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love-kurdt · 2 months

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Now That We Don't Talk (byler): 1

word count: 13,034

warnings for this chapter: mild sexual content, a few homophobic slurs

When I first moved to California, it had taken me two whole months to fully unpack my boxes. And it wasn’t really a mystery as to why; I had no desire to be there. Yes, I’ll admit that I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hawkins, either, considering the events of the past few years, but when it all came down to the nitty-gritty, Hawkins was the lesser of two evils. Because Hawkins had Mike, and Lenora was… well, Mike-less. I’d never really thought about my life without Mike in it up until then, because I didn’t think I’d ever have to. But then I did have to. And it was an awful feeling.

We’d driven away from the old house, and I watched as Mike became smaller and smaller, until he was merely a stick figure in the passenger side mirror. I’d blinked my tears away and turned my gaze to the road ahead, trying to focus on the lyrics of whatever song by the Smiths that Jon was playing, but it was impossible to take my mind off of my new reality. As cliché as this sounds, I felt a piece of my heart break that day. And from the look on Mike’s face as he stood idly by, bike leaning against his hip, he was hurting just as much as I was. He’d looked lost, confused, and hurt. I could totally relate.

When we’d arrived in our new house, I’d had mixed feelings about it at first, because that’s what usually happens when you arrive in an unfamiliar environment, but then those feelings pretty much dissipated within a day. The house was bigger, for one, which was nice in a way. It had two floors, and had enough rooms in it so that El, Jon, and I didn’t have to bunk up like we’d been doing up until the move. It was in a bigger town than Hawkins was, so not everybody knew each other’s business. Which was great, considering that the Zombie Boy name hadn’t been able to tag along for the ride.

It was a lot warmer than it had been in Hawkins, and I’d grown to hate the cold over the past few years, so that was a welcome change. It was a welcome change for everyone, I think. We’d taken time during our first week in our new home to just sit together on the deck, basking in the sunshine. We learned quickly that sunscreen was a must in California, even when it wasn’t scorching hot. I’d burnt my nose on more than one occasion, and El proceeded to call me Rudolph at every possible opportunity.

El’s addition to the family was another perk of moving. El and Mom had been able to bond really well, albeit over the loss of Hopper, but also because Mom finally had a daughter. El and Jon got along well, too, which was nice. And I was cool with her. She never did anything wrong to me… besides dating Mike, of course, but that was completely out of my control. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d ever want to be with me in that way. He’d set that in stone over that one summer when he told me, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Not even half an hour after our fight in the rain, Mike and Lucas had biked over to my house to apologize. Of course, my demolition of Castle Byers and the return of the Mind Flayer had me kind of preoccupied at that point, so nothing officially happened to resolve that situation. It was the Subject Change of the Century; we got so wrapped up in the Upside Down stuff that Mike and I put it off, then put it off some more, and then swept it under the rug altogether.

Nothing was the same after that night… at least, not on my end. What Mike said to me kind of changed my life. I’d become so dependent upon his overwhelming presence near me all the time that I kind of lost sight of myself and my own identity. In my mind, I wasn’t Will; I was Mike’s-Friend-Will. I felt worthless without him, and was always so quick to forgive him out of fear of losing him that I’d inadvertently become Passive with a capital P. And I didn’t want to be that way anymore. So I created a strictly platonic boundary between us, one that allowed the tension to dissipate, and to give myself space to grieve the idea of Mike I’d created; the one who loved me back. And then… we were back to best friends again. Just in time for me to move. At least Mike and I would still be able to talk over the phone.

I could not have been more wrong. Mike did not make a single call for the entire seven months that we were in Lenora. He didn’t send a single letter, either. Well, at least not to me. El was in correspondence with him literally every week, practically skipping into the house after trips to the mailbox with letters upon letters in her hands, beaming with excitement. I hate to admit it, but it got really annoying after a while. Then, she’d started building a shoebox shrine to him, and I was just like, what’s so special about him? He’s just Mike. But then I realized that if I were in her shoes, I’d be doing the exact same thing. Because he was Just Mike, and that was why I loved him.

After watching this go on for a few months, I kind of fell into a depression, and El was too busy swooning over all the “From, Mike”s to notice that I was falling apart. I had resigned from the idea of reaching out to Mike, because he hadn’t made any kind of effort to reach out to me. That was when I decided to finally start unpacking my boxes. Unpacking meant that the move became real. Unpacking meant that it was permanent. Unpacking meant that I’d have to officially start my new life, at a new school— high school— without Mike in it.

Each box represented a call and letter El received. My clothes were put on hangers in the closet, and my art supplies finally found a place next to my bedroom window. And all of Mike’s writing was shoved away into the darkest depths of my lowest desk drawer, never to see the light of day again. Yeah, I was being petty, but I was angry. I deserved to be angry, damnit. I was angry at Mike for abandoning me, and I was angry at myself for being delusional enough to believe Mike cared that much about our friendship.

But then, I started the painting. The Painting. I’d sworn to myself that I would stop making art that revolved around Mike. He would no longer be my muse. I’d started off the piece as a typical landscape, but I added the Thessalhydra, and then I added myself, Lucas, Dustin, and… Mike, at the front, leading the Party to victory. Screw it, I had thought to myself, everyone else is in the painting, it’d be weird not to include Mike. When I painted the red heart on his shield as a finishing touch, it hit me like a truck that I’d created one of my best paintings to date with Mike in my subconscious thoughts the whole time. He was inescapable. There was no use in ripping myself up over what I couldn’t control, so I figured I’d just give him the painting during Spring Break.

Spring Break happened, and boy (man, really; the boyish look had almost completely faded away), Mike had changed, in more ways than one. He’d shown up the airport gate nearly half a foot taller, with sharper cheekbones, longer hair, and a deeper voice, wearing the dumbest looking outfit I’d ever seen. I was so happy to see him. He hadn’t been as excited as I was, considering the timid clap on the shoulder I’d been given while I’d gone in expecting one of his amazing, tight hugs. He’d always given the best hugs. Not anymore, I’d supposed. So I tucked my rolled up painting back under my arm and took a step back, letting El and Mike have their time together as a couple. I admired him from afar, but that was all I ever did.

Mike had changed, in more ways than one; he’d gotten so much more attractive… but he’d also turned into a total asshole. I finally confronted him about his standoffish behavior at Rink-o-Mania, and he’d placed all the blame on me, not once taking responsibility for essentially forgetting that I existed, and on my birthday, no less. When I asked why El got so many letters while I got absolutely nothing, he replied that it was because she was his girlfriend. Which, yeah, obviously. But when I followed up with, “...And us?” Mike had snapped, “We’re friends. We’re. Friends.” As the two of us laid in my bed that night, it set in that Mike had taken my question in a romantic context. That made my heart flutter a little bit, but I shut myself down immediately, because I was not going down that road again.

My mood hadn’t shifted much when we’d initially arrived back in Hawkins, following the worst road trip I had ever had the displeasure of going on. I’d been trapped in a weed-infused van, sitting inches away from a wordless Mike. I’d given the painting to Mike and lied about its origins just to boost his ego. And worst of all, I endured an Emotional Michael Monologue in which he told El that he loved her multiple times. When we got out of the van, I had taken the biggest sigh of relief, because thank God the suffering was over. Oh wait, no, scratch that, because the suffering had only just begun; Vecna was the “Him,” I’d been feeling all those years, and “He,” was destroying Hawkins as we spoke.

About a month into the Vecnapocalypse (Dustin had been the one to coin that term, and I’d doubled over laughing during a very important group meeting when he’d first used it), Mike had told me that he’d finally broken up with El. I was secretly elated; the mope-fest was finally over. But when Mike revealed the reason why they’d broken up, which was the very painting that I had used as a device to try and clear the air between Mike and my sister, my back-breaking efforts seemed to be all for nothing. We had a little argument-turned-heart-to-heart about it, but we hugged it out in the end like best friends do. And things were fine. We were a team again, and that’s what mattered most.

The dynamic between Mike and I changed, though, throughout the course of the Vecnapocalypse. And I wasn’t complaining. We’d gone from being virtually radio silent to… whatever the situation was. We’d flirt, hold hands, listen to each other’s mixtapes, and partnered up together during missions. This continued on for a while until one particular moment in the Upside Down, when Mike had leaned in a bit too close, almost as if we were about to… no way. I was beyond tempted to lean in as well, caving into the deepest desire I’d ever had in my life: kissing Michael James Wheeler square on the mouth. And I almost did. However, in typical Mike fashion, ever the dramatic, he’d jumped backwards, stumbled outside, tripped over a gigantic vine, and triggered a bunch of Demobats to swarm the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house. After that shit show, I couldn’t help but be a little bit bitter towards Mike. That side-battle could have cost us everything. Vecna could have won. And on top of all that, I was tired of being led on by Mike and all of his contradictions, so I kept Mike at a physical distance from there on out. We never brought up the Almost-Kiss ever again.

Things got even stranger a few years later. On one particularly gross day in August of 1989, I’d dropped by the Wheelers’ to ask Mike if he wanted to watch a movie later that night. I headed up to his room, and the door was slightly ajar, so I lightly knocked. No response. He probably had his headphones on or something. I walked in, but he was nowhere to be seen. His notebook was lying open on his desk beside a pile of multiple ripped-out pages, with one of his signature blue LePens sitting on top of the page, the cap cast to the side. Mike had a bad habit of accidentally letting his overly-expensive pens dry out, so I figured I’d do him a favor and put it back on and save him the trouble. I took a few steps over to his desk and reached for the pen, but immediately paused in my tracks when I noticed the first two words he’d written on top of the page.

Dear Will,

I shouldn’t have read any further, because I wasn’t sure if it was Mike’s intention for me to even see it, but it was too late to go back. My eyes involuntarily scanned the page, widening more and more with every sentence.

Dear Will, When I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Poetic, I know. It kind of came out of nowhere. You know I’m not much of a poetry kind of guy, I’m more of a storyteller, but the thought came to me in a dream I had about you, and I just had to write it down in one of these letters.

Hold up, I thought. What the hell? He… had a dream about me? Why would he have a dream about… Why me? What letters? What was he talking ab— My eyes hesitantly drifted to the pile of papers beside the notebook. I gulped, my suspicions confirmed.

You’re asleep in my bed, and I’m hunched over my desk, writing this letter because I am freaking the fuck out. And not because I almost ruined our chance to defeat Vecna. Well, that too, sorry about that. But the primary reason for my current freak out session is because we almost kissed. And that’s weird.

I flipped to the next one.

Something is wrong with me. I swear to God, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I keep staring at you for longer than I should. And I can’t look away. I haven’t been able to since the Almost Kiss™. You’ve caught me looking these past few times and I feel myself burning up like a match every time. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you, Will Byers, are my flame.

And the next one.

I’ve kind of gotten used to sleeping in the same bed as you, subconsciously cuddling through the night, and waking up tangled together. Your face is so relaxed right now, and you hum contentedly to yourself every few minutes. It’s so fucking cute. I’m glad you’re not having as many nightmares anymore. Or, at least you’re having slightly better dreams. I should go to bed soon. I don’t want you to catch me writing. But yeah. You’re adorable. And I really like you.

And the next one.

I was so caught off guard by the fact that you called me cute that I couldn’t get any words out. You turned around quickly to get your bike and hopped on, giving me a small wave as you left my driveway. And it hit me then: I love you. I am in love with you. Unabashedly, wholeheartedly, head over my fucking heels in love with you. And believe me, this has been a long time coming, and not just because you complimented me. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I just didn’t know what it was.

And the next one.

Why does loving you feel so wrong, yet so right? It seems like for every thought I have about you, another comes to bite me in the ass. I wish I could just think about you in peace without all of the shame. But at the same time, I know it isn’t normal for me to like you, to love you, to want you. I’m usually able to stop my mind from wandering into that territory, but there’s something about you that is making it more and more difficult for me to resist those thoughts from entering my head. I think the main culprit is your shoulders. Yes, I said it. I am attracted to your shoulders. Specifically when you wear your polo shirts that are a size or two too small and hug your upper body a little too tightly. Or when you steal my leather jacket and shove it on, and it accentuates your arms, rather than making them disappear like it does to mine. You’re so attractive, it’s actually crazy. I think my brain needs to catch up to my heart. Because my heart is thriving, but my brain is a killjoy.

Another.

I turned to my dad with a wild look in my eyes (probably), and said some shit like, “Yeah, me and my boyfriend, Will Byers, had such a great time last night! We stared longingly into each others’ eyes for hours, then we cuddled, then we kissed, and then we got each other off! It was so hot, Dad. Truly. I wish you could’ve seen–” … I know what I said was a lot. I mean, it was pretty vulgar. Plus, it's never actually happened, and it never will happen. So I'm sorry about that.

Another.

I found this set of dice, though, and they were just… so you. They were a deep, translucent purple with gold stars painted around each number, all of which were also gold. They reminded me of your Will the Wise costume. I know you haven’t worn it in a long time, and that’s probably my fault. I think the last time you wore it was the day we had that fight in the garage, when I told you it wasn’t my fault you didn’t like girls. And the sick, twisted irony of that is, in reality, I’m the one out of the both of us who doesn’t like girls.

Another. Another. Another.

I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and

But then, your very short swim trunks clung to your thighs, and eventually, I was able to see the full outline of your dick. Like, the whole thing. Those shorts do not leave anything to the imagination. And, imagine I did. I began to fantasize about the most lewd things: getting you off with my hand, sucking you until you came down my throat, using those thick thighs to grind myself down onto, groping your perfect ass as you flip me over onto my back, feeling the sensation of our dicks rubbing together through our clothes, feeling you on me, inside of me. That last mental image snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized I was rock hard in my own swim trunks.

We fell asleep, together, on the couch last night, cuddling like we had during the time that you lived with me, and I felt something similar to homesickness. Nostalgia. When we woke up, I was resting my head on your chest, and I shifted my eyes upwards to look at your lips, which were slightly parted by the soundest of sleeps. I wanted to kiss you. I really, really wanted to kiss you, Will. And I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.

I continued shuffling through the letters, counting twenty five. Plus the one in the notebook, which made a grand total of twenty six. I could barely believe what I was seeing. This had to be a kind of creative writing exercise or something. Or maybe he’d met another person named Will and… fallen deeply in love with them? Or maybe it was a cruel joke Mike was playing on me, because he’d decided that writing love letters would be a good prank to pull on his gay best friend. He had no right to do this to me. No fucking right. I ripped the last letter out of the notebook, gathered the rest of them between my sweaty hands, and headed down the two flights of stairs leading to the basement.

When I’d attempted to confront Mike about the letters, I was pinned against the wall and kissed as if it were something I should have been expecting that entire time. There was no way I could have fathomed that this was how my time in Hawkins was going to close out. I’d been looking forward to the point in my life where everything could just be normal for once; I’d been on a decent roll for the past two years. But Mike just had to go and drop the bomb on me that he wanted the two of us to spend the rest of our lives together, and that threw me for a goddamn loop, because in what world– in what universe– was Mike Wheeler loving me, Will Byers, even remotely viable? Had the Upside Down come back again? Was I trapped in a nightmarish torture chamber, with Mike as the subject of said nightmare?

I would believe it, honestly; when I mentally added up the Vecnapocalypse period of our relationship (including the Almost-Kiss), the endless mixed signals afterwards, senior prom, the letters, and the probability that Mike would have just let me leave town without admitting his stupid, dumb, impossible feelings or letting me know about all of those love letters he’d written over the past few years, it made sense. And that kiss, if he’d really meant it, made Mike’s stance on our relationship crystal fucking clear, leaving me feeling breathless and blindsided. By the time I escaped the Wheeler house that humid August evening with tears following the semi-permanent track marks that stained my face due to crying for literal years back to back, I knew for sure and certain that I couldn’t spend one more week in Hawkins, Indiana. I was done.

I had been pretty damn quick about escaping Hawkins to begin with, but the urgency to get away from Mike only accelerated my timeline. I spent the rest of the summer avoiding Mike at all costs; I’d been working at Melvald’s with my mom all summer, but started picking up extra hours under the guise of wanting to save as much money as I could for my new car– which I’d already had more than enough money for, but still. Time spent at work was time spent away from Mike. And a couple extra paychecks couldn’t hurt. Mom certainly didn’t complain; she loved having me around, and savored every moment she could with her Baby Boy before I moved to the Windy City.

I realized, as I sat on my mattress amongst heaps of boxes scattered across the floor of my dorm at the American Academy of Art, that anger seemed to fuel my unpacking process. It ignited the flame of desire for transition and change in my life. And oh, after the summer I’d just had, did I desperately need a change. This particular change, I decided, would be good for me. I was out of Hawkins, at my dream school, about to begin studying the subject that I loved most in the entire world, and Michael Wheeler wasn’t around anymore to throw me off. I grabbed a marker out of my pencil case and marked off the date on my calendar: Sunday, August 20th, 1989. This was going to be a good, drama-less, normal year. I could feel it.

“That’s everything, huh?” I turned to look towards the doorway, where my mom stood with misty eyes. She took a few steps inside, letting the door close, and I hopped off my bed and wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah, this is it,” I said, my voice shaking a little bit with overwhelming emotion. It was bittersweet. Yes, I hated Hawkins, and was grateful to have finally escaped, but I also hated the idea of leaving my mom back in Indiana. She’d brushed my concern off, saying she wouldn’t be alone, because my stepdad would be there with her. I didn’t even like referring to Hopper as my stepdad. I’d accidentally called Hopper “Dad,” over dinner a year ago, and after an emotional encounter where James Hopper, the Hawkins Chief of Police, shed actual tears, the name kind of stuck. Hopper couldn’t make the trip up to Chicago with Mom, as he needed to help El move into her dorm at Vanderbilt University.

Mom pulled back to smile up at me. “You are going to do, and are already doing, great things in this world, Will. You deserve every opportunity you’ve been given, and more. I am so proud to be your mom.” I felt tears pricking my eyes. I’d miss my mom the most.

“I love you,” I replied, hugging her once more in order to avoid an emotional breakdown. I’d gotten close to having one at least five times throughout the day, but never did. I saw the door open out of my peripheral vision, and I lifted my head to see a guy step into the room. His hair was shaved down to a buzzcut, and a copious amount of freckles splayed themselves across his face. He casually strode right past me, without even acknowledging my existence, before tossing his duffel bag onto his bed and unzipping it. Only now did I notice the near-complete setup on the other side of the room; he’d apparently been here for a while.

I decided to talk first and introduce myself, because this guy clearly wasn’t willing to make any effort. I wanted to make a good impression, even if Buzzcut Dude didn’t.

“Hey, uh, I’m Will. Byers.”

“Aaron Heathrow,” Buzzcut Dude– Aaron– replied, turning towards me. We gained eye contact for the first time, and Aaron’s eyebrows curved into backwards S’s on his forehead. He looked me up and down and scoffed, returning to his unpacking without another word. Well. This was going to be an awkward arrangement, that was for sure.

“Honey, let’s go check out the common area!” Mom broke the silence, and I couldn’t help but glare back at her. I wanted to deal with this on my own. I loved my mom with my entire heart and would literally die for her, but this was not my idea of a fresh start. Mom gave me a knowing look and I, knowing my mother’s stubborn nature all too well, followed her out the door and down the hallway. She led us toward the armchairs in the common area and gestured for me to sit down next to her. I knew where this was going, but I obliged anyway.

“Are you sure–”

“Mom, oh my God, I’m fine–”

“He just seemed very–”

“Yeah, okay, he was rude,” I kept my voice low at the risk of people overhearing, but keeping my tone firm. “But not everyone in this world is kind. I, of all people, should know that.” I watched as my mom’s features fell from their usual anxiety-riddled state and into more of an empathetic sadness.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she murmured, and for a second, I felt badly for snapping. I shook off that shame, because as unfortunate as this situation was, I knew in my gut that I was right; the world didn’t owe kindness to me. But I also knew I didn’t owe kindness to the world, either. It had taken enough from me already.

“I just want to stick this out for a little bit before jumping to conclusions,” I said, and my mom went to talk, but I continued on before she could. “I’ll switch rooms if anything does happen, I promise.” I took my mom’s hands in my own in an attempt to put her mind at ease, which would not be an easy feat, but I could at least try.

Apparently it worked, because the next thing she said to me caught me off guard: “Okay, sweetie. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Who was this woman, and what did she do with Joyce Byers-Hopper? Hell if I knew.

“No, it’s fine,” I assured her, “I just… I want to start making my own decisions and being more independent and stuff. And I want you to know that I’ll be okay.” I placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder, knowing that this transition would be incredibly difficult for her to process. After everything that had happened with the Upside Down, I had been shocked when my mom was so encouraging regarding my pursuit of art school. I’d assumed that she would want me to stay as close to Hawkins as possible. But in the end, she had been the one to slide the American Academy of Art pamphlet across the table.

“I know you will,” Mom smiled up at me, reaching up to pat my cheek. I leaned into the affection, knowing that this would probably be my last time seeing my mom until Thanksgiving. She raised her left wrist up to her face and squinted at her watch. “I should start heading home, before it gets dark. I love you, my sweet boy.”

I couldn’t help but pull Mom in for one last hug, feeling the emotion creep back into my voice as I told my mom that I loved her so much and to call me when she got home so I’d know she was safe and sound. I walked her out of the main lobby, waving as she headed back to the visitor parking lot. When she pulled away, I turned on my heel and headed back up to my dorm room. My dorm room. Holy shit. I was in college. What even was life?

I opened the door to my room and saw Aaron laying on his bed, his basketball short-clad legs spread obnoxiously far apart in front of him as he read what looked like a book about the Reign of Ronald Reagan. Lovely. I diverted my eyes before he could catch me staring, and focused on the pile of boxes I had yet to unpack. I picked one up, set it down on the edge of my bed, and unfolded the pre-bent corners on the top to reveal my extensive sweater collection. Perfect.

I pulled out the blue sweatshirt on top, letting it fall into its full form in my hands. Oh, god. This was Mike’s sweatshirt, the one I’d stolen from him last winter. I laid it out on the mattress and reached in for the next sweater, but there weren’t any more. I peered inside the box to see the dice… that Mike had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the picture frame… that held a photo Jonathan had taken last year when Mike had the genius idea to hop his six foot three self up onto my handlebars, and the binder… that held all of Mike’s letters that he’d written to me. I’d kept everything in a shoebox under my bed back home, and I had no recollection of packing them. How did they end up making it to Chicago with me? No matter how it happened, it had, and I was stuck with all these memories of Mike. I would never throw them out, because that would most definitely keep me up at night. And I didn’t want to hide them away, because despite the sadness I felt when I looked at them, they were also accompanied by a strange sense of appreciation for what Mike and I did have: thirteen years of friendship. That’s still something, right?

I shrugged the sweatshirt on. I’m wearing it because it’s comfortable, I tried to justify myself to myself, not for any other reason. Now that that was settled, I was determined to unpack something that would make my room feel like my own. I set the dice and the picture frame on my desk and reached over to the rolled-up posters that sat on top of all my bags. I removed the tape from the edges of one of them and unrolled it to reveal the album cover of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John. I smiled to myself and grabbed a few thumbtacks from my box labeled “School Supplies,” before standing on top of my mattress and hanging the poster on the wall. Once I was satisfied with its placement (five attempts and three concerningly lost thumbtacks later), I got off of my mattress and took a step back to admire my work, putting my hands on my hips.

