#but I'm forgetting a couple details that... really don't matter
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Hi there! I really love your comics and how expressive they are. How do you go about making the characters in your comic so expressive?
thank you! 💚💜💚 I am REALLY bad at explaining things, so my apologies if this doesn't make a lot of sense, but maybe there's something helpful in here somewhere. :')
1. warm up! drawing is a physical activity, after all! so if I'm planning on sitting down and drawing for a while, I usually start off by taking a couple of minutes to doodle a bunch of circles and lines and random shapes, just to get my drawing arm goin' again and get back into the physical groove. just stuff like this:
and just do that for however long you feel like! you can kind of feel when your arm starts to loosen up and your strokes get more confident. it makes it a lot easier to get those swoopy big lines and gestures!
2. play around with how you use your lines! paying attention to the shapes that they're making will change a lot about how much force and life your drawing feels like it has. (no way is better than another, it just depends on what effect you're going for and how it looks as part of the larger whole.)
and you can also use lines against each other to get different vibes:
it's not really a matter of "you need to make sure all your lines are always doing this all the time", it's more like...being aware of it, and getting that into the general thrust of a pose, if that makes sense? like a lot of smaller lines of action, beyond the big one that goes through the spine.
(just gonna use my own art as examples, apologies)
if you have a good foundation of tension, then all of the little bumps and contours of a character's details won't get in the way of it, and it'll still come through.
and don't forget about negative space either! the spaces between things have their own interesting shapes too!
I don't mean this to come off as, like, all these extra things that you need to be constantly thinking about and stressing over. more like...just try different stuff and then see how it works and how it changes the feeling! if you find a good shape, see if you can exaggerate it and make it more interesting, and how that affects things! angles and shapes are a LOT of fun to experiment and mess around with, especially when you're going more cartoony. :D
3. acting!
just...spending a little time to think about what the characters are actually doing! (aka the "figuring out what everyone is doing with their hands" bit.) this is more a personal preference, but especially in multi-panel comics, I like to have them be in the middle of doing stuff. not just big actions, but smaller things -- like even just how they're sitting or standing -- so that it feels like we're looking in on the middle of a scene, instead of a couple of characters just standing around neutrally and staring straight ahead while talking at each other.
this probably sounds really obvious, but it is one of the most fun parts for me! I love trying to find some little action or something that they can be involved in, especially if it's relevant to their character or adds an extra joke. (for some reason this usually involves me being mean to Sebek) (I'm sorry)
it doesn't need to be everyone Always! Doing! Something! all the time, especially if starts becoming distracting (sometimes they do actually need to just be standing around neutrally and staring straight ahead, especially if there's a bigger action going on that you want the audience to focus on instead). but even just figuring out some kind of non-neutral pose for them to be in can add a lot and make it feel less generic!
3. thumbnailing!
this is, again, very much a personal preference; unfortunately, every artist really is different, and we all have different processes that work better for us. so I can only speak to my personal experience! but I find what helps is to start REALLY rough -- not so much as in messy, as in not trying to start right into actually drawing everything out. like, literally just starting with stick figures and :O faces.
it probably doesn't sound relevant when talking about Drawing Expressively, but I find it's really, really helpful to have already figured out what everyone should be doing (acting!) and what the overall general layout and flow of things should be, before getting into the actual meat of drawing the characters. like having a sketch for the sketch!
(good compositional flow is something I struggle with, and text layout especially, so this stage also helps a LOT with making sure things are fitting where I want them and staying consistent/not breaking screen direction/etc.)
then after that, I can go ahead and focus on getting those Shapes and Lines and Angles and all that, without having to think too much about the layout or where things should go!
(of course, the downside of that is that my thumbnails are usually way better than my actual drawings, alas alas.)
4. this is more philosophical, but...give yourself some slack. the stress of Making Things Look Good is, ironically, often the biggest problem. (see: thumbnails looking better than the actual drawings.) so...let yourself draw shittier and without regards to accuracy. make things just for yourself without thinking about posting or showing them to anyone else. draw stupid faces and wrong proportions because they feel better that way. focus on what's fun and not on getting a perfect end result. "draw expressively, not well", as they say -- you can always tighten up things like proportions and details later, if you really want to.
that's all WAY easier said than done -- god knows I haven't really managed it -- but even just aiming for that attitude really, REALLY helps. if your lines are confident, they'll look a lot more alive and expressive than lines that are exactly technically precise but have no rhythm in them. (this is why tracing photographs tends to look so weirdly stiff and unrealistic, by the way -- even if you're drawing realistically, you usually need to exaggerate and stylize a little bit so it doesn't look lifeless.) it's a balance between caring about what you draw, but also being willing to let things go a little bit.
↑ I hope some of this helps! I don't know if any of this was actually what you had in mind, let alone much of it actually made sense outside of my head. :') but hopefully you (or other people) will be able to get something out of it!
#art#twisted wonderland#(not really related but since that's what the examples are)#i'm so sorry most of my art advice boils down to 'SHAPES ARE FUN'#(they are though)
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I may not be good at doing much with activism cause I'm still getting my own shit together, but I'll tell you I remember stuff
Slips my mind more than I like, but I don't forget what's happened to Iranians, to Syrians, I don't forget the Hong Kong protests
I remember how it was, I refuse to follow a new narrative when I was there watching across an ocean
As an American I think I have an obligation to support people fighting for their freedom... kinda one of the things about the American identity that's supposed to mean something, the idea you're supposed to support everyone everywhere in being able to choose how to live their life
So I won't forget what the Iranian government's done, I won't ever let them pretend to be moral after I watched them with blood on their hands, their so called morality police brutalizing people just trying to live, and then fighting to be free
I may not be able to do much, probably don't do as much as I could or should, but I'll never forget and when it's called for I'll never forgive either
Can't follow all the horror in the world, hell, I can hardly keep up with Haiti or Sudan who both deserve support
But I do pay attention, I do see some of what happens, I won't forget and I won't let people feed me a new version of what I've seen
#i was thinking about other less serious but still serious stuff#think cultural issues rather than human rights issues#but i was thinking about things that have happened; that i watched first hand#and how... people just have this new version of them#they take the word of a random tumblr user over people who were there#and there rewrite stuff#fine... i can't force you to listen#but... i won't forget#and the places the details get fuzzy at least I'm honest#at least i say 'I'd have to do some research on what happened'#like i know the broad strokes of when the Night in the Wood's dev killed himself#but I'm forgetting a couple details that... really don't matter#but i had my ear to the ground; you won't make me forget this stuff#big or small; i keep this stuff in mind#you people (broad general gesturing at the world) love lying about shit i was there for#and people gobble up these narratives#but fuck you; i saw what i saw#not gonna say other people didn't see what they saw too#but... i think some people are spinning some bullshit cause they were spinning it at the time#just like now it seems people are spinning bullshit around these attacks#trying to rewrite history like those brutal crackdowns on protests didn't happen#protests over police murdering an innocent woman for existing#I've seen stuff; at least i cite what i saw and moot second hand tumblr posts#was on my mind already; seeing that post just... made me think in other contexts#please stop fucking swallowing whatever some tumblr user said#I'm begging you; i adore you; i don't think you read my tags#please stop falling for this stuff; your so smart and caring#please stop worrying about your past and fearing falling out of step with the crowd#think for yourself on this stuff; be critical; your so good; please be critical#mm tag so i can find things later
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Gem Cleo watches Scott leave. He's throwing wary glances over his shoulder at the tower that has what looks to her like a big red curly moustache on it.
It's always nice to see him, and this is a bit different to their usual encounters, which is really refreshing every now and then.
She pulls out the pufferfish he gave her and smiles at it brightly. "Hey there little guy!" She says. It stares back at her with unblinking black eyes.
"Dunno if you can call me a little guy when you're on a team with Bdubs, but sure, hey Cleo!"
She startles slightly. It's Martyn. He's not actively stabbing her, and apparently they're allies, so she turns to face him without much concern. "Hello Martyn!"
He's leaning against the rocky wall of the clock tower. He grins at her, and for a split second, his gaze flashes over to where Scott is disappearing into the trees across the river. "You still remember that thing I told you about last time, right?" He asks, giving her a meaningful look.
"Oh, yes, of course, absolutely!" She nods enthusiastically. "How could I forget!" It's funny, no-one else has really prodded at the details of Cleo's, uh, "amnesia cold", as much Martyn, although he's for sure just completely making things up to ask her about.
He looks highly amused. "Right, right, good. Just checking."
He glances over at the treeline again.
"So!" He says, and it's so very casual that it's a little bit concerning, "Don't suppose you'd let me know if Cleo's listening along or not?"
"Martyn!" She exclaims. "I'm-"
"Yeah, you are Cleo, I know, I know. Just." He pauses.
There's something in his eyes, suddenly, that gives Gem the impression that if she says the wrong thing here, something will be lost. She can't tell what, or why, or how. But it's a feeling she can't quite ignore.
After a second, Martyn shakes himself slightly and continues. "Actually, you know what, it doesn't matter. I-"
"No. She's not." Gem watches curiously as he goes very still. "I'm gonna tell her about it later, though."
"Huh." He says. It sounds very nonchalant. "Right. Well. Don't suppose I could tell you a secret, then?" He gives her a conspiratorial look. "Just you, I mean."
Gem leans in a little, intrigued despite herself. "I shouldn't..."
"Oh come on, you know you want to."
"Weeeeell..." She jumps in place a couple of times, and then nods quickly. "Alright, go on then!" He opens his mouth, and she quickly raises a finger to point at him, narrowing her eyes. "But! If it's something Cleo would want to know, I do have to tell them. It wouldn't be fair otherwise."
He considers for a moment, and nods. "Sure, seems fair enough to me. Trust me, though, Cleo would not want to be bothered by this. They have better things to worry about."
"I'll be the judge of that!" She pauses for a moment. "Because that's me." Another beat. "Because I'm Cleo."
He chuckles. "Well, Cleo, I just wanted you to know that I get it now." He says, lightly.
A few seconds pass.
"Um. Ok?" She says, because he seems to be waiting for her to respond. "Uh, I mean." She goes back to her perfect and beyond reproach Cleo impression. "Right. I understand what you're saying completely, Martyn."
He raises an eyebrow, grinning. "Well that's impressive. And here I thought I was being pretty cryptic."
"Oh. Um, I mean, what are you talking about? Explain yourself!"
He laughs, expression almost nostalgic. "Ah, I just meant I get why you chose him, last time." Once more, he looks over at where Scott disappeared from view. This time, he doesn't look back.
Gem frowns a bit, and stays silent. It feels wrong to speak.
"I wondered about that a lot, you know." He sounds vaguely wistful. "But I get it, now."
There is quiet for few more seconds before Martyn looks back at her, and the spell is broken.
He looks cheerful. There's nothing in his expression to suggest that he isn't.
"I think it's mostly that you and him are the only two on the server who have the slightest bit of common sense, honestly." He says. Something suddenly seems to occur to him, and he snorts. "Pretty sure he's alright at math, too."
"Oh, really?"
"...You know, I'm not sure actually."
He meets her eyes. His are just starting to turn the bright red of danger, the colour creeping in at the edges of the blue.
"He keeps his allies alive." He says. "For as long as he can. Even when it hurts him. Wasn't even a choice for you, really, when you consider that."
There's obviously something here she doesn't understand, but what exactly it is she doesn't know. "Good for him." She says awkwardly.
"It's not, really." He says.
"Oh. Um. Bad for him?"
He laughs at that. "Sort of, yeah." He looks down at the pufferfish she's still holding. "Alright for you though, right?" Before she's decided how to respond, he continues. "I just thought you'd like to know that if I were you, I would've chosen him too."
Gem frowns at him. There's something here. There's something here, but while she can certainly guess, she just doesn't have the context to know what that something is.
She listens to the noises of the river for a while before she speaks.
"Are you sure Cleo wouldn't want to know that?" She asks softly.
To his credit, he does appear to consider it, staring out over the river and frowning slightly.
After a minute, though, he looks back at Gem and shrugs. It almost looks resigned.
"Cleo already knows." He says.
She opens her mouth, but he keeps talking.
"Plus she would not appreciate being reminded of how similar we are." He grins, his expression suddenly sly. "And anyway, I completely made all that up. That was a test to see how good you were at being Cleo, and you failed."
"Hey!" She yells indignantly. "What! No! That's so rude!" She draws her sword and he cackles, dancing back.
"Ha, you should've seen your face!"
She glares at him. "Why are you so good at acting, huh?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Aren't we all?"
"No!"
He snorts. "Yeah, I guess not. Just pure skill on my part, then."
Gem shakes her head at him, exasperated. How much of that was true, she has no clue. But if that's how he wants to play it, that's ok. "How about this: I won't tell Cleo about any of that so long as you don't try and mess with me again."
"What?" He gasps and claps a hand to his heart. "I thought you were Cleo!"
She narrows her eyes and raises her sword, and he hurries to continue, holding up his hands in surrender.
"By which I mean yeah, sure, sounds good to me am I right?"
"Good." She nods firmly. "That's what I thought you meant."
He nods back at her a couple of times, then starts to retreat towards the river, still facing her. "Well. See you, Cleo!"
