the injuries he’s accumulated have made him more of a liability than a soldier. For his safety and the safety of others, he was politely fired, but with retirement and disability benefits. And the option to continue training the new recruits. He even got a Medal of Honor. He pulls it out of his other pocket and loops it over Albedo’s head to hang around his neck.
Albedo asks him why he’s giving away his medal. Kaeya informs him his medal is in his quarters. This one is for the brave mechanic who leapt into battle against three Kaijus.
The former mechanic lifts the medal up so he can see it better, but there’s a tremor in one of his hands and it wobbles.
When anger starts to burn in his eyes once more, Kaeya speaks up again. He tells Albedo to pay Jean a visit at the end of the week if he’s rested enough. She has a new job offer for him. Albedo gives him another confused look. Kaeya simply tells him that just because he can’t use his hands doesn’t mean he can’t use his head. The way Albedo’s eyes go wide makes it clear he hadn’t considered that.
Kaeya says he’ll let him get back to his scheduled rehab with Barbara and turns to leave. Before he exits the room he turns back to Albedo to tell him he’s always welcome in his barrack if he ever gets lonely.
—————
As he’s getting ready to turn in for the night, Kaeya hears a knock on his door. Thinking it may be Albedo, he opens it rather than tells the other person that it’s unlocked. He’s instead surprised by Diluc’s shock of red hair.
He’s not meeting Kaeya’s eye as he opens his mouth to speak.
He tells Kaeya he heard about Jean retiring him from being a pilot. He knows that was Kaeya’s whole life. As his brother, well, sort of, he wanted to give his condolences. If he had been more stable and been able to copilot the Jaeger, he knows it wouldn’t have ended this way.
Kaeya isn’t sure how to respond. He’s angry Diluc would doubt Albedo’s ability, he’s sad Diluc couldn’t fight with him, he’s sympathetic to Diluc’s condition, and he suddenly just wants to go to bed.
He doesn’t have the energy to talk things out with Diluc tonight. There’s too much to cover and he has to oversee training in the morning. He thanks Diluc for coming to see him, but tells him they can talk more tomorrow. The redhead looks relieved at his suggestion and bids him Goodnight.
Another knock comes an hour later, after he’s tossed and turned in his bunk with sleep nowhere in sight. He opens the door with a quiet huff of frustration, but softens at the sight of Albedo. A pillow is pinned to his chest by his forearms.
They don’t talk, but Albedo lets Kaeya hold him tight until they both drift off to sleep.
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highpri3stess · 22 days
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https://www.tumblr.com/kokonoiscoconut/744220936653471744/you-can-call-me-blue-for-the-time-being-bc-im?source=share
https://discord.com/invite/B65afvhg
Also mikey is a bitch. Izana is just as bad and anyone who says other is one: not based. And two: WRONG. That mf put her in the icu and the way he talk about women is so gross like
“Yeah, he’s so adamant about protecting women.” Izana said dryly. Why does he need to care about other women who were probably asking for it? It wasn’t his business. “It annoys the hell out of me. I can understand protecting my sister but what does other women have to do with me?”
Kisaki was right to call him a freak (never thought I'd be agreeing with Steve urkel)
And I was right about everyone in toman/tenjiku (I expected from them bc they are MEANCES IN CANON) but like, rindou ('swiper, no swiping!" Looking ass and ran are surprisingly nice??? Like they had enough decency to show up with flowers and everything (and the fact that they genuinely felt bad. It just gave me hope which is sad bc THE BAR IS AT THE FLOOR and yet people are praising them for it) and bajitrio getting takeout and baji gossiping. Taking the twitch of the finger meaning that she liked the joke. My heart 😭💔💔 (NVM. IM A FUCKING HYPOCRITE). And Mitsuya literally calling them out?? (HES THE ONLY GOOD ONE. I LOVE BAJI BUT MITSUUA SHOULD HAVE BEEN CROWNED NO.1 BOYFRIEND)
And hanma should shut up. That's why he has no friends BAR kisaki. Jack skeleton Looking ass.