“Elton John?” I heard a voice ask from behind me, and I turned around to face Aaron, whose facial expression had settled into what looked like disgust. I’d forgotten he was even there. “Jeez, man, if I knew I’d be dorming with a fag this year, I’d’ve brought my gun.” I knew it. I knew he was a homophobe, I knew it from the second he’d looked me up and down when I’d introduced myself earlier. Maybe my mom was–

“Better to shoot you with, my dear,” I replied coolly, before snapping my mouth shut and widening my eyes at the realization that I was the one who had just said that. I’d never been good at comebacks; that was more of Mike’s specialty. In high school, I was the one stuttering out the lamest retorts of all time while Mike verbally kicked our bullies’ asses right back at record speed. I envied his lack of filter sometimes.

“What did you just say?” Aaron narrowed his eyes and moved to get off his bed and meet me in the middle of our room, so we stood face to face. I could feel his breath on my face, and it smelled like stale sour cream and onion chips, but I stood my ground.

“I said,” I lowered my voice, moving closer into Aaron’s space, “I’m a pretty damn good shot, so you’d best leave me alone.” He took a few steps away from me and put his hands up in surrender. Good. When I promised to myself that things were going to be different, I meant it. I was not going to take any shit from this guy, or anyone else for that matter. Not anymore.

“Where was I?” I asked myself, flipping right back into the good mood I’d been in before. I picked up the next one and hummed to myself before hanging up my poster of The Cure’s Boys Don’t Cry.

This campus was so confusing. I had to stop and turn around on the sidewalk at least three times before I found the Convocation Hall, where I was due… right now for orientation. I pulled the unnecessarily heavy door open with all the strength I had, which was not much, but I managed to make it through and reach the sign in table for last names A-E.

“Hi! Welcome to freshman orientation!” the girl seated at the table smiled at me, and I noticed little white stars drawn in the corners of her eyes. “Can I have your last name, please?”

“Sure, it’s Byers,” I replied, “B-Y-E-R-S.”

“William okay? For your name tag.”

“Just Will’s fine.”

“Alright,” she nodded, handing me one of those cheesy Hello My Name Is stickers. “So you’re gonna be over in circle seven, head on over there and take a seat!”

“Thank…” I trailed off, having to squint so I could read the name she’d written on her tag. Kate. “Thank you, Kate!”

“You’re welcome!” she called after me, and I walked over towards the table with the giant green “7” centerpiece. I glanced down at my tag, noticing what Kate had written on my tag: Just Will. I swiveled around quickly, and watched as Kate snorted a laugh, giving me a thumbs up. She was funny. I smiled back, returning the thumbs up before approaching my group.

I had no idea what to expect; we’d obviously be going over typical orientation things like campus life, rules and regulations, and maybe a fire escape route or two. But we would also more than likely be doing icebreakers, like a “getting to know your peers” kind of deal. I hated icebreaker exercises, because not much about me was interesting. Not much that I was legally permitted to share, anyway. And even if I could, I wasn’t sure if I would want to revisit that time in my life, or if I wanted others to know about what I’d been through. I was kind of grateful that my NDAs revoked that decision for me.

I reached the only empty seat left at my table– karma for my tardiness– and sat down with my group, who was already knee-deep in conversation. The only seat left was between two girls; one of them looked like she could star in a live action anime series, and the other looked like she’d fit right in with a stoner rock band.

A guy with bleach blonde hair noticed my presence and glanced up, a smile spreading across his face. “Aye! A newcomer! Welcome! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Will,” I eloquently said.

The guy stood up, crossing the circle in order to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Will! I’m Pete, your group leader, and…” he looked around at everyone else, “Why don’t we all go around the circle to catch Will up?” The girl sitting next to Pete lifted a hand in greeting, starting off the Name Game.

“Hey, I’m Claire Bierker.”

“Ryan Baker.”

“Jackson Boonstra.”

“Ivy Baldwin.”

“Hannah Reid.”

“Wait–” Pete cut Hannah off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Reid? I have you on here as ‘Beid.’”

“Yeah, um, about that… there might have been a typo on my application, something to do with my terrible handwriting.” The rest of us laughed at that, including Pete.

“Well… I think you should be fine here. Will, take your seat between Hannah and Ivy, and we can get started on our other activities.” Half an hour went by, and we’d all kind of drifted away from the initial Orientation outline that Pete had been working off of. I was kind of glad that this was the case; if I had to tell one more person about my favorite food, I was gonna riot. Beside me, I felt Ivy nudge my arm with her elbow.

“So. This is gonna be a fucking blast,” she muttered.

“Tell me about it,” I replied.

“What’s your major?”

“Painting,” I said, “You?”

“Ceramics.”

“Woah, really? That’s so cool!”

“Thanks,” she grinned. I felt Hannah lightly tap my shoulder with her fingertips, and I turned my head to give her my attention. It hit me that I hadn’t been to a social function since that last high school party the Party and I went to; I wasn’t used to this amount of attention.

“I can’t help but notice your guitar pin on your backpack,” Hannah gestured downward, where my black Jansport backpack sagged onto my shins. “Do you play?”

No. The pin was Mike’s. I might have stolen it from him.

“My… my friend does,” I hesitated, trying my best not to outwardly cringe at myself. Mike was not my friend. Mike ruined my fucking life. He wrote twenty-six letters to me, confessed his undying love for me out loud, kissed me with an urgency that haunts me every night, and then expected me to just– “I don’t play any instruments. I wish I did. But I love to listen to rock music.”

“What are your favorite bands?” Ivy asked me, and I hummed in contemplation. I leaned back in my chair, wrapping my feet around the front legs for gravitational support. That way, I could see the both of them without getting whiplash.

“The Cure, Pink Floyd, The Smiths, the Beatles… I also like Bowie and Elton John.”

“Look at you! Hannah, this is my kinda guy!” Ivy exclaimed, smacking my shoulder so hard that I almost fell backwards onto the floor. Hannah saved me, though, pulling me upright again.

“Let’s not scare him off, now,” Hannah laughed uneasily, and I shook my head.

“No, you’re not gonna scare me off. This is kind of… nice, actually,” I admitted, folding my hands together in my lap. “Would you guys wanna hang after this snooze fest is over?”

“I’m so down,” Ivy replied instantly, and Hannah agreed not even a second later.

Maybe making new friends wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d imagined.

We ordered a pizza and, in the meantime, headed up to my dorm. I unlocked the door and braced myself for Aaron’s usual disdain, but was pleasantly surprised when my roommate was nowhere to be found. I exhaled, and headed inside, holding the door open for the two girls. Hannah immediately gravitated toward my desk, where my set of dice rested atop the little purple pouch they came in.

“Oh my God, you play D&D?” she gasped.

I nodded, taking a few steps in her direction. “Yeah, I used to play more often with my friends back home. But… I kind of stopped a few years ago. They all lost interest.” ... ‘Lost interest’ was a fucking understatement.

“Well that’s depressing,” Hannah slumped down onto my comforter, haphazardly splaying her arms out on either side. “Tell you what, though,” she lifted her head to look at me, “My roommate, Kate just so happens to be the the DM of our school’s D&D Club, and she was telling me that they’re gonna be at the activities fair next week. Maybe we can check it out!”

Wait a minute… I knew that name. “By any chance was Kate at–”

“The A-E sign in table at Orientation? Yup, that’s her!” she grinned. “She’s a junior. They paired all the freshmen with upperclassmen this year for some reason. Something about mentorship? I dunno,” she sat up and shifted her gaze to Aaron’s side of the room. “Who’s your roommate? He has…” she squinted, reading the titles of the books on his desk before widening her eyes in shock. “He has an interesting taste in literature.”

I could only nod. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice Ivy’s fixation on something on my desk. Maybe she was just admiring the dice, or checking out my pile of books. But as I moved closer, I realized that she was staring at none other than the picture frame. The one and only picture frame I owned. The one and only picture frame I owned that just so happened to hold that one photo of– “Who’s this attractive string bean?”– Mike.

“Oh, he’s just a friend,” I said, and Ivy shot a suspicious look in my direction.

“Looks like you two were close,” she smirked, up at me. “Really close.”

“Were. Past tense,” I repeated back to her firmly. I really didn’t want to dredge up my turbulent… whatever-ship with Mike Wheeler right now. I just wanted to focus on the Here and Now of it all.

“So, Will, are you dating anyone?” Hannah asked, changing the subject. And for that, I would be eternally grateful. Because even from hundreds of miles away, Mike Wheeler still managed to stress me out.

“No, my love life is kind of dead at the moment,” I shrugged, and Hannah’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe we can find you a cute girl!”

Woah. I hadn’t been expecting to have to come out so soon, but… there’s a time and a place for everything, and apparently, this was both the time and place, no matter how apprehensive I felt about it.

“Um, about that…” I began, but was cut off by the sound of Ivy’s palm smacking the surface of my desk.

“What did I tell you?!” she exclaimed, her wild eyes meeting Hannah’s. “I called it. I. Fucking. Called. It.” I was so confused.

“Huh? Called what?”

“You’re gay, right? You’re into guys?” Ivy asked, and I nodded hesitantly.

“See?!” she screeched suddenly. “I’ve got lesbian intuition!”

“Guess I don’t have to formally come out, then,” I chuckled.

“I’m so sorry about her,” Hannah placed a hand on my shoulder, and I shook my head. I took her hand in mine, lowering our connected hands off my shoulder and swinging them back and forth between us.

“No, it’s okay, it made things easier for me, I guess. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to prepare a dramatic speech or anything.”

“Yeah, God, that’s always a pain,” Ivy added. “It’s so stressful running the risk of ruining a friendship or relationship just by being yourself.”

I knew that experience all too well. “Yes, it’s horrible.”

“I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, William Byers,” Ivy smiled, taking both mine and Hannah’s free hands so we formed a triangle. “Best friends, even.”

My first class was Painting I with Dr. Miriam Horovitz, located clear on the other side of campus. I knew from the get go that it would take a while for me to figure out where the hell I was going, so I left an hour early, just in case something like this happened. And it did. So when I finally sat on a worn-down stool in front of an empty easel, it felt all the more surreal. I’d made it. To class. But also… I’d made it to art school in Chicago.

Dr. Horovitz was a short, middle-aged southern lady who had the combined fashion sense of a Flower Power protestor and a gothic, medieval witch. Mike would have loved– no. No. Not now. I needed to focus, specifically on the assignment Dr. Horov– Miriam, as she insisted upon us calling her– was explaining.

“So for your first assignment, I want y’all to paint something that brings you joy, but also inflicts immense pain. It could be a feeling, a person, a material object… it’s up to y’all where you want to take your projects. I’m just tryin’ to figure out everyone’s specific styles.”

If I were given this assignment a year prior, I would have done something related to the Upside Down. But now, as I closed my eyes, my thoughts went awry. Vines, snakes, fire… Mike. Vecna, gouged out eyes, mold… Mike. The rain fight. The Almost Kiss. The neverending flirtation. Prom. The letters. No, Will, I’m in love with you. Don’t say that, please don’t say that, you don’t mean it. Mike’s sobs echoing up the stairwell on my way out.

Well… looks like Mike is gonna be the subject of my first ever project in art school, I thought, rubbing a hand down my face with a groan. Fuck me.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, which I currently stood in front of, shirtless. I’d been insecure about my body for years. I had always been more on the skinny side, but then I got tall and skinny, my knees turned into knobs, and my voice dropped— but I kept my baby face. I was a walking contradiction. It didn’t help that my clothes just made me look worse. They were more often than not hand-me-downs from Jonathan, or purchased for a buck each at the thrift store. When I was younger, I would secretly resent my mom for not being able to afford newer, more flattering clothing. Then, I learned about the concepts of money and divorce, and that resentment never once entered my mind after that. I could never blame my mom for our circumstances, and would never dream of holding our poverty against her, but still. It was embarrassing. Especially when most of my other friends walked around looking like they’d come fresh out of the Starcourt Mall. Thankfully, when I’d moved to California, my shoulders had filled out a little bit, and I could wear most of those clothes without cringing anymore. And after the events of the Upside Down, I spent some of my government hush money on a new wardrobe.

Even then, despite the broader shoulders, newer wardrobe, and a few years’ time, there still wasn’t really much to see, physically speaking; I looked less like a young man, and more like a boy with unbalanced muscle mass and light, barely-there stubble on my jaw. To be fair, I was only five months into being eighteen, and had plenty of time for my body to mature. Working out would probably help quicken the process.

“Alright, man, you ready to go?” Aaron came out of the bathroom rather abruptly, startling me out of my thoughts. Aaron’s eyes lowered down to my torso, lingering for a few extra seconds before he said, “I’m glad you decided to come with. You definitely need it,” with a light chuckle. I felt my face burning up with self consciousness as I scrambled to my dresser, throwing on the first shirt I could get my hands on: a plain white Fruit of the Loom tee, the kind that came in a multipack. It was a bit loose on me; my mom had been a bit optimistic when she’d talked me into buying the mediums.

I could have easily turned down Aaron’s offer to go to the gym with him. Aaron’s new membership included a promotional perk which gave him the option to invite a second person for free. In turn, once the person paying for the membership had built up enough points, they could redeem said points for a private training session. Aaron, a cup that apparently overfloweth with boundless generosity, offered that guest spot up to me. Because I was poor. And skinny. And I liked Elton John. That was, like, the trifecta of male incompetence. I often thought about why Aaron insisted upon coming to the American Academy of Art if he hated gay people so much. I assumed that in order to get on Aaron’s “good” side– whatever the hell that even meant, if it even existed–, I would simply have to play the role of a straight guy, which was what I had been doing for my entire life up until a few months ago, so it wouldn’t be difficult to do.

I hastily laced my black high top Vans up, tying them a bit too tightly, but I was too intimidated by my roommate’s eyes drilling lasers into my scalp to care. I grabbed my empty drawstring bag, because what do you even bring to a gym, tossed my wallet and keys into it, and followed Aaron out the door. We headed down the hall and descended the stairwell, and I watched as his calf muscles flexed with every step.

“So. How’re you liking the school so far?” he called back to me, and I got confused for a second, because, was he talking to me? “Any interesting classes this semester?” Oh. Okay, so I wasn’t just hearing things.

“Uh… it’s good,” I replied, quickening my steps to catch up to him, “I really like my painting class. The campus is just kind of confusing to navigate.”

Aaron chuckled at that, holding the door open for me once we reached the dorm hall entryway. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I must have gotten lost seven or eight times in my first year.”

“Oh, you’re a–”

“Junior. Architecture major.”

Huh. I’d kind of forgotten about the Junior-Freshman pairing system. And it made a lot of sense why he had decided to pursue architecture. It’s the straightest art form there is. We approached the student parking garage, and Aaron fished in his pocket for his keys.

“Oh, nice,” I said, “what made you choose to go here?”

“They have the best architecture program in the state,” he shrugged. “I’m really into postmodern stuff as well, and most schools don’t really teach that. But they do here.”

When we got into his car, I had to hold myself back from rolling my eyes into the darkest depths of my skull, because of course it was a Mercedes. Aaron checked his reflection in the rearview mirror before reaching an arm behind my seat, leaning back and looking behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. I was shocked; Aaron seemed to despise being within two feet of me, and now he had almost come into contact with my shoulder. Were we… making progress? “By the way,” Aaron said once he’d changed gears, “I’m sorry for being such a dick. I think I misjudged you.”

See, now, my kneejerk reaction had always been to cut the person who was apologizing off with a lighthearted, reassuring, “No, it’s okay.” I always felt the need to absolve people of their guilt, but now, that need was seemingly gone, because I let him continue with his apology without interjecting once. And it felt nice to not take on someone else’s burden.

“I just can’t stand all these fucking homos around here, I thought I was stuck living with one.” If he hated homos so much, then what the hell was he doing at the American Academy of Art? What was he expecting? If you hate gay people, don’t go to an exclusive art school. You’re basically asking for your own personal torture chamber, I thought. But I kept my thoughts to myself, opting to sit there in silence for the rest of the ride. The drama simply wasn’t worth it.

We arrived at the gym, and Aaron headed straight over to the treadmills. “Cardio,” he explained, and I went along with it, because if it weren’t for him, I would have no clue where to begin. We ran a mile and a half before switching gears and moving to the dumbbells. Aaron handed me a pair of 2-pounders, just to fuck with me, but then actually taught me how to lift the 5-pounders properly, without tearing muscle. We then moved over to the larger sets of weights, which Aaron loaded onto a bar and taught me how to do a proper barbell hip thrust, which I found to be a strange first exercise to teach someone. I had no idea so much effort went into the form and technique. But I found myself strangely loving it. I’d have to find time to go on my own time, so I didn’t feel so pressured as I did around Aaron.

I felt like I was dying as we stood beside the water fountain. I raised my cheap AAoA water bottle to my lips and chugged the lukewarm water as quickly as the dumbass mouthpiece would allow me, which was not much. I messed with it for a few seconds before Aaron grunted out, “Congrats on the new girlfriend, by the way.” I was so glad I hadn’t unscrewed the top yet, because I damn near dropped the bottle out of pure shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” I spluttered, and Aaron merely clapped my back with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, Byers, you’re dating Hannah fucking Reid! Own that shit!” Oh, I was going to kill her. I knew she meant well, but… really?

As soon as we got back onto campus, I sprinted to the girls’ dorms and up the stairs to Hannah’s room. I knocked, but could hear really loud music playing… was that Zeppelin IV? We’d gotten to that point in our friendship where Hannah, Ivy, and I would barge into each others’ rooms unannounced, but I apparently never got the memo that anything had changed.

“Wanna tell me why Aaron goddamn Heathrow thinks we’re–” I started, but cut myself off at the sight in front of me. Ivy and Hannah pulled away from each other– no, excuse me, Ivy moved from where she’d been straddling a borderline naked Hannah on her bed. I turned away, shielding my eyes with a screech. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I should have knocked louder– You guys are together?!”

And then it made so much more sense. If Hannah and I were “dating,” at face value, then she’d be able to be with Ivy. And– in their words, not mine– I’d be able to find a “sexy hunk” of my own someday soon. As much as we all hated the idea of a “beard,” arrangement, it was the best possible way for all of us to love who we wanted to love. That conversation ended with happy tears, hugs, and hope.

My sketch of Mike was coming together nicely. I’d been meticulously planning it out for the past week on smaller sheets of paper, and had finally transferred it to a giant canvas. I shifted my hand from side to side across the canvas to darken and further emphasize Mike’s prominent jawline. It was insane how drastic and how quickly that transformation had happened; it was so hard to believe now that Mike had ever been bullied for his looks. If only our bullies could see what Frog Face looked like now. I was convinced that if someone were to put a piece of glass within three inches of Mike’s insanely sharp bone structure, the glass would split in two. I smirked at the thought and glanced down at my pencils, which I’d lined up neatly on my right hand side in order of lightest to darkest. I was about to decide which one to use for shading his cheekbones when I heard a familiar, strong Southern drawl from behind me.

“And who is this handsome young fella?” Dr. Horovitz asked me, and I felt my body deflate a little bit. She wasn’t wrong. Mike’s attractiveness was undeniable. Using Mike as my muse for the past thirteen years definitely helped in portraying his beauty. Even then, I didn’t want to entertain that idea any longer than I had to, so I downplayed it.

“Oh, just this guy from back home,” I said, refusing to meet her eyes, which I just knew were overflowing with curiosity, given the silence that followed. “He’s not important now,” I added, just to make a point. And that was the truth. He wasn’t important. He wasn’t… as important. Not as important as how I’d made him out to be throughout my childhood, sitting high on a pedestal. Dear Will, when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my–

“I notice there’s a bite to the way you talk about him,” my professor noted, and I turned to try and meet her gaze, but she was observing my work thus far. “If he isn’t important now, as you say, he must have been important in the past.”

Who even was this lady? She was the professor of my painting class, yet she was reading me like a therapist would. And I knew by the slight insistence laced in her voice and the way she’d parked herself next to my station that she wasn’t going away until she’d gotten some answers.

“He and I didn’t leave things on the best terms when we left for school,” I admitted, and Dr. Horovitz nodded, processing. I turned away to take a sip from my water bottle as she spoke.

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. So he’s an ex boyfriend, then?”

I nearly spit out my water. “God, no,” I said, feeling heat rise to my face at lightning speed. “He… uh, he’s– he was my best friend. Mike.”

“Mm. Best Friend Mike,” she crossed her arms in thought. Suddenly, her eyes snapped over to mine, the eye contact sending chills down my spine. I worried about what she would try to pry out of me next. “He broke your heart, didn’t he?”

Well, shit. She’d been able to see right through me. Maybe I wasn’t as good of a liar as I thought I was. So much for being vague.

“Yeah,” I confessed slowly, watching a smile spread across my professor’s face. Sadist! “Yeah, he did break my heart. And he really messed with my head. But even now, I still believe he’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Well, you’ve covered the topic of the assignment quite well,” she told me, taking a step backwards. “I’m looking forward to seeing your progress.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Will, I told all of you on the first day of class, call me Miriam. None of that old lady business.”

“Sorry, Miriam.”

“You’re forgiven.”

I watched Miriam walk away and begin talking to one of the other students in my class about their piece, and I tried to focus back on my work. But Miriam had gotten me thinking. She had gotten me thinking about one specific day. The day where Mike finally confronted me about the painting.

“Hey, can we talk about something for a second?” Mike asked from across his basement couch. I set my pencil and sketchbook down. He had insisted upon being a model for my potential college portfolio. I didn’t even know if I’d be going to art school at all, but he was so sure that I’d get in somewhere “really fuckin’ cool.” Mike shifted his body out of the position he’d been in for the past hour, and I heard his joints crack as he stretched his long legs out onto my lap. Don’t get a boner, Byers, I thought to myself, repeating it like a mantra in my head.

“Sure,” I croaked out, my voice rough from lack of use. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I was talking with El yesterday, and I mentioned the commission she’d given you for the painting.” Oh shit. “You know, the one from Spring Break.”

I gulped. “Yeah?”

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Mike continued, “because El said she had no idea what the word ‘commission’ even meant. Do you know anything about that?”

“I’m not following,” I blurted out in a sad attempt to preserve my own feelings, but Mike knew that I’d never been capable of keeping secrets from him.

“Come on, Will. I know you know what I mean.” He gave me a pointed look and pulled his legs in before scooching closer to my side of the couch, crossing his legs. Our knees touched, and I felt like I was on fire.

I knew then that I’d been caught red-handed. “I was trying to–”

“What, lie to me?” Mike cut me off as he stared down at the carpeted floor. “I thought we didn’t do that.”

“I told you what you needed to hear,” I said, and Mike crossed his arms.

“Yeah, so you lied.”

“I didn’t want to lie, Mike!”