"Bye! If you see Etho tell him to be afraid!" She shouts after him.
"Will do!"
And he disappears into the trees after Scott.
What an odd man.
She wonders if he knows that she wouldn't have told Cleo if he'd just genuinely asked her not to, without the deal or the confusion or the trickery. She's genuinely not sure if he realizes that.
She still doesn't know how much of all that was genuine.
She wonders if he does.
For some reason, she suspects not.
#limited life smp#double life smp#martyn inthelittlewood#zombiecleo#geminitay#scott i don't think is QUITE present enough to tag#but yeah i just find it interesting how he's teamed up with the person who his soulmate chose over him last season.#my writing
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Hi Cianna, just wanted to say I really admire your study ethic and general vibe on this blog (you inspire me to do better!)
Do you have any advice/tips for good study habits and staying focused? I find that I get some work done, but after a break I can't get back on track
Sorry for the long ask/ studyblr type of question;; what is your favourite hairstyle that you do with your hair! (I also have curly brown hair :)
Have a lovely day also <3
🌻🌻
hi! i touch on a lot of points in this other ask, but a few specific learning techniques i abide by are:
parkinson's law. parkinson's law states that work expands to fill the time. basically if you have an essay that's due in a week, it will magically take you one week to get it done, even if the task itself could've been done in one day. to counter this i just set artifical deadlines for myself--even if an essay is due in a week, my personal deadline has it due in two days.
prime your brain prior to learning. if you need to study a biology chapter, pre-skim it the night before. this is not the time to go into detail--it's the time to familiarize yourself with the overview of the topic, so you should only be making a quick scan of the chapter. another priming method is to make a concept map of topics before diving into a chapter. as you skim write down key terms haphazardly, google those you don't recognize, and draw a concept map linking them together. this is effective bc it requires you to actually put effort into connecting the topics, takes no longer than 15 minutes, and speeds up the learning process that follows. it doesn't matter if you find out you're wrong once you dive in; what's important is you're actively thinking of how these topics coexist, as opposed to mindlessly taking notes or highlighting only to forget what you learned a couple hours later. i'm also a fan of concept maps bc i get to go back and highlight stuff i'm weak in, which is always a plus.
if you like to take notes, use it as another means of active recall. don't just passively take notes as you go along. what i like to do is i read a paragraph, close the book, then try to take down notes based off memory alone. this helps me both phrase the topic in my own words and realize what my learning gaps are, rather than just passively summarize without putting effort into truly understanding/memorizing something. anything i get wrong i hammer into my brain until i can't get it wrong anymore.
take notes effectively. our brain does not learn in sentences and paragraphs. it learns in bullet points, diagrams, and figures--and that's how i like to frame my notes. first i ask myself if i actually need to take notes to begin with, or if there are online notes out there i can use to save time (which, as a stem student, there typically are). if i do decide to take notes, i never mindlessly summarize. i always condense the material into bullet points, diagrams, concept maps, or visual representations. i also like to phrase my notes as questions rather than just passive summaries, so that when i review them i'm already testing myself in a way. most people would not understand my notes bc they're either very low-yield stuff, stuff i'm weak in, or bare-bones fragments of information.
always prioritize weaknesses. if you're weaker at chapter 18 of your textbook vs chapter 1, maybe start with chapter 18. don't spend 6 hours taking notes on chapter 1 if you're already strong in chapter 1. always attack your weaknesses first.
practice practice practice!! so so important. i owe all my As to mock exams, quizzes i make myself, end-of-chapter questions etc etc. imo practice matters a lot more than passive content review.
interleaving concepts helps with retention. an example of this is i like to do biology and chemistry one day, biochemistry and organic chemistry the next day, physics and psychology the day after... i'm not just doing biology all day, every day. another thing i like to do if i'm in a massive rut is i hop between tons of different subjects on the same day, which keeps me from getting bored/helps me understand the subjects better through distinguishing their differences.
retrospective timetable. an example of this is if i find i'm pretty weak in a particular physics topic, the next few days will disproportionately focus on physics over other subjects. inversely, if i just breezed through a biology chapter, the next few days will have less biology than initially planned. i'm constantly going back and revising my study timetable based on my performance of the day, rather than relying on a rigid prospective timetable that doesn't take into account my progress.
less passive learning, more active. spaced repetition is a big one. i love anki for this bc there's an algorithm that dictates how often topics come up again based on how well you answer them. other methods include active recall, having friends quiz you, and trying to teach the topic to others (or the plushie in your bedroom haha). if you find you're struggling to simplify topics and explain them, that's a sign you don't understand them very well yourself.
#haha no worries <3 answering these asks helps ground me too so it's a pretty symbiotic relationship#and i'm always happy to help!! good luck :)#study tips#ask
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Arachnophobia - Eevrid the Drider
Pairing: Drider x f!Reader
Wordcount: 4668 words
Tags: Blindfolds, bondage, body worship
Summary: As someone with terrible arachnophobia you decide to try your friends recommendation of "exposure therapy" with an aquaintance of her, who is a Drider.
Ever since you were a child you had debilitating arachnophobia. Every time you'd see the teensiest spider you'd panic, having to ask someone else to get rid of said spider. It was a little pathetic, and now that you were an adult you were ready to get over this fear already.
"I know what you need," a friend said to you one day, after you yelled at a small spider on the table you were sitting at, and multiple eyes had been on you and your friend. "Exposure therapy."
"Exposure therapy." You deadpanned back. As if you hadn't thought of that yet. You were much too scared to be able to try something like that. "You must overestimate me here. Did you already forget what happened just now?"
She took a sip of her drink, nodding sagely. "That's exactly why. The spider just now was tiny, harmless, and you yelled like you just got bit by a snake."
"Yeah, yeah... rub it in." Came your mumble. You were aware that your panic wasn't proportionate and drew attention from others.
"Don't worry so much. I have just the plan."
You rolled your eyes. "And what would that be?"
She leaned forward over the table, and started speaking in a hush hush voice. "I have an acquaintance who could really help you with this sort of thing."
"Oh?"
"He's a Drider."
Fear coursed through you. Though you had never come into contact with the supernatural yourself, you knew of their existence. If there was one being you'd never ever want to come into contact with it was the infamous Drider. "You're insane." She was either joking or crazy. There was no way you would go through with this.
"Well, yes, I'm friends with you!" she joked, and grabbed her phone, looking through it until she found what she was looking for. She turned the screen towards you and you pointedly ignored it. "Just look, it's just his face. No spidery details to be seen. Well... more or less."
Anxiously you managed to take a peek, and she was right. The image did not scare you... as a matter of fact it had quite the opposite effect. On her screen was a picture of a grey skinned man with long white hair and multiple eyes, his mouth was a little strangely shaped, but other than that he was very normal looking. Moreover... he was absolutely breath taking.
"Oh," you said, and she chuckled at your reaction.
"I know! And he's such a sweetheart too! Remember last year when I was lost during cave diving? He's the one that saved me then. We've been friends ever since, and I'm sure he'll agree to curing your fears with a little talking. In your case just being around him will cure you of your arachnophobia in no time flat I'm sure!"
Yeah, you doubted it, but she was right about the fact that something needed to be done about your fear.
"I'll ask him about it and see if he's okay with it. What do you say? Should I give him your number so he can contact you?"
----
It was just a couple of days later that you got your first message. It was a little awkward, both of you having been brought together by your crazy common friend, but he seemed to be down with helping you. His name was Eevrid, and he agreed to the two of you first just talking through text before you'd go into the whole "exposure therapy" as your friend had called it.
"I don't go out much," he said one day when you were talking about hobbies. "Most humans don't take kindly to the supernatural, let alone one with a spider body."
You felt a little bad about it, knowing that you would probably be the first to scream if you'd see a Drider in real life. Your friend was right, you needed to do something about this phobia, if only so that you wouldn't be a dick to him and his race because of something irrational as a fear.
Talking to Eevrid was nice, comforting even. And as you went from texting to calling over the phone you realised you were looking forward to your talks. His voice was soft and soothing, and sometimes you found yourself lost in daydreams thinking about his profile picture. A feeling of wanting to meet him in real life started to grow in you, despite the fear that grew in proportion to your longing. You knew what his face looked like... but his lower body was still a mystery to you. You had looked up pictures of Driders, but found it too difficult to look for long, the images bringing out the same fear as the real thing probably would. The lines between friendship and something more seemed to blur with every message, and with it grew your want to meet him. He hadn't asked you yet, knowing about your troubles, but there were definitely moments where he let it show through his words that he really wanted to meet you as well.
Then again... that's what you started talking for. For you to meet him, to get over your fear... You decided to take the step and asked him over the phone one day, if there was a way you could meet him. He seemed ecstatic as the both of you spoke about where best to meet.
-
And here you were, on your way to Eevrid, your Drider online friend that was going to help you with your phobia. Although you were worried he was just going to make it worse by... being himself. Despite your fears you had decided to meet at his place, since not many places openly accepted the supernatural so willingly yet. It hurt. Hurt extra when you realised you were probably one of the reasons Driders like Eevrid were shunned from mayor establishments, but you put it in the back of your mind for now. Next time you'd find a place both of you could enjoy together. Or maybe next time would be your place. Whatever the case, right now it was at his place, and you were shaking with anticipation.
Or fear.
Maybe both.
And as you knocked on the door to his house; a surprisingly normal door inside of a cave-like wall straight out of a fantasy your hands shook almost violently. As soon as the last echo of the knock ran out your hands were behind you back, grasped together as if to not show your nerves.
You almost yelped when "I'm coming" came from inside in Eevrid's calming voice, followed by the door opening and a head poking out.
"H-hi," you said, nerves easing slightly at the kind but slightly anxious smile that was shown on his handsome face as he saw you standing there, "I'm here."
His anxious smile vanished, a genuine, warm laugh escaping him at your stuttering, and he replied: "Yes, I'm glad you are. Welcome inside."
You made your way indoors, forcing yourself to look anywhere except Eevrid's lower body. Why was this so hard? You really, genuinely liked Eevrid, and his presence was both soothing and exciting you, and yet- the thought of him being a Drider still absolutely filled you with fear.
If he noticed you not looking at him properly, he didn't let it show, opting instead to give you a small tour of his house. It was small, sparsely decorated, and in your humble opinion could use a woman's touch... which was a train of thought you instantly cut off. Everything about it did felt like him though, and you smiled slightly at all the cosiness of the space.
When the room tour ended in his bedroom both of you just stood there, a little awkwardly. The bed that was in the middle of the room was more like a nest of blankets and pillows and if it was half as comfortable as it looked it had the potential to cure anyone's insomnia.
"Well," he said, and you looked over, feeling like a high school girl seeing the room of her crush. Well, it wasn't far off the mark. Sadly when you looked over to him you finally did what you were avoiding; looking at his lower body, and a small high pitched sound escaped your throat, barely swallowed when you realized you were being extremely rude.
He instantly made himself small, legs curling up under him in an attempt to make you more comfortable, which, ironically, had the opposite effect. Your fists balled tightly, bringing them close to your chest as you managed to remain rooted on the spot without running.
"It's- I'm sorry- I tried to-" you stuttered, adrenaline coursing through you as you tried to keep your breathing to a normal level. He remained in place, almost reaching for you when he saw your reaction, but thankfully realizing in time that would probably make the situation worse.
It hurt, he couldn't deny that, but the both of you were aware of your fear, and your reaction was honestly a lot less intense than he'd feared when he had gone over the day in his mind multiple times.
"Hey, it's okay," he said, and you felt yourself relax a bit as you focused on the sound of his voice and his face. "We knew this would happen, and there's no shame in going about this slowly."
You nodded, slowly feeling your breath even out, and letting your eyes move down his face to his chest, lower... your breath hitched again as you quickly brought your eyes back up to his face where you found him smiling softly.
"How about I get something to drink for you while you calm down, hm? Maybe we can come up with some ideas to keep this fun and light hearted as we sit and talk. And who knows, maybe we'll figure out how to cure your arachnophobia as we go!"
You nodded. You really, really wanted to get over your fear as soon as possible. Eevrid was too nice for you to have a reaction like this to him, it was rude and uncalled for, and you cursed your own cowardice as you saw him leave to make you some tea. Slowly you followed him to the living room where you sat down on a human-sized chair. He told you he had friends over sometimes, that's why some furniture was more catered to you as a human and other more to him as a Drider.
As you heard his soft footfalls you turned towards him and had to stifle your laugh as he had covered his lower body with a blanket. It looked so goofy, as if he was wearing an enormous lumpy wedding dress, and when he said: "It looks stupid doesn't it?" with a slight blush you couldn't help but let out a little chuckle.
"It does," you said honestly, "But I really appreciate the gesture."
It really worked though, and as you sat, drank tea and talked, you realized how comfortable you were with him. It was exactly the same as through text, and as you looked at him you realized he felt the same. Until he stumbled over the wedding dre- no, blanket, and you panicked to see him tumbling trying to not stumble over all 8 of his legs.
"It's not really helping isn't it..." you pondered, and saw him nod apologetically, as if he was the problem and not you. "It's also not helping me get over my fear. How about..." you were quiet a bit, knowing where you wanted to go with this sentence, but feeling a little silly. He looked at you expectantly. Honestly he really wanted to help you with your fear, both for you and for him. He just really wanted to be able to be closer to you without scaring you off... his body yearned for yours, contact with you not only mentally.