"He didn’t want to feel this. To hear his own thoughts curse at him, call him horrible names like ‘woman beater’ and ‘heartless’. He hated that even his own head turned against him once again, triggering something so evil and vile in his heart that made him want to see someone bleed out."
WOMP WOMP
He had tried to fight it. The violent nature inside him. He tried to squash it with anything -meditating, drugs, giving into his depraved sexual urges. All that and still, one singular thing could ruin everything he had built.
GO TO THERAPY
He felt bad. She spent lonely nights by the looks of it, wishing you would wake up. He had never seen her look so tired or worn out before and he hated seeing her so stressed over something so … irrelevant.
BOY IF YOU DONT SHUT YOUR BITCH ASS UP-
Even when he was painstakingly mean to you, you tried so hard to apologize. It made it harder for him, being jealous of your ability to warm hearts faster than him. He wanted nothing more but to make you cry and hurt like him until you’re no longer kind anymore. Anything that would block out that brightness from you.
[So you bullied her, bc you hated that she was nice and you projected your dead mama on her 💀💀💀 the cope is so bad it's laughable]
Naw cause the fact that even Kisaki had something to say about Izana 😭 like, it is that BAD. The two brothers are complicit in the crimes against reader 😭
AND HE SHOULD GO TO THERAPY YES! Like why is Mikey projecting so hard n her instead of just sorting his feelings out? Like that's a grown man behaving like that.
I live for nice bajifuyu concepts. Mitsuya has my heart in his hands, because I know for a fact he won't just keep quiet while s woman is being disrespected
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bellasdumptruckass · 6 months
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i just think i’m general that like we don’t get enough info on how they maintain the animal diet without absolutely fuckinggggggg the local ecosystem (also never read midnight sun so maybe it’s in there) but like, edward can literally read minds i kinda feel like it’s the olympic covens civic duty to eat rapists, and like??? you’re gonna hunt animals in the national forest??? we know they aren’t adhering to hunting season idk i just have lots of questions about the ethics of it in all actuality
Ah I see. Me and my partner actually googled bear population in the Pacific Northwest at one point and our conclusion was that Emmett could eat a bear every other week, maybe even a few a week, and not make an impact. It sounds like when they hunt, they often go far away. So I think it's possible they purposefully feed from different areas all the time to not destroy the local ecosystem.
Now Edward eating mountain lions -- fuck that guy. Pretty sure those are like very endangered everywhere. so he can die for that
Also, there are certainly animals that exist in abundance, and I assume they focus on those. I assume hunting seasons exist because there are thousands of hunters -- if they all hunted year round, then sure, that would be bad. But 7 vampires? That number is multiple orders of magnitude lower. I really don't think they're doing much to the local deer population, or whatever it is they have in Washington. Cars take out more deer in a day than the Cullens do in months.
Additionally, it's very possible Carlisle invests in environmental protection shit for this reason. Like that's not a detail that smeyer ever mentions, but like I think it would make sense.
Pivoting to why don't they just eat bad people- - I agree that Edward could use his powers for greater good. But I also understand the desire to just not eat people period. I love joking about how he's a loser for not eating all the rapists, but on an ethics level, I get why that would bother him or anyone else. It's still a person that you're draining the life out of, and even if they're bad and do horrible things, the act could still take an emotional toll on you. So I get the canon position, but I also love fanfic authors who take Edward's gift and run with it to make him a killer of only people who do evil.
Lastly, at the end of the day... this is a silly little story written by a woman we all seem to agree does Not know how to worldbuild. So yeah, some of this shit makes zero sense. How do vampires still have hair after hundreds of years if the venom doesn't affect that part of their body? Why do the Cullens live in a smalltown, which has a culture infinitely more personal than a big city (meaning, people gossip, they're nosy, etc. because everyone knows each other). like, it's very silly.