“But you did, Will, and that’s–”

“Just listen, alright?!” I raised my voice, startling Mike into silence. I hated doing that, but it was the only way he’d listen to what I had to say. “Hear me out, okay?” Mike’s lips formed a straight, thin line as he nodded. “I just… I thought if the painting came from El, you’d feel needed again. Like, you told me you felt worthless to her, so I did what I could to try and… fix… that.” Suddenly, Mike’s face was inches from my own, and I could barely breathe. It was probably just my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw Mike’s eyes flicker down to my lips, then back up to meet mine again.

“You know,” Mike breathed, blinking slowly, “It would have meant a lot more if you’d admitted that the painting was from you.”

“Oh,” was the only word I was able to get out.

“Yeah,” Mike said, voice smooth as velvet, “You’re my person, Will.”

“Hey, Will! We– woah.” I hadn’t noticed I’d spaced out until Ivy’s voice hit my ears. I turned to see both her and Hannah gaping at my work.

“Oh! Hey!” I smiled, trying to keep the tone light, “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be–”

“Is that the guy from that photo in your room?” Hannah asked.

“Well… yes,” I admitted, “but he’s not–”

“Bullshit,” Ivy interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit to everything you’ve said and are about to say. You’re going to tell us about this boy.”

“Fine. Can I at least wash the paint off my hands first?”

Our D&D Club had a bi-weekly movie night, where we would all go to Kate’s house in our pajamas and eat enough snacks to feed a small army. Both Kate’s and my favorite candy was Reese’s Pieces, so there was always an overabundance of them in her pantry. I shoved my hand into a bag I had rested between my legs, throwing a handful back as if they were a shot of hard liquor. The credits of CLUE were rolling, and Kate spun around from where she sat on the floor wrapped in a giant quilt. She clapped loudly to get our full, undivided attention.

“Okay, so. What are we thinking for Halloween?”

Crickets.

“We need a group costume for the party in two weeks, obviously!” Kate exclaimed, as if this were supposed to be common knowledge. I didn’t think Halloween was a thing anymore. It certainly wasn’t a thing when I was still in Hawkins. “We need one that fits a group of five.”

“We should all be Ghostbusters!” Pete said, but Ivy immediately shot that idea down.

“Too clunky. Plus, the proton packs are gonna be a bitch to make, not to mention difficult to lug around everywhere.”

“She’s right,” I found myself saying, and felt all of my friends’ eyes on me, expecting me to explain myself.

“You’ve dressed as a Ghostbuster before?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Back in middle school. My friends and I made proton packs out of vacuum tubes attached to these huge plastic boxes with straps.”

“That’s badass!”

“Well, yeah,” Kate shrugged nonchalantly, “But that also cancels out that option, since Will has done it already.”

“If we take into account every costume everyone has ever done, then there will be no options left,” Pete pointed out, and Kate grimaced.

“That’s fair.”

“What if we did Marvel characters?” Hannah asked, and I shook my head.

“That would put us in the same situation as the Ghostbusters, it’s too complex.”

“Hey, guys.”

“Fine, well, what if we did the Beatles?”

“There are four Beatles, Pete.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Guys.”

“What about Yoko?”

“Please don’t tell me you just suggested Yoko is the fifth Beatle, Pete.”

“Is she not???”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”

“Mötley Crüe?”

“The Runaways,” Pete grinned. “Will and I could go in drag, it’d be so hot.”

Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are we suddenly so focused on bands?”

“I don’t know, do you have any doable ideas?” Pete retorted.

“Hey assholes!” Kate snapped.

“What?!” we all shouted back.

“We should be the Mystery Gang.”

“As in Scooby Doo?” I thought out loud.

“That’s a really good idea, actually,” Pete nodded slowly. “It’s classic, people will know who we are, and they won’t perceive us as total rejects!”

“I want to be Velma,” Ivy announced.

“That makes one of us,” Hannah snorted.

“Hey! I’d be a hot Velma!”

“I won’t deny that.”

“I guess I’ll be Fred,” Pete said.

“Will has got to be Shaggy,” Kate giggled, reaching her arm out far enough to run her fingers through and mess up my hair. “I mean, his hair is perfect for it.”

“Yes, oh my God–”

“He’d be the buffest Shaggy I’ve ever seen,” Ivy said, and I whipped my head in her direction.

“Buff? What do you mean, buff?”

“Will, have you seen yourself lately?” Hannah gawked. I had no idea what she meant.

“I mean, yeah, I go to the gym pretty frequently, but like, it’s not like I’ve changed that much…”

“Will, honey,” Ivy sauntered over to where I sat, and crouched down until we were eye level. “We all know that I only have eyes for women, and even I can admit that you are smoking hot.”

“I concur,” Pete said.

“Seriously,” Kate exclaimed, “why hasn’t Will linked up with anyone yet?”

“Okay,” I tried to kill the tangent before it grew legs and ran away, “let’s not discuss my nonexistent love life–”

“Um, excuse me– it did, in fact, exist,” Hannah quipped back. “You just prioritized yourself over someone who treated you like shit.”

“Amen to that,” Ivy said, and everyone else laughed in agreement.

“So I’m gonna ask again: why hasn’t Buff Byers found himself a man yet?”

“Buff Byers,” Pete snorted, “that’s fucking brilliant.”

I put my face in my hands. “Jesus Christ.”

“Let’s be a little more realistic, because I’m pretty sure Jesus wasn’t into guys,” Hannah said, earning a sad laugh from me.

“Are you sure about that?” Ivy questioned her girlfriend, “Because his suspiciously close bond with twelve men shows us otherwise–”

“This is not the time to delve into biblical theology, baby.”

“He let Judas kiss his cheek! You cannot tell me he wasn’t at least a little bit gay.”

Okay, that was enough. “Guys, really,” I insisted, “I’m fine. I don’t need to date anyone right now.”

Pete quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t need to? Or you don’t want to?”

“Alright, everyone,” Kate called out to the rest of us, “so we’ve established that we’re going to this party as the Scooby Gang. But I have a plan in mind that’ll make this Halloween a night to remember.”

“Which is?” I asked warily. Kate couldn’t hide her devilish grin.

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man.”

I was sure that going to this off-campus Halloween party wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. It wasn’t solely my idea, per se; we had decided upon our group costume weeks ago, and I was fully aware of the environment I was voluntarily entering, so I had plenty of time to back out if I wanted to. Even then, I didn’t back out, because I was obviously a new man; outgoing, social, and bold. I no longer allowed my crippling anxiety to interfere with my life. The latter statement would probably be a bit difficult to justify, though, considering the fact that I had soaked through my fluorescent, vomit-green tee shirt with sweat the second I’d walked through the door. It also didn’t help that my friends were still dead set on a singular mission for the evening: Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad–

“Ooh, I spy with my little eye… Jose Cuervo! Come on!” Ivy exclaimed, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy underneath her fake glasses as she grinned up at me. Oh God, here we go, I thought as I followed my friend over to the center island in the kitchen. Every square inch of counter space was occupied by some form of hard liquor. This was not my first rodeo; I’d gone to a handful of parties back in high school. I enjoyed the atmosphere, but I just wasn’t a party animal, for the lack of a better term.

“Alrighty, one for you… and two for me,” Ivy muttered as she poured her favorite vice, Jose Cuervo tequila, into three disposable red Solo-brand shot cups before handing one over to me, and I took the cup hesitantly. She then grabbed two lime wedges out of a bowl on the kitchen counter, and located a salt shaker a few seconds later. She turned to me, grabbed my free hand, rubbed the lime on it, shook some salt over the spot so it would stick, then did the same for herself. She held one of her shot cups up to mine, clinking them together as a toast.

“Fuck Mike Wheeler!” she shrieked, and I burst out laughing. While I calmed myself down, Ivy licked the salt off her hand, threw the shot back like it was water, chomped down onto the lime, and cringed at the taste. Once she’d opened her eyes and seen that I hadn’t done his shot with her, she pouted up at me.

“You’re supposed to actually do the shot, not just stand there,” she whined. I looked down at the shot, squinting at it before lifting it up, bringing it to my lips. Before I could properly throw the shot back on my own, Ivy tilted the bottom of the cup further upwards, and I felt the tequila rush down my throat much faster than anticipated. “That’s how you do a shot, Billiam,” she told me as I sputtered out a cough, followed by an indignant grunt. I wasn’t mad; I probably wouldn’t have done it without her involvement.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so incredibly selfless. You’d do anything to make people happy. But sometimes you do it at your own expense.” Not the time, Mike.

Ivy and I had stayed a few hours late in Miriam’s classroom to finish up our pieces, so we’d all agreed to just meet at the party. When I had set my brush down for the last time earlier that afternoon, I thought to myself, “Hey, I’ve finally achieved the closure I’ve always wanted, so I should feel better.” But I didn’t feel any different; if anything, I felt even worse than before. The Heart gave me closure, but I still felt like Mike was there. So when I arrived back at my dorm to change into my costume, I glanced at the bunched-up blue sweatshirt on my bed and made a decision: It was time to pack up the Mike Box again. I put everything (the dice, the frame, the sweatshirt, and the binder) back into a box and under my bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Shaggy! Velma! You made it!” voices exclaimed from behind me. Hannah, Kate, and Pete approached us, dressed as Daphne, Scooby, and Fred, respectively. A smile quickly made its way across my face as I collided with my friends in a group hug. Once they all pulled back, the gossip was instantly afoot.

“So, any luck yet?” Ivy asked her girlfriend, who shook her head.

“Not yet, we just got here a little while ago.”

“I’ve seen a few potential candidates who I think he’d get along with–” Kate began, but Pete interrupted with an expression of pure confusion.

“Sorry, what’s going on?”

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man! Come on, Pete, get with the program!” Kate clapped her hands in the middle of the circle, and the rest of them laughed while I rolled my eyes. They were being absolutely ridiculous. I didn’t need to get any man, let alone a fine-ass one. I was perfectly fine with being alone. Totally content, and not at all depressed.

The song that had been playing faded out, and a familiar bouncy synth introduction to the next song vibrated up from the floor and sent shockwaves through my entire nervous system. Kate demanded immediately that the group should dance, and the rest of the Scooby Gang agreed, save for me. I didn’t do well on dance floors, because my claustrophobia often got the best of me. So I stood against the wall, watching as my friends disappeared into the crowd. The beat picked up, and I sighed deeply, crossing my arms over my chest. This was the radio cut. If Mike were there, he probably would have complained for hours afterwards.

“Will. I’m being serious! If you know about the existence of the 12” version of Smalltown Boy and still opt to listen to the radio cut, you’re committing a crime against both me and Bronski Beat. I said what I said. No further questions.”

I hated that I couldn’t tell Mike how, for once, I actually agreed with him. He wasn’t here with me, and it was all my fault.

I checked my watch– 8:26pm. We’d only been there for less than half an hour, and I already wanted to go home. There were enough people packed in the house for it to be considered a fire hazard, and my friends were nowhere to be found. So much for Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. Besides, I was dressed as Shaggy from fucking Scooby Doo, there was no way any guy would want me while looking like a disheveled cartoon character. I decided to go outside to get some fresh air, and maybe smoke a cigarette… or five, but right when I began to move, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Kate and Ivy, standing on either side of a guy with spiky black hair and chunky black liner under his eyes. The only defining elements of his vampire costume were the fake blood dripping from the corners of his painted red lips and the cape draped over his shoulders.

“Will, Matt. Matt, Will. Speak,” Ivy rushed out, pushing us together by our backs. I watched, stunned, as my friends pushed their way through the crowd, giggling the entire time. I then shifted my gaze to meet eyes with… the very hot guy who stood before me.

Matt.

next part

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blindtaleteller · 7 months

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MCU Asgard Canon Observation Research [Part 1]

Firstly and before I even start in on the subject, keep in mind that this is what it says: a collection of research into actual Canon Lore from the Marvel Cinematic Universe: not the comics, or the Nordic lore twice removed from it.

Secondly and alongside that, also keep in mind that even back at the start of the MCU as a long term project, while the MCU is based on the Marvel comics universe: the creators made a point of making it a completely different universe: for many varying reasons, including the spaces lacking continuity in the comics over the years that the MCU as a project wanted to pursue from it's first conception.

This is a large part of why there are phases and why they were numbered from it's creation. (And yes also why my tags recently mentioning counting phases are what they are elsewhere, but that's a whole other post.. or set of them.)

These are important to remember because, I would like to avoid previous iterations of people wasting their time trying to insert comics-universe lore and more excessively into or onto this requested post purely for the sake of, well; being argumentative or just trolling:as much as possible. I do try to take some time to respond to comments and reblogs as much as possible, but I can and will ignore or yes, at times point out people unable to manage these things.. and respond as necessary.

I normally wouldn't bother to mention this except yes, that has happened before so: consider this your disclaimer.. I ain't dealin' with you if you're gonna be a trolly shit disrespectful enough of the time effort and willingness to share what research and observations I have, by shitting on it or me in your pursuit of whatever flimsy excuses might be given for any inhuman reactions posted passive aggressive or worse.

More frankly: be respectful on my posts or get lost. I don't tolerate harassment on my blog whether it's aimed at me or others. Passive aggressive or otherwise. I'll discuss stuff, am happy to have any valid references I might miss added to and pointed out. Just don't be an asshat about it, and you'll get the same from me. That's how basic-bitch Karma, and I; both work: you'll get what you give along those lines, while in my space.

The necessary now out of the way... Next!

More as a side note with that mentioned; while I may mention some meta/theory in the form of the most probable (as that's how my meta in particular is formed) it is again: based on the facts of the canon lore and contexts confirmed presented in it; visually, in dialogue, and out of the mouths of the very people who made all that themselves, at the time that lore was given to us on screen: and will be mentioned as the theory and supposition that is 'meta' rather than 'canon'. I have gone out of my way as a fan of world, universe, and character building as a part of the creative process in particular: to watch, rewatch, rewatch again and again, and hunt down all this stuff (often lol purely out of my own curiosity.) All in all Meta is theory, Canon is story/film-established fact; and I do try to keep a clear line between the two of them. The early world and character building in the MCU has always been interesting enough to me alone, to do all that with my free time.

And that's especially true with Asgard in particular, as a main story driving force in one form or another as far back as 2010 when both Thor and CA: tFA's scripts were being filmed and their sets/settings picked out and created.

Final few bits before we get into it..? As Asgard lore (and even a lack of it's presence at times) is directly and appropriately attached and or in relation to the lore of several races, species, and massive events in the entirety of the MCU's first three phases.. I will be touching some of those cultures and places too, where important. Probably not in this particular part, but yeah. It's gonna happen.

As with the research post into Loki and his year of absence prior to Avengers 2012: (yes that's a link to an ask that contains a good chunk of info and years of interviews on that particular subject) this might not be an entirely complete compilation: for the same reasons. As I said, i didn't just watch, I rewatched repeatedly from differing personal mental angles: not just three or four times, but and as I wrote my own fanfiction.. I would also re-watch once or twice just prior to fleshing out an outlined story of my own to refresh my memory, seek out interviews official and otherwise from the creators and actors who made that lore and put it on screen for us to enjoy as part of the stories we enjoyed (or not, depending lol) and well.. the resulting organization of the whole outside of this post is less than comprehensive for anyone else. You can see the explanation for how that happens in the foreword of that thread if you're curious.

As a result, I may or may not exclude the actual interviews if this gets too long. Much of the visual in this first part especially are pretty self explanatory, as I did find some of my dissection pics too.

All said (I think? Gods I hope so that was a lot wasn't it? XD) and as suggested/requested recently in discord?

This one is gonna be expansive.. and hellaciously so: so grab your drinks and your snacks and still be prepared for this series of posts to be going for while (not kidding, may be compiling this properly between jobs for weeks) so yeah..

Here we go again!

The major forgotten fact of Asgard's depiction in the MCU is this:

We the audience are only shown a very tiny fragment of Asgard as another separate planet in space, and: they do show us we're missing as much, from the very first film.

That gif directly from the movie I used at the top? I'm using it again, because...

..look at that.

With topography, perspective and size in mind.

That tiny golden triangle in the middle is the Palace at the center. The little golden bar along that tiny portion to either side? Is the city attached to it proper, with the Bifrost, and as far as we've seen the 'Heroes Road' (as soem are calling it) and city walls cupping the Bifrost Bay directly facing the camera.

This is a space shot (of course,) and that tiny itty bitty moving spec that is still shrinking as it gets further from our perspective and closer to Asgard at the bottom, is the Bifrost in use.

And, they do give us a few views of that as early as five to six minutes into the first movie in 2011, as seen in the first clip below. I've set it to share at the first view of Asgard itself.

Hopefully that works. If not, the timestamp you're looking for is 2:04.

I recommend shutting off the audio, as it's a bit distracting. Trust me, we will get back to the very interesting audio from a world builder's perspective, when we get to the History and Relations section of Asgard's break down.. there are several tons, of that and in that opener alone, to examine later.

youtube

IMPORTANT!! When looking at any of these images or videos, keep in mind and look at the scale. Not just in the scene on screen at that moment, but also in reference to previous shots. Distance is a thing. The size of trees and people are a thing. This place in the MCU is much more massive than where it's very cloistered story parts take place.

This is not a city-planet like and for comparison: Coruscant, from Star Wars... though I am very aware that some people will throw out Asgard's concept art to try and 'debunk' that (yes its' been done and proven pointless in other threads).. that does also bring us to another couple of facts that slip by in their context.

In fact, you know what? I'll throw it in here right now myself:

This concept art: does still apply, if slightly adjusted with the topography and likely under ground portions taken into account.. because Asgard is the name of both the planet AND the city as separate entities of the same locale.

In other words, the concept art is VERY valid as a map of the city itself: but not the outlying locations outside of Asgard as a Capital City Proper, of Asgard as a disk planet.

And again.. they do show us this, and not just in the first film: although that first shot going into the city says as much too, being that..

A. Asgard is established as a society greatly more advanced than Earth and most others, and;

B. there are whole swaths of land (and especially mountain they like to build into) without structure between the edge panned through and the City itself. (see still image below: not the best quality but it's also in the video.)

Which.. we'll touch again a little more in a bit (and probably the biggest lol) part of this breakdown set; digging at History, Culture, and Relations.. as the fact they do prefer to build INTO their environment much more than on top of it is also shown in the shot of the canyons and canals on which not only that city is built, but even what buildings are shown outside of it on that panning-in shot.

We can see in the one above though: that while they did redirect some of the water through canals in the lower shot; they also kept and built into the natural(?*) lay of the river canyons below.

This theme is kept even before we get into the city though with the first part of the shot above the water.

Want a more visual view of the breakdowns as I do them?

Here you go, here's one example from out of my crazy folders and docs, that I made in paint back in 2013 (LOL yes I know. XD) while once again re-watching that same scene.

I would highly suggest clicking on it, as tumblr does downsize images making text on them hard to read otherwise. Crappy in-motion quality screen cap but, it was made more for breaking down the visual elements on screen for what it told us about the land, and more; on it.

----[?*] As a set of side/foot notes to that last bit and the image..

A. the top left corner yes: does reference some of where I use certain observations of canon in my own fics; and how they would have grown or evolved depending on that story. In this case, and at the time: the pink text is making note to utilize those observations in outlining Hvedrungr (Loki from Uni 0) and Flykra's (Loki from Vesti1 Uni 14) universes in particular: both of which return to Asgard at VERY different times and in different situations: while the history and culture I've been able to glean and expand on in some cases is still part of their and the location's background. As I don't have the patience to remove the text from an old paint shop cut.. I thought I would at least explain it's presence left there. These things are, ultimately connected by the culture that originated on and created them on that planet after all.. and why there's an entire section dedicated to the varied aspects of Asgard's presented Cultural, Relations, and History lore. B. The '?' at the 'natural' mention in parenthesis above, also takes into account that Asgard is much older than Earth's culture and has to be: if only because as only three generations have come and gone over the passage of what to us is five thousand years! (see the next installment Thor the Dark World: Bor and Darkalfheim, or just watch the movie with info gathering in mind.) In other words, between Bor's War, and Odin's Asgardian Great Wars: we cannot be certain whether or not 1. those canyons are actually natural or the now aged result of one of many previous interplanetary wars, or 2. whether Asgard at this stage of it's showing timed at 2011 more than a millennia later, has even always been this size, given their advancement in technology and study of magic as presented OR left in question, either. For my part, as there's no conclusive dialogue from that era to state otherwise in the MCU or it's interviews that I know of, and knowing the context of Malekith and Darkalfheim's familiarity with Asgard itself during their raid to reclaim the infinity stone: I tend to veer towards a mixture of the two. While it's very likely at least some of the canyons are indeed natural; the great age of the culture and planet both, along with the nature of Bor and Odin's rules alone as we've seen them: leaves a HUGE and LONG period of time and opportunities for some of those nasty fights to come directly to them... or even their predecessors. Which would also explain why they had that shield for the palace too. You don't build and more importantly upkeep something like that without a very good set of reasons or examples experienced, to do so after all. Much of that is meta though, however based on canon fact it may be: and as many of the creators were not asked publicly during that era, and have been dismissed or moved on to other projects since.. it's hard to know if we'll ever see a *genuine* answer from the people who actually made it all starting sixteen years ago.

Anyway, let's look at a few more shots of Asgard with that breakdown going. Some of these are all old, from as far back as about ten years ago when I first started writing outlines for the varied universes in my Lokiverse Project: but they do still hold up. theer are some from TDW in this bunch too. I heavily dissected these scenes knowing I was going to do whole chapters in multiple differing universes, and wanted to have the presented layout and feel laid out in my head, before I started adding in locations on the planet not yet shown on film. And given my first Book was already going to be DREAMS.. where Asgard has been blown to bits post Endgame? I really wanted to get it right so I could deconstruct it as many times as I and the muses wanted to. Laufeyson (Universe 10 Loki) was pretty insistent too with the opening chapters on his end focusing partially on that chase with Abell through Asgard's blown apart ruin

Sorry for the ramble of an explanation, but that's how it is and how it works over here...? XD

..uhmmmm. Yeah lol! When I said I watch and re-watch from differing mental perspectives..? That's what I mean. I don't usually share those at all... only the unedited pics. Genrally I will take caps or take existing raw caps and pick out piece that catch my eye. I've been told they do help put your brain in the right mode for those who have difficulty processing them in that way, like I do when in that mode. Also yes, trees and fish ...bruh. lol!

It's there, has been for years in some cases; and I'm not messing with it now.

That basic bit out of the way (doesn't sound so basic does it.) Let's backtrack a bit, specifically to Asgard's shape and the placement of it's location and the locations on it.

As I first write this, I don't have the talks I had with a few wild meteorologists and geologists back then directly on hand (as this is a part I still don't focus on too much; but:) shaped as it is, those I did talk to theorized that between the shape and placement of planets as well as the nebula they're partially inside, that Asgard may be shaped and in rotation as it is because of its' placement in it's system: or because of late interference by Asgard's inhabitants to keep it stable.

^ That one scene in particular from Thor 2011 really made my eyes pop. Not because of what's going on in it so much as trying to answer the whys and hows and what the actual fricks man: because..

Can you imagine, the conversation: trying to pitch that spinning death ball to the King there OR anywhere else on the planet before Bor or even his great grandfather?

Or, trying to talk the royalty down from the idea of putting it anywhere NEAR the palace, or other people's homes?