You cleared your throat and continued with a small blush on your face. "How about I use a blindfold? That way I can maybe touch you without the visual fear and that way I might easier get over my fear?"
It was said more as a question, it sounded more stupid than you thought the longer the sentence went on, but you saw him nod seriously.
"That might work," he said, willing to try, and instantly grabbing a clean hand towel to use as a makeshift blindfold. You chuckled awkwardly as he fastened it gently, asking a "Is it alright? Not too tight?", and feeling you nod in return.
"Okay," you said, carefully reaching out your hand to him and feeling him grab it in one of his. It was large, strong and slightly cool, but a blush instantly ignited on your face as you felt him squeeze it a bit at your words. "I'm going to touch you now, is that okay?"
You heard nothing for a little bit, and when you tilted your head at him inquisitively you heard him chuckle a little, sounding embarrassed as he said: "I'm sorry, you can't see me nod right now. Yes, I'm okay, do what you want."
His permission made you instantly jolt into motion, one hand still squeezing his' as you other slowly moved upwards to his chest to start your fear conquering path onwards to his 8 legs.
"Tell me if you don't like it, okay?" You mumbled as you hand slowly mapped out his upper, humanlike body. His pecs were hard, but different from a well build human. The skin itself felt tougher to the touch, as far as you could tell through his clothes, and you hummed as you slowly ran your fingers over his abs, stopping short of his crotch. You were really only doing this to get over your fear. Of course...
However now that you had started touching him you felt your blush deepen. What you were doing suddenly hit you like a pile of bricks. You were blindfolded, feeling him up under the guise of getting over your fear. A small sound escaped him.
"I, uh," you removed your hand as if stung.
"I'm sorry," Eevrid said, "Was it too much? Are you scared?"
Scared? Right now you were far from it. Your hand itched to be touching him again, and you replied with a negative. "Can I... can I touch your legs now?" The words came out in a squeak, the concept still scaring you, but you wanted to touch him all over now, and if there was ever a moment you might get over your fear it was under the influence of your arousal that was growing more insistent with every touch you laid on him.
"Of course." He said, his voice sounding a little husky to your ears, and you felt your hand tremble as he slowly took it to put it on one of his many legs. It trembled with you, but only for a second as you let out a small sound of both fear and excitement.
It was slightly coarse, but much softer than you expected, and it felt a lot less scary than it looked. You let your fingers run over the tickly hairs, running a hand up and down the appendage, slowly getting used to the idea that Eevrid had a lower body that was basically a giant spider without the visuals of such. Slowly your hand reached the part where leg met abdomen, and you curiously let your eager fingers glide across, feeling a small shiver go through his body under your ministrations. Another sound left Eevrid, almost imperceptible to your ears had it not been absolutely quiet in the room save for your beating heart and both of your breaths that had picked up significantly. The sound was unmistakable now; it seemed this little game had an effect on both of you, and you couldn't help but smirk as you let your hands wander to what you assumed were less innocent spots.
"Ah, y/n," he warned, "If you go there I don't know if I can stop myself."
It sounded less like a warning to you, and more like a promise. "Stop yourself from what?" You said cheekily as you ran your hand square of the front of his body, where spider met human in a transition of coarse hair to hard exoskeleton to soft skin.
A hand grabbed yours to stop it, a small chuckle coming from Eevrid at your actions as he pulled your hand away.
"I've taken away your sight, should I take away your ability to tease?"
"Oh? Are you going to tie me up then?" came from you, you were giddy with your earlier fear and your current arousal, and so very willing to take this a step further. The blindfold had really helped so far, and if just touching him innocently had worked you up this much you wondered how much better him touching you would make you feel. "I can still tease you verbally though." you chuckled as you felt his fingers run softly over your wrists, still waiting for your permission.
"Not if I do this-" he muttered, much closer than you expected his voice to be. Strange lips pressed against you the next second in a kiss that instantly deepened when you gasped in surprise. A thin tongue invaded your mouth and you moaned as it met yours, tangling in a sensual dance as he pushed your body back with insistent but gentle motions.
"Where are you taking me?" escaped you between passionate kisses, almost stumbling over something on the floor, and he decided to just lift you up and carry you.
"Bed," he replied, nipping your lips one last time before putting you down on a soft surface you realized was the nest of pillows and blankets you'd seen earlier. It was as comfortable as you'd thought and you sighed as you nestled further into it, reaching your arms up to Eevrid who you imagined was above you.
You felt his abdomen again, but before you could reach for what you hoped was his crotch he had grabbed your greedy hands again. He tutted, shaking his head at you though you could not see it.
"I told you what I was planning to do with these naughty hands, didn't I?"
A giggle from you was his reply, and a "Well, what are you waiting for then?"
He muttered something that sounded like "You asked for it", as you felt a silky kind of rope wrap around your wrists, pulling them up over your head, stopping you from moving them. You wondered if it was his webbing, which made the whole ordeal simply more exotic and more intimate to you somehow. You tested the restraints with a harsh pull. They felt deceivingly soft, but they held sturdy.
You felt the bed indent around you, a shadow falling over you which was the only thing you could make out through the blindfold.
"It's time I return the favour," Eevrid said, sounding high above you, but his next words were much closer as you realized he was now hovering right over your prone body. "Where do you want me to touch first?"
A slightly cool hand landed on your legs, and you jolted, feeling him squeeze your thigh through your jeans.
"How about this tiny leg of yours. You might not have many, but they make up for it in squishiness."
You let out a squeak. Realization of your subconscious action of opening your legs to him came a second after and you blushed a scarlet red. You were throbbing in your panties, wishing he'd take your clothes off already and touch your skin directly, but you didn't get to voice this thought before he spoke again.
"It's a bit unfair you got to touch my skin directly and I can't though..." he muttered, fingers running down the length of your legs, squeezing the fat occasionally as you shivered under him. "I think it's time to remove the barrier, hm?"
His teasing words made you groan, and open your legs a little wider. You couldn't see his face, or what he was doing, and your ears strained for any and all sounds that would indicate his actions or the sounds he was making. The occasional sigh that came from his as you felt his hands slowly undo the button to your jeans and sliding them down your legs made your insides throb. Your socks came with it, but he sadly left your panties in place as you wiggled your hips at him.
His fingers were now on your skin without any fabric in between, and he ran one finger from the slope of your belly, over your covered core, over your thighs all the way to your toes, where the tickling feeling made you retreat your foot quickly with a small giggle replacing your earlier moan.
"I've always thought human legs were silly looking, but now that I have your feet uncovered I am completely validated in my opinion. What even are these?" he said teasingly as he grabbed one of your toes to wiggle as you tried to no avail to remove your feet from his tickling fingers.
"Stop," you giggled, trying to get your hands free to push him away, but the webbing held you in place. This teasing only lasted for a second before he started a different kind of teasing. A gentle kiss was placed on the top of your foot as he ran his hands up your calf, moving his lips up to kiss a trail up to your knee only to start on your second leg. This time he slowly moved up your thighs, alternating between the two as he started nipping and licking his way up to your core while you tried to keep your noises and whining to a minimum.
“Eevrid,” you whined, “Stop teasing me…”
A chuckle was your reply as you felt his lips curl in a smile against your stomach now, skipping your core entirely as he moved his way up.
“I can’t help it,” he said, “You’re just too cute.” Your shirt was pulled up over your head, pushed up to your hands that were still bound as he first kissed the skin around your bra before undoing it slowly and finally lavishing your breasts with ample attention. Your back arched as you tried to move yourself closer to him, body shivering under his ministrations as you whined for him to stop teasing and get to the main event.
“Please, I need you inside me,” you gasped as he pulled on a nipple with his teeth, overstimulating the sensitive skin as you weren’t sure if you wanted to pull away or push closer. You wish you could feel him against your core, but he kept himself away from you, only touching you with his hands, lips and tongue. He removed himself from your left breast as he retreated from your upper body. Unsure of his next action you let out a pathetic whine, thrusting your hips up to him as if to invite.
A curse came from above you, as he mumbled. “I wanted to take my time tasting and worshipping you, but I don’t think I have the patience anymore.”
“Then don’t,” you groaned, “Give in and fuck me already.” You were so ready for him, throbbing and leaking, and if you didn’t feel him inside you anytime soon you were going to scream. Your wish was granted as seemingly out of nowhere you felt weight on your thighs again, the only indication that he was close before something hot and throbbing finally rutted against your wanting pussy. The sound you let out was almost pornographic, and it almost made you miss the groan he let out as he finally ended the sweet torture for himself and you.
“You’re so wet,” he groaned, and you didn’t even reply. Of course you were. You had been soaked for seemingly hours now, desperate for him.
His dick bumped against your clit and you practically growled at him to put it in, words underlined by a sharp thrust upwards that lined him up almost perfectly with your opening. His chuckle at your impatience devolved into a hiss as he finally pushed in, and if you weren’t blindfolded you would’ve seen his eyes roll back as he slid in all the way to the hilt. He was filling you so well, stretching you perfectly as your greedy walls milked him for all he was worth. He slowly pulled out before pushing in again, the rhythm slow but steady as you were almost unable to hear the small groans he let out over your own moans. Everything he did to you was so gentle and filled with love. All earlier fear was completely removed from your brain, no matter what he looked like. And when a slightly rough leg joined his hands in the caress of your body you leaned into it without thoughts, forgetting entirely why you were afraid in the first place if every touch felt so good.
Lips were suddenly against your mouth and you kissed him back with the same desperation that had permeated your actions all day. You had wanted him when you were only just texting and calling, and you realised now that you were finally making love how big that want was exactly.
Your hips snapped against his, legs trying to pull him closer, almost forgetting about his lower body’s width when you tried to wrap them around him. He kissed you again, muttering apologies but for what you weren’t sure. His pace picked up and you shivered in his arms.
You monad his name as if it was a chant, and begged him to remove your blindfold so you could see him.
“Are you sure?” He asked, hands suddenly not so sure as you felt them shiver slightly when they touched the blindfold that was still covering your eyes.
“Yes!” You keened as you felt yourself hurdling towards orgasm with his faster pace. “I want to see all of you! I can handle it.” The words almost made no sense as you tried to speak between your gasps, but he understood either way, removing the cloth quickly as if removing a bandaid.
Your eyes were unfocused, tears in the corners, threatening to fall and for a second Eevrid was afraid it had been too soon, but when he saw no fear or rejection in them, only love and desperation for him he kissed you again, a smile on his face. A hand went down to tease your clit, but the moment he made contact you already exploded, contracting around him so hard he had to stop for a second, groan escaping his gritted teeth. You were so beautiful, so small under him, and he couldn’t hold on either, rutting into you sloppily a couple more times before pulling out and releasing as well. White ropes splattered over your stomach, as your name fell from his lips in such loving desperation you almost orgasmed again from his voice and the visual of his face as he came.
Slowly both of you came down from your heights, Eevrid slowly undoing the webbing around your hands as he kissed the skin under it gently. Your eyes were on him, the way he moved around so gently, making sure not to step on you with his many legs despite his size.
And suddenly you were so glad you took this chance to overcome your phobia. You might still be afraid of an everyday spider, but not of Eevrid. Never of Eevrid. Your newly released arms reached out, pulling him closer to you as you kissed him again, muttering thanks and little nothings to him as he cleaned you with the same reverent gentleness he had displayed all day.
Your heart seemingly grew in size when you realised you had gone from fear to love, and with a content sigh you curled up against him as he pulled a large blanket over the both of you.
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Snippet - Jayce Goes Sleuthing - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO
In the wake of Vi's departure, and Viktor's defection, Jayce's life falls apart.
Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
"Consider carefully. The Man of Tomorrow, Piltover's brightest mind, would look pretty dim in a prison jumpsuit."
Snippet:
Caitlyn—
I got your message this morning. I'm sorry it's taken so long to write. It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Not sure where to begin, so I guess I'll start with the most important thing:
I've resigned from the Council.
As of last week, I'm no longer a Councilor. Just a regular citizen. I know the news isn't official yet. There will be a special announcement later this week. It's pretty short-notice. I'm sure the media will have a field day.
Your Mother knows; I'm surprised she didn't tell you. Then again, the Council's been busy scrambling to find a replacement for Professor Heimerdinger. They've been hogtied in a bunch of other issues since Zaun's independence, too. There's been nothing but emergency sessions with the Zaunite Cabinet. So it's possible she didn't get a chance.
The motion for me to step down was unanimous. It's the right choice, and I'm at peace with it.
I'm sorry to hear about yours and Violet's split. It sounds like the two of you had a good thing going. She and I didn't really see eye to eye. But you seemed to care for her a lot. I had no idea there was a Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative happening—or that she'd been reassigned to Zaun. I saw no preliminary memos on the matter. If I had, maybe I could've done something to prevent it.
Then again, I've been so distracted lately. It wouldn't have surprised me if a hundred things slipped under my radar.
I understand you're concerned for her safety. Near as my old contacts in the Council can tell me, her transfer has been approved. They've already conducted the ceremonial swearing-in, and the inaugural Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative has officially begun. They've been granted interim residency until the next rotation, six months from now.