So I get why this issue bugs you -- it is something that has made me go ??? before -- but also, it's a detail that Smeyer just.... didn't think about. So like. I think making head canons about HOW they maintain their diet is interesting and fun, but pointing out the issue and ruminating on it might just drive you crazy!
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eldrtchtrrors · 27 days
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THE CEREMONY HALL— 1 MARCH, 09.00AM.
Lord Mayor Park starts the eulogy as such:
“Nam Chunja was a beloved member of the community.” From there the whole thing falls apart. 
The Lord Mayor, bless him, has never been the most diplomatic of mayors nor the most eloquent, and what should be a lovely eulogy to by all accounts a sweet elderly woman, turns into a tale of the poor financial choices of old lady Nam and the consequences of choices made. Of course, with anything stated by the Lord Mayor, there’s a political message to be held— something about how the whole town ought to listen and do as he says and something else with financial responsibility. But furthermore, and strangely so, despite being such a beloved member of the community, not a soul seems particularly mournful about the old woman’s passing.
Sure, there are faces who look concerned, others who seem to lean towards anger, and even others whose expressions lend more to confusion if anything, but anyone bothering to take assessment of the assembled can see not a single person has a tearful look or wistful gaze. 
In fact it seems as beloved as Nam Chunja was, not a soul misses her.
Funny how things like that go.
Even still, once the Lord Mayor finishes his speech and the obligatory mourning finishes, the crowd breaks off into its respective sects to socialize and eat. Even the death of someone so adored can turn into a social function if the conditions are right, and the conditions at Nam Chunja’s prove so. The town gossips sit at a table, watching all curiously as they titter amongst themselves. The founding families, even after such a divisive eulogy, sit together at the head table, though breaking off occasionally to make polite conversation with the townsfolk. The pariahs sit on their own, detached from the crowds, and the non-residents of Goero take seats of their own along the perimeter of the walls.
It’s touching, almost, to see how even in death a matriarch like Nam Chunja is able to bring the townsfolk of Goero together once more. Even if she isn’t particularly missed.
WELCOME TO ELDRITCH’S FIRST CANON EVENT. As the late matriarch of a founding family, Nam Chunja’s death was mourned by all and as such, the entire town was invited to her funeral. In addition to the funeral, your characters will additionally experience another canon event specific to their subplot which you can find in the links below. The additional events are as follows:
SUBPLOT 1: THE BEACH— 1 MARCH, 11.45PM.
SUBPLOT 2: THE FOREST— 2 MARCH, 03.00AM.
SUBPLOT 3: THE NAM ESTATE— 1 MARCH, 08.00PM.
SUBPLOT 4: THE TAVERN— 3 MARCH, 10.00AM.
OOC INFO
Nam Chunja’s funeral lasted for three days and two nights, from 1-3 March, 2024. The mayor’s speech was delivered on the first day of the funeral.
As is common at a Korean funeral, guests are greeted by relatives and close friends of the deceased, canonically NAM and MIN. You may decide if your canon was also close to Nam Chunja and if so, would share this duty. The duty of greeting guests will be active for the whole three days and two nights and will be taken in shifts. Additionally, food and alcohol will be served and card games will be available to play. It is considered respectful to remain at the funeral until late.
Every canon has been invited to Nam Chunja’s funeral. While their attendance is optional, it is important to consider the implications of your canon’s absence at this event, particularly if your canon is a prominent figure in Goero.
Remember: Nam Chunja was found dead on the edge of Goero forest on 28 February, 2024. The circumstances of her death were odd and as such, foul play has not been ruled out. There is currently an ongoing investigation surrounding her death though the police currently have no leads.
Participation is optional. You are free to write about any portion of this event, be it before, during, or after.
Please tag all threads relating to the funeral and related subplot-specific events with #trrors:ev001
This event will last until 16 MARCH, 11.59PM PST. You are free to write about the funeral and related subplot-specific events until then.