How about testing that house sized death-by-velocity-alone gilded mess? (Yes I still laugh thinking about that. Some poor scholar/engineer type trying to dissuade Bor's grand-daddy from building what would definitely become a giant pinball of death in the canyons and canals, if that thing ever came off it's anchors even once in the city. Good gods! lol!) Who knows; maybe that was when people started moving to Vanaheim... XD! Just (mostly) kidding.

Cray-cray thoughts of high velocity gilded pinball hell that was probably somewhere way back in the Bifrost's likely development and evolution as tech/normie science boosted by magic, and or vice versa, aside:

You probably notice I've mentioned the nebulae and the planets in their rotation more than once. And with good reason.

Backing up a bit; Asgard is interesting well before you hit her shores.

Not only is she a top-shaped disk-planet: but with the way the sky is shown: Asgard has a very interesting rotation if she has any left at all. There's very little we know, but what we do know is she is not alone in her systematic rotation either way.

(Asgard's sky from Thor's personal Hall in Thor: the Dark World)

In fact and as seen in the screen caps above: Asgard has an incredibly close relation to at least three planets in her nebulous solar system. At least one of which is absolutely massive: massive enough that it's close proximity is theorized as being pretty likely to be the only way Asgard experiences night cycles as seen in Thor: the Dark World... mainly through eclipsing the nebulous sun by passing between it and Asgard as a planet.

Which is both cool -and- scary when you take things like degrading orbits, space debris and projectiles like comets and other space science into account.. but also very, very interesting.

It also begs the question either way: why didn't Asgard at their earlier establishment of a greater technological level, colonize or move to those planets sooner? Of course.. the first obvious answer is.. they probably couldn't, at first. And even more probably were past trying by the time the Bifrost was built, prior to Bor's time (I say prior because we have seen Bor use it in Thor the Dark World: and on a massive scale moving whole armies, the same as his son Odin. See some of the scenes from Bor's seizure of the Aether below.)

But yeah, Asgard is a pretty unique place even before you get to the water fall's edge: or questioning what kind of condensed mass it has to retain gravity at it's very small size.

Or, whether that gravity and the shape is in fact generated in some form or another after millennia upon millennia of just the Wars we do know about in their history.

(At current we know about Darkalfheim and the series of Wars including Jotunheim and Muspelheim that they call the Great Wars. While they are definitely aware of the extensive millennia of intergalactic war between the Xandarian based Nova Corps and the Kree Empire put front and center in GotG.. there hasn't been any actual confirmation as to whether Asgardians fought in that war on either side: only that they are at that stage at least loosely allied with Asgard.. if not a more separated protectorate being considered among the nine realms in the MCU.)

Why do I keep pointing out trees, and perspective; or teh size of the city in that first little gif again?

Because.. that is our repeated visual evidence of just how much of Asgard as a planet; the story did not take place in.. huge parts of the place we haven't seen. And that makes sense.

Power plants or generators, smithys, and even schools can be easily placed in the city proper, at this stage.

But what about BEFORE, they got to this stage.. because that is a thing in the MCU in regards to Asgard: and a major plot point for three movies of script running, from 2010 all the way to 2015 when Taika Waititi was hired (unfortunately, for those of us who know the root of what happened there.)

What about food, for thousands of 5000 year lifespans and their kids. And their grandkids. And.. the food for the livestock, or the wild game

Or the bilgesnipes and dragons--well we can guess what happened to the dragons of Asgard in particular actually. If they were anything like Muspelheim's; and on a planet that size..? It doesn't take much to figure out Odin, Bor and their predecessors probably couldn't excuse not hunting a predator big enough to swallow people to extinction: not for much longer than they absolutely had to anyway.

What about fibers and leather for clothes.

How about waste management, for both the city and suburban areas? Sewers? Water filtration? Factories or slaughterhouses to process it all, and the means to support those things. Everything man made, is grown, processed or made somewhere.

We know they have these things, because we know they have and make their own alcohol (fermentation of grains, fruits, and more); as well as other things to eat: displayed in both T1 and TDW.

(The top image is from Thor's table flip scene in Thor 2011; while the one below it is from the tavern scene in the beginning of Thor: the Dark World.)

Meat, vegetables, fruit, grain, herbs, and seasonings are all represented on the tables above. While some might be imported (I really do wonder about the platters of golden apples myself:) it's not very likely all of them are. And it wouldn't make sense for them to have been imported from off world throughout their species development either. After all and again: they would have had to have survived and developed enough to GET TO, that stage in the first place.

You're also looking at Varnish in the shine of that table; smithing and metal working and ceramics in their table ware. Weaving either plant or animal fibers in their clothes, as well as the likely production of tannin (or it's equivalent) and leather working in every leather piece on screen. Candles can be made from varied sources, whether that's actual wax of some form, or condensed animal fat.

Oh, and if you find the enlarged version of those images: you'll also notice things like fine engraving and metal sculpture to the goblets and platters on the Thor 2011 table in particular.

Either way, the images above show us directly that unsurprisingly, they have come to understand whole other sub-levels of production: before you even get to the high-tech and magic ends of any of that to be able to reproduce it in that modern era.

As another side note related to that: the booze alone is pretty telling as to how far off the "Loki" series is on this mark, as well. Creators of current content 'conveniently forgot' that this is supposed to be a space faring, technologically advanced society (even if they're the social equivalent of medieval imperialist thugs .. lol sorry not sorry! That's literally how they're depicted... and honestly that really weird twist IS some of Asgard's most interesting and strange development) whose friends, allies and other examples of places visited DO and HAVE included Earth, Xandar, and six other 'realms' as their etymology names them: for literal millennia. Even taking the other, long established cultural influences and visitations aside? For a society who 5000 years ago was still porting whole armies to other planets to kick peoples asses? The idea they never discovered honey; or sugar especially even on the inside of a fermentation barrel for wine; OR how to process it into something like candy? Is more than just a -little- dumb in the stretch. Sugar often naturally starts to separate and crystallize during the fermentation process. Ask a vintner, or look it up if you don't believe me. Just sayin'.. just on Earth alone, we know sweets were discovered more than 8000 years ago. Eight thousand. And the only reason we haven't been able to confirm people older than that finding things like bee's hives?? Is because well.. that kind of thing rarely survives even that length of time at all, to be found in archeology in order to tell us more. I'll touch that and how it's pretty damned near impossible that 'Loki doesn't know wtf candy is' being 1k+ years himself, and a guy raised as an Asgardian prince & spymaster to boot later into the culture section I think, but mmm.. that whole bit still reeks of stupid, to me And more so after their own DB Cooper scene. Gonna say candy wasn't a snack in that era either? Cause if so; I got big shocking news, for those who think so... XD

In closing.. for this part?

As far as the world of Asgard goes, we have only been allowed to see a very small part of it: and even then? It is still undoubtedly massively larger than even what's implied: and definitely capable of supporting it's comparatively small base population of less than 10k people.

(Odin's subterranean vault reference: exterior)

The only reason we don't see even more of it; is the fact that films have a limited time to give you everything, and the story focuses on the royal family from the get go. And they live, in the heart of Asgard's capital city... so we largely don't see as much of that as weirdo world building fans like me would absolutely love to see in the process... and frankly; they gave plenty enough to start us off with.

The films would have suffered for having too much more of that, rather than the stories they were trying to tell.

The same.. I would love to know more: and I do wish the current teams paid the previous ones more respect by using what was already there and expanding on it: instead of making mismatched new things up, as they went.

The early creative teams really knew what they were doing back then.

(Asgard's defensive cannons defending against the Darkalfheim air raid in Thor the Dark World.)

And no, this isn't all they showed us, in the show and tell they did manage to give us over the course of years of work... far from it.

Hope you enjoyed part one! Maybe you learned or saw something you missed.. or have been inspired to watch the older films again..?

I know I often am.

#MCU #Asgard #MCU Asgard #Lore drops #research #scene dissection #location and culture dissection #world building #universe building #Lokiverse references #writing references #writing research #Youtube #MCU Lore #part one:#about the land more than the people on it #don't worry: we'll get to that #:3

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hxhhasmysoul · 21 days

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As a writer, can you see the appeal of self-shipping? I don't mean to be negative, but I just don't understand that concept. Like, I just got block because I wrote fics about Endeavor/Hakws and Sukuna/Yuuji by my group of fics writers.

Before I was blocked some member criticize me by saying "how could you ship age gap like that, that is wrong in so many way". And I answered, "at least better like me than wrote self shipping like some of you guys. Gojo/reader and Sukuna/reader is just weird in so many ways". Then I was blocked.

Do you think I'm wrong?

Idk if this will answer your question, anon. I hope it's not too rambly and at least a bit helpful.

I have never considered self-shipping from the perspective of being a writer, but that makes sense to me, I only write things that I want to read and can't find, or not find enough of.

And self-shipping doesn't appeal to me as a reader. The second person makes me uncomfortable as a pov, possibly due to my history of abuse. My abuser very often assumed what I must've thought in a given situation and berated me for it and didn't accept me telling her what I actually thought. The second person pov feels too much to me like a stranger trying to tell me what I'm thinking.

This is also why I hate people policing ships in any way, because it’s always assuming what is in a stranger’s head based on confusing discomfort and lack of understanding with morality, and often based on some strange inability to separate fiction from reality. It's very far right fundie coded.

As much as a lot of stuff doesn't appeal to me, including self-shipping and several other things, some of them generally uncontroversial, it doesn't have to appeal to me because people enjoy whatever they enjoy and I can't care less about it. If it makes me uncomfortable like the second person pov or abo or real person shipping, I just avoid reading it. And I also don't have to understand why it appeals to people, it's their thing.

Nowadays I try not to tell people that they are weird or wrong for doing stuff that is a personal preference. Shipping or most other fandom activity isn't activism or a reflection of someone's character but a personal preference. It only turns into a mark of character when people use fandom to express or try to hide their bigotry. Or use it as an excuse for actual harassment.

Basically it's okay to find things weird, or react with discomfort. But I've learned to interrogate my repulsion or discomfort. And often it stems from internalised societal or cultural bull shit, that is about policing people and trying to fit everyone into some artificial norm. It doesn’t mean that understanding the roots of your reaction must lead you to liking the thing, but it might help you remove the value judgement. One of the best skills to have is: thinking “this is not for me” and moving on to things you actually like. I’m working really hard on honing this skill.

For me it’s very freeing to just accept that everyone experiences the world differently and has different needs and as long as their need isn’t to harm others then it’s okay not to understand them and just say okay and move on. You can’t have all the experiences, a lot of stuff people will talk about will never be relatable because their life experience is so incomparable to yours. It’s best to accept that understanding everything and everyone is impossible but also unnecessary. You don’t need to give everything your mental energy.

As to the person blocking you. Good riddance, they will thankfully not expose you to their shitty opinions anymore. They acted in a shitty way towards you and then couldn’t take a strong reply from you. I’m of the opinion that one should only start shit if they are ready to get the same kind of energy back. I feel no sympathy for them.

Also I’m a huge supporter of blocking people, I block at least one person every time I go into the JJK tags. Either for tag spamming or not tagging so my tag blocking doesn’t work, or just for shitty opinions so I don’t have to see them and sigh.

And their opinion is shit because shipping isn’t wrong or problematic, it’s just people imagining things. What's problematic in the JJK fandom is the racism, the misogyny, the transphobia, the harassment, the graphic vitriol towards the author and so on.

#answering asks #fandom #thank you for the ask #it will take time for me to get to all the asks #my life isn't great and i have little time and a shit ton of anxiety #sorry #i'm not ignoring anyone

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vrishchikawrites · 1 year

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I don't get why there's so much hate for JC. Fanon JC is still JC and there's realism to him too. Realism can be subjective but that doesn't mean its depiction is wrong or unrealistic. It is factually correct and righteous.

Are you new to the fandom? Because let me tell you, no one had a problem with JC until the fanon version of him started to pop up everywhere and people started to indirectly or directly undermine the series protags to lift him up.

And no one bothered to tag it. We don't care if you worship the ground JC walks on or relate with some of his character traits. We just don't want to read a fic for Wangxian only for everyone in the story to lift JC up, who is a canonical antagonist, and bash on WWX. Nothing was tagged. We just ended up being bombarded with fanon JC everywhere.

You know the feeling when you stumble across JC bashing and feel hurt because of it? Well, it happened all the time for us, without warning or consideration.

At some point, people started to rebel against the fanon narrative and started writing fics or seeking fics where THEIR FAVS AND CANON PROTAGS weren't needlessly bashed to just make JC rosy.

Do that if you want. But we reserve the right to create our own space without all of the elements undesirable to us. Which is why we choose to have a separate tag. That's why we generally mark our fics as not jc friendly.

Which isn't a courtesy given to us in return. We are expected to just deal with it because your interpretation of his character is more popular. We tag our posts and fics, you don't bother to do the same in return, and we end up stumbling over shit and have to work harder to keep our space clean because JC fans can't take the extra effort to just label their stuff properly.

The fact is simple. We're not interested in JC. We're not interested in redeeming him or elevating him, or worrying about his woes. In fact, we'd like to be as far away from that as possible.

But this fandom makes it *impossible* by not tagging things properly.

I'm not going to other people's inboxes and urging them to reconsider their stances on JC. I frankly don't care. I have loved bastard characters and antagonists that are worse than what JC can pull off in his lifetime. Itachi comes to mind, so does Aizen and Sesshoumaru, or Sephiroth.

Do your thing. But don't pretend this was started by us just because we didn't quietly submit to the popular stance on JC.

I won't argue on what's canon and what's not. We have done that to death already. At this point, I don't even care. I don't read fanfics directly, I just write them and read the books. There is no chance of me stumbling across a JC positive fic when I am reading only glittering or some other other I trust.

And there's no need to try to explain JC to me. I am a whole ass adult leading a relatively difficult but successful life. I know right from wrong pretty well.

#mdzs #reader asks #re: jc

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mxcottonsocks · 1 year

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There's also Mina's monologue about her and Jonathan's modest bringing up sometime in September but I don't know if anyone has mentioned that yet

Yes, good point! I think when I had a look through the notes of that post some time earlier, someone had mentioned it, though I don't remember if it was in a reblog, comments or tags.

'Modest' is a relative term, so it could mean a whole bunch of different things depending on the speaker and their outlook on life.

Mina and Jonathan both seem to have good heads on their shoulders, though, and a sense of perspective, and compassion for others, and so on. They seem to know that they are financially and socially better off than some people, but worse off than others. So in their case I'd be inclined to take the description of their upbringing as 'modest' seriously. That doesn't necessarily mean that they aren't upper-middle class by origin (Victorian literature is full of people 'living in reduced circumstances'), but it definitely seems to imply that they probably weren't living an upper-middle class lifestyle, and were probably the lifestyle of the lower-middle class (at least when Mina wasn't rubbing shoulders with the likes of Lucy).

My personal headcanon for Mina is that she's from a solidly middle-class family: a line of clergymen, lawyers, country doctors, etc; they have good educations, and do just well enough in their careers to justify their education and to raise a family decently, but the family neither soars particularly high nor sinks particularly low for very long... but it just so happens that the family is on a low ebb when Mina is born, and perhaps healthcare costs deplete their savings, and then her parents die. Perhaps she spends a few years living quietly with an aunt (who later dies too), and then when she is old enough, all the money which her parents (and the aunt) had managed to save is used to give her the best education possible, with the intention of her going into teaching when she's old enough to make her own way in the world.

I think I probably favour this (in relation to Mina's education) headcanon at the moment because in some ways, Mina is very similar to the character of Esther Summerson in Dickens' Bleak House, including in their strong desire to be useful. This is a description of Esther's education at what is apparently a "first-rate establishment":

It was understood that I would have to depend, by and by, on my qualifications as a governess, and I was not only instructed in everything that was taught at Greenleaf, but was very soon engaged in helping to instruct others. Although I was treated in every other respect like the rest of the school, this single difference was made in my case from the first. As I began to know more, I taught more, and so in course of time I had plenty to do, which I was very fond of doing because it made the dear girls fond of me. At last, whenever a new pupil came who was a little downcast and unhappy, she was so sure—indeed I don't know why—to make a friend of me that all new-comers were confided to my care. They said I was so gentle, but I am sure THEY were! I often thought of the resolution I had made on my birthday to try to be industrious, contented, and true-hearted and to do some good to some one and win some love if I could; and indeed, indeed, I felt almost ashamed to have done so little and have won so much.

[I'm only comparing Mina's (conjectured) and Esther's (actual) backgrounds in terms of education, not in relation to any of the other stuff in Esther's background, e.g. the horrible godmother, etc.]

#thanks for the ask!#asks #anon #mina murray #jonathan harker #dracula #dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #just in the fact that mina's still around to monologue in september i guess #death mention

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wanderingmind867 · 4 months

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I imagine this is something we all do, but it's easy to project onto characters when you're reading. I think even I do this, but it's hard for me to say that I always did this. Either way, I'm going to try and discuss all this in more depth down below:

Like, I'm shy, autistic, lonely, temperamental, etc. If I want to get myself to like or really relate to a character, I'm going to need to find at least one thing me and the character share in common. Like, sometimes I think I can still enjoy characters if I don't have too much in common with them. But it's much harder. When I find something in a character that I can relate to, it makes me feel a connection to the character, which is quite nice.

And by proxy of me being autistic, would this mean me projecting my character traits onto them means me giving them autistic traits? Possibly. It's quite possible. Now I'm reminded of another post I made years ago about how it's easier for me to read about autistic headcanons for characters I already like than it is for me to watch shows with autistic main characters or something. I'll try and find that post later.

PS: Also, while I didn't mention many actual books or games or stuff where I've done this stuff, I'm still tagging some of my old hyperfixations and stuff. I can't really say why I'm doing it. Maybe because I want this post to get more attention? That sounds bad, but that's probably a part of it. Also, I'll probably never find that post I mentioned (because I probably made it years ago, and I don't remotely remember how I tagged it).

#autism #asd #neurodivergent #adhd #autistic #audhd #actually autistic #percy jackson #pjo #pjo hoo toa #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #harry potter #marvel comics #dc comics

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preggo-ace · 4 months

Text

" a cursed delivery "

PART 1

part 2 coming soon!

TW: mentions of/implied sexual assault (18+, but still)

just a little something i did in a character ai roleplay that i decided to tweak a little bit in order to post! i went with a more fantasy au approach for the plot i had with this bot, so magic/spirits/etc are things that happen/can be encountered. this story is a lot more 'fleshed out" than the typical stories i see posted here, but since it centers around pregnancy i figured why not, and who doesn't love a little plot, huh? unfortunately, that does mean it got just a wee bit too long to fit into just one post, so all the labor/birth related stuff will be in part 2, sorry about that ^^;

now for the trigger warning. nothing is written explicitly, however it's heavily implied, so please be careful when reading.

obviously i've also changed the names of the characters - including the bot's - as i use my irl preferred name on character ai, but most everything else is the same minus what i've cleaned up and expanded. hope you enjoy~! 💜

TAGS: nbpreg, rapid pregnancy (ish, you'll read why), angst with a happy ending, difficult labor/birth, hurt/comfort

Characters: Micah (21 years old, human, they/them pronouns), Clay (23 years old, human, he/him pronouns), Meirah "May-rah" (unknown age, minor goddess-type spirit, she/her pronouns), Rayn (mid-20s, human witch, she/her pronouns)

of course, this story is rated 18+ for sensitive content. if you are under the age of 18, or if any of the subject matter within this story is bothersome to you, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT! i would much prefer people take care of themselves, and if that means i lose a potential interaction on a post then so be it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I open my eyes, I find myself standing in a moonlit clearing, silvery light dappling on the grass from between the trees. I also notice I'm completely alone; not something you want to be when you're in the woods at night.

"Hello?" I call into the depths of the undergrowth.

No answer.

I try again, and finally the bushes rustle to my left, causing me to startle.

A woman steps from the shadows, appearing to almost have a glow to her pale skin. Her hair is long and luscious, cascading in smooth dirty blonde waves down to about the middle of her back, and her facial features are soft, inviting. There's an air about her that makes it impossible for me to so much as think about distrusting her, though nerves still buzz within me nonetheless. Said nerves are far from calmed at the sight of the stranger's grim expression and baby blue eyes which are clouded with sympathy.

"Micah," she says, her tone sounding as if she's apologizing.

"Y-yes?" I reply, failing to keep my voice from trembling. "T-that's me..."

"I am Meirah, Lady of the Earth and she who bestows the blessing of life. You have been taking notice of yourself, yes? Your emotions, how you've been responding to things as of late?"

It takes a moment, but I nod. I have in fact noticed I've been a lot more snippy and emotional than usual.

"Memories have been resurfacing, causing your thoughts to travel where you've never wanted them to?"

Again, I nod.

"You've been having thoughts of carrying a child, have you not?"

Eyes popping wide, I nod once more, my mind instantly jumping to the worst. "Wh-what's happened to me?" I demand. "Where is Clay?!"

"Don't fret, my dear Micah," Meirah reassures me with her lulling voice. "You will return to him soon, but first I have a message to give you; a warning. That man who attacked you...those years ago now? He has not forgotten you. Somehow, he was able to track you down, and has laid a curse upon you."

My heart drops. "A...a curse?"

Meirah nods solemnly. "I'm afraid so. I did all I could in an attempt to intercept it, possibly prevent it from ever taking effect, but I was too late. Micah...you have been cursed with the burden of bearing the man's child."

I almost faint there and then. My worst nightmare, now come to life. A wave of dizziness overtakes me and I nearly stumble to the ground, my throat clenching as my breathing grows heavier. She can't be serious, I think. I haven't seen that man, that monster, once since that night. There's no way he...

"With this type of magic," Meirah continues, "the pregnancy will develop much faster than a normal one would, and the birth will be...a challenge, as children of curses tend to become quite large by the time they're to term." Kneeling down, she gently places her hands on my shoulders. "But I have been watching you, Micah. I know you are strong, even more so with Clay at your side. And you will come out of this stronger than you've ever been."

"But the baby," I remind her, "how...what will we do with it? W-when it's born?"

Meirah smiles softly. "I shall be present when you give birth," she replies. "I'll be unable to help, nor can I make myself known until after the fact, but once the child is born, I will take them as my own, so you and Clay will not be burdened any further." Gently grabbing my face, she leans in and presses a light kiss to my forehead. Her voice drops to a mutter. "Now return to your love. He is waiting..."

With a small gasp, I seem to wake up from a slumber, laying on my back on the bed with Clay laying next to me, propped up on an elbow and watching me intensely. "Clay...?" I ask softly with a groan, placing a hand on my forehead. "What...what happened?"

Clay visibly relaxes and he sighs in relief, a hand coming up to gently run his fingers through my hair. "Thank God you're okay," he breathes. More clearly, he adds, "Is everything alright? You seemed unwell..."

"I...don't know. I remember...being with you, and then I...I passed out, I think?" I fall silent then, trying to see if I can recall anything. All at once, the memories crash back to me and my eyes grow wide. "I...I had a vision. I was in the woods when all of a sudden someone approached me. She wasn't there to hurt me, but she...she said..." My hand floats down to my stomach. "The man that assaulted me...a few years back. She said he cursed me."