There's not much that can be done to stop it. At least, not in the legal sense. My authority to intervene has run its course. And if the Council's being tightlipped, then Silco's people are pathologically silent. The details of Violet's reassignment—where she'll stay, her duties, her work schedule—is all being kept private.
I'm sorry, Cait. You're the last person who deserves this kind of heartbreak.
You've asked me to confront Mel. To convince her to stop Vi's transfer, or pull the plug on the whole project.
Sadly, I can't do either of those things.
Mel and I are no longer together. It was a mutual decision. She's no longer my mentor, and I'm no longer her protégé. She's made her position on forging diplomatic ties with Zaun's First Chancellor clear. I've made equally clear my distaste on trying to spin blood money into gold. We're both determined to follow through, and I don't see a way of changing that.
Guess it's heartbreaks all around, huh?
Maybe it's necessary. Maybe we're supposed to hurt so we can grow. I think I've gotten a little too comfortable in my cushy Council chair. It's high time I got back to the grind. I wanted to build a better world. That means I need to put the work in at HexCorp to make it happen.
We'll get through this, Cait. You and me. Let's meet up once things have calmed down. I miss our talks. I need some sane company after weeks of listening to politicians bicker.
If there's anything I can do, please let me know.
Fondly,
Jayce
*
Cait—
Viktor's gone.
He's been missing since last Wednesday. The reason the Enforcers haven't been informed yet is because the Council is keeping it under wraps. But they've alerted the Wardens, and they're conducting a private investigation. Viktor's notes are gone from the lab. His apartment has been ransacked. All the Hex-tech prototypes are missing.
So is the Hexcore.
I'm worried. Not because the Hexcore could be turned into a weapon of mass destruction. Viktor's been under a great deal of strain. He's not well. I don't want him getting hurt. The fact that all his research has been taken—it makes no sense. He could've been abducted, but there's no ransom note. None of his assistants noticed any signs of foul play.
There's also been no sightings of Sky Young. Or any traces of her remains.
Cait—I don't want to add to your troubles. But I don't know who else to share this with. I trust you. I value your insight.
And the truth is, I'm a little scared.
The Wardens are suggesting Viktor's gone rogue. More than that. They're speculating that he may be linked to Sky's disappearance. Their inquisitor told me that his behavior during their last interrogation was erratic. That he'd showed signs of paranoia. That he'd withheld key details about Sky's last hours, and lied about the last time he'd seen her.
They're considering the possibility that Viktor was involved in her disappearance.
Cait—I think it's bullshit. Viktor wouldn't harm a fly. He's one of the gentlest souls I've ever known. He's dedicated his life to serving Piltover, and making it a better place. And he’s known Sky since they were children. I never saw anything but respect between them. Her disappearance hit him hard. I was with him when the preliminary investigation was being conducted.
I can tell you: he wasn't faking his grief.
Something else is going on. I don't know what.
But I'm going to find out.
In the meantime, I'm sorry I can't be of more help with tracking down Violet. I don't have any pull with the Wardens, or Silco's administration. And my contacts on the Council won't talk. Try reaching out to your mother. She's the only one I know who can reasonably intervene. At the very least, she can get her sources to conduct a quiet search.
I know it's not the solution you wanted. I know the stakes are high.
I just want you to know you're not alone.
Warm regards,
Jayce
*
Caitlyn—
It's late, and I know you're probably sleeping. Still, I had to write. Something happened tonight.
The Wardens found Viktor.
He's been located in Zaun. Specifically, at the headquarters of First Chancellor Silco. They're claiming he's defected. What's more, they're stating that he's in collaboration with a notorious chemist, formerly known as Colin Reveck, but currently known as "Singed." The doctor has a record for performing unethical experiments.
He's also rumored to be responsible for the creation of Shimmer.
The Wardens received clearance to access Viktor's medical records. They found traces of Shimmer in his blood samples. Apparently, Viktor's been on the drug for months. He's been hiding the side-effects. There is evidence that he's been taking massive doses. It's been compromising his mind.
And now, according to the Wardens, he's a wanted fugitive.
Sky Young's DNA has been found on his personal belongings.
I can't believe it, Cait. This isn't the man I know. Viktor would never harm Sky. Never. And with his medical condition, he'd be too weak to physically attack her. As for the Shimmer—he's always been adamant about never touching drugs. Or stimulants of any kind. One cup of caffeine was enough to get him buzzed.
He wouldn't take that poison, even in his darkest hours.
Something isn't adding up.
The Council are currently in talks with Zaun's Cabinet. They're demanding that Viktor and the Hexcore be handed over. The Wardens are pushing for extradition. Mel has been trying—unsuccessfully—to reach First Chancellor Silco. He's been unavailable since last afternoon.
This is bad.
I've got a sinking feeling. Viktor's research—the Hexcore—it's the key to unlocking a whole stratum of potential weaponry. The fact that he's now in Zaun, under Silco’s aegis, isn't a coincidence. Silco's notoriously secretive, but we know that he has an extensive network of spies and informants. If he saw a chance to use Viktor's illness against him, and profit off his genius, he'd seize it without a second thought.
That's exactly what I think is happening.
Viktor's not a criminal. And he didn't disappear of his own volition. Silco must've had a hand in it.
I'm going to figure out how.
Take care of yourself, okay? Please. I've already lost my brother. I can't lose my best friend too.
Be safe. I'll keep in touch.
Jayce
*
Cait—
Sorry I took off so early yesterday. There was no time. The Council had an emergency meeting with HexCorp, and I was summoned as its representative.
Things have escalated. Zaun's Cabinet has denied extradition. They claim that Viktor's entry into Zaun was perfectly legal. What's more, they state that the Hexcore, as one of Viktor's primary inventions, is his to take wherever he chooses. They even claim that the Hexcore is a prototype and, therefore, not an official piece of HexCorp's patented technology.
I'd expected the Council to push back. Instead—and I can't believe I'm writing this—they've acquiesced.
I was speechless.
The Council's position is that, as a scientist, Viktor has a right to his intellectual property. I argued that we'd both worked on the Hexcore as a team. Therefore, it was ours. They pointed to our original patent agreement, and the fine print that gives us equal, but not joint, ownership. They also reminded me that, as Viktor was from the Fissures, he was legally a foreigner under Piltover's laws.
I remember, during my tenure as a Councilor, pushing for months to get that stupid provision removed, and having my proposal shot down.
Now it's bit the entire city in the ass.
Cait—I'm ashamed to say it. But I lost my temper. In the middle of the meeting, I slammed my fist on the table and demanded to know why the hell they were backing down. Didn't we have the resources, and the right, to protect those who'd served us? Even if Viktor had exited under a cloud, didn't his deteriorating health and the danger the Hexcore posed justify both their retrieval?
Why, I wanted to know, weren't they summoning Silco here to account for his actions? Why weren't they threatening his administration with military force if he refused to cooperate? Didn't he owe us an explanation as to how our greatest innovator had come into contact with him?
It was Mel who answered. She explained that Silco's administration is a sovereign entity. We don't have the authority to demand an audience, nor the leverage to force his cooperation. We're not even legally bound to warn him. Zaun's Cabinet has the right to act independently of our influence. And, as for Silco's personal agenda, that is beyond the Council's purview. He's not obliged to share his secrets. It's his prerogative, not ours.
In other words, we don't have a leg to stand on.
I was so mad. So mad. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe them. It was the same shit I'd had to deal with when I'd first been nominated as Councilor. Except that time, it was the bureaucracy that was hamstringing me. This time, it's the people who I worked with. People who swore to protect our citizens. Who pledged to defend Piltover's principles.
And who are now acting like cowards, unwilling to do what's necessary.
I called them on it. In front of the entire assembly. I asked them where their courage had gone. Why they weren't fighting. Why they weren't even trying. Was this what Piltover was going to become? A society that allowed its greatest minds to be suborned? What the hell were they planning to do when the next inventor came under Silco's spell? Were they going to give up then, too?
The meeting ended shortly afterwards.
Mel tried to catch me in the hallway, but I was having none of it. She cornered me by the stairs. She wanted to know if I'd reconsider resigning. If we could talk.
I'll admit I was tempted. I haven't seen her since our split, and it's been hard. I miss her. It'd be nice to just hold her, even for a few minutes. To feel sane again. Safe. I know we can't rekindle things. Not with her position, and mine. But a hug, a kiss, some conversation...anything would've been good.
I turned her down.
I said we had nothing to discuss. That she'd made her position clear, and it was not one I agreed with. I asked her what the point of continuing the conversation was if we couldn't agree on the most fundamental matters. If we'd end up arguing over the same things again. I didn't have time for it. My focus had to be on Viktor. On finding a way to bring him home. And if she wasn't willing to help, then we had nothing else to talk about.
She told me I was being foolish. That I'd let my emotions blind me. That my stubbornness was going to be the death of me.
I told her I was fine with that. Because the alternative would be dying inside. That I wasn't willing to let Silco's take everything from me.
Especially not Viktor.
Cait, let's meet. Soon. We've got a lot to discuss. And I can't do this alone.
Jayce.
*
Cait—
This is going to be a quick one.
The Council and Zaun's Cabinet have arranged a summit. It's slated for next week. Silco is going to attend. We'll be discussing the terms for Viktor's return, and the repatriation of the Hexcore. Mel has been working to make it happen. It's the first sign of progress. It gives me hope. And it's a chance for me to confront Silco directly.
I'm not going to rest until Viktor's back where he belongs.
I'll ask Silco about Violet. I'll corner him in private, if I have to. I'm not sure how the two of them are connected. If they are, at all. But it can't hurt. And the more I can get him talking, the more opportunities I'll have to figure out what the hell is really going on. What he wants. And why.
I'll send a follow-up letter once I've got more information.
Stay strong. And, whatever happens, please don't lose faith. Piltover needs your courage. So do I.
Jayce.
*
Caitlyn,
I'm so sorry. I need to vent. Too much has happened.
Viktor's staying in Zaun.
So is the Hexcore.
Negotiations fell through. I don't know why. Silco showed up, and he was civil. More than that, actually. He was polite. He shook hands. He thanked the Council for reaching out, and expressed his appreciation at their willingness to compromise. He'd brought along his Deputy and a few members his Cabinet. They were well-dressed, professional. I was impressed. I was relieved. I'd come prepared to do battle, but he seemed determined to cooperate.
Then it all went to shit.
Cait, I can't explain it. But the whole thing felt... staged. Like Silco already knew how it was going to end. Like the Council had already signed off on some private deal, and were simply going through the motions. Mel opened with the usual pleasantries. She asked Silco about his health. His administration. His relationship with Zaun's citizens.
The latter question was a nod to me. A subtle signal that she was leaving the floor open for me to address him.
I did. I'd been preparing for weeks. I'd even gone over my questions with some of the other Councilors. They'd all agreed that the issue had to be addressed. If the Council was serious about building diplomatic ties, and creating a sustainable rapport with Zaun, then Silco's conduct had to be taken seriously. And he couldn't be given an inch.
He needed to be confronted.
So, as soon as the pleasantries were finished, I asked him what his plans were for the Hexcore. For the Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative. Why, if he was a man of the people, was he taking a magical relic that was potentially volatile out of our control? How was it serving his citizens, or the people who'd been entrusted to his care? How was it serving his principles?
And, most importantly, where the hell was Viktor, and what the hell was his game?
Silco smiled.
The bastard actually smiled.
Then he showed me a letter, in Viktor's handwriting, addressed to the Council. It stated that, because of his deteriorating health, he'd chosen to relocate back home. He wrote that there was only so much treatment the doctors at Piltover could provide. Eventually, he'd need more intensive care. And, as a Zaunite, he was entitled access to the physician of his choosing.
His physician was Colin Reveck.
Singed.
Apparently, if Viktor's letter was to be believed, Singed had known Viktor for years. As a chemist, he had a keen understanding of the disease affecting Viktor's lungs. And he'd been working with him on an experimental treatment. That was the reason Shimmer was in Viktor's bloodstream.
It was an integral part of the therapy. Without it, he'd have died long ago.
Silco also presented records of his conversations with Viktor, during which Viktor had confessed to feeling ostracized in Piltover. To having been made to feel bypassed, not only by the Council, but by his own peers.
By me.
Sky's disappearance had hit him hard, and the strain of maintaining his career and his health had left him emotionally depleted. He'd been forced to make a choice, and he'd chosen life.
He'd chosen Zaun.
I demanded proof. I said there was no way Viktor would write a letter like that. That there was no way he'd willingly choose to work with someone like Singed. He'd always despised putting morality aside for progress. He'd never approved of using animals as test subjects. Or people. I accused Silco of lying. Of blackmailing Viktor, or worse.
Silco showed me a photo.
I'll spare you the worse details. It was Viktor, yes. Definitely him. But the man in the picture looked nothing like my friend. He was... augmented. All over. He had metal plates across his face. There are mechanical appendages in place of his hands. There's gears, and cogs, and wires, on his torso. His throat is encased in a tube, and there is an equalizer outfitted to his chest.
Even his eyes are different. They're no longer his natural color. They're yellow and black. Like hazard lights.