Thank you so much for your continued interest in Eldritch! We're so thankful that you've chosen to stay with and continue to believe in us! We hope you have fun writing!
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pencilofawesomeness · 4 months
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Hello!
*Taps fingers together* I come to bug you regarding the Secret Santa exchange!
I saw your character prompts and decided to try and mix all three. I wanted to ask if there was any Laxus + Cobra brotp, or Cobra + Thunder Legion friendship headcanons you'd want to see added?
If not headcanons, then anything in particularly you would like to see regarding the five of them?
Hahahah hello there, mystery person~
Oooo you bring to the table a tantalizingly interesting prospect. I do have waaaaaay too many thoughts, and many of them are admittedly steeped in my own AU because I accidentally sold my soul to it (as authors do) so by all means, do not feel encumbered by my thoughts/ideas. Treat them as a buffet to pick and choose and take inspo from, because unfortunately you just gave me license to ramble :D
(and this is going to be rambley; too tired to make this cohesive beyond bullet points)
(I love these idiots very much)
—Laxus and Erik brotp is so real to me, fam. It's the "hey we got a lacrima bestowed upon us, whoo" bonding, for one, but beyond that, the sort of....quiet mutual understanding of what it is like to have a "father" figure who is just treating them like a weapon, making them *stronger*, with a faux sort of affection. Beyond the trauma, though, they are both deadpan assholes and I love that for them. If Erik (and this is the htryds coloring) spends a good deal of time having the braincell, then with Laxus he can channel the little-shit-little-brother energy and bully him a bit, and Laxus can be grouchy back and know that Erik can parse through the emotions and figure out what's genuine or not without him figuring out how to put in the effort.
—Also, depending on the setting, they both have the tendency to pull the ~too good for you~ bad boy vibes as a defense mechanism, which makes it utterly unusable on each other, which is fun. Mostly, though, Laxus and Erik have the ability to enjoy a mutual quietness, so to speak; not trying to prove anything, but just leaning back and being normal young adults (with a little salt on the side) and doing whatever. That said, Erik is a bit too much of a dark mirror of how things could have been worse for Laxus, if Ivan was more involved, and this leads to Laxus winning the "big brother instinct" award of the two, which is an experience Erik is not used to but....does not necessarily hate.
—This is a fun headcanon that I haven't had the chance to incorporate into my series yet, but they have fun little music debates. Laxus got Erik into the magic of using music to calm the overstimulation, but they have wildly different tastes. Laxus loves rock and roll and metal, and Erik turned to liking types of bluegrass and straight up classical music. They meet in the middle at alt-rock. They are both always trying to win each other over on certain songs or genres. It works surprisingly often but it's part of the fun to swear undying rivalry to the other's favorite.
—For more Cobra-specific vibes (aka the canon edgemaster), I can see them being a bit more competitive with each other. Which quickly doesn't work when they have completely different specialties, but an effort is made.
—Also something I haven't had the chance to capitalize on outside of the scenarios in my head, but Bickslow and Erik definitely have a fun "we perceive you but we don't care" vibe that I love. Your secrets are obvious but not their business. Sometimes they people watch together for the fun of it, because all of the thoughts they *do* have regarding the things they know have got to go somewhere.
—Evergreen, being the queen of gossip, really really wants in on this. They tease her for it though, and purposely dangle that tea on a string. (Though sometimes Ever *does* get in on it, mostly when it comes to roasting anyone who was particularly rude or annoying, or the silly speculation at the expense of friends, like figuring out what job Nab will eventually go on or what animal Bisca will adopt next.)
—On this same note, Bickslow and Evergreen both have insufferable little sibling energy amongst the Thunder Legion squad, nevermind that Bickslow is the second oldest. Mostly it's just really fun to tease the more serious ones.