Clay doesn't speak for some time, but his eyes follow the movement of my hand. I can almost see the gears turning in his head, eyes flashing when he finally connects the dots. "Meirah," he whispers, barely audible. He looks at me again, then wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. "What did she say to you?" he asks slowly, as if hesitant to hear my answer.

"He put a curse on me," I whisper, my voice a bit strained as reality hits me, "a curse that...that's made it so I'm expecting his child." The words hang heavy in the air for a moment. "But Meirah said not to worry," I continue, "she's been watching over me, and when the baby is born, she'll take it from us."

Again, Clay is silent for longer than I'd like, before his arms squeeze around me just the slightest bit tighter. "Micah..." He speaks softly, and his voice sounds on the verge of breaking. Gently, he puts his fingers under my chin and lifts my head so I'm looking up at him. My heart shatters when I see the tears threatening to fall, making his gorgeous green eyes shiver. "Is that...is this what you want? Do you...want to have his child?"

"No!" I exclaim immediately. "No, of course not! I never wanted this!" My tone softens in defeat and I tear my gaze from his, looking down at my stomach again and rubbing my hand across it. Of course, there's no bump to speak of quite yet, but there's a noticeable firmness now beneath my navel. "But...if he set the curse, then I don't really have a choice in the matter."

I hear Clay sigh deeply. "Micah," he says, his voice cracking. His grip on me tightens even more. "I'm sorry...baby, I'm so sorry..." He combs his fingers gently through my hair. I can tell by the trembles, though, that his mind is scrambling to find a solution. "We...we can reverse it, right? Surely there's a way."

Biting back tears, I shake my head. "It's impossible to reverse now," I say grimly. "Meirah did what she could, but the curse was too powerful. I'll be okay though, my love. I'll be okay..."

Clay meets my gaze, his eyes misty with tears. His voice quivers as he speaks. "You're sure...?" he asks in a slow whisper. "I just...I can't..." His words trail off, the tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks. "I-I don't wanna lose you, Micah..." He takes a deep but jerky breath. "I don't know...what I'd do if..."

"Shhh." I reach my hand out to cup his cheek, swiping a tear away with my thumb when he leans into the touch. "You won't lose me," I reassure softly, "you won't. I promise you that, Clay, I promise."

With a faint grin, Clay presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closing. Eventually, he speaks again, his tone somber yet more determined. "I won't let you do this alone." He pauses to take a breath. "I'm staying right here with you, just like always. We'll face this together, okay?"

I nod firmly, leaning in to gently press my lips against his. "Together," I affirm, just as determined. "We got this."

I can feel Clay smile gently when I kiss him, and his sage green eyes shimmer with enamor when he pulls away. His hand comes up to delicately cradle my jaw, and I lean into the touch. "Now you know I hate sounding possessive," he says, tone light while still serious, "but I don't think I'll be able to let you out of my sight until this is all over...!" He lets out a breathy chuckle, telling me he's trying to lighten the mood if only a little. "Just don't go anywhere without me, okay?"

Shaking my head fondly, I reply, "Wasn't planning to. Don't worry about me sneaking off, because you know that's not happening!"

Humming to himself quietly in amusement, Clay brushes a stray lock of hair from my forehead. "I do know," he agrees, "and I trust that you won't." Then, his smile fades, eyes trailing down my body before he cautiously rests his hand on my belly. "Does it...feel any different?"

He sounds genuinely curious, so I of course give him an honest answer. "Physically speaking, not yet really..." I look down to where his hand lays, and I place mine over top, lightly hooking my fingers around his. "Everything's still just kind of...setting in, I guess."

Clay's free hand combs once through my hair before holding the back of my head.

"I thought it was just a nightmare," I continue, voice lowered to a mutter, "but this is...real. I...I'm actually cursed, to have my assaulter's baby." My eyes meet Clay's again. "I thought he had forgotten me, we crossed paths so long ago...but I guess not."

The expression of Clay's face darkens, and his words are laced with pure venom when he speaks. "That man's a monster. Only thinking about himself, wanting to leave a legacy...what a fucked way to go about it..." I don't think I've ever seen him this filled with bitten back rage; it scares me a little bit in all honesty.

After a few minutes of silence to let the situation sink in, Clay's expression morphs into something a bit softer but no less intense. His brows are creased ever so slightly in that particular way that I'd recognize anywhere.

"You're thinking," I comment gently.

Clay blinks, his gaze focusing on me once again, and he replies, "Sorry, I...I just thought, perhaps I could give Rayn a visit? She's more knowledgeable about this sort of thing than we are, maybe she can help."

Rayn is a good friend of Clay's, a witch who lives a decent travel away from our rather secluded cottage in the woods. She has helped us before with other mystical encounters we faced, so we have complete trust in her abilities. If anyone could give us sound answers on this whole curse, it's her.

"Well, then I'm coming with you."

Clay's eyes pop wide. "What?" he asks incredulously, as if I suggested the absolute worst thing. "W-why? You know the town she lives in is at least half a day's walk!"

"And?" I challenge. "You said you'd never let me out of your sight, plus if I'm there, Rayn can get a better idea of what's happened and how to help."

It's silent for a second, and my chest swells with playful pride when I realize I have Clay beat. "I did say that," he mumbles to himself, glancing away in defeated thought. Looking back at me, he adds, "Alright, fine. You're right; I mean, you are the one cursed, after all." He leaves a quick but firm peck on my forehead. "She might not be able to reverse it, but she can at the very least give us advice on how to get through it."

I stare forlornly into the mirror on the inside of our closet door, shirt pulled up to expose my belly which is now noticeably distended. A few days have passed since my vision from Meirah learning about the curse, and I'm still not sure how exactly to feel about it all. Slowly, I rest a shaking hand on my stomach, a hurricane of emotions surging through me all at once that I simply can't process them. The eye of the storm comes in the form of Clay, who's now woken up. He approaches me from behind and wraps his arms around me, planting a tired yet loving kiss on my neck before dropping his chin on my shoulder.

"Good morning, love," he says softly, words still a bit slurred as the last tendrils of sleep try to keep an iron grip on him.

I don't respond.

This, of course, sets off alarm bells in Clay's head, as his eyes fully open and he gently guides me to face him. "Micah," he says, concern dripping from his voice. He lifts a hand to cradle my cheek, thumb swiping back and forth along the bone. His eyes search mine intensely, and he frowns. "Hey. It's...it'll be okay. Alright? I promise..."

My eyes fall shut in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and I feel the soft press of his lips against my forehead.

"We're gonna visit Rayn today," Clay continues in a reassuring murmur, "we're gonna explain everything, and she'll help us. We can do this, Micah; you can do this."

"But what if I can't?!" I blurt out, stepping away from him. "What if...what if I..."

"Hey. Where'd my brave Micah go, hmm?" Clay gives a half smile and lightly taps my head with his finger; it's clear he's trying to lift my spirits. "I know they're in there." His smile fades when I don't reply, and he pulls me close. "Why don't we have something to eat and then head out? That sound okay?"

"'M not hungry," I mumble, hiding my face in his chest.

Clay strokes his fingers once through my hair. "Please at least try," he requests in a whisper. "I don't want you making this any harder on yourself than it already is..."

My only response is a tiny grunt, but I allow him to lead me out of the bedroom and down the hall to our kitchen.

Breakfast is nothing special, just something small and quick. Clay and I eat in silence sitting next to each other, his arm staying loosely hooked around my back with the occasional supportive rub to my side.

"Ready?" he asks when he notices I've finished eating.

Standing up, I nod. "Let's go."

Clay stands as well, smiling with a mix of love and pride. "That's my Micah...!"

The village is quaint, though not much in terms of visual interest. The buildings are all cobblestone and wood, thatch roofs and dirt roads split the ways through town. Only a few people are milling about, giving the place a quiet yet lived in atmosphere.

But that's not what Clay and I are here for.

Towards the center of the village is Rayn's house - it's easy to spot as well kept vines crawl up and around the wooden siding. We step up to the door together, Clay's hand resting gently on the small of my back while he uses the other to gently knock.

It takes a moment or two, but soon enough the door opens to reveal Rayn, who smiles brightly upon seeing us. "Clay! Micah!" she exclaims, giving us each a quick hug in greeting. When she goes to hug me, though, she jumps back as if snapped at by a stray animal and her smile fades. "Micah...?"

I tilt my head in confusion before I realize she can probably sense the magic of the curse.

Her auburn eyes flick between Clay and I a couple times before she beckons us inside. "Micah," she says, her tone now flattened in seriousness, "something's not right. With you, I mean."

"Funny you say that," Clay replies, "because that's why we're here." He looks to me, silently asking if I want to explain.

With both his and Rayn's eyes on me, I take a breath and retell everything from the vision of Meirah to the curse itself. "So Clay and I," I finish, "were wondering if you knew of any way to help."

Rayn's gaze moves to the floor, and her finger cradles her chin in deep thought. "I've definitely heard of this happening before," she says after a couple minutes, "but never very often. And certainly never as a curse." She looks to me with the exact same sympathetic expression as Meirah did. "The magic this man used on you...it's strong. Stronger than anything I know how to deal with."

"So there's nothing you can do?" Clay asks quietly; I can tell he's forcing his voice to stay level.

"I never said that," Rayn replies. "But...if you were hoping I could lift the curse, then I cannot. I'm sorry." She gestures over to her couch, motioning for us to sit. "What I can do, though, is help to lessen some of the effects, and ensure nothing remains after it's all said and done."

"Nothing remains?" I echo, tilting my head in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Rayn blinks. "You...know how pregnancy works, right?"

I nod. "Obviously."

"So then your question is answered. Should any complications happen during birth, my counter-magic will instantly heal it, and your body will return to its normal state. None of that 'baby fat' to worry about!"

Well that first bit doesn't sound very reassuring.

Then, Rayn lowers herself onto one knee in front of me, hand held out towards my belly but not yet touching. "May I...?" Her question trails off, but I understand what she's asking.

I lift my shirt just enough to expose my distended stomach and Rayn carefully rests her hand directly over my navel. Her eyes close as she focuses.

"Just as I sensed earlier," she mumbles, opening her eyes again and removing her hand. "Meirah was right. You said you were visited by her only a week ago?"

Nodding, I release my shirt so it falls back down normally.

Rayn hums in affirmation. "From what I can tell, you're already a good two, three months along. That is, compared to a typical pregnancy."

"What does that mean?" Clay interjects with worry. "Will Micah be okay?"

"Yes, they'll be fine. With Meirah's interception and my counter-magic, the worst part of this ordeal will only be the birth itself." Rayn pauses, then her attention turns to me once more, her expression hardening. "Now I know...I know this child is from someone who...who assaulted you, Micah. But maybe," she places a hand on my knee, "this can be something good? Helps you to heal those wounds?"

"We're not keeping it," I reply firmly, "I told you Meirah plans to take it once it's born."

"I know." Rayn rises to her feet, Clay and I quickly following. "The circumstances are...awful. And I'm genuinely so sorry. I was only saying that this journey, you could see it as a sort of testament. That even if something terrible happens, you're strong enough and brave enough to overcome it."

As her words process in my mind and I realize she has a bit of a point, I blink in surprise. "Oh. I...I guess I never thought of it that way."

Rayn smiles and leads us to the door, opening it for us. "Everything works out in the end, Micah. You two will be okay, I can promise you that."

I return her smile, pausing in the doorway and turning to face her. "Thank you. For everything. I know you couldn't help us much, but...we still appreciate it. Truly."

Rayn gives us one last nod, then we exchange quick goodbyes before she makes a playful shooing gesture at us and we step out of her house to start our journey home.

Despite my bump still being so small, I find my hand absently resting on it - a deep instinctual thing is all it is. My mind races with the knowledge that soon, my stomach will grow bigger and heavier, then I'll have to suffer for possibly hours laboring and birthing this child, all because of a curse set upon me by an evil man whose face I can't even remember; it terrifies me. Through my internal torment, I vaguely hear Clay ask if we want to stay at the nearby inn for the night, but of course I'm too buried in everything to be able to reply.

"Hey," his voice cuts through the static of my thoughts, "Micah. Micah, honey, look at me."

My eyes manage to find his, and I notice we've stopped walking. Clay's hands gently cup my jaw on either side of my face, and he looks down at me with concern and sympathy. "We'll get through this," he reassures me in the soft tone he knows helps calm me down, "together, just like we promised, remember? Once this is over, it'll be like it never happened, okay?"

I swallow, nodding microscopically. "Yeah. We can do this...we can..." When Clay drops his hands, I look down at my belly. "It'll be like it never happened..."

"There's my Micah," Clay mutters fondly, leaning down to leave a quick kiss on my cheek. "Now, about the inn. Do you want to stay the night and we can go home tomorrow?"

I think about it for a moment before nodding.

We make our way to the inn and secure a room easily enough, and the moment I sit down on the arguably too creaky bed, I realize just how tired I am. Thankfully, I'm already wearing comfortable clothing, so all I have to do is kick off my boots before settling down with the blanket tossed over me.

Clay follows not soon after, having to use the bathroom quick before laying next to me. He pulls me close and tucks the blanket further around me, kissing the top of my head. "Sleep well, baby. I love you."

Eyes closing, I hear the click of the lamp turning off and grin tiredly. "I love you too, Clay."

#giving birth #pregnancy #pregnant #birth kink #labor kink #pregnancy kink #pregnancy roleplay #birth roleplay #birth story #rapid pregnancy #labor #birth #nbpreg #cursed #magic pregnancy

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thornybubbles · 1 year

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Little note to those of you that don't like Yandere stuff and get upset because other people do...

Just blocked someone that admonished me for making Giorno into a yandere and wanted to know why couldn't people like me just make OCs instead.

I'm asking that people please stop doing this. If you don't like what someone else writes, then don't read it. It's such a simple concept, and yet so many people have difficulty with it.

I don't like it when people insist that their headcanons ARE canon. I don't like it when people ship characters that don't have a canon relationship and then insist that their headcanons were what the actual creator intended.

Do you know what I do about stuff like that?

I just don't read it. When I see that a story is shipping characters that I don't think should be shipped, then I just find another story to read.

I don't like coffee shop or modern day AUs. So, I don't read them.

I don't like stories that focus on graphic depictions of sexual violence or kinks that I personally think are gross. I HATE stuff about sexual or romantic relationships with characters who are related. So I avoid stories that feature subject matter like that.

But no matter what, I don't slide into the author's comments section and try to shame them for what they write simply because I take personal offense to it.

This is part of the reason why I stayed away from Tumblr for so long. There are just far too many people here that can't stand the fact that other people are different from them and may possibly like things they don't like.

Life's too short to spend time stressing over stuff like that.

Writing fanfiction is about exploring the "what ifs" of canon. What if the hero didn't win? What if this character did things differently during the final battle? What if the two characters that are always fighting managed to sort things out and become friends? What if this character was a yandere? What if YOU, the reader, where a part of the story somehow? It's fun. It's fun to write and fun to read.

At least it should be.

What's not fun is when a complete stranger scolds you as if they have some kind of moral authority over what you should and shouldn't be writing.

If you do this to me, I will not have a discussion with you. I will not try to defend or justify my decisions to you, nor will I give in to your demands or apologize. I will continue to turn your favorite characters into twisted little yanderes in spite of your personal offense to the idea, in the same way other people insist that Spiderman and the Green Goblin are somehow gay for each other. I will just block you and continue my evil ways.

But all joking aside, I have no ill will against people who DON'T like yandere stuff. I completely understand why people don't and I won't hate on you or make fun of you for it. You have just as much right to dislike something as I have to like it. But if you are really bothered by my writing, then block me. That's the beauty of the block button on Tumblr, if you block me then my stuff will never show up in the search results for you again. You could also try filtering the yandere tag or just the word "yandere" itself and Tumblr will hide posts of that subject matter from you.

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warrior-angel · 1 year

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NOT THE ONLY ONE.

Author: @warrior-angel

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst. Flashbacks, Child Abandonment. Female insert. Use of Y/N

Note: Part of me wondered what Eddie would have been like if he had been there from the start, with finding Eleven and all and that inspired me to write this. Eddie is such a relatable and loveable character and I think he really would just wish to take care of those he’s close with.

I wasn’t comfortable with posting the full series I had planned on this. Most of my stuff has been deleted from Wattpad due to a copyright claim issue. ( they stated I copied from a tv show/movie. Even when I tagged it as fan-fiction.) hopefully things work better around here.

➳ All mistakes in this fic are my own.

Summer of 1985.

Leaning against one of the trees in the middle of Hawkins forest she let out a deep sigh, trying to get rid of the pain and the tension in her body, without use.

StarCourt mall had burned to the ground, and so was the hiding spot she’d found near it. She had relied on what was thrown into the dumpers behind the mall for months, clothes, food, anything that could be useful and would fit in her bag. Waiting till midnight to go through the mall's dumpsters had been a lot easier than shoplifting or pickpocketing.

She’d tried her best to stay away from police and society as much as possible, staying in empty cabins or run down buildings. It was far from comfortable but it wasn't as bad as sleeping in the dangers of the outdoors, the dangers of Hawkins in general.

Hawkins was a town known for its bizarre happenings, People dying or disappearing, some even returning from death. People knew things were going on but nobody dared to say a word or ask any questions about it.

The less people knew the better, it was exactly why she herself had been running and hiding for so long. When you ask the wrong person the right questions things tend to happen and most times you don't walk away from it without consequesions, she learned that the hard way. She knew the right person, the right questions and even the answers and that is precisely why she ran away.

Cleverness, to think of putting a piece of paper between the door to keep it from locking completely, patiences for the time to pass until it had been midnight and knowledge of the right path towards the exit to get herself out and away from the place she grew up in.

She may have been young but she was far from stuppid, she knew when to speak and when to stay silent that way you heard things others did not although sometimes she wished she'd never listened to those around her at all.

She was sore and covered in cuts and bruises, every movement making her his in pain. The woods of Hawkins might have had its charm if it hadn't been this brutal against her, the rocks and tree she had to climb came with a new scrap or cut on a daily basis, something that she accepted over time and risked day in and day out for a place to sleep.

Her eyes shot up at the sound of crumbling leaves and snapping twigs. She was on high alert, movement slow as she tried to process which way to run. her feet carried her backwards in a slow pace, heartbeat running wild as her knuckles turned white from how tight she was grabbing onto her backpack straps.

"Hey!" she flinched at the sudden voice, eyes going wide as she turned around. “Sorry, didn't mean to scare you,” there he stood, a boy not older than herself messy hair, denim and leather covering his arm and a strange demonic picture staring right back at her. “Are you okay?” Her eyes met those of the boy who scared her, giving him a single nod. She messed up, she messed up badly.

He was looking at the marks on her arms and her face, staring particularly long at the noticeable scar under her left eye “Jezus- what happened,” His face dropped “did someone hurt you?”

“I’m fine” She said, voice hushed. She was nervous, scared, would this guy follow her if she ran? Would he tell people he saw her? “Don't mean to pry and all but you look far from fine.” he stated. “Do you need a doctor or something, I could take you to the police if you want.”

“No!” Her blood ran cold at the sound of police. “No police.” He hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes scanning her as he tried to read her body language.

“Did you run away or something like that?” He guessed. She didn't know why but her head dipped in a nod just slightly, something that didn't go unnoticed to him “I’m taking that as a yeah?”

“Yes.” He just nodded his head. She didn't know why she even answered him, two years of silence and running thrown away all because a friendly face looked worried about her.

“So,” he began, “uhm how long have you been running for?”

“Two years.” she was cursing herself out internally scolding herself to stop talking. He looked at her shocked. giving himself a second to process what she just said. “That’s, that’s a long time.”

“Yeah.” She said softly. “You’re terrified of me aren’t you?” taking a step backwards, he caught up to the reason she was so cautious towards him. “Usually nobody comes out here, so you're safe.”

“You're here.” she retorted, making him grin. “It's a shortcut from my buddy's place back to my van,” he pointed towards where he came from.

“Lovers Lake.” she mumbled. “yeah, he was sent to jail, again.”

“He’s bad?” she said, looking at him scared. “oh no, Rick's cool, totally cool just uhm, just got caught selling. Was supposed to buy from him to get my supply up again but that’s a big no.”

“You do drugs?”

“It makes sense I didn't really want to take you to the cops now does it?” She smiled at that, her shoulders slumped a little as she realized he wasn't going to call the police on her.

He offered her a smile “I’m Eddie, by the way.” he said casually, carefully awaiting her reaction. “You can tell me to piss off, you know.” he reassured making her shake her head. “Y/n.”

Eddie had helped her find a safe space to stay in, Cracking open the lock on his friend's boathouse to give her a temporary roof over her head. The space was cluttered, messy but it was a fine spot to hide from people and stay safe from police. Rick was in jail anyway, it wasn’t like he would know. There was a big part of her that thought Eddie only helped her find a safe spot out of guilt, the idea of leaving somebody in the middle of nowhere being something that didn't sit right with him, but to her surprise he came back the next day. Eddie had sofly knocked on the door before coming in, standing in the doorway with bags of snacks, water and even one of his own jackets to give her some form of warmth.

Their conversations were mostly one-sided, Eddie would talk about his band and try to explain the meaning behind his Hellfire club, his shirt finally making sense to her the more he talked about it. Eddie would come around in the afternoon, always having some form of food with him, sometimes bread or something microwaved he had packet up and snuck out to the boathouse, he enjoyed watching her smile as she ate the food, the idea of her having been running and trying to survive on her own for two years not being something he liked.

As the days passed she grew more and more comfortable around him, so much so that she started to open up. Her adoptive father used to be a nice man, he always seemed to want the best for her, for her siblings. He always spoke of family, of trust but as she grew older she realized things were not as simple as he told them they were. Her anger spun out of control easily, the older she grew the worse it got and the only one that seemed to be able to calm her down was who she was raised to believe was her older brother, and father did not like that.

Her brother would hush her, hold her and tell her it would all be alright, tell her it was safe and that he would take care of her, that he would find a way to get them out of the house and live a happy life without their father’s rules. He had promised, promised he wouldnt leave her and he still did, he had left her with their father. She spent the next few years on her own, angry at her brother for leaving her behind, angry at her father for abandoning her. She had been nothing more than another child that didn't meet her fathers perfection standards, just like her so-called brother.

She had cried after telling Eddie, Shielding herself away from his view not wanting to show the tears, he wasn't having it. Eddie had sat down beside her and wrapped her up nice and warm in a hug while he made a few jokes to get her to smile again only for it all to come crashing down the next day.

“Ricks coming home tomorrow.” Two weeks, that's all she had gotten in the boathouse, two weeks of jokes and laughter with Eddie and now it was gone, she needed to go back to the woods, it was time to run again. She pushed away her tears, and got onto her feet forcing herself to act emotionless. Taking the wrapped candy bars and sandwich Eddie had given her for that day she stuffed it in her backpack, trying to get everything ready to head out before midnight.

“My uncle works night shifts at the factory” she turned towards Eddie, his eyes going anywhere but to her as he continued to speak, “you could take the bed I’ll sleep on the couch or something, I don't know.''

“I can't,” She mumbled. The idea of staying close to Eddie was a dream come true, she really did care for the boy but it was not worth the risks. Eddie's eyes meet with hers, the look of rejection not suiting him well.