And they glow.
Cait, it was like something out of a nightmare. He looked—he looked like an automaton. Like a cyborg. It wasn't a person anymore. It was a machine. Something created by a mad scientist, and brought to life by evil sorcery.
The timestamp on the photo was two weeks ago. When Viktor was first reported missing. That meant that, between then and now, Viktor had undergone a terrible transformation.
He'd become something inhuman.
Cait, I've known Viktor for years. I've known him better than anyone. But right then, I didn't recognize him. Not even a little bit. And, when I looked up at Silco, I saw him watching me. Watching the horror in my face. Smiling.
Smiling like the Devil himself.
I could've hit him. I would've hit him. Right then and there. But the Councilors intervened. Their security pulled me back. Mel tried to talk me down, but I was too furious. I couldn't believe what I'd seen. I couldn't believe he'd had the nerve to show it. To shove it in our faces. I couldn't believe the Viktor he'd shown me was real.
But it was.
The photograph's been vetted. It's the real deal. So is Viktor's signature. His handwriting hasn't changed. It's been matched to several official documents. His letter, which was accompanied by a medical report from Singed, has also been examined. And, while we've been unable to corroborate its contents, the letter itself has passed a rigorous authenticity test.
Viktor is alive.
And he's staying in Zaun. Under Silco's care.
He's been provided an apartment, a generous stipend, and a state-of-the-art lab. He's been placed in charge of an expanding Hex and chem-tech research division, and given a team of assistants. He's been granted unrestricted access to Zaun's medical facilities for his treatment, and all the resources necessary to conduct his experiments.
All of which are in collaboration with Singed.
There's nothing we can do, Cait. Absolutely nothing. Silco's got him locked in a golden cage. He's using Viktor's genius to advance his agenda, and the fact that he's been augmented is proof that he's not above forcing him into compliance.
Viktor's a casualty. And we're the ones who lost him.
It's all my fault.
They've scheduled a forty-five-minute recess. We'll take a break, then resume for the next session. After that, there'll be a dinner. And more discussions. I can't. I just can't. This is all wrong. Everything. My best friend is gone. Mel and I are no longer together. And the Council. They've failed. Failed us. Failed the city. Failed Viktor.
And something tells me it's going to get a whole lot worse.
Cait, please be patient. I still need to ask Silco about Violet. And I'll do everything I can. You have my word.
Jayce.
*
Cait—
The summit's over. Silco and his people have left.
And good riddance. I never want to see his rotten face again.
Cait, the whole thing was a sham. A total sham. From beginning to end. Nothing meaningful came out of the meetings. Silco didn't answer a single question. The Council wouldn't hold him to account. Instead, they started discussing the crisis as if it was a business merger. As if it was some kind of deal to be brokered, and a mutually beneficial arrangement to be made.
Silco had the gall to suggest a compromise. He said that Viktor, as a Zaunite, should be allowed to continue his research on the Hexcore. In return, the Council will be permitted to oversee his future Hextech projects. Both cities will collaborate to conduct a monthly audit via a joint Oversight Committee. They'd guarantee a set number of patents, and a share of the profits, and even provide funding for further innovations.
I argued that this was unacceptable. It would give the Council no actual leverage, and would only make them complicit in Viktor's subjugation. That they'd be signing a blank check. And that, by working with Silco, we'd be condoning his crimes.
The Council said nothing. They didn't support me. They didn't even try.
Mel agreed with Silco.
I couldn't believe it. I still can't believe it, Cait. She sided with him. With him!
She said the Council had to think long-term, and that, if we wanted peace, we needed to start acting like the world leaders we claimed to be. She pointed to the economic benefits, and the opportunities the new alliance could create. She reminded everyone that Viktor was a free man, and that he was the one who'd made the decision.
As far as she was concerned, it was his right.
I was outraged. I told her this wasn't the time for political theater or corporate speak. This was a human being's life we were talking about. And Viktor wasn't free. He was a hostage. If the Council really wanted to serve their citizens, they'd stand up to Silco. They'd demand the repatriation of the Hexcore. Then they'd demand Viktor's release.
And they'd use every means possible to get him back.
Then Silco dropped a bombshell.
He said, as thanks for the Council's cooperation in facilitating Viktor's "return" to Zaun, he'd make a gesture of goodwill. He'd draft legislation to outlaw the production of Shimmer as a narcotic, and to ban its distribution for recreational purposes. And, to prove his intentions were sincere, he'd have the new law approved by a vote, and the legislation made public. Only medicinal uses, he stressed, would remain legal.
The Council, he went on to suggest, could enact a blanket embargo on Shimmer's importation. Points of entry would be monitored, and Piltover would take steps to crack down on illegal trafficking. It would send a message to Piltover's allies, that Zaun was serious about pursuing the path of legitimacy. And that its partnership with Piltover was a symbol of that intent.
I was shocked.
So was Mel. And the rest of the Council. This wasn't what anyone had been expecting. This wasn't the Silco we'd known. He was offering to put himself in our debt. To cut ties with the illegal drug trade, and to allow the Council the opportunity to enforce sanctions against bad actors.
It was a major concession. It would effectively eliminate a key revenue stream in Silco's operation, and cripple the underworld's most valuable market.
Cait, I'll admit it.
I didn't see the trap until it was too late.
Silco doesn't need to distribute Shimmer within his city anymore. Because he's got the Hexcore. And it's capable of making breakthroughs in science and magic, beyond anything we've ever known. He's got some of the world's greatest innovators under his thumb. The only limits are their imaginations.
With the fruits of their labor—and the Council's backing—investors will flock to Zaun. Capital will pour in. The city will grow. Its economy will flourish.
No drugs needed.
I was the only one who spoke out against it. I felt like a complete jerk. But I had to state my case. I argued that the Council had to consider the risks. That we couldn't trust Silco, no matter how immaculately he dressed up his proposal. Who was to say he wouldn't take the Council's investment and put it into other ventures? What if he began funneling the investors' coin, and used it to finance bioweapons? What if he turned Zaun into an armory, right under Piltover's feet?
And, even if he did give up the drug trade, what about his human trafficking? His smuggling? The brothels, and the illegal casinos, and the underground fighting pits?
What about his ties to organized crime?
The Council dismissed my concerns.
They were eager. Eager to shake hands. Eager to sign on the dotted line. Eager to move forward.
The deal, Mel explained, would be the cornerstone of a lasting relationship between Zaun and Piltover. The Council's approval was vital. It would lend a stamp of legitimacy to Zaun's new order. And, she stated, it was the only way to avoid future conflict.
I was disgusted.
She was trying to sell the summit as a success. Like we hadn't given up a critical piece of our national defense, and put it into the hands of a foreign dictator. Like Silco hadn't blackmailed Viktor, or taken advantage of his illness, or exploited his vulnerability. Like he wasn't an abusive tyrant who ruled by fear, and murdered in cold blood.
Like he hadn't just gotten away with everything.
Cait, I can't tell you what happened. I don't have the words. I was angry. So, so angry. And disappointed. With the Council. With Mel. With myself. I couldn't stand to be there a moment longer.
So I walked out.
After the summit, I waited to catch Silco in the lobby. He was heading towards his limo. There were no security personnel. Just him and his Deputy Chancellor and a blackguard. He was smoking a cigar, and strolling like a man with all the time in the world.
I didn't say a word. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed him and pinned him against the wall.
I told him he had a choice. Either he could hand over Viktor and the Hexcore, or I'd beat the truth out of him.
The bastard smiled. He smiled at me.
Then he said, "Pet."
Someone grabbed me from behind. An arm went around my throat. A hand wrenched my elbow behind my back. I struggled, but couldn't break free. The grip was like iron. I half-turned, expecting to see Silco's Deputy. It was the blackguard.
Cait...
It was Violet.
She was in a full-on bodyguard get-up. Black suit. Black shirt. Black visor. Black boots. Her was cropped short, and she'd gained muscle. She looked lean, and hard, and strong.
Like a soldier.
She didn't say a word. She kept me in a sleeper hold, until the Deputy arrived with security. I don't know how many Councilors saw me in that position. I don't know what they must've been thinking, or what they must’ve been saying.
I was seeing stars. I was dizzy. I could barely breathe.
Then Silco said, "Drop him."
Violet obeyed.
When I came to, I was on my knees. My neck hurt. My arm hurt. My head was pounding. It was hard to focus. Then two steel-tipped boots materialized in my line of sight. I looked up, and there was Silco, staring down at me.
He was calm. Collected. Completely at ease.
"You'll have to forgive her," he said. "She's still being trained."
Cait, he knew.
He knew I'd ask him about Violet. He knew you'd placed inquiries looking for her. He knew we were concerned for her wellbeing.
So he'd had her accompany him to the summit, as a deliberate provocation.
He was taunting us both.
"I'd advise you, as a personal favor, to not try this again," he said. "If you do, you may find the outcome... less forgiving."
I told him to go fuck himself.
I think he smiled. It's hard to remember.
With a fingertip, he gestured Violet over. She came. I'll never forget that. The way she obeyed. Without hesitation. Without question. Not once did she acknowledge my presence. I still remember when I'd drop by for tea sometimes at your flat, and she'd scowl when she saw me. Or roll her eyes. Or say, "Oh, look. Pretty-Boy's here."
There was none of that. Nothing. Just total silence.
Total obedience.
Then Silco took her by the chin.
"There's a good girl," he said, and stroked her cheek.
It made my skin crawl.
I told myself it was because of Silco. Since the Siege, I'd been looking into his past, and there's enough material in the dossiers to turn your blood to icewater. I can't imagine the psychic price of serving that monster. I can't even imagine the pressure of being a blackguard at his beck-and-call.
I told myself it was the thought of Violet at his mercy, night after night. I told myself it was because she'd lost her autonomy. That she was trapped. That she was under duress.
I told myself that's why my gut was churning.
I'm sorry, Cait.
That's not the truth.
The truth is, I wasn't scared of Silco.
I was scared of Violet.
No—I was terrified.
Cait—there was a look in her eyes. I don't know how to describe it. A coldness, almost. Like she wasn't seeing me, or the Deputy, or anyone. Only Silco. She didn't flinch when he touched her. She didn't even blink. She was completely unmoved. Like a soldier on the parade ground.
Like a weapon waiting to open fire.
The limo pulled up. Silco and his Deputy got inside. I remember Vi holding the door open for them. And I remember her turning, one last time, to look at me.
There was nothing in her face. No emotion. No recognition. No regret.
Just empty.
Then she got inside, and the door swung shut. They drove off.
I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Cait, it's all I can think about. How different she looks. How hard she seems. And that stare. That terrifying, horrible stare.
What the hell did Silco do to her?
Cait, I'm coming to visit. We have a lot to talk about.
Jayce
*
Cait—
I have news.
Big news.
After I left your flat, I went straight home. A courier had just dropped a missive off at my place.
It was from the Wardens.
Their theory on Viktor being responsible for Sky's disappearance is crumbling. Despite their suspicions that Viktor was the last man to see her, their investigation has been unable to locate a single shred of evidence.
Viktor's laboratory is clean. No fingerprints, no signs of foul play, no indication of a struggle. Even the cameras, which the Wardens have accessed using a subpoena, showed no signs of her leaving with him. Her clothes, and belongings, were still inside the building. And her bike was still parked outside.
They're still not sure how she vanished. It's like she was swallowed up by a black hole.
As for the DNA—a secondary lab test revealed it was a mistake. Just a case of cross-contamination. They'd mistaken an old sample from a previous search in Sky's apartment. The report had gotten mixed up with Viktor's case file. The mistake had been made by an intern, who'd mislabeled a sample, and the senior investigators had simply repeated the error.
All in all, it was a complete botch-up.
The evidence is circumstantial. There's nothing that implicates Viktor.
For now, they've dropped charges.
I should be thankful. I know Viktor hasn't committed any crimes, and there's no concrete evidence of his guilt. It was a stretch to accuse him of involvement in Sky's disappearance.
But now there's a nagging doubt in the back of my mind. The timing's too convenient. First the Council caves to Zaun, and lets Viktor remain as Silco's prisoner. Now the Wardens have decided, of their own accord, not to press charges.
It makes no sense.
Worse, my own mind's playing tricks on me. I keep replaying the night Sky was reported missing. How distraught Viktor was. How he could barely speak. Barely look at me. He was a wreck, and I believed his distress was sincere. I'd told the Wardens, time and again, that there was no way Viktor had done anything to harm Sky.
I'd vouched for him.
Now, though...now, I'm not so sure.
The thing is, we still don't have all the facts from that night. Sky was last seen exiting her office at eight o' clock. The cameras see her walking down the main corridor. Then, at nine thirty, her assistant goes in to check on her, and finds her gone. Her bike's still there. Her street clothes are still on the rack. All her possessions are still inside.
But no Sky.
Where the hell did she go?
The cameras don't show her exiting the building. Which means she must still be in there. Except there's no trace of her. None.
Then it hit me.
The Hex-lab—mine and Viktor's workspace—had no cameras. A security camera had been installed, but Viktor had requested it be removed. He'd said, and I quote, "We are scientists. Our work necessitates a degree of privacy." It was part of our terms with the Council, and an addendum to our patent agreement. The lab would be kept off-limits, except to those involved with the project.