—Though Ever and Bickslow are also the most keenly aware of what it is like to be feared. Truly feared. Having eye magic that isn't quite controllable (as a kid, especially) will grant that experience. It is their unspoken agreement never ever to speak of this, of course.
—On an individual note, it is worth it now to bring up that I am an avid fan (read: it's canon to me and sometimes I forget it's not real canon) of the theory that Bickslow was one of the kids experimented on by the Bureau of Magical Development. He's got that unhinged flavor that comes from straight-up trauma, and it does add more context to his otherwise creepy magic. I also hc that the babies are all deceased test subjects, and that is why they have stuck with him all this time. (I am very passionate about the babies as characters, unfortunately, and my little mini series I'm doing for them on tumblr is proof. I am soooo normal.)
—Another theory I love, and that I have somewhat brandished into my own spin, is that Freed is half demon. He sees this as an awful thing, raised by his human parent (mother, in my case), without any real context for demon culture other than the fear of it, so that's why he's super edgy and has locked all of his demon traits away into a single form he swear never to uses unless things are ~Dire~ or whatnot. It's really not that bad though lol.
—The fact that Erik will Know Freed's secrets bother him immensely. Freed is, unfortunately, *just* a smidge too dense to realize that Bickslow has also known all along, just because Bickslow is strangely very good at keeping things to himself, whereas Erik's magic is more obvious. In my au, Laxus knows too, and is literally just waiting for Freed to admit it, because it's not that big of a deal, really.
—Laxus is also the only one who (at first) knows about Bickslow's past, among the team. Mostly because of some variant of Laxus having seen/met him when it was all raw. Depending on the au flavor, this either is what gives the chaotic dude and the stoic dude a sort of mutual respect (closer to canon) or makes them the og best friends (htryds style). In the latter case, they are each other's impulse control and/or voice of reason, which is probably unfortunate because they're not great at it. This is why Bickslow has doodled drawings on half of Laxus's furniture and why Laxus gets away with avoiding his problems a little longer than he should.
—Freed is simultaneously the most responsible and the most edgy and ergo reckless of the crew. Everyone agrees he's got to value his safety just a little bit more. He's also the only one who consistently remembers the schedule/to-do-list.
—Erik shares the "living itinerary, doesn't have executive disfunction problems" braincell with Freed, and in the right conditions, they work very well together. Bonding over the experience of herding cats, that is their teammates.
—Not a headcanon but I want to whack all of them with sticks. The Sad Boi Stick, the Whump Stick... All flavors. Getting the ones who never fess up to their trauma a good thwack makes the trauma spill out, and I enjoy the possibilities that entails. Put them in Situations. >:D
—I do also appreciate them being silly-goofy, too, of course. No need to be angry all of the time, in some of their cases. (They all need affection so bad. The hurt/comfort allure of it all. Just sit down and admit they need it, etc etc.) Something that is conveniently done after a good physical and emotional thwacking— *gets dragged away forcefully*
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Heyo, Lady Oscar! I'm excited to see what you have to share! I'll do a separate ask for each character (six in total), to keep things simple.
So for this first ask... well, I have to start with Kuvira, of course~
Okay! Let’s do the thing starting with my main girl, Kuvira. *cracks knuckles*
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1. Sexuality headcanon 
I've been headcanoning Kuvira as bisexual since I began writing fanfics about her. I personally don't see Baatar Jr. as a beard in their relationship because she seemed to sincerely care about him in canon (until she didn't, lol!) I also don't buy the comphet argument because IMHO, it doesn't fit her personality. I think she's demiromantic, and specifically with Asami and Baatar Jr. I can see her as sapiosexual. She surrounded herself with three intelligent people in the likes of Baatar Jr, Varrick and Zhu Li (and a token himbo, Bolin) on her inner circle so I believe she has a thing for intelligence. Fandom usually headcanons her as a top or dom but I see her more of a switch, especially with Asami and Korra, and between them it's pretty much an endless battle for dominance in the bedroom. 😏
I also lowkey ship her with Mako who I also headcanon as bi so it’s a Bi4Bi scenario, and in this case she’s more of a top because I do agree with the headcanon that Mako is more of a bottom. Fun fact: her voice actress Zelda Williams is bi, as it is Janet Varney, Korra’s VA.  