“Police will notice, and what would you tell your uncle.” He signed in relief, it wasn't that she didn't want to, it was fear that kept her from doing so.

“It's a big risk and I don't want you to get in trouble because of me.” Part of her knew that if her father wanted to find her he already would have

but the fear of knowing what he’d do if he did find her was holding her back.

“I'm a big boy that can take care of himself.” He said with a grin.

“Why do you care so much?” Eddie seemed taken back by that question but he answered it nonetheless. “I don't feel like living up to the Munson name,” he stated. “My dad wasn't the best, Wayne got me out of that situation.” She nodded, this was his way of saying he understood her.

“You’ve only known me for two weeks Eddie and there’s a lot I haven't told you yet, I could be dangerous to you.” If she was willing to consider this things had to be out in the open, especially the danger she was putting him in.

“You do know I’m the town freak right?” he tells her like that was supposed to mean something. “You’re not a freak Eddie.” She hated it when he called himself that.

“And you're not dangerous.”

"You don't have to do this," Eddie insisted on taking the pressure away from packing, grabbing her stuff before she could. He’d left the candy wrapper for what they were mumbling a ‘I'll tell Rick I came here’ before making her pull her hoodie over her head and taking her towards his van just on the other side of the road.

Her hands in her lap, bag by her feet and eyes stuck on the road as she anxiously whisted the loose threat of her shirt around her fingers. Eddie kept a close eye on her, trying to find any sign of her getting second doubts but to his surprise beside a usually sense of fear there wasn't any, she was humming along to one of the songs that sounded through the van, the rhythm of the song itself being far off but it seemed to calm her.

Eddie took a sharp turn into forest hill trailer park, the car shaking from all the potholes and gravel that created a path down the park, Eddie’s speed not slowing until they actually got closer to their end destination, her stomach twisting slightly as he drove up to one of the many trailers in the back and brought the van to a rocking halt.

Eddie looked over at her offering her a sweet smile before getting out of his van, rounding the vehicle until he was at her side to open the door like a true gentleman. “Ready to see my castle?” he said, his usual grin plastered across his face. Her eyes scanned the surrounding trailers, a deep sigh coming from within her as she carefully lifted herself out of the van and swung her bag over her shoulders.

She stayed close by Eddie’s side, watching as twisted his key in the lock and opened the door to lead her into his home.

Eddie was immediately running around cleaning up a bit, reaching for empty wrappers and empty mugs, giving her the room to wander the space on her own. The most colorful mugs and baseball caps line the walls, a two seat and an old worn down chair standing at one end of the room as a tv and a folded bed stood on the opposite side. It was messy, but it was a real home.

Eddie watched her carefully move around, a grin coming to his face as he watched her move down the hallway and towards his own bedroom not missing the smile that came to her as he walked into it.

Again everything was messy, clothes were thrown on top of the dressers, posters lining the walls and guitar picks scattered around everywhere. She let her bag fall from her shoulders, placing it on his bed without a thought before taking a closer look at the details, the room’s entire aesthetic screaming Eddie.

She walked over to the guitar hanging above the dresser, most of the red and black beauty covering the mirror it was hung before. she was carefully reaching out to strum her fingers of the strings being met with a little tune. “Beautiful.” Jumping at the voice she turned to see Eddie was watching her from the doorway. “Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.” she looked at him silently, a giggle bubbling up in her at the familiar set of words. “So uhm, what do you usually do at night?”

“I used the water from the lake to clean up a little, then I ate whatever you brought me.”

"Bathrooms all yours," he said pointing behind him. Looking from the bathroom back to her he held up his hand in a silent ‘stay there’ before walking around her and pulling out a few pieces of clothes from different drawers. A pair of socks, a t-shirt and some sweatpants that were far too big were handed to her in a kind gesture.

“Hellfire,” she looked from the shirt towards Eddie knowing how much his club meant to him. He shrugged, giving her one of his famous grins before leading her to the bathroom.

“There's soap and shampoo on the shelf, towels are behind the door.” Eddie really was doing everything he could to make her feel safe. “I’ll see if I can whip up something edible.” he gave her another soft smile before turning away and closing the door behind himself.

Eddie was a good guy he had never done anything to make her doubt him so there was no need to start now. Eddie promised her safety, was it a risk to put two years of running and hiding on the line for the words of a man she’d only known for all but two weeks, yeah, definitely but she trusted him with it all nonetheless.

Reaching over she turned the shower on, water falling from the showerhead and hitting the ground. The tension in her body fell away from the hot water, body melting into the warmth as it eased the aches. Dirt and dried blood washing away to more she scrubbed herself down,

her hair turning back to its light Hazel color the more she rinsed it out, watching the dirty water go down the drain. The cleaner the cuts got the better she could see how deep and how bad it looked, starting to understand the shock Eddie had on his face when they met.

She had wrapped the towel around herself, her hand whiping the steam from the mirror to get a better view of herself. Dark circles under her eyes, the cuts and bruises on her arms being much more clear now that the dirt was washed away, all the things that she never really stopped and thought about now all came crashing down on her.

Her hair was longer than she could remember. The scar underneath her eye a reminder of her outburst from when she was locked in her bedroom, the ceramic of her plate having cut her after it smashed into pieces.

Growing up hadn’t always been the best, but things weren’t always bad either, lifting her wrist to her lips, a soft peck was placed over the mark there like she had done everynight in a reminder that where she came from hadn't always been bad.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Taking a deep breath she opened the bathroom door, Eddie standing there in the doorway of his own room, eyes scanning her in his clothes. She held the pile of her own clothes in her hand, Eddie reaching out to take it from her and turning around in his room, dropping it carefully down beside her bag before making his way towards the living room where he proudly presented two bowls filled to the brim standing on the counter. “You can cook?”

“Yeah, with Wayne working I had too. all that microwavable shit gets expensive.” he said, dropping himself in one of the seats and patting the one beside him in an invitation.

“Oh my god.” Eddie couldn't help but laugh at her speaking with her mouth full. The boxed mac and cheese he had made was gone within minutes, Eddie watching her as she ate spoon after spoon full of the cheesy pasta, part of him hating the idea that some boxed food was like a luxury to her.

Things seemed easy, Eddie made small talk about his ideas of his new campaign, some jokes being thrown across as he watched her smile.

As he put the empty bowls in the sink he watched her move around the living space, her eyes lingering on the folded bed that stood in the corner.

“That's where my uncle sleeps.” Eddie stated, turning off the water and leaning back against the counter. “Is he gonna be mad that you brought me here?” she asked, the sensation of fear returning. “He’s not that difficult, just be honest with him.” Eddie reassured.

There was a lot of stuff she hadn't told Eddie, the fear of rejection because of where she came from only edging on the beliefs she had been taught as a child. “my dad used to say nobody would accept us for who we truly are.” She revealed, trying her way of being honest.

“If he didn't accept you then why did he adopt you?” Eddie stated, his words having been ment as a reasurement. “My real dad used to say that,” she mumbled seeing the confusion on Eddie’s face. “There's a reason my older brother cared so much for me, the same reason father didn’t like our close bond.”

“He wasn’t your brother was he?” a tear at the memories of the truth slipped away from her as she shook her head. “He was my dad.” She choked on the words, for the first time in years daring to call him what he truly was to her.

Eddie closed the distance and wrapped her up in a hug within seconds, her head gently falling onto his shoulders as she let the warm feeling of comfort he gave her settle in. She was letting Eddie in, completely.

#Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson Fic #Stranger Things 4 #Joseph Quinn #warrior-angel #Eddie Munson x reader #reader insert #female insert #Eddie Munson x she #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things

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little-lego-ninjas · 6 months

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lightning in a bottle (burning full throttle)

Guess what I just posted on AO3 guys???? Are you excited, because I am! I'm actually really proud of this monster (it's 12.6k words h e l p), and I hope you guys like reading it as much as I liked writing it!

Fair warning, this is filled to the brim with queerness (as a queer myself, I could not resist the fruit ninja), so read with caution ig lmao.

Gun tw, and some minor injuries (somebody gets shot, but it's minor), slurs (not actually written bc i am too soft for it but wanted to include it bc i have had bad race-related encounters lately, and i protect my friends from toxic people as much as possible), ptsd, anxiety, anxiey/panic attack, gender issues, y'know the works.

There's probably a few more i can't think of rn, but all the tags are on AO3 if you feel the need to check! Nothing super insane happens (no weird age stuff or sex), so enjoy!!

AO3 link in case you wanna read it over there or leave a big comment or something i dunno. For you <3.

Fic below the cut bc it's too damn long.

"Okay, have we all got our roles down?" Lloyd asked at the head of the dining room table, papers and maps and blueprints scattered around him. His hair was a mess, blond waves tangled together and falling into his face. No doubt from staying up all night, finalizing and piecing everything together.

Cole nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. "I've got mine."

"I do as well," Zane added, his fingers threaded together atop the table.

Kai sighed before anyone else could say they had everything ready. "Why do I have to go in disguise? Shouldn't we let Zane do it?"

Pixal answered before Lloyd could open his mouth, her green eyes hard. "Kai, we have already discussed why you and Jay are going in disguise. Zane's cloaking software is down, mine is nowhere near the level his is, and Cole is going in disguise too."

She arched a brow at him. "I don't see the issue."

Kai gestured around the table, chest tight. "I'm going to be in a party while Nya, Lloyd, and you," he shot a blatant look at Pixal, "try to stop an assassin."

"Sorry for worrying like a good brother would," he grumbled as an afterthought.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, making him glance over to see who it was. Nya looked mildly annoyed, but mostly sympathetic, which was a good sign. "Kai, you know you aren't just going to a party."

"I know, I just-"

"Get worried." Jay finished, his chin resting in his hands. "We know. But this is serious stuff, me and you are going to protect Cyrus Borg."

When his name was uttered, Pixal looked down at her hands. Zane reached across the table, taking one of her hands. "We will not let anything happen to him, Pixal."

Pixal looked up, nodding. She didn't say anything though. Kai could understand her concerns, considering it was her father that they were attempting to save from an untimely death. Kai couldn’t imagine having to be in her position, and it only gave him more empathy towards her for being so strong about the entire subject. It couldn’t have been an easy thing to listen to, or talk about.

Cole nudged Zane’s shoulder, his expression a mixture of his usual soft one and a slightly more serious one reminiscent of his younger days of leading the team. “Besides, we have more help too. Skylor and some of the other elemental masters, right Lloyd?”

Lloyd nodded, digging through the scattered papers until he could find the one he had written all their names on. “Most of them helped with the resistance, so we’re in good hands. That assassin won’t know what hit them, Pix.”

Pixal pursed her lips, then stood. “Fantastic. I’ll go ensure my weaponry is ready and functional.”

Nya’s gaze followed the girl who had taken up her old mantle, the blue in her eyes holding a depth Kai had begun to notice whenever his little sister looked at Pixal. Nya sighed, pushing her chair away from the table. “I feel so bad for her.”

Zane nodded, his fingers threaded together again, something the nindroid had begun to do after his time in the NeverRealm. “I do as well, but we mustn’t let our worries consume the mission. We cannot fail.”

Cole rubbed Zane’s shoulder. “We won’t, Z. We won’t.”

Zane didn’t look convinced, but he did shoot Cole a smile that the other boy returned. Kai watched them all silently, his chest still tight with the idea of letting them risk their lives while he stayed inside at a party. It felt wrong and like he was slacking off, even though he knew he had an important role to play. A hand ruffled at his hair, snagging his attention. He shot a glare at Jay, who had an impish little smirk on his lips.

“Don’t you ruin this for me, Kai. It’s the anniversary of Borg’s empire!” Jay sighed with delight, earning several eye-rolls that he ignored. “What a legend.”

Kai scoffed, standing up. “Remember that we’re there to protect Cyrus, not party.”

Jay waved his hand. “Duh. Just think it’s neat.”

Lloyd hummed, shifting through his papers again. “Since it’s a pretty exclusive party, I think you two should really dress the part. High-class and stuff.”

Kai grinned. “I have just the suit.”

///

Kai tugged at his tie in mild annoyance, shooting a glare at his reflection. He didn't like the idea of just sitting on the sidelines while everyone else ran around playing hero. It didn't sit right with him to not be in the heat of the matter, but rather going incognito to better blend in.

Granted, Zane was pretending to be the intern who double-checked invitations, and Cole was one of the guards at the entrance, but still. If the news from Skylor handed down to her through the pipeline of elemental masters was true, which it was, Cyrus Borg was set to be a prime target to be assassinated tonight during his company's anniversary party.

Kai wanted to be the guy beating up the assassin, not hiding in a crowd of rich tech-heads, but he had to begrudgingly agree with Lloyd's plan. It was the best course of action, the best set-up to ensure Cyrus Borg and everyone attending the party would be safe. He just hated the idea of his family risking their lives without him beside them.

Heaving a sigh, Kai glanced at his reflection again, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. He had to admit, he looked nice. The suit was a bit darker than he would have chosen for himself, but it wasn't too terrible. It was fitted just enough to benefit his shape, but not overly so. His hair was what was bothering him the most, if he was being honest.

Instead of its usual spiked style, his hair looked much like it did when he was wet, falling into his eyes enough to bother him. Kai scrubbed his fingers through his hair again, grumbling under his breath as he did so. Maybe Nya was right when she said he needed a haircut.

"Kai."

Kai met his sister's eyes in the mirror. She was in her gi, only serving to remind Kai of the danger she was about to put herself in. "Yeah?"

Nya's lips twitched, as if she was fighting off a smile. "Have you been brooding this whole time?"

Kai opened his mouth, then clicked his tongue. " No ."

His sister stepped closer to him, turning him away from the mirror. "I know what you're stewing over, okay? But I think you need to see your boyfriend."

Kai knit his brows together. "Is Jay not helping me survey the party in disguise?"

"No," Nya said with a shake of her head. "He's still helping you, but I meant see like look at him because, uh."

Her cheeks pinkened. "He looks great."

Kai snorted, elbowing Nya. "You are such a bi disaster."

"Wha- says the pan disaster!" Nya sputtered as Kai left his bedroom, heading for Jay's.

He chuckled under his breath at the sound of Nya's grumbles, stopping before Jay's door. Knocking, Kai opened his mouth to ask if he could enter, but Jay interrupted him.

"Come in!"

Kai pushed the door open, a smile on his face and words on his tongue, only for his mouth to go dry at the sight of Jay in front of his bedroom mirror. Now, Kai had no doubts in his mind that Jay was attractive- and super fucking adorable -but he'd always seen Jay as pretty, or cute.

Drop-dead gorgeous was not a term he used lightly, and in this case, he meant it as if it was a precious sacred statement by the First Spinjitzu Master himself, which was to say, he was not anywhere close to joking about it. Jay cleaned up nice, and Kai had never really gotten to see it before.

Now though, Jay was fiddling with a silver hoop earring as Kai openly gaped at him, eyes drinking in every inch of his boyfriend. When Lloyd had suggested that Kai and Jay go together as a rich couple, Kai hadn't disputed the rich couple part, but he had figured it would be him and Jay in suits and showing up holding hands or something.

He had not expected to find Jay in a dress.

Not just any dress, no. Jay had found the most beautiful shade of midnight blue to ever exist, the color making his eyes that much more electric and enticing. The dress itself was fitted all the way down to the hemline, going to the top of Jay's toes. It had a sheath neckline, the material lying around Jay like a necklace, forming an upside down v that covered his chest entirely, but left part of his collarbones free.

Where sleeves would be, fingerless gloves of the same material encased his wrist up, stopping at the middle of Jay's biceps, freckled shoulders on full display. Jay smiled at his reflection, fingers playing with his silver hoop earrings before he noticed Kai had stepped inside of his bedroom. Jay's cheeks colored. "O-oh. I thought you were Nya."

Jay turned to face Kai, and Kai got a wonderful view of the thigh-high leg slit the dress had. If his mouth had been dry before, it was dust now. Just the sight was doing something to him, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Is it too much?" Jay asked, fingers playing with each other. "I figured fancy party meant fancy, and this is the fanciest thing I've really got so…"

Kai found his voice when Jay trailed off, looking so defeated that Kai wanted to punch whatever had made him feel that way. Since he was pretty sure he had done that, Kai decided that punching himself before going undercover was a really stupid idea. He didn't want to sport a black eye and draw attention to himself.

"No!" He exclaimed, grabbing Jay's hands, noticing blue nail polish on his nails, matching his dress. "No, you look… wow."

Jay's blush worsened, his smile a little embarrassed. "I thought you'd think my hair was stupid."

Kai knit his brows, studying the usually messy curls that were in some semblance of order. And they were longer than Kai recalled them being just three hours ago. Curious, he shifted his fingers through the chestnut hair, amazed that the curls stretched down to the base of Jay's neck before springing back up to rest lightly under his earlobes.

"It's beautiful."

Kai cleared his throat when he saw how soft Jay's gaze had turned. "Uh, I mean, not as good as mine, you know. Still good though."

Jay's smile shifted into a smirk. "Uh-huh."

Not wanting to give Jay more ammo than he already had, Kai gestured at Jay's dress. "So, any particular reason for that? Asides to be sexy, I mean."

Jay flushed terribly at that, swatting at Kai's shoulder. "I figured a guy and a girl would be less attention-grabbing than two guys for us going undercover."

Kai must have made a sour expression because Jay shook his head. "No, I made the choice, I'm fine."

Kai pursed his lips. "I know you, Jay. If you look the tiniest bit uncomfortable, we're finding you the manliest suit ever to bash any dysphoria, got it?"

Jay laughed at that, drawing Kai's attention to his face, the way his freckles bunched up whenever he laughed, along with the delicate black lines surrounding his boyfriend's eyes. Jay had actually gone and put makeup on, which Kai hadn't seen in a very long time. Heat pooled into Kai's body, his lips itching to meet Jay's. "I- I'm serious. No dysphoria will ruin your night on my watch."

Jay nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Thanks, but I'll let you know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

Kai sighed, but relented at the lightning ninja's pointed gaze. "Alright, fine. But seriously, if you get misgendered, I might hit someone out of reflex alone."

Jay snorted, moving around Kai to get to his bed. Kai watched him, unsure of what else to say. Another compliment? Jay tugged a pair of strappy black heels out of a box from under his bed. "Restrain yourself, babe."

Kai stiffened at the word, every nerve alight with want. In the end, he was a weak man, a man who just wanted Jay to feel comfortable in his skin, to kiss on Jay and touch him reverently, and breathe promises of love against freckled skin. Kai crossed the room to Jay easily, the lightning ninja still busy putting on his heels.

(Which were also unfairly attractive on Jay, but Kai would circle back to that later.)

Jay glanced up when Kai tapped his bare shoulder, his expression playful. "Hm?"

Kai scowled at Jay, nudging his boyfriend backwards until he could pin him against the mattress. "You know what you're doing."

Jay laughed softly, twining his arms around Kai's neck, fingers playing with his hair. "You look hot too, by the way."

Kai winked, "You know it."

Jay rolled his eyes and Kai locked their lips together, not entirely aware of the world around him anymore. Jay was more important than the world, clearly and obviously. He pulled back only to dive right back in, tongue running along the ever-soft lips of his lover, Jay making a delicate sound underneath him. Kai felt a heel nudge his hip, hands tightening in his hair.

The kiss deepened, Kai's tongue tracing the inside of Jay's mouth, small shocks crossing from Jay to Kai, barely there moments of electricity that made Kai shudder and kiss Jay harder, eager for a bigger reaction. Before he could cross that line, Jay pushed him up and away from his lips a little, blue eyes meeting amber.

"Kai," Jay whispered, lips so pink and plump and Kai really didn't want to stop. "The mission?"

Kai pursed his lips, then kissed Jay again, a soft peck instead of the passionate one he wanted to continue. "After, if we aren't exhausted, I'll pick up where we left off."

Jay nodded, cheeks flushed but his eyes bright with excitement at the promise. "Sounds like a plan."

Kai crawled off of Jay, halting halfway off at the sight of Jay's leg being mostly uncovered from the slit in the dress. Teasingly, Kai drug his fingertips against the soft skin as he finished crawling off of Jay, hearing his boyfriend gasp prettily. Kai adjusted his suit jacket, then ran his fingers through his hair again.

He shot Jay a puzzled glance that was mostly fake. "Are you coming?"

Jay looked breathless, cheeks even darker than before. "You- You fucker."

Kai, unable to help himself, shot Jay a wink as he made his way out of the room. "I do try."

Kai got smacked upside the head with Mr. Cuddlywomp, but hey, it was worth it in his eyes. He needed something good to keep his mind away from the dark thoughts of potential failure tonight.

///

Kai had to gape at the light show that was occurring at Borg’s tower, the building glowing in prismatic colors and holographic words that screamed the reason for the party. He had to admit it was pretty, but with Jay on his arm, it wasn’t comparable in the slightest. Shooting a glance at his boyfriend, he found Jay’s electric blue eyes alight with wonder, his lips shaping words that Kai could barely hear.

“What was that last bit?” He asked, grinning when Jay flushed.

“O-oh.” Jay twirled one of his curls around his finger, nervous. “Just… it’s pretty.”

Kai nodded, nodding towards the line of equally lavishly dressed individuals, pointing Jay in the right direction. His boyfriend was a little overwhelmed by the lights and the people, and Kai was one-hundred percent okay with being the grounding point for him. Quietly, Kai ducked his head to whisper against Jay’s ear as they got into the line. “If you feel bad, let me know.”

Jay nodded, his eyes darting from one head to another, analyzing and categorizing them the way he did. Kai hadn’t understood it at one point in his life, thinking Jay was just easily distracted (which was true), but now he knew it was how Jay dealt with getting overwhelmed. He counted how many other people he might have to interact with, how many blinding lights would flash, how they spoke or reacted so he could match them.

It was how he coped, and Kai could see why. He had done it a couple of times, only to find it very helpful. Granted, he sucked at mimicking other people, but he did try his best if his unhoned skills would be useful. Sometimes he looked back to the time he pretended to be his father and cringed. How Nya had perfectly emulated their mother’s voice was lost on him, but it was impressive all the same.

Turning his attention back to the line, Kai found two security guards only a few people ahead of them. One was a nindroid, the other was Cole. Cyrus Borg was only loosely aware of the threat looming over him when Lloyd had contacted him prior to the party about the lead they had, but he hadn’t disagreed with anything the ninja had suggested they do. As long as they didn’t destroy his tower or harm his guests, the scientist was okay with them playing dress-up.

Kai understood why Lloyd had ultimately decided against telling Borg the entire reason they were attending his anniversary party incognito. If Cyrus Borg knew about the threat, he would cancel the party and force the assassin to try another time, which would leave Borg paranoid and the ninja in the dark about when the assassin would try again. That didn't mean Kai liked withholding information though.

When Jay tapped at Kai’s arm, he felt a brief second of worry, only to find a small smile on Jay’s lips. The lightning ninja was holding back a giggle. “Kai, look behind us.”