Viktor, Sky, and I were the only one who had the keycard.
And Viktor was the only person in the lab that night.
Caitlyn—I'm worried. It's possible I've made a terrible mistake. I've been so fixated on finding Viktor, I haven't stopped to ask myself why. Why would Viktor disappear without a word? Why would he take all his notes, abandon his post, and go into hiding? Why wouldn't he ask me for help? Or at least leave a note?
I've been thinking—what if he doesn't want to be found?
What if something bad happened between him and Sky? Something so terrible, he had no choice but to run?
Cait, please—help me figure this out.
Your friend,
Jayce.
*
Cait,
I had a fight with Mel.
I'm ashamed to say it. To be honest, it's embarrassing. I've never raised my voice at her before. Or sworn at her. Or, frankly, behaved like such a prick.
Here's what happened.
After my talk with you, I went straight to her penthouse. I was in a bad place. I'd hit the bar—awful idea, I know—and then gone for a walk. It was raining. I ended up in one of the city's parks. It's near her place. I sat on a bench and tried to get my thoughts together. Everything—why Viktor could've left, why Sky might've disappeared, why the Council were so willing to negotiate with Silco—was running through my head.
I just wanted to talk. I wanted a friend. I wanted her.
Cait—you told me how hard it's been since Violet left. How much you've been hurting. Not the everyday stuff. I know about that. But it's the other things, too. Like how you don't feel like yourself anymore. Like there's something hollow in you, that only she can fill. And nights are the worst. You miss the closeness. You miss the warmth.
And, Gods help me, the sex.
That's the part I miss the most. I can't tell you how many times I've woken up at night, dreaming about Mel, and I've had to stop myself from calling her up at four o'clock in the morning.
It's hard, Cait. Being apart. It's really hard.
I know how you feel. So you'll understand perfectly why I went to see Mel. I know we broke things off. I know it was my decision. And, no, I didn't expect us to pick up where we'd left off.
I just wanted someone to talk to.
Before I knew it, I was at her penthouse. I was soaked, and cold, and drunk. It was the middle of the night. But the doorman recognized me. He let me in, and called ahead to let her know.
She was waiting for me.
I'll never forget how she looked, Cait. She was wearing a silk robe. One of my favorites: all white lace and gold brocade. Her hair was loose, and it smelled like hyacinths. You know, I've never told you this, but I used to comb Mel's hair before bed. I wasn't very good at it. Sometimes I'd end up pulling too hard. But she'd smile, each time, and show me the trick to gently working through the knots. She'd kiss my hands. Then she'd kiss me.
Then—
Well, I think you know.
Seeing her again. Seeing her so soft, and warm, and lovely. It took my breath away.
It took everything.
Cait, I'm not going to lie. We ended up in bed. She said she'd missed me. And, damn it, I'd missed her. So much.
So very, very much.
I can't say I don't love her. How can I not? She's smart, and gorgeous, and funny. She's passionate. She's fearless. And I admire her. She has a way of commanding a room, but also of making every single person feel heard. She makes me feel heard. When I talk to her, I feel like I can say anything. Do anything. Be anything.
I needed that. I needed her.
She felt the same.
It was beautiful. Intimate. Wonderful. Sure at first, we were both a little awkward, and clumsy, and I'd forgotten to shave the past few days. But, after a few minutes, we were like two people who'd never left each other. Two people who'd never been apart.
Two people in love.
When we finished, we held each other. Then she kissed my cheek, and whispered in my ear, "Jayce, darling... you're home."
And, Cait, it felt like it. Like I'd finally come home.
It's not until after I'd showered, and was heading back into the bedroom, that the doubts crept in. Those nagging little doubts. Things I'd pushed down. Things I didn't want to confront. Like how the Council and Silco seemed to be on the same page in advance. Like how they were giving him carte blanche to exploit a man's genius, and use it for their own gains.
Like how Mel, out of everyone, seemed to know exactly what Silco was thinking.
Like she was expecting it.
I slipped back into bed with Mel, and I held her. Still, the questions came in my head. They came quietly, at first. Softly. Then, as the silence between us grew, they began to gain volume. Until I was sure she could hear them too.
Then I asked her the question.
"Why didn't you fight?"
At first, she pretended not to understand. So I said it again, louder.
"Why didn't you fight, Mel? Why didn't the Council?"
She turned. She was looking at me. Searching my face.
"You had a chance," I told her. "You could've fought for Viktor. You could've fought for me. Why didn't you?"
There was a long silence.
"I didn't have a choice," she said.
"Bullshit."
"It's the truth. I didn't. Jayce—you don't understand. There's more at stake than just the Hexcore. It's a small piece of a bigger issue. That issue being—how can we maintain our peace with Zaun. You have to understand. It's not only about your friend."
"Viktor. His name is Viktor."
"Viktor, yes. But we need to think of the whole picture. It's not just him. It's our trade agreements. It's our economic stability. It's our reputation as a city. As the City of Progress."
"So it's not important, what's happening to him. Because he's not a Piltovan, he's expendable."
"That's not what I'm saying. Please. Don't twist my words."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that a single man, or his personal rights, cannot eclipse the good of a city. You've been obsessed. You've been chasing shadows, instead of addressing the real problems."
"Like the Council selling out their best innovator to a dictator."
For the first time, her eyes disconnected from mine. "He isn't a dictator."
"Isn't he? What do you call someone who murders his way to the top, and uses his power to enslave his citizens?"
"We've held discussions, Silco and I. He wants prosperity for his city. Freedom for his people. I want the same for ours. To achieve that, we must compromise on certain issues. He's no model of merciful leadership, I grant you. But he's a pragmatic man. A visionary. Someone who can bring lasting change."
"He's a monster."
"Jayce. Darling. Your anger blinds you. I know he's committed terrible crimes. And yes, we've made deals that neither of us is pleased with. But, in the end, the outcome is worth the price. Our cities will grow together. We'll create a lasting, sustainable peace."
"At the cost of my best friend'."
"Viktor chose to leave. It's his right."
"Only because he had no choice. He couldn't stay in Piltover. Not with the Wardens falsely accusing him."
"Jayce—" A shadow fell across her face. "Please. Stop. This isn't getting us anywhere. Can't you see that? If you keep on fighting, you're only going to make things worse."
"Worse for who? The Council?"
"For Viktor. And... for you."
There was something in her eyes. Something... dark. Almost desperate.
"Please, Jayce. You need to trust me. I have your best interests at heart. I've been working to protect you. You've no idea the things I've—" She cut herself off.
I asked her what she was talking about. I asked her what the hell was going on.
That's when she told me.
Cait, the Warden's investigation? Mel is the one who called it off. Not because of inconclusive evidence. Not because of the waste of resources. Not because the security camera footage was inconclusive.
She called it off, because the Wardens had irrefutable proof that Viktor had killed Sky.
It wasn't just the fact that he was the last man to see Sky alive. Or the fact that she was last seen near the corridor to the Hex-lab.
It was the fact that, in the lab itself, they found Sky.
Or rather, her bone dust.
It was everywhere. Motes of it, on the floor. On the chairs. On the workbench. Someone had tried to clean it up, but not thoroughly. Not enough to remove the residue. And the forensics team had been able to confirm, using chemical analysis, that the samples were mixed with Viktor's DNA.
His, and no one else's.
The Wardens were set to launch an arrest warrant. Then Mel had intervened.
"It would've been a disaster," she told me. "A disaster for him. A disaster for Zaun. And for us. I had no choice, Jayce. None."
I was shocked. My brain couldn't comprehend what she was saying. It was impossible. Viktor wasn't a murderer. He couldn't be. He just couldn't.
I asked her if Silco knew.
She admitted that he did. He was the one, in fact, who'd tipped the Wardens off. Apparently, a remark Viktor had made during a conversation with his Deputy Chancellor had caught Silco's attention. He'd sent a blackguard to Viktor's lab, on the pretext of collecting leftover notes. During a search, the blackguard found traces of bone dust. He collected the sample and turned it over to the Wardens.
There were no signs of tampering. The evidence was months old. And it was damning.
"I can't believe this." I whispered.
Mel put her arms around me. She held me tight.
"Jayce," she said. "I'm sorry. Silco and I—we decided that the best thing would be for Viktor to remain in Zaun. For the charges to be dropped. So long as he confines his work to the Fissures, he'll have complete freedom. But should he return to Piltover..."
She didn't finish.
She didn't need to.
Cait, the Council and Silco. They've conspired against Viktor. Against both of us. They're letting him remain in Zaun, so that he can continue his research on the Hexcore. But, should he return, he'll be arrested.
And I'll be forced to testify.
It was too much. The idea that my best friend could be a killer. The fact that Mel knew. That she'd been complicit. The betrayal, by the Council, who'd gone along with it all. The duplicity. The corruption.
It was just too much.
I couldn't stop myself. I lost control. I leapt out of bed. I shouted. I called her a liar. I asked her how she could do it. How she could let him stay, and put him in danger. How she could be so calculating. So cold.
So much like... Silco.
She didn't answer. She was crying. I've never seen Mel cry. Never.
And, Gods help me, I didn't care.
Cait, I stormed out of her flat. I left her there, in tears.
I can't go back. I can't forgive her. I can't forgive myself.
I'm writing you now from a bar. It's three o' clock in the morning. I can't go home. I can't bear to sleep. I can't stop thinking. About the summit. About Mel. About Viktor.
About the future.
Cait, please help.
I'm lost.
Jayce
*
Jayce—
Destroy this message the minute you read it. You're being monitored.
Your apartment is being watched.
Your office, too.
I know, because so is mine.
Silco knows you're trying to make contact with Viktor. He knows I'm trying to reach out to Vi. The only reason he's permitted you to communicate with me is to bait a trap. I've gone back and deleted every missive I've written to you. Do the same. You need to watch your back. If the Wardens find out you've been trying to make contact with a suspected killer, it's not just your career.
It's your freedom.
You're a private citizen now. They won't hesitate to arrest you. And I won't be able to stop them.
Jayce, this is serious.
You're a hero. You're the face of Hextech. You've changed the world. You can't afford to throw it away. If you get caught, it'll be catastrophic.
Please. I'm begging you. You have to stop.
We can't contact each other via missive. Not until I can figure a way out of this.
Caitlyn
*
Caitlyn,
Don't worry. I won't put you in danger. I've found a workaround. I've created a secure channel, which will allow us to correspond without being intercepted. I've also modified the pneumatic tubes. It will take some time, but I can rig a system, which will ensure the messages are delivered directly to your desk.
I need a favor.
Your department has access to the Warden's database. How high is your clearance? Can you get access to their records on Sky? I'd like to have a look at their files.
I'll explain when I see you.
Jayce
*
Jayce,
I got in.
Here are the files.
Hurry. I don't know how long the clearance will last.
Cait
*
Cait—
Thank you.
This is incredible. You're amazing.
I've been reading through the records. It's difficult, because a lot of stuff has been redacted. But I've managed to piece together the timeline of Sky's disappearance. It's hard to believe, but the case has been open since the day she went missing. It's bigger than the Wardens let on to the Council.
There's more here than I expected.
According to the records, the Wardens were already investigating Viktor. He'd been placed on their Watch List, under suspicion of having ties with the Undercity's chemists. It was a flimsy pretext, and he wasn't a suspect. Just a person of interest.
They were tracking his movements, to see if he had any known associates belowground.
Then Sky was killed.
By now, I know she was killed. It's hard to watch. There's security footage, from the night she went missing. It's in black-and-white, and it's grainy. You can see Sky, exiting her office, and walking down the main hall. She's still in her lab coat, with her notes under her arm. Her hair's up, but her ponytail's slipping. She's got a smile on her face, and a spring in her step.
It's strange, Cait. But I can tell, even though she's just a shadow on the screen… she's happy.
She's going to see Viktor.
I know she's going to see Viktor, because the security cameras are tracking her movements. And they show her walking down the main hallway, past my office, and into the stairwell. From there, she goes to the third floor. The cameras lose her there. There's no coverage inside the Hex-lab.
It has no cameras, remember.
But something happens six minutes later. There's a—a fluctuation, almost. In the video. The image blurs. It's like the camera's glitching.
Except it's not the camera.
Cait, I've seen that fluctuation before.
It's a Hex-field.
I can tell because, while the image distorts, the edges of the hallway remain sharp. Which means the field's expanding outward, in a dome pattern, from a central source. The source, in question, is the Hexcore.
It's been activated.
I've checked the timeline. The hex-field is only active for a few seconds. Then it's gone.
But Sky never returns.
I've been over the footage a hundred times. And the conclusion's always the same.
Sky entered the lab. She met Viktor. Then he killed her.
Why, I can't say. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was something else. The point is, her remains were never found. Only traces of her bones.
I've got to find him, Cait. I've got to talk to him.
I've got to understand what happened.
Jayce
*
Cait—
It's a trap.
You were right.
I did something stupid. I didn't think. I took a risk, and it's backfired.
I went into Zaun. I had no formal dispensation; no notarized travel pass; no clearance from the Council. I was, effectively, trespassing on foreign soil.
I didn't care.