2. OTP
Oooh, this is a tough one because although OTP stands for “One True Pairing” I ship her pretty much equally with both Asami and Korra. With Korra, I indulge in the angsty, dramatic side of things. They have so many parallels that are ingrained in canon that it makes for an interesting exercise to explore the ways they resemble each other and in the ways their differences serve to complement and balance each other. It’s basically a lot of “the sunshine who can kill you and the badass who can kill you” relationship meme with these two. 🤣
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With Asami I play on “what if” canon divergence scenarios which make for more lighthearted and flirty situations. They make for such an amazing power couple that is just too darned good. Plus their sexual chemistry is off the roof, a “can’t keep their hands off each other” kind of chemistry that's way too much fun. 😉
3. BROTP
Although he's the romantic interest in canon, I headcanon Junior as more of a second in command/partner in crime than as significant other material and they’re very much BROTP in my stories. Jinora is my other candidate as BROTP for Kuvira in a Republic City setting because Kuvira is a jock/dancer/soldier who is also cunning, smart, and well versed in strategy,  so I can see her bonding with Jinora over books and history. And of course, my beloved Lin Beifong and Kuvira would bond by swapping stories and gossip about Suyin, and boy I bet they both have a lot to talk about Su. I think they would realize they have more in common than they think since they’re both the type to bottle up their emotions and to put their work before everything else, and they both wanted to impress their maternal figures. Lin would be an excellent mentor and friend for Kuvira, since Lin won't take crap from anyone so shr would keep Kuvira in the straight and narrow with her no nonsense attitude.
4. NOTP
I basically don’t ship her with any of the Beifongs but the big NOTP for me is Suyin. I just can’t shake the mentor/protege relationship off my mind to see them even remotely romantic. From an objective standpoint, I can see the appeal with all their drama but it's a big nope for me.
5. First headcanon that pops into my head?
She’s a sleepwalker. Her childhood trauma manifested in sleepwalking which was pretty severe during her first years with the Beifongs but she grew out if it gradually as she grew up. Following the events of Book 4 and Ruins of the Empire which ends with her in house arrest, her sleepwalking came back but not as bad as when she was a child, which it’s fortunate because I can’t imagine the mess she would leave behind while bending in her sleep. 😱
6: favorite line from this character 
"I owe the Avatar my life. Her power is beyond anything I could ever hope to achieve. I'll accept  whatever punishment the world sees fit”. 
This is from The Last Stand. Although the entire scene with Korra and Kuvira in the Spirit World is amazing since we get to witness Kuvira’s emotional breakdown, it's in her surrender that we see what we can consider the beginning of her path toward redemption, meaning that her story is not over yet. 
7. One way in which I relate to this character 
We're both familiarized with military service and the concept of discipline and service to the nation since I also served. I also relate in the need to prove ourselves, something that is evident in the way she ends up emulating her mentor Suyin and in having strained relationships with siblings, like the one she had with Opal. Come to think of it, having strained relationships with siblings seems like a very Beifong thing to do. 🤔
8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character
The whole having her foster brother end up as her fiancee thing is kinda weird so I totally get Opal when she was all weirded out with the news of their engagement.
9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?