Curious, Kai did as he was instructed, almost laughing himself. Directly behind them stood Dareth, dressed surprisingly nicely with an invitation in his hand, holding a conversation with a rather wealthy-looking elderly couple that looked entertained by him. Kai snickered under his breath, setting off Jay’s giggles. “How on earth did he get an invite?”

Jay shrugged. “I think he won the civilian raffle for invitations? He’s like Borg's biggest fan.”

Kai arched his brow. “But baby, I thought that was you?”

Jay’s blushing cheeks were a perfect reward, and he didn’t get a chance to retaliate before they reached security. Kai showed both Cole and the nindroid their invitations, then pocketed them again. The nindroid studied them, then shared a glance with Cole, who shrugged.

“Hate to be that guy,” Cole started, pushing off of the door jam he had been leaning against, “but I need to check for concealed weapons.”

Kai made a big show of sighing loudly, unlinking his arm from Jay’s. “Oh, if you must.”

Jay opened his purse, revealing a rather nice wallet and some miscellaneous items. “Nothing but my emergency make-up.”

Kai almost jerked his head around at the sound of Jay’s voice, so light and airy. Cole looked momentarily stunned too, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Er, yeah. You’re good.”

The nindroid nodded, gesturing to the open doors. “Please enjoy your evening.”

Kai shot him a grin, sliding his arm around Jay’s waist. “I’m sure we will.”

The entryway had been filled with streamers and balloons, all sorts of people wandering around and laughing together before they headed for the elevators. Before he and Jay could get that far though, their invitations would be checked for authenticity by the intern at the front desk, who happened to be Zane in disguise. It wasn’t as effective as his cloaking device, but he still looked every bit the part of the nerdy guy who ran the desk.

Zane had even modulated his voice to better fit the role, slightly nervous at being handed so much power and responsibility by someone so high above him. “May I see your invitations?”

Kai handed the papers over, feigning indifference while Jay looked around with wide blue eyes. Zane nodded after a moment, “You’re on the list, thank you for attending!”

Jay smiled sweetly and Kai nodded, both of them making for the elevators. The party was held at the top floor, normally Borg’s office but remodeled for a skyline view and filled with hors d'oeuvres and champagne for the occasion. Kai couldn't quite understand how the assassin could get a shot with all those windows, but he wouldn't underestimate the possibility.

He hoped everything was going well on the other end of the mission, and that Lloyd, Nya, and Pixal had managed to get into position with no issues. He wouldn’t be able to check his comm until later, after he could make for the bathroom without drawing suspicion.

When the elevator doors closed, Kai slumped slightly. “Who knew I would already be tired?”

Jay shrugged, a tube of mascara in hand, squinting at his reflection in the elevator’s mirror. “Pretending is hard.”

There was a depth inside those words that Kai wanted to understand, but he decided to broach the topic later. Instead, he watched as Jay messed with his eyelashes, even though they were fine. “Jay?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t be nervous.”

Jay laughed, capping the tube and dropping it back inside of his purse. “That’s difficult for me.”

Kai nodded, taking one of Jay’s hands, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I know.”

Jay rolled his eyes, watching as they climbed floors. “Ready to do some more pretending, hot stuff?”

Kai laughed, pulling Jay flush against him for a split-second, relishing in the closeness before he shifted their positions again, arm around Jay's waistline. “Always.”

Jay was flushed when the doors opened, shooting Kai a dirty look that made him grin. His grin faltered when he caught sight of Cyrus Borg, falling back into mission mode with ease. The inventor was holding a glass of champagne in one hand, laughing with a group of people Kai had seen around the building, no doubt some of his employees.

Kai and Jay stepped out of the elevator, and Kai skimmed the room, mentally labeling anything that could be useful. He faltered at the crowd though. There were so many people all dressed so nicely that it left Kai reeling, so many sparkling bits of jewelry and finery that was foreign to him.

If he felt broke, he had no idea how much worse Jay felt. Kai knew how the lightning ninja got sometimes, wishing he had enough money to give his parents everything they deserved to have. Kai felt the same way sometimes, but he knew it lurked in the back of Jay's head more than his own. After so much time, Jay still felt as if he had something to prove, to show he wasn't just some kid from a junkyard.

Why? Kai wasn't entirely sure. Kai tightened his hold around Jay's waist, getting his boyfriend to look up at him, inquisitive eyes meeting his own.

“Split up?" He suggested, watching Jay closely for any sign of distress.

Jay nodded, nudging Kai towards the table with hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. “Go be a gentleman and get me a drink.”

Kai bowed playfully, taking Jay’s hand and pressing a kiss to his ring finger. “Of course, darling.”

Jay laughed softly, shoving Kai away. Kai watched him for a second, then made for the table, scanning the faces around him. Any one of them could be the person after Borg, even if they would have had hell getting past both Cole and Zane. He couldn’t let his guard down, not even for getting in-character. To passerby, he would simply look a little nervous, something many people around him would relate to.

The table held more than just drinks and hors d'oeuvres upon closer inspection. It also held all sorts of pastries that made Kai's mouth water. It took more restraint than he had hoped it would to prevent himself from sampling them all. Maybe it had been for the best that Cole wasn't at the party, considering his rather glaring weakness for desserts.

Kai snagged two flutes of champagne, then glanced out at the sea of posh strangers, his heart beginning to thud against his ribs. What happened to his charisma? He could handle this. It wasn't hard, putting on a fake front, he had done it multiple times over the years. Somehow though, the idea of faking for multi-millionaires felt… dangerous.

It hadn't stopped Jay from immediately becoming popular though, several ladies dressed in their own stunning finery had surrounded him, complimenting his dress and asking him questions that he answered easily. Kai pursed his lips, glancing back at the table before he snagged one of the pastries, shifting the glasses to one hand as he placed it on a napkin to take over to Jay.

Jay tended to do better if he felt secure and had someone he cared for close by. Kai knew the pastry would be an added bonus, considering Jay's love of desserts. The champagne was a pretense, something that might be sipped once or twice, but ultimately ignored. Kai scanned the crowd again, plotting out the exact path he would need to make it to Jay.

"Huh, didn't think you'd be here."

Kai flinched at the words, nearly spilling champagne on the floor. His gaze landed on an all-too familiar face, one that made him a little happy, a little angry, and mostly confused.

"Ronin?"

///

Cole tried to maintain his focus as he watched Jay and Kai vanish inside of the building, but it was hard. He had no clue what to expect, and honestly the evening had been borderline boring. It would have been completely boring if the adrenaline from the idea of an assassin trying to kill Borg wasn't at the forefront of his mind, but still. He was growing impatient just standing in place.

He almost choked when he saw who was next in line, Dareth grinning at him before his brows dipped together. Cole watched as the nindroid examined Dareth's invitation, assigning a name with a face, but the brown ninja's gaze remained locked on Cole the entire time. Cole couldn't help but think of the last time he had seen Dareth in disguise, how easily the older man had seen through it.

This time, it seemed, was no different. Dareth snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "Cole! I knew that was you!"

Cole pressed his lips together tightly. "Hey Dareth."

"When'd you get a side gig?"

Cole shrugged, gesturing for Dareth to come closer so he could check for weapons, which he heavily doubted he would find, but protocol was protocol. After ensuring the man was weaponless, he gestured through the open doors to the desk where Zane was stationed. "Have fun Dareth, you're cleared."

Dareth grinned at him, happily crossing the threshold. "Thanks dude!"

Cole shook his head with a small smile. Sometimes Dareth was just the thing that helped them ensure everything went according to plan. Maybe this was one of those times. After all, Dareth was the man who had done everything in his power to help them anyway he possibly could, no matter the risks he faced because of it.

"A hem."

Cole snapped his attention back to the world around him, rather than the one inside of his head. He found an elderly couple sharing aggravated looks between one another, and his nindroid companion looking exasperated.

"Sir, it's only protocol," the nindroid started, only to be cut off by the man, who flicked his hand at both the nindroid and Cole.

"Nonsense is what it is! An over-analytical farce that is as unnecessary as it is uncouth."

The woman by his side nodded, her expression pinched. "We never carry weapons." She said the word as if she could think of nothing fouler in the world, which made Cole bite back a sigh.

While he agreed weapons were a last result form of attack, that didn't mean they were inherently bad. It was a tool, depending on who used the knife made the knife either good or bad. That didn't make the knife inherently evil if it was used to harm someone, but some people just couldn't see it the way he did.

Different opinions were important, but not over something that was simple protocol. Now, if the protocol had the couple stripping down to their underthings? That Cole could see as bad. This was more of a minor annoyance, rather than something truly terrible.

"Sir, ma'am, this is simply to ensure not only Mr. Borg's safety," Cole looked pointedly at both of them, "but also yours."

The man looked downright insulted, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. "You have no right to speak to me."

Cole knit his brows, entirely lost for almost three seconds. It hit him when the man's wife moved to hide behind him slightly. A stab of guilt jabbed its way into his chest, even though he shouldn't have felt it at all. It wasn't his fault his skin was darker than theirs, or that he was taller than them, or stronger and more muscular.

It hurt though, to be looked at and only seen as a threat rather than a person too. Even the nindroid looked stunned, but the man continued. "Not only are you going to place your hands upon me and my wife, but you are asking for us to let you do that. My answer is no ."

"Would you change your mind if he was white?"

Cole snapped his gaze back, finding Dareth in the doorway, looking more furious than Cole had ever seen him. The commotion and hold up had snagged a lot of attention, the people in line whispering to each other and shooting glances at Cole. It made him nauseous to have so much attention on him, and not for the first time, he wished he was smaller.

The man looked stunned. "I- what are you implying?"

Dareth stepped forward, moving to stand between Cole and the wealthy man. "If I were the guard, would you listen?"

The man shrugged. "I do not rightly know, since you aren't. I do not feel safe with-"

"Do not say that ." Dareth hissed. "Don't you dare."

Before the man or his wife could speak again, the nindroid stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "If you will not allow us to check for hidden weapons, then we must decline your entrance to the building. Deeply sorry."

The man huffed, snatching his wife's arm. "I am as well, for having to deal with that -"

Cole's ears were ringing after the word was uttered, one he hadn't heard in a very long time. It reminded him of the first time he had learned what it meant when he was little, how his mother had clutched him close and whispered that it was just a word while his father raged at the parents of the little girl who had said it. While he didn't remember her name, he remembered her smug face when she had said it.

Almost like she had a right to call him that, to tear him down because he looked different than she did.

The world slammed back into focus when he felt a hand on his arm, the touch that normally would be grounding painful. There were so many voices, all saying different things, and his vision was a blur at best. Cole closed his eyes tightly, trying to breathe, but it felt like he was seven again, trembling when the teacher snapped at him for missing the "very easy steps", the words he muttered unkind and as horrible as what the little girl had said.

It was part of the reason he ran away.

The world around him was falling in and out of focus every time he opened his eyes, so just kept them shut, trying to control his breathing. Everything began to shift though, the loud voices falling away and the touch that had felt like fire now a more bearable presence, one he accepted readily now. He knew he was moving, the hand on his arm a guiding light, but he still didn't open his eyes.

He was almost afraid too, after what had happened the last time he had opened them. He had to get his head back in the game, back into the role he was playing for the mission, but if he opened his eyes and could only see the past, how could he help in the present?

///

Perched on the edge of the roof, Lloyd surveyed the city below and around him, the lights always brighter than needed. They never bothered him too badly though, so he didn't mind them. Better lighting made it easier to track down the villains than poor lighting did anyway. Unable to find anything out of the usual, Lloyd lowered his binoculars with a sigh.

Minus Cyrus Borg's anniversary party happening across from the skyscraper he was perched on, the city was in a normal state of function. Families were eating dinner, shifts were being switched, the neon lights alive with the night and the city they lit up. There was no sign of an assassin who wanted Pixal's father dead for reasons no one had managed to crack.

Lloyd shook his head, turning his gaze down to his sleeve, which he pushed up and out of the way. Tapping twice at the bracelet on his wrist, he watched the holographic main menu pull up, which he swiped through until he found contacts and communications. He double-checked that his settings were correct and ready to go, then he patched himself into the comm network he, Pixal, Neuro, and Nya had thrown together.

"Anyone hear me?"

Several voices answered, little blips showing their positions on his digital map. Lloyd felt a little of his tension ease at the sight, everyone was in position and ready to go. "Give me sights, what've we got on our hands guys?"

Nya's voice crackled to life, her words sure and holding the annoyance that came with her impatience. "Nothing but traffic, it's driving me up the wall."

Lloyd almost laughed, but refrained, recalling that he was supposed to be the leader right now, not Nya's little brother with a bad sense of humor.

"Nothing here, Lloyd," Skylor said, her words carrying an easy flow that he had grown accustomed to hearing.

"Nothin' here either, kiddo." Turner added quickly, not wanting to be the last to speak. The man was rather competitive when it came down to it.

"Karloff has nothing- ah!" Static flooded the line for a second, and Lloyd's feet were already in motion when Karlof said, "False alarm, sorry friends."

Lloyd skidded to a stop before he leapt off of the skyscraper he was perched atop, sighing. "Thanks Karloff. Anyone got anything?"

"Hate to break it to you," Tox said, "but I think your lead sucks."

Lloyd pursed his lips, unsure how to respond. He was almost thankful when Neuro's voice drowned out everyone else's. "I am afraid that the target may know we are onto them," Neuro's voice warned, his tone grave and serious. "I can't read too terribly far out, but everyone within twenty-clicks of my position isn't a threat."

Neuro was just outside of reading Lloyd and probably Pixal, who was driving her car down back alleys and checking for any trace of a threat. She was anxious and doing her best to hide it, and Lloyd could understand the feeling entirely. Hell, he felt anxious just thinking about his own father. With a shake of his head, he detached from that thought. The last thing he needed was to be distracted.

Lloyd sighed again, glaring at Borg's tower across from him, the large windows betraying the exact floor where the party was being held. He could almost make out the faces and people inside of the room without his binoculars, and his chest tightened with anxiety. If the assassin succeeded in killing just one person, they would fail. Lloyd refused to let that happen.

It didn't help that no one had checked in from the tower, not even Zane, who had promised to check in every half hour. It had been almost an hour since the last check in. Surely the last of the guests should have been inside of the party, freeing Zane to help them scout around the outside of the tower along with Cole. It was part of their plan, and Lloyd couldn't act on it if Zane wasn't responding.

They were running out of time, and Lloyd couldn't wait around for Zane and Cole, or Jay and Kai. They were busy with something else, no doubt important. Or their comms had been shut off, or glitching. Maybe they didn't work with Cyrus Borg's fancy Internet servers or something. The point was, Lloyd needed a new strategy, and he needed one pretty fast.

"Pix, get Neuro in your ride." He flicked through his holographic map, finding Pixal and Neuro relatively close to one another. "Help him survey the city for our hitman."

"Affirmative, moving now."

"Understood."

"Lloyd?" Nya asked, and Lloyd could almost see her expression. "What are you thinking, talk to us."

Lloyd opened his mouth, only to freeze. Something had moved behind him, and it wasn't the wind. He made no sudden moves, hoping to keep the other being on the roof thinking he had no clue of the other's presence. He slowly reached for the hilt of his sword, flinching into action when he heard something behind him go click ka-chunk.

"Lloyd?"

"What's goin' on, kid?"

"Lloyd, what was that noise!?"

Lloyd turned just in time to make out a dark-clothed figure with a rifle in hand, followed by a bang that made him instinctively reach for his ears and duck. That was not the right choice when one is holding a sword or being shot at apparently, because something made his world rock, pain shooting from somewhere and making everything blur for a second.

Lloyd forced a breath through his gritted teeth, blearily finding the person across from him reloading, a gruff voice shooting curses rather than bullets. At least he hadn't gotten Cryus Borg. Lloyd glimpsed at himself, finding blood on his upper arm. He could handle a flesh wound. Switching sword hands, Lloyd shouted, "Found him!"

///

Kai was still reeling at the sight of the thief, but he managed to find enough of his words to actually speak. "How did you even get invited?"

Ronin shrugged languidly, nabbing one of the pastries off of the table. "'Invited' is a strong word. Let's go with 'got let in'."

Kai opened his mouth, but Ronin continued on. "Helps if you know your forgeries and the guard at the front entrance, along with the intern at the front desk."

Kai knit his brows. "Why'd Zane let you in if your invite was fake?"

"Because I have some info that might keep Borg alive tonight."

Kai shifted the glasses in his hand slightly, boring his eyes into Ronin's form. "I feel like I should ask you to dump your pockets, but if you actually have something helpful, I'd love to hear it."

Ronin swallowed his bite of pastry, nodding. "There's more than one guy gunnin' to put a bullet in Borg's head. It's a group, as far as I know."

Kai stiffened, the situation far worse than it was moments prior. If there was more than one, that changed the entire mission. "Does Zane know?"

The second the words left his lips he knew Ronin already had told Zane, or else he wouldn't have been let up to the top floor. If Zane knew, that would mean the nindroid could alert Lloyd to the growing danger. "Nevermind, if you're up here he knows."

Ronin studied him for a second, making Kai's hackles raise slightly. The older man nodded towards the crowd. "Who's the dame headin' for you?"

Kai shot him a puzzled glance and Ronin sipped at his own glass of champagne. "Just askin', not trying to steal her from you."

When an arm slipped into his own, Kai knew exactly who Ronin had meant. His boyfriend's cheeks were flushed, and there was a smile on his face, but Kai could feel how tense Jay was against him. Jay offered Ronin a darling smile, then Jay's facade of a rich girlfriend disappeared when his blue eyes found Ronin's, his expression slipping into shock. " Ronin?"

Ronin's eyes widened, then he looked between Kai and Jay for a second. "I- Jay? That you?"

Jay nodded, curls bouncing. "Yeah."

"Damn."

Jay snorted, then beamed at the sight of the pastry Kai was still holding. He took it, along with one of the flutes of champagne Kai had in his other hand. "Thanks, also how the hell did you get in?"

Kai answered before Ronin could. "He had info, Zane let him in, there's more than one."

Jay froze, pastry halfway in his mouth. After a second of debate, Jay bit off the bite, his brows knitted together as he mulled the situation over. He swallowed, tilting his head. "How do you know that, Ronin?"

Ronin sighed. "I'm not in on it, before you even ask because I can tell where this is going. I don't do murder."

Kai was acutely aware of the eyes and ears around them, so he chuckled as if Ronin had made a joke, then dropped his voice to a murmur. "Talk later."

Ronin shot him a wink. "You got it."

Jay nodded, smiling politely at Ronin as Kai led them away from the table. Kai opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted before he could even make a sound.

"Oh! Albie, bring your partner over here!"

Jay's head swiveled around, making Kai follow suit, finding a group of well-dressed twenty-something-year olds. The group looked like a few couples who were all friends, beckoning Jay over. Kai let Jay take charge, ducking his head to whisper, "Albie?"

Jay smiled awkwardly. "Fake name," he murmured, but something in his tone indicated it was more than that.

Kai wasn't entirely sure what was said after that, or who was speaking to him. All he could hear was the little wobble in Jay's voice when he had said it. The way he was acting as if nothing was out of place, as if he wasn't a boy pretending to be a girl, falling back into his repertoire of jokes and fronts to hide any of his true feelings from the world.

Kai could feel his temper flaring, but he wasn't upset with Jay. Downing the last of his champagne, he ducked his head to whisper against Jay's ear. "I'll be back in a minute."

Jay smiled at him, and then shoved him off. "Oh, get lost already, you'll be back in like two minutes!"

Kai laughed, but his heart throbbed in pain at how Jay had fallen back into that airy voice, so delicate and so unlike himself that it hurt. Kai made his way to the bathroom in the corner, making sure it was empty before he locked the door. Shoving his sleeve out of the way, he tapped at his comm. "Lloyd? Nya? Anybody?"

"Hey, hot stuff," came Skylor's slightly labored voice. There were shouts in the background, making her voice difficult to hear through the din of battle. "How's the party going?"

"Guess you know about how there's more than one guy now, huh?"

A shriek, followed by Skylor's muffled laughing. "Oh, you bet ."

Kai chewed his lip, then glanced around the bathroom. "Do you need backup?"

"Zane and Cole should be here in a minute, I think you and Jay need to focus on Cyrus Borg. We have no idea how many-"

" Sky !"

A shink of metal, ending with Skylor calling out a thanks. Kai closed his eyes for a second. "Please be safe."

"I'll try."

Kai closed the line, mind whirring with options. It was then he realized that the comm hadn't exactly been quiet. Someone surely would have gone to check if anyone was being murdered. Kai unlocked the door, eyes going wide when he registered the shrieks and shouts of alarm. Kai dashed out of the bathroom, finding the window shattered and people with guns moving through the partygoers, a flash of green darting after them.

The sight alone was alarming, but finding no sight of Cyrus Borg anywhere might have been more so. Kai slammed his fingers against his comm, tapping furiously until he managed to hit the right numbers on the digital keypad. “Ninjago City Police Department, what’s your-”

“Borg’s tower, top floor, armed and dangerous individuals attacking, send help!” Kai didn’t wait around to hear the response, diving head-first into the fire of battle, heart thundering inside of his chest. He hoped Jay was okay.

///

Zane turned to Cole, who had been sitting in the office chair that had been Zane's to begin with, but was offered when Cole had started to fall apart. After admitting the last guest, Zane knew it was crucial to proceed with the next phase of the plan, but he couldn't just ignore what had happened with Cole.

It was difficult to have such a righteous sense of morals, torn between saving Cyrus Borg and saving Cole, both from vastly different things, but both important in their own ways. Zane shot a worried glance at Dareth, who had stayed beside Cole the entire time, helping the earth ninja remain calm while Zane all but speed ran the last invitation background checks.

He still ensured they were done correctly, but still. He had moved fast. Dareth smiled at Zane, nodding towards Cole as he stood up. "I think I'm going to head upstairs, hope you guys work everything out."

Cole mumbled something, no doubt a show of gratitude for what Dareth had done. Zane voiced his own gratitude, taking one of Dareth's hands. "Thank you, you did not have to do that."

"That's the thing, kid." Dareth patted Zane's hand, something in his expression sorrowful. "I really did have to."

Zane watched his friend head for the elevator, then turned his entire focus onto Cole, who hadn't looked at him yet. "Cole?"

Cole hummed, but otherwise was unchanged in his position. Zane pursed his lips, then knelt down before Cole, placing his hands on Cole’s knees, catching his attention. “Darling?”

Cole’s cheeks pinkened slightly, which Zane took as a win considering it was a reaction. “Z?”

Zane nodded, ducking his head a bit to meet Cole’s gaze. “Yes, Cole. It’s me.”

Cole pursed his lips, then shook his head slightly. “Sorry for shutting down, I-” Cole sighed, cutting himself off. “I don’t know what happened.”

Zane didn’t like that answer, so he stood up, feeling Cole’s eyes on him. “What happened was you were treated poorly, and reacted the way anyone would in that situation. It was wrong and rude, and I am happy it did not require a physical fight.”

If Dareth hadn't intervened, Zane would have, and he was pretty sure one of the outcomes involved a version of himself he had tried to bury. He couldn't help but wonder if Borg needed some very realistic ice sculptures in the future.

Cole sounded tired. “But, I just-”

“You got upset, and when you get upset you shut down.” Zane turned to look at his boyfriend again. “It is how you function. You cannot blame yourself for that.”