I was going to find Viktor. I needed answers on what had happened. I wasn't going to let him stay down there, hiding from what he'd done. I was going to make him tell the truth. Then, maybe, we could figure out how to fix this mess.
So, in the middle of the night, I armed myself with my hammer. I went down to the harbor. I was careful to avoid the usual checkpoints you'd told me about. I headed for a small, out-of-the-way pier, where the patrols were less frequent. I'd borrowed a friend's boat. It was small, and not the fastest, but it's quiet. I managed to sneak past the harbor's first buoys.
Then, I crossed the border.
Zaun's different now.
I remember the last time I was in the Fissures to get supplies. Back before the Siege. It was rundown. It was rancid. The streets were in disrepair. The people were sullen. There was poverty and sickness, and a sense of despair.
Things have changed.
The Promenade's undergone a transformation. It's like a state-of-the-art motherboard framed in multicolored neon. They've repaired the streets, and the buildings are lit up like stars. They're clean. Pristine. Even the air smells different. Less acrid.
It's almost... pleasant.
It was late, but the shops were open. The crowds were out in full-force. They were mingling in the plazas, drinking at the bars, dancing in the squares. I passed an upscale club, and there was a line snaking all the way around the block. There were people of all classes and creeds, and they were dressed up, and celebrating.
Like it was a holiday.
I couldn't believe it. After everything that monster's done, the people of Zaun are out, and living it up, like it's the greatest carnival in the world. Like they're grateful. Grateful to have Silco in charge.
Cait, it's surreal.
It's as if, after years of fear, they're finally free. Not only free from Piltover's control—from its judgment, its oppression, its prejudice. It's like they're free in their souls. They're happy. Joyous.
But I can't shake the feeling that they're in a trance. As if, with the bright lights and poppy colors, Silco is hypnotizing them. He'd holding them in thrall, so they'll worship him, and not notice the bodies he's left in his wake.
That's how I felt, walking through the Promenade. Like I was following a parade of automatons, fueled on sensory ecstasy.
I tried talking to a few passersby, and they seemed nice. Friendly.
Some of them, too friendly.
I'm not sure how, but they knew I was a Topsider. A couple of them offered to give me directions. Others were eager to buy me drinks. A few asked if I'd like a dance.
One thing's for certain: they're much more welcoming now. Like, now that Zaun's nearabouts Piltover's equal, bygones can be bygones, and no one cares about a bit of old history.
I wasn't there to debate history, though. I was there to find Viktor.
I asked a few of the locals if they'd heard of him. It didn't seem to ring any bells, though a few said he sounded familiar. Then I mentioned he'd worked on Hex-tech, and a chorus rose up.
"Oh! The Machinist!"
That's what they call him in Zaun. They've forgotten his name. Or maybe they don't care.
What matters is that he's terraforming the urban landscape. Changing the city. Bringing the Fissures up to par. Creating a new Zaun, and building it up from ground-zero
I was shocked. He's already begun work? It's only been a few weeks.
But it's true. Apparently, Silco has put him in charge of a full-scale revitalization project. He's using the Hexcore to create new infrastructural designs. Changing the way the city is laid out, and making the Fissures over from a mud-hole into a metropolis. He has a whole team of engineers, and an entourage of blackguards. Every week, they're working on a new layer of the city.
A fresh coat of paint, if you will.
This week, they were overhauling the turbines. The next, the power grid. The one after that, the sewage system. By the time the Expo's begun, Zaun will be a chromed-up paradise.
And Silco will be lauded as its liberator.
The irony.
I was told he'd be working on the turbines this week, and to head toward the eastside. So, that's where I went.
The zone was a hive of activity. Tremors from power-drills under my feet; sparks from welding torches in the air; bodies swarming over scaffoldings. It looked like a small army had been drafted, and was working their hands to the bone. The entire sector had been cordoned off.
The turbines stood on platforms, towering over the street. They were colossal works-in-progress: rivets the size of hubcaps, steel girders dense as concrete blocks, pistons the width of my chest. They were astonishing, Cait. The scale of them was unreal. Their alloy-shelled interiors seemed to be a combination of metallurgical compounds and Fissure-seam crystals, the two meshed together into a seamless matrix with a shimmery-green tint.
There were runes, too.
Hex-runes.
They were inscribed all over the turbines. And, judging by the way the technicians were treating them, they weren't simply decorative. They were a critical component of the new design.
I'd never seen anything like it.
I couldn't help but admire Viktor's work. He'd done all this in less than a month. Except it wasn't just him. Here and there, I saw a familiar monkey motif scrawled into the blueprints, or decorating the turbine's frame.
It was Jinx's signature.
It hit me, then, like a gut punch. Viktor hadn't done this alone. Jinx was collaborating with him. Her notes were scattered throughout the designs. This wasn't a solitary operation with a spur-of-the-moment breakthrough. This was a joint venture, between two rogue agents. One that must have been in the works for months.
Or longer.
I felt a chill go down my spine.
Silco had likely planned this—this coup—from the moment of the Peace Treaty.
And there was no telling what he had planned next.
Cait, I had to stop him. I had to find Viktor.
I asked a few technicians if they'd seen him. I was directed to the south end. I didn't have a plan. All I knew was that I had to find him. Confront him. Demand an explanation.
Then I saw him.
He stood in the middle of the mayhem, directing the crew. At first glance, he seemed the same. Same height. Same build. Same accent. But that was a trick of the eye. Like my memory was a distorting medium, and my mind had supplanted an old image onto a new reality.
Because, when he turned, it was like he'd been replaced by someone else.
Someone I barely recognized.
He seemed taller, somehow. His movements were more fluid; his stiffness less pronounced. He didn't walk. He glided. The balls of his feet seemed to float a bare millimeter above the ground, as if the air itself was propelling him forward. And the way he carried himself, with such confident assurance—it was like his world had expanded, in the span of a few weeks, from a sickbed to a stage.
That's when I noticed his cane was different.
It wasn't the ergonomic model he'd designed for himself, as his mobility declined. This was a prong-tipped rod, polished black, with a barb at the base. Like a javelin. It was a definite case of function over form. No aesthetic appeal. No concession to comfort.
Just a weapon.
But, Cait, that's not what unnerved me the most.
That was Viktor himself.
Because he wasn't Viktor. He was some unnervingly close approximation dressed in patches of Viktor's skin, with steel seams running through the missing spots. His skull, torso and limbs are half-cybernetic. The right leg—the one that 'never behaved' as he'd sometimes put it—has been replaced with a mechanical prosthesis. It's got a titanium exoskeleton, and a carbon-fiber frame, and a hydraulic heel. The knee's a ball joint. The thigh's an articulated piston. It's like a work of art. The most horrifying work of art you could imagine.
But it's not just his leg.
His right hand—the one he'd taken to wearing a glove on—is now a four-fingered steel claw. It's hinged at the wrist, and the phalanges are articulated, and the palm's been fitted with a projectile port.
I know, because I watched him fire it.
It was a blackguard, one of the many onsite. The guy was being a dick. He was bullying some of the workers, and shouting at them, and generally harassing everyone within earshot.
Then Viktor walked up, and calmly ordered him to stand down.
The blackguard laughed.
Viktor didn't hesitate. He didn't say a word. He lifted a hand. The steel palm opened, and the projectile port spun, and the muzzle flared, and a blast of hot green light shot out, and blasted a hole straight through the guy's sleeve. It must have singed his skin, too, because the blackguard let out a howl.
Then he fell to his knees, groveling apologies.
Viktor, with terse instructions to the rest of the crew, turned, and left.
I couldn't believe it.
He'd shot at a man.
Without flinching. Without pausing to consider the consequences. Without even acknowledging the guy's pain.
He'd changed, Cait.
The Viktor I knew was gentle. He had a self-effacing slouch, an earnest smile, and an uncanny ability to see the best in people. He was always questioning, always second-guessing, always willing to learn.
This man was nothing like that.
This man was... hard.
As if the softness had been drained from him.
Just like Violet.
As he strode off, I was able to catch strains of conversation. Cait—his voice has changed completely. He's got an equalizer attached to his mouth, which runs on a small internal pump, and has an integrated voice modulator. It's the reason his accent's less pronounced. His tone's deeper, too. It's more authoritative. More commanding.
Less human.
The rest of his face is the same as the photograph. There are sensors on his cheeks, and his jaw is augmented with a cybernetic clamp. Then there's the eyes. The sockets are lined with a copper alloy, and the lenses are bionic. No pupils; no sclera. Just two reflective orbs with a glowing core.
Golden and black. Like looking into a pair of glowing embers.
Except they're cold.
I followed him. He wasn't going far. There was a trailer nearby, where blueprints were spread out over a makeshift table. He stepped inside. I'd expected to see Jinx. I was sure she'd be there. After all, she was collaborating with him. She'd drawn up half the diagrams, and, by the looks of things, had helped him implement them, too.
But the trailer was empty.
Viktor was alone.
Then I realized Viktor knew I was there.
"Jayce," he said, without turning around. "You are trespassing."
His voice, even through the equalizer, was the same.
Except it wasn't.
It was cold, too.
"Viktor," I said. "We need to talk."
He still didn't turn. "If the blackguards find you, they will arrest you. And, should they do so, I cannot guarantee your safety."
"I don't care."
"You should."
"I know what happened to Sky."
There was a prolonged silence punctuated by the distant sound of power tools. Then, very slowly, he turned. Our eyes met, and even though every muscle and nerve ending in my body fought it, I couldn't stop myself from flinching at the totality of his transformation.
At the eerieness of it.
"Sky," he said, at last, "is gone"
"I know. She's dead. The Wardens found her bone-dust in your lab. You killed her."
"Jayce, you don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
"I didn't kill her. Not in the way you think."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Viktor, you were the last person to see her alive. She was last seen near the Hex-lab. There are traces of her DNA mixed in with your own. What the fuck am I supposed to think?"
He said nothing. His breathing rasped like an iron file through the air. It was a strange, grating sound. His lungs, I understood, had been augmented, too. The extent of the mechanization, in such short a time-frame, couldn't be man-made.
Then I understood.
"Magic," I said.
He didn't answer.
"That's what happened, didn't it? You were using the Hexcore's magic. Not on tools. On yourself. And you didn't want anyone to know."
Still he said nothing.
"But it went wrong, didn't it? The Hexcore did something to her. She was in the lab, and something happened, and she got hurt. Badly. So badly that you had to dispose of her. And you thought, if you were careful, no one would ever find out. That you'd get away with it."
"Jayce—"
"Is that why you left? Because you were afraid of being caught? Dammit, Viktor, answer me!"
He looked at me, and the stare was preternaturally calm. But I could feel an intense heat cooking the air around him. He didn't raise his voice, or gesticulate, or make any move against me.
He kept on staring.
"Jayce," he said at last, "before I left Piltover, I was working on a theory. One involving the Hexcore. I had discovered that, with the right runic sequence, it was possible to channel its subatomic energies into living flesh. Through an organic compound as the catalyst, and the correct sequence as a stabilizer, the Hexcore's powers would no longer be tied to its physical matrix. We'd use it to augment living things. Restore damaged muscle. Heal sick tissue. Repair a faulty organ. Even..."
"What?"
"Prolong life."
Dazed, I shook my head. "Viktor, that's impossible. That level of transfiguration—"
"Can be achieved. All that's necessary is for the Hexcore to sustain the right frequency, at the correct resonance. A harmonic pattern, if you will."
"We tried, remember? We tried, with plants and fungi. We couldn't even manage to make a weed grow. The results crumbled, or rotted, or—"
"—died. Yes." His breath shivered like a metal grate in a storm. "That is because the runic sequence is incomplete. To channel the Hexcore's power, a keystone rune is needed. Something to anchor the harmonics. Act as the focus. Without it—"
"Viktor, please. You're not making any sense—"
"I was trying to extend life, Jayce!"
For the first time, the flat dial tone of his voice shifted. I heard, subaudible but discernible, a quaver of grief.
"Extend life," he whispered. "Not take it."
It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. My breath came hot, nauseous. "You messed up. Didn't you?"
"Jayce—"
"You screwed up. Something went wrong. You did something to Sky. You killed her."
He gave a single jerky nod.
My guts turned over. The fear had been replaced with disgust. With anger. I couldn't stand to look at him. To see what he'd done.
What he'd become.
"Where's her body?" I demanded.
"It's gone."
"Gone? Gone where?"
He rubbed his jaw, the bones grinding side-to-side. It was old gesture. The one he'd make, whenever he was uncomfortable. Or guilty.
"It was consumed."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Jayce, please. You must believe me. I—I did not intend for her to die. I did not even realize she was there until after—"
"After?"
The glow in his bionic eyes dimmed. "The Hexcore, when it opened, created a feedback loop. The catalyst in my blood was to be the sensor, absorbing the concentration of the energy's signals. The runes on my body were the integrating centers, the medium through which the feedback would be channelled. But—but there was not enough of one to balance the other."
I understood. "The Shimmer. That's why it was in your bloodstream. It interacts with the Hexcore's harmonics. Instead of destabilizing the resonance, it amplifies the feedback. It's what allows you to maintain a stable connection."
"Yes."