Both! 🤣
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yuukei-yikes · 11 months
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you are so right about takane and kano being besties. they are late night gossip buddies!!!!!! any contradicting canon can rip that from my cold dead hands
they would 100% goofingly share the worst hot takes with each other as some kinda game. or like. point at something random and be like "i need your strongest opinion on this right now." just…. the friendship vibe that i can only succinctly sum up as "late night gossip buddies"
and personally i feel like post-str takane would probably be the person kano would be most comfortable with confiding in because she's just the right ratio of outsider-to-insider. i mean yobanashi deceive is basically just kano traumadumping to ene right lol
LIKE FOR REAL!!!! EXACTLY!!!! SRRY IN MY LAST ASK I ALREADY WENT OVER KANO&TAKANE PARALLELS BUT MAN THEYRE EVERYTHING TO ME THEY ARE BEST FRIENDS!!!! chaos duo for real.
kano making all these parallels. knowing takane is just like him fr because she's also playing a role, she's got the same kind of twisted personality, how out of all people he chooses HER to open up to for the first time, says he's not looking to make her dislike him, says he's jealous of her ability to doubt people & her sense of self, also in the novel route THEY DIE TOGETHER....
he sees himself in her and how he'd like to be. like theyre so so SO similar. like him she is playing a role yet takane manages to know who she is and what she wants or likes or hates. like him she's also someone who's lost their most precious person yet manages to move forward and keep going without resenting anyone and in fact going out of her way to help someone else. kano is so insanely jealous of it all💗
sorry. i will go insane about takane AGAIN i literally just did in the other ask but teehee MORE
takane's resilience, determination and will to live and help and love and forgive despite everything always gets me. she's so warm and loving *punches wall* its why i love her so much and also why i hate second manga route so much. takane would never kill herself. shoves this in ur face
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like that's why takane gets opening eyes in the first place!!!!! opening eyes was the ability that was allowing azami to appear before others inside the daze and once she gives it to takane, azami is at the brink of disappearance (holds head remembering azami keeps giving out her snakes as a way to save as much people as possible even if it means dying BUT THATS NOT WHAT WERE TALKING ABOUT) but this translates into takane as well. like even if she is dead she wants to be out here. she will make a place for herself. takane has the will to live, and will always make it out of anywhere as long as she's got herself, even if she's alone. she literally projects herself into existence even when dead thats how damn stubborn she is. determined to tell haruka her feelings as SOON as she realises them without thinking of what that means for their relationship because that's just not her priority, her priority is to let him know in the first place. AUUUGGHH. TAKANE BEST CHARACTER EVER I LOVE U TAKANE also why harutaka is so awesome because it's cute that out of everyone its TAKANE with all these characteristics who gets the love story arc and then actually manages to have a happy ending with someone as loving and caring as haruka!!! and it goes both ways!! except im not talking abt haruka so!!! sniff sniff... str harutaka... (holds head)
erm. yeah. anyways. sorry for going crazy again. i just love takane💗 LITERALLY I JUSY MAKE EVERYTHING ABT HARUTAKA SORRY OK RIGHT KANOBACK TO KANO
i think kano is the kind to notice all these things and be like Man. wtf. but like i said!!! i hate the antagonistic light of it. i know kano's an ass and thats sorta the point, but isn't he like. like the shit he does to takane and the way he talks of her from his pov grazes the unlikable. because we all love piece of shit morally gray characters like kano like i LOVE kano, he's such an interesting character and i love all the nuance u need when consuming kagepro and seeing everything he does but shit likethe way he acts with takane goes a little over the line to me bc it has no real basis other than angry at takane by proxy to shintaro and/or the jealousy (but then again its not like the jealousy is made into such a big deal in the first place and its just a passing comment) like it just seems unfair and uncalled for. like he's REALLY taking it out on her and then played as a joke.
SO TO ME. KANO HELPING TAKANE WITH HER BODY MEANS A LOT. he can go cry outside LATER. to me that is his way of apologizing too. in his little twisted way!!! like not only is here ur body but i will hold you and dry you and get you clothes and some food and water. takane allowing someone to pick her up and see her when vulnerable and kano helping someone his sister adored it just rewires my brain. theyre both silent thru it all but make it through. AUUUGGHHHH IT WOULDVE BEEN SO GOOOOD
AND YEAH EVERYTHING U SAID 10000%% takane being the perfect ratio outsider to insider is SUCH A PERFECT WAY TO PUT IT AUUGGHH also gossip buddies prank masterminds BEST. FRIENDS. FOREVER. for real!!!!