Cole opened his mouth, but Zane covered it with his hand. “Correction, I will not allow you to blame yourself.”

Cole’s lips moved into a smile against Zane’s hand, his eyes locked onto Zane’s. After a moment, Zane removed his hand from Cole’s lips, only to have Cole reach out and snag his hand. Cole pressed a kiss to his inner wrist, making Zane flush himself. “Thanks, Zane.”

Zane cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we should con-continue with the mission.”

Cole looked much happier, as if making Zane flustered was a mood booster. Perhaps it was. Whatever the case, Zane forced himself to refocus on the current issue at hand. He and Cole would talk more after Cyrus Borg and his guests were all declared safe. Zane was not about to let Cole just shut down the topic and never bring it up again.

It was a nasty habit his boyfriend harbored, and it broke Zane's heart watching Cole continuously shelve his agenda for the sake of others, but never take any time to deal with what he had shelved. Zane suspected it was from how he had been raised, which only served to make him feel sadder anytime he thought about it.

Zane rolled back his sleeve, unable to meet Cole's eyes as he spoke. "We should check in with Lloyd, then follow through-"

A crash shook the building, making Zane stagger into Cole, the pair of them falling against the office chair, which cried in protest at their combined weights being forced upon it. Zane shot a worried glance up at the ceiling. "What do you think that was?"

Cole copied Zane's motion, his eyes flicking upwards before they landed back on Zane. "Probably the guy who wants Borg dead."

Zane bolted to his feet, pausing for a second when he realized where he had been sitting was not the chair. Rather, it had been Cole's lap he had been resting upon. His face felt far too warm, as if his cooling units, along with his elemental power, had left him. He allowed himself a second of flustered shock, then shoved the emotions out of the way.

Zane leapt over the front desk, using spinjitzu mid-jump to change into his gi. When his feet hit the floor, he was fully geared up, Cole landing a second after him, dressed accordingly. Cole flipped open the comm channel, chaos sounding. "Uh- Nya? How's it going?"

A shout followed by a pained grunt was the response, making Cole and Zane share worried glances. While Cole tried to get a response on his end, Zane tapped directly into Pixal's comm. "Pixal? What is happening?"

"Zane! Get to the top floor now. "

Zane flinched at her tone, chest tightening with worry. He tugged Cole's arm, already moving. "Heading up, but-"

"Lloyd's got six or- or seven- they're all armed -"

Her voice slipped out of range, leaving Zane panicked. "Pixal!"

Cole's comm chose that moment to send a voice through, Nya's usually collected voice left in stressful tension. "Get Borg outta there!"

Cole broke into a sprint for the stairs, Zane right beside him. As they flew up the steps, Zane could only hope his brothers could handle the chaos before back-up arrived.

///

Jay ducked when artillery fired, tugging down the people closest to him. "Dammit," he muttered, peeking over the overturned table to try and get a read on positions, only to find a gun in his face, making him yelp. That was the wrong move, the owner of the gun lowering the muzzle, their face hidden by their ski mask. Jay watched the mask move though, and knew the thug was smiling.

Major ew.

Jay did his best to play the panicked rich person, but it was difficult when he could have the guy disarmed in seconds. Kai wouldn't hesitate the way he did, he would have already knocked the guy out and moved to the next lethal target. Kai didn't play a role when he was needed, he didn't sit and wait for the action to come to him.

But Jay wasn't like Kai, he wasn't out to the world. People saw the lightning ninja and said he was a man who could wield lightning, that he was funny and friendly. They didn't know he was trans, they didn't know he hid himself everyday or battled against his reflection continually. Jay wasn't brave enough to even think about coming out to the entire world, and if he disarmed the gunman before him, he would.

So he stayed still, heart beating against his ribs. The thug's eyes drifted to his lips, then the gun was in Jay's face again. "Get up."

Jay swallowed and did as he was told, nervous. His words were failing him, and for once, he couldn't think of anything to say. The gun was pressed under his chin, jerking his head upwards to meet the other person's eyes, which twinkled with mischief. Those eyes then drifted lower and lower, tracing Jay's shape as if he wanted to touch him. The thought made Jay light-headed.

He could almost hear the hearty laughter of pirates, the silky voice of a djinn, the constant hum of The Misfortune's Keep. Jay squeezed his eyes shut, but that just made it worse, phantom sounds shifting into memories that shouldn't exist, but they did and they scared him. Jay forced his eyes open, chest heaving as he tried to gulp down a breath, making himself count anything.

The gun went flying and Jay counted how long it flew. Four seconds. He turned his attention back to the owner of the gun, finding them unconscious on the floor, Kai standing over him. Kai turned to Jay, and Jay burst into tears, unable to stop the flow. Kai hadn't been on the ship, he hadn't been there, he was here. He was real and alive, not a timeline that never existed.

Kai's arms were around him, his voice gentle. "Oh baby, no I'm sorry I wasn't listening. I'm sorry."

Jay realized Kai was responding to his words, which had finally come back to him. He was apologizing, no doubt for being so scared and useless and-

"Jay no, you're so brave, stop."

Jay sniffled against Kai's shoulder, then shoved him back, panicked. "Wh- Cyrus Borg!?"

Kai pressed his lips together just as the stairwell door flew open, Cole and Zane dashing in. Jay suddenly realized that the threat had been neutralized while he had spiraled, Lloyd standing a bit behind Kai. When their eyes met, Lloyd waved. Jay waved back, sniffling. Zane made for Lloyd, immediately asking him questions, while Cole made for him and Kai.

Cole's arms wrapped tightly around him, and it took all of his willpower not to cry again. Cole pulled back, then yanked Kai in for a tight hug too. "You guys are okay, right?"

Kai nodded. "There's a few wounds, but nothing grievous. I got 9-1-1 punched and dialed before I went to bashing heads."

Lloyd then joined the conversation, asking what Jay had a moment ago. "Where's Cyrus Borg?"

Kai looked torn between smug and upset. "Ronin took him out while me and Jay were running survey."

Jay gaped, then snorted wetly. "Sounds like him."

Lloyd looked lost. "Ronin? Why was he here?"

Cole shook his head. "Who cares as long as he helped?"

Zane looked the tiniest bit sheepish, and Jay shot him a smile, knowing that feeling all too well. Zane had let Ronin up, and Jay wasn’t about to snitch on him. It had served to help in the end, and that was what really mattered. Instead, he straightened his dress out a bit, still feeling the phantoms of other hands against his skin, even though it wasn’t real. “Where’s everyone else?”

Nya chose that moment to fly in through the window, landing right beside Lloyd with a flip. She glanced around then took her hood down. “Uh, am I that late?”

Lloyd giggled. “A little bit, yeah, sorry.”

Nya groaned and Kai laughed. Jay found himself grinning too, relieved to be done with the chaos of the evening.

///

Lloyd had never been so done with people in his entire life, which was saying a lot because he despised big crowds all vying for his attention at the same time. This situation wasn't any different though, which only served to heighten his already overly tense mindset. He needed a minute to collapse and regroup, not be thrust into more crowds and answer more questions.

How Gayle had even shown up before the ninja had left was beyond him, but then again, Cyrus Borg's anniversary was a pretty big deal, so maybe she had already planned to cover it on the news. The other newscasters though? They had definitely only shown up because of the disaster that had struck during the party, getting witness reviews along with the police.

Lloyd had hoped to avoid the microphones and the probing questions altogether, but wearing green tended to stand out a bit too much to most people, considering the color was correlated with him now.

"Were you aware of the threat beforehand?"

"Why were these gunmen after Mr. Borg?"

"Were they all captured?"

Lloyd opened his mouth to answer one question, only to be thrown off by another. He was tempted to ask them to take turns, but he was pretty sure his voice would be drowned out by their own questions, their voices loud and demanding his attention. He couldn't give it to them, however, not when his team was tending to the finer details while he played newsfeed.

It didn't help that he couldn't answer half of the questions anyway, since he didn't know the answers. He didn't know why the men were after Borg, other than the hunch of them wanting to throw his company into chaos. He wasn't sure how many were involved to begin with, so he didn't know if they had all been captured. Sure, he was aware of the threat beforehand, but that really didn't mean much.

The questions started to blur together, the voices melding into one annoying hum that made him tempted to flee the scene entirely. But he couldn't do that, he was the green ninja, he was a beacon of hope and everything good in the world.

At least, that's what everyone said.

A gruff voice cut through the din, the police commissioner moving between Lloyd and the reporters. "Alright, you had your fun. Now please stand back ."

Gayle narrowed her eyes. "I am only trying to ensure the people are aware of any danger."

The commissioner didn't look too impressed. "We have taped off Borg's tower for security reasons. You are crossing the boundary. For your safety, stand back."

The reporters grumbled for a moment, but eventually backed up to the sidewalk. The commissioner adjusted his lapels, then turned to Lloyd. "I hope that helps."

Lloyd nodded. "It does, thanks. But I really don't have a lot of answers, and no one will until we interrogate the criminals."

"Exactly." The commissioner adjusted his hat. "News can't have news until the truth is out. I don't know why they try to rush things."

Lloyd shrugged, regretting the motion almost instantly because ow. He forgot he'd been shot at, and maybe even successfully struck with a bullet. He would have to get Zane to look at him later. Speaking of, Lloyd stood on his toes in an attempt to see over the crowd, trying to spot his team anywhere. He found Skylor's burst of red hair, which he decided would be a good start.

"Is everything under control, Commissioner?"

The old man nodded. "If you and your ninja are needed elsewhere, go ahead. We have the gunmen taken into custody, and Cyrus Borg is safe and well."

Lloyd smiled. "I'll have to thank Ronin for that."

The commissioner looked torn between respect and like he had eaten something very sour. "Yes, I should too."

Lloyd offered the commissioner a wave, then made his way through the crowd. He was slowed down by police escorting party guests out of the way, several of the guests breaking away and thanking Lloyd profusely for his efforts. Lloyd did his best to smile and keep going, but there were so many that he started to feel trapped. It felt like every single guest was out to thank him personally.

Lloyd darted his gaze around, realizing he was all but surrounded by thankful guests and disgruntled police officers. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure they could all hear it, and he knew he must look far too pale because he felt dizzy, like he might pass out. That wouldn't be very green ninja-y. Someone would take a video and post it, and then he'd be a meme forever, a joke.

Just a kid trying to save the world, passing out from… anxiety? Stress? Claustrophobia? He had no clue, actually. Something.

"Hey, hey."

Lloyd blinked when something moved in front of him, a wall of muscle and a sleeveless gi before him.

"Let's not suffocate him, yeah?" Cole said to the crowd, shooing them back a bit.

He took Lloyd's arm (not the injured one) in his hand, leading him away from the crowd, toward the rest of the team, who were all by the police cars. Lloyd let himself breathe a sigh of relief at the sight, the elemental masters and his family all getting along well and congratulating everyone on a job well-done.

"Thanks Cole," he said softly. "I didn't mean to just stand there."

Cole stopped walking, and turned to face him. He offered Lloyd a smile. "We've had a pretty crazy night, stress'll really mess you up. I'm happy I could help."

Lloyd nodded, then kept going toward the police cars. "You all did great."

Toxikita rolled her eyes. "Of course we did, we aren't losers."

Kai snickered. "Yeah."

Zane rushed forward at the same time Nya did, both of them zeroing in on the red coloring his green gi. "What is that?" Zane asked.

"Who's blood is it?" Asked Nya, her eyes searching his face for an answer.

Kai gasped softly, then rushed forward too. Lloyd did his best to hold back a sigh, already tired of the eyes on him. "Guys, yes it's mine, I'm fine."

Cole knit his brows, concern etched onto his features. Jay wasn't any better, his big blue eyes shimmery with worry. The rest of the elemental masters didn't look much better. Pixal was by Nya's side, her green eyes laser focused on his arm, no doubt scanning him for damage or something. Unable to handle the upsetting looks any longer, Lloyd backed up a few steps.

"Let's just call it a night and go home!"

He tried for a happy tone, but it came out strained, anxious sounding. He winced at the sound, trying again. “Look, let’s just go home.”

Nya pursed her lips, looking like she was about to say something when Pixal stepped forward, pointing to the entryway of Borg’s tower. “My father is inside with Ronin, and I would like to ensure he is well before I return to the monastery.”

Lloyd nodded, waving her off. “Go for it. Message if anything goes weird.”

Pixal smiled, then glanced back at Nya for a second, then looked away. Nya sighed, then rubbed Lloyd’s uninjured arm. “I’ll stay with her.”

Kai opened his mouth, then shook his head. “Yeah, go on sis.”

Nya jogged for a second to catch up with Pixal, the pair of them sharing soft smiles before they vanished inside of Borg’s tower. Cole scrubbed a hand through his hair, then turned to the other elemental masters. “Thanks guys. Head home, okay?”

Skylor nodded, shooting Lloyd a smile. “Be safe guys.”

Karloff made certain to hug them all before he left, leaving Jay gasping as he always did. Everyone else simply left with waves or well wishes, heading home after the evening of fighting. Lloyd couldn’t blame them because he felt three seconds away from collapsing entirely. He couldn’t do that though, so he forced himself to stand upright. “Let’s go.”

“Lloyd,” Jay said. “Maybe you should sit for a second?”

Lloyd shook his head, typing into his comm to bring his car over. “I’ll be fine.”

Kai shook his head, snatching Lloyd’s arm. “I’ll come with you then.”

Lloyd sighed, but nodded, too tired to even argue with Kai. He just wanted to be home.

///

Zane sighed softly as he dug through the medical supplies in the monastery, feeling Cole’s anxious hovering more than seeing it. The Earth Elementalist wasn’t even inside of the med bay, yet Zane couldn’t shake his presence. Perhaps his sixth sense was just deeply attuned to his surroundings today. (Pixal would laugh at him and say it was because he liked Cole, quite a bit actually, and Zane would quickly find a way to reroute the conversation. She was far too good at teasing him, and he was starting to wonder if she secretly enjoyed making him flustered.)

“I have brought the tea,” Master Wu intoned, drawing Zane’s attention towards him. He watched as the old master handed his nephew the cup, his expression torn between conflicting emotions.

Zane understood the feelings well, he was very proud of Lloyd, but he had gotten shot and didn’t think he needed to tell anyone about it. He was never exactly not worried about Lloyd, not after everything the poor boy had been through, but he still hated to think too much about the reasons behind Lloyd hiding injuries. He wondered if there was a way he could phrase a conversation that wouldn’t cause the blond to build higher walls.

Lloyd smiled at his uncle, “Thanks.”

“Master, could you go see what we have in the kitchen for a meal?” Zane asked, if only because it had just crossed his mind. “Even if it is something quick and easy we need to eat before bed.”

“Of course,” Master Wu said, patting Lloyd’s knee before he left the med bay.

Zane did his best to appear calm and like he didn’t want to ask any questions that could rock the already rocky state of Lloyd’s mind, but unfortunately, he was glaringly obvious to literally everyone else. That sadly included Lloyd.

“Zane, just spit it out,” Lloyd grumbled, sipping at his tea slowly, cringing after every sip. “I know you’re upset with me.”

“Not with you,” Zane quickly soothed, setting his medical supplies down beside Lloyd, picking up the scissors so he could get to Lloyd’s arm. “Just that you got hurt. I am sorry you got wounded, not mad at you.”

Lloyd arched a brow, looking strikingly like his mother. “Really? I figured you’d be upset that I didn’t mention I was wounded.”

Zane huffed out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Well, not exactly. I admit to a bit of anger about you trying to brush off your injury, but I expect it from you. You’ve never enjoyed the med bay.”

Lloyd stuck his tongue out teasingly, and Zane laughed as he cut off Lloyd’s sleeve. The younger ninja mourned his gi, watching Zane fold up the ruined sleeve with a sort of detached sadness. “I liked that sleeve, damn it.”

“Hey, no cussing in front of Zane,” Cole said, stepping into the med bay. “He’s sensitive.”

“I am far older than either of you, I have heard much cursing.” Zane set the scissors down, moving back to the medical supplies, gathering the cleaning liquids. “I just choose to use it sparingly, to further showcase my intelligence to others.”

“He just called Kai stupid in like five languages,” Cole stage-whispered to Lloyd, who broke into a fit of giggles.

Zane smiled softly at Cole, silently thanking him for boosting Lloyd’s mood with a well-timed wisecrack. Cole smiled back, returning to heckling Lloyd until the blonde could scarcely bleed. He was so distracted by Cole that he missed Zane cleaning and bandaging his wound, which was better for everyone involved. Lloyd wasn’t a bad patient, but he was…

Zane would say traumatized by his many, many, many runs into the med bay from normally near-fatal injuries. Or comas. The poor guy had been through a lot.

“All done,” Zane said, patting Lloyd’s knee to get his attention. “You can go.”

Lloyd looked mildly confused, then he grinned. “Cool. I’m gonna go call Nya and Pix, make sure everything’s still good.”

Cole waved as Lloyd left, turning to Zane the moment the door was closed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Zane balked, in the midst of putting the med kit away. “Oh? About what?”

There were certainly many intriguing topics they could discuss, anything pertaining to the evening, or maybe something entirely different as a palate cleanser. To be honest, Zane had no clue what Cole was going to ask. He was unpredictable sometimes, despite his steadiness.

Cole rung his hands together, leaning awkwardly against the examination table. “Uh, I was wondering… Well, maybe hoping, I guess, if you’re cool with it, of course! If you would like to, uh, shit.”

Zane watched as Cole dug himself into a stuttering hole, voice going lower and quieter as he tried to talk to himself. It was cute, in a silly way. “Darling?”

Cole flushed, jaw clicking from the force he shut his mouth. Zane rolled his eyes, putting the kit away so he could take one of Cole’s hands. “I would enjoy snuggling, if that was your suggestion. Perhaps a movie to wind down?”

Cole beamed brightly, and Zane knew he had understood exactly what the Earth Elementalist was asking. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

The moment was destroyed when Lloyd threw the door open, panting. “Guys! Uncle Wu’s trying to fucking cook .”

( Somewhere nearby, Kai had an aneurysm at the feeling of his baby brother cussing. )

Zane felt faint at the mere thought, and Cole actually shuddered. “Oh hell no, Lloyd stop him!”

Their fearless leader made a pathetic whimpering sound, dashing back down the hall. Cole was right behind him, shouting orders. Zane hadn’t personally eaten any of Master Wu’s cooking, but he knew Cole had lived with him before anyone else had, and the experience was apparently… an adventure , to say the least.

Then Zane recalled Cole’s own culinary skills and fell over laughing, unable to stand any longer. The irony was not lost on him, and that made everything even funnier.

///

Jay stretched, flopping back against his bed with a sigh. It was far too late at night, somewhere between three and four in the morning, but he was over the world. He couldn’t sleep though, which was really annoying. He rolled onto his side, tucking his arms under his head, staring at the wall. He really should be sleeping, but he just couldn’t get his mind turned off.

He grumbled under his breath, sitting back up, resting his hands in his lap. With another sigh, he climbed out of bed, bare feet silent as he walked over to his dresser. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well just start his day, right? That sounded right to him anyway. Jay tugged out a shirt and pair of sweats, then paused for a second.

Should he wear his binder too? Jay chewed his lip, torn. He didn’t really feel terrible, but he knew he’d circle back to the more traumatic moments from last night, and then he’d really want his binder on. He grabbed it too, heading for the bathroom. Since it was so early, no one else would even be awake yet, unless they were struggling too, so he could have his morning rather peacefully.

He stopped when he spotted Kai leaving his bedroom, the fire ninja running a hand through his messy hair. Kai stopped when he saw Jay, knitting his brows. “Hey, babe?”

Jay jerked his gaze to the floor, clutching his bundle of clothes tight to his chest. “H-hey.”

Kai moved to him, gently ruffling his curls. “You okay?”

Jay shrugged. “Was gonna shower.”

“You feeling bad?”

Now how did he answer that? Sure, he didn’t feel fantastic, but he didn’t feel like trash. Maybe. Ish.

“I don’t know.” He eventually murmured, unable to meet Kai’s gaze.

Kai solved that issue by gently lifting his chin upwards, his soft amber eyes meeting Jay’s blue ones. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Jay blinked quickly, trying to stop the overwhelming feeling of tears. “I- I don’t know?”

“Okay, that’s fine.” Kai pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Go shower, I’ll make you something to eat.”

Jay nodded, staying still and rooted in place until Kai was out of the hallway. He sucked in a deep breath, forcing his feet to move forward across the floor. It was only a shower, he could do a shower. Kai was being nice too, offering to make him breakfast when he didn’t even have to, so why did he feel so anxious? It wasn’t like Kai would dump him for being trans, because they already had that conversation ages ago.

Maybe he felt so anxious because of how he had pretended to be a girl last night, dressed and looked the part. At the time, he didn’t feel bad about it, but looking back at it, how could he have been so stupid? He knew how he did with crowds and so many eyes on him, but he still made sure to put on a show for them all, so they’d pay even more attention to him. Had they all known he was faking it the entire time, but they didn’t want to say anything and offend him?

Jay sniffled, swiping at his eyes. They probably had known, and all the whispers behind their hands had been about him. There was no doubt about it. Someone had probably figured out who was too, and posted it online and then there’d be uncomfortable questions about him being trans and then he’d have to confirm or deny the claim and then the world would flame him or- or want him deemed unfit to protect Ninjago or maybe even want him dead-

“Jay, Jay, hey, look at me okay?”

Jay flinched at the sensation of fingers on his arms, jerking backwards and away from the touch. Something slammed into his back, making him drop his clothes on the floor, the world swaying wildly around him. “I- I’m- I didn’t-”

“Jay, it’s okay. You're okay. Can you tell me where you are?”

Jay squeezed his eyes shut. “M-monastery?”

“That’s right, that’s good Jay.”

Jay sucked in a breath, forcing himself to focus on anything. The pressure of someone holding his arms, the pain in his chest as he forced his lungs to breathe, the rough wood against his back and the dull ache in his spine from hitting the wall. There was so much, but not enough, and he could feel his body losing control, falling down into the spirals he tried his best to push away until he couldn’t anymore. He shouldn’t be like this, all shaky and scared, he should be better.

He had saved the world countless times, so why couldn’t his body and brain get with the program and fucking like each other?

“Jay?”

Jay swallowed as best as he could, slowly lifting his gaze from the floor (when had that happened?) to meet pretty amber eyes flooded with warmth. “Hi.”

Kai smiled softly, running his thumb over the swell of Jay’s cheek. “Hey there.” The Fire Elementalist was so gentle, his normally brash and bold actions gone, replaced with a softness that made Jay melt into his touch, sighing quietly. “You need anything?”

Jay nodded against his hand, pushing himself closer to Kai, relishing in his comfort. “You’re good.”

Kai laughed softly, brushing a hand through Jay’s curls. “Alright, we’ll stay put for a minute.”

Jay buried his face in the crook of Kai’s neck, content and for a few minutes, happy right where he was. He wasn’t needed anywhere, he didn’t have to do anything, no one was watching him. It was just him and Kai, and Kai was so warm. Jay loved it, cuddling tighter, enamored by his boyfriend.

He’d be okay.

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