"And the runes. They're not for stabilization. They're for augmentation. For transmutation."
"Yes."
"And Sky? Where did she fit into all this?"
A strange darkness filmed Viktor's bionic eyes. "She was not meant to be there. I should have—should have locked the door. Should have—but no, I did not think. It was too much, the moment. The chance, too great. If it had worked—" He broke off. His head drooped, slowly, as if his neck was made of wires stretched too taut. "She was there. The Hexcore's field was activated. It took her."
"Took her."
"Blindly. As a mouth takes in food. She was trying to pull me away. She was saying my name. Viktor. Viktor. She did not understand." His cybernetic fingers flexed around his cane. "I could not stop it. Could not shut down the Hexcore. The energy—it was too strong. Too much."
"You're saying the Hexcore absorbed her?"
"Her flesh. Then her bones. Then her essence. Until nothing remained." His chest vibrated, like an engine winding down. "Nothing but dust."
A cold fist gripped my heart. I thought of the security footage. The fluctuation, and the blur. It hadn't been a camera glitch.
It had been the Hexcore.
"Viktor," I breathed. "My Gods."
His head remained bowed.
"This is why, isn't it? Why you asked me to destroy the Hexcore. You knew, then. Knew how powerful it was. How dangerous. You wanted me to shut it down."
"Destroy it," he whispered. "Yes. But that was before—"
"Before, what?"
"Sky. In her notes. She'd left me a—a message. Only, it was never intended for my eyes." He unstuck his jaw with effort, as if his teeth were glued together. As if the words themselves were too heavy to shape. "Sky was working on a project. One I'd encouraged. Every week, she would show me her findings. I would provide suggestions, or offer assistance, as needed. She was a brilliant researcher, Jayce. And unlike myself... she never forgot her roots."
I swallowed. It was hard, around the knot in my throat. "What—what was her project?"
"Life." The word was soft, almost reverent. "Here, in Zaun. She'd designed blueprints for a Hex-filtration plant. Something to purify the water. Sewage removal. Runoff collection. All to make the streets where she—where we both—grew up, safer. A habitable home for the people who needed it most."
"And now... you're building it."
"Yes."
"With Silco's blood money."
He lifted his head. The contours of his expression iced over; robotic, remote. "The blood money is the Council's. Silco is only the siphon."
"What—?"
"Or do you not hold the Councilors complicit in the Undercity's degradation?"
"That's not—"
"Not the same?" Something in his bionic eyes crackled. It could've been anger, or amusement, or a thousand other emotions, and I wouldn't have known the difference. "Tell me, Jayce. Why are you here?"
I was taken aback. "Because—because I needed to know the truth."
"You know the truth." The last humanity dissolved out of his voice, leaving a mechanical buzz. "You wanted to hold me accountable."
"If you'd killed Sky—"
"You've killed too, Jayce."
A stone lodged in my chest. It was cold. It was hard.
It was the truth.
Cait—only you, Violet and Mel know what I did. That night, at Silco's Shimmer factory. The boy caught in the crossfire. The boy who'd died because of my recklessness. I've lived with the memory of his face ever since. It's haunted me. Night and day. No matter how much I've tried to justify it. No matter how many good deeds I've done.
The fact is, I took a life.
And Viktor knew.
For so long, I'd kept it from him, out of shame but also fear. The fear of him judging me, as no different from the other Topsiders. The same ones who'd mistreated him as a boy; who'd buried his city under their refuse and left the people to rot. I was afraid, Cait, of him hating me. Of him realizing how little I deserved his friendship.
And now he did.
Silco, I thought, icy splinters of rage in my gut. He knew too.
He knew—and he'd used the knowledge to turn Viktor against me.
"Viktor," I began.
"Jayce." His voice was dead as the grave. "Do not."
"Look, please, I—"
"You should not have come. Your presence will be construed as hostile. There will be consequences."
"Then let's leave. Come back with me. I can protect you. The Council, they'll—"
"Forgive me?" His lips approximated a smile. "No. That, I think, will not happen."
"You can't stay here. Not under Silco's thumb. He's using you, Viktor. Using the Hexcore. You can't trust him. Can't you see?"
"I can. You cannot."
"Viktor—"
"I cannot return to Piltover, Jayce. My mistakes have made it impossible. I understand that." The mechanical ruthlessness returned to his voice. "You, in turn, must understand. I will not return, because of your own."
My entire axis tilted. I couldn't believe my ears. I was reeling.
"You—you don't mean that."
"I do."
"You'd really choose Silco, over Piltover?"
"I choose neither."
"But—HexCorp. Our research. Me. Us."
"I am sorry, Jayce."
And for the barest moment, the briefest heartbeat, his bionic eyes seemed wetly sheened. As if he was still human.
Then it was gone.
His cane tapped, twice.
A heartbeat later, blackguards melted from the darkest corners.
I counted four. They'd been posted all around. In the shadows.
Waiting for him to give the signal.
I knew, then, that I'd been set up.
Silco had goaded me into coming. He'd known I'd confront Viktor, and Viktor would reveal what had happened to Sky. Then the blackguards would appear, and there'd be arrest warrants. Public censure. Tarnished reputations.
All the while, Viktor would remain in Zaun, free to pursue his work.
I'd played right into his hands.
"Viktor," I said. "Please. Don't do this."
"Goodbye, Jayce." He turned. "You must not return."
"Viktor—"
"Take him."
Cait, I barely had time to react. The blackguards closed in, and my hammer was out, and the energy pulsed, and I managed to get off a shot, and send two of the men flying back, until—
A blow to the back of my skull.
The ground rose up, and slammed into my face.
The world went dark.
When I woke, I was in a holding cell. A dank, cramped space, with a barred door and a cot, and a bucket in the corner. My head throbbed. My hammer had been confiscated. My wrists were chafed from old shackles.
But, other than that, I was unharmed.
I wasn't sure how long I was kept there. Time passed strangely, in a fog of disorientation. It felt like days, but couldn't have been more than a few hours. Finally, a guard appeared. He escorted me out. We took a lift down to an underground garage, where a limousine was waiting. He shoved me in, and I braced myself for the worst.
Maybe Silco would have me strangled. Maybe they'd put a bullet through my skull. Maybe they'd dump me in the river.
I had a dozen scenarios running through my head. None of them ended well.
None of them came close to reality.
Mel was sitting inside.
Silco had informed her, via a confidential courier, of my entry into Zaun. That I'd gone across the border, unsupervised, armed, with no clearance. That I'd trespassed, and threatened Viktor. And that, in doing so, I'd violated the terms of the Peace Treaty.
Politically, it could've been catastrophic. Months of negotiations—the careful cultivation of trust, the fragile bonds of diplomacy—all put at risk. If Silco had decided to press charges, to use the incident as leverage against Piltover, or retaliation for a perceived slight, the Council would've been hard-pressed to respond.
But he hadn't.
Mel told me, afterward, that the crisis had been resolved behind closed doors. She'd taken the ferry to Zaun, requested a private meeting, and met with Silco in his office. There, after some back-and-forth, she had convinced him to drop the charges. In exchange, the Wardens had agreed to a temporary suspension of my duties at HexCorp. It was, in effect, a forced sabbatical. One I was to spend, for three months, under house-arrest.
During that time, I was forbidden from entering Zaun.
Mel told me all this later. In that moment, sitting beside her in the car, I couldn't bring myself to speak. I was too ashamed—too overwhelmed—to say a word.
We rode in silence.
Cait—I've been such an idiot.
I've gambled high, and I've lost. And because of that, Piltover had nearly lost, too. I'd put myself before my city. Before the safety, the security, the future of our people. I thought of how I'd exploded at Mel, that night in her flat. How I'd left her there, in tears. How I'd jeopardized everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. Everything I'd fought so hard to create.
All because of my own blind, selfish, outsized ego.
All because I thought I could swoop in and save the day.
Gods, what an ass I've been.
Throughout the ride, I kept looking sidelong at Mel. She sat, straight-backed, her hands in her lap, her eyes cast forward. Her dress was pristine, her hair was coiffed, her makeup was impeccable. To the untrained eye, she looked flawless.
I knew her better.
I saw the way her hands were a white-knuckled twist. I saw the subtle quiver of her lower lip. I saw the lavender shadows under her eyes.
The guilt was suffocating.
She'd saved me. She's always saved me. And how have I repaid her? With scorn. With mistrust. With disrespect.
I wanted to fall at her feet. Beg her forgiveness. Tell her how sorry I was, and how stupid I'd been, and how wrong.
I didn't.
Instead, I sat there. Staring at my shoes.
We pulled into her driveway.
"Jayce," she said. "Go. Rest in the guestroom. I'll have the maids send up some tea."
Her tone was polite, but distant. Reserved.
I nodded. "Thanks."
"Jayce?"
I paused, halfway out of the car. "Yes?"
She turned, at last, and met my stare. Her eyes were dark, and sad, and tired.
"I'm glad you're safe," she said simply.
Cait, I couldn't say a word. I could barely breathe. I hesitated for just a second, then pulled her across and into my arms. She embraced me, and as soon as I felt her warmth, smelled her perfume, I couldn't stop myself. The past few weeks—Viktor's departure, the truth of Sky's death, the realization that I'd nearly ruined everything—everything came rushing back.
I broke down.
I was crying, Cait. Crying in her arms. Like a child. She held me. She didn't say anything. Just held me.
I don't deserve her.
I truly don't. But having her close, and knowing she cared, was a lifeline. Since the Siege, it's like I've lost a tiny bit of my reality. My grasp on the world. Every day, it's been a little harder. Then Viktor left, and Sky died, and the pieces of my world started falling apart.
Mel is the one of the few pieces still anchoring me.
I wanted to tell her this, Cait. I wanted to tell her, how much she means to me, and how sorry I was, and how grateful. I wanted to tell her, over and over, that I didn't deserve her, and how, despite it all, I was never going to leave her side.
I didn't, though.
I kissed her.
It wasn't planned. It just... happened. I kissed her. She was still in my arms. We were still in the car. I was still crying.
Then I was kissing her.
She let me, for a little bit. Then she broke, gently, and turned her head. Putting a palm on my chest, she nudged me back.
"No, Jayce."
"Mel..."
"You need to rest. We'll talk, later."
"Mel, I..."
"Later," she said softly.
It wasn't a request.
And so, I let her go. I walked into the penthouse, and was escorted upstairs. But, Cait—it was the loneliest walk of my life. Because I realized why, when I'd kissed her, she'd withdrawn.
Not because it was the wrong time.
Not because I was in shock.
Not because she was mad.
Cait, she's seeing someone else. I can't say how I know. Just that I can sense it. And, the worst part is, I can't blame her. After the way I've treated her—blowing hot, then cold; pushing her away, then pulling her close; accusing her of things she'd never do, then expecting her to help me when the shit hits the fan—it's no surprise she's moved on.
And how can I expect this gorgeous, sophisticated, brilliant woman, with her head screwed on straight, and her heart in the right place, and the courage to speak truth into power, to stick around?
Especially when I'm acting like a spoiled, sulky, immature, selfish asshole.
She's better off.
But not me.
I've fucked up, Cait. I've hurt people. I've hurt my friends. I've endangered Piltover. All because I've been too caught up in myself. Because I've let my pride run wild.
Because, at the end of the day, maybe I'm still just a boy meddling with things I don't understand.
I think it's time that boy grew up.
It's time he made the world a better place.
P.S.
This will be my last correspondence for a little while. I'll be going upcity to my mother's place. I've got a few projects in mind, and if I'm going to be under house-arrest, might as well put my time to good use.
Before I go, though, I want to thank you.
For your support. Your honesty. Your friendship.
For everything.
Cait, you're the best.
Your friend, always,
Jayce
*
To Jayce Talis, Esq.
Sir,
You will oblige me to ask the following: Are you out of your fucking mind?
First, you attack the First Chancellor in plain view of half the Council. Then, you decide it would be a good idea to traipse across the border, unescorted and armed with Hex-tech, without a notarized travel pass. Then, not satisfied with having broken one law, you have the gall to threaten one of our citizens—our brightest minds—with abduction and bodily harm. Then you injure two blackguards, and thereby put yourself, and the integrity of the Peace Treaty, at risk.
Now, you have the balls to write to me—demanding an audience with the First Chancellor, once your house-arrest has expired.
Your arrogance knows no bounds.
Read carefully, sir. Because I will only say this once:
No.
No, you will not have an audience with the First Chancellor. No, we will not divulge the address of the Machinist, Viktor. No, we will not disclose blackguard Violet's current location. And no, you will not be given leave to enter the Fissures, unsupervised and with your hammer.
That is final.
Your last letter, demanding a 'sit-down' (you have, evidently, been reading too many tabloids) is not only a grave presumption. It is also a threat against the integrity of this office. Your future letters, from here on out, will be marked as "Return to Sender." The prior ones, we've already compiled and forwarded to the Council, who have assured us will investigate.
I trust they will take the proper disciplinary actions.
Janna knows, you deserve a slap on the rear. A hard one.
Given your tenure as a former Councilor, we are prepared to show a degree of leniency. You are a prominent figure in the public eye. We recognize the emotional impact of your mentor, Dr. Heimerdinger's, passing