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bul-bor · 2 years
Text
hws baltic headcanons
i have been home from school for two weeks and im already mind-numbingly bored
here are head-canons for the baltics bc they’re the best, also gonna add what ages i think they are physically bc the ones they have are Not Correct
As a trio...
they go on a baltic tour every couple years! they take like... 5-6 weeks off of work to travel their countries together and appreciate each other’s cultures :D they always start in Lithuania and go north from there
Raivis can’t drink in public due to how he looks physically, so he ends up DD’ing a lot of the time
eduard has transitional frames and gets laughed at every time for them
eduard and raivis can certainly TRY and get tolys to play video games with them, but he can only learn one console at a time (”I brought my ‘Whee’ remote for games!” “Tolys, it’s on your phone.”)
When they live together/vacation together, Tolys is very much the “it’s 6:30, let’s get our day going!!” (when he’s having a good day)
eduard is only on 4 hours of sleep by 6:30
raivis doesn’t move from his bed until 11:30 AM MINIMUM
in world meetings they’ll pass notes to each other and do hypotheticals and bets to pass the time
3 v. 1 who do you think we can take in a fight RIGHT now? -E
lunch says that the meeting ends early for the world cup qualifying match -r
Be honest- Do you two think that aliens are actually real?? No wrong answers :) -T
Lithuania/Tolys (26)
he’s not a pushover!! i think, if anything, he’s conflict-avoidant, but he picks his battles
along with this, he’s gotten A LOT more vocal with how he feels. Not necessarily to an Alfred or Ludwig level, but he does find himself raising his hand 3 or 4 times during meetings
i! think he plays the guitar :) is he good at it? different question
no
but his singing is not the worst, so it kind of makes up for it
big dogs or bust
he def gets a dog, in part to stay active and to get out of the house at least once a day
journals on the regular and is learning to establish boundaries with others
i think he’s pretty goofy and mischievous behind closed doors >:)
doesn’t drink coffee anymore
UNDER THE RIGHT CIRCUMSTANCES*, loves arm wrestling because he wins 80% of the time and almost everyone is surprised by it
*has ingested enough alcohol to not be shy about it
Estonia/Eduard (23)
knows he’s the most musically inclined between the three of them, isn’t humble about it in the slightest
GOSSIPER- you’ll be like “nobody can know this” and eduard will be like “nobody = tolys and raivis”
raivis and tolys won’t tell anyone for sure tho
likes to bring the Nordics and the Baltics together for small parties
this group dynamic works surprisingly well!
one time, tolys brought along feliks and throwing feliks into the mix somehow off-sets this balance so bad
super grouchy without 8 hours of sleep
coffee drinker ONLY on days when he needs it
developed a dependence for a little bit, then never forgot the migraine he had when he missed his morning cup
loves other people’s animals, doesn’t necessarily want his own
he likes anything to do with water- boating? bet. fishing? bait. oh we’re swimming? he has trunks on underneath his slacks
the con to this is that he burns the easiest out of the three
Latvia/Raivis (16 (but he has a baby face))
i think he’s HILARIOUS online, but cannot land a punchline in person to save his life
cat person for sure
now that he lives alone, he had to adapt a new routine to turn all the lights off in his house without absolutely sobbing
tolys ALSO has this problem, so they end up on the phone with each other anxiously warbling while they run around their separate houses
saw someone else say this, cannot remember who, but every time, without fail, raivis falls asleep on the train
it was thru one of eduard’s get togethers that he got his little gig babysitting sealand
REALLY wants all the younger appearing nations to all hang out, but is much to shy to initiate it
accident prone as hell, if he can avoid complicated cooking he will
BUT, if someone’s with him, he his all for utilizing his entire kitchen for a single meal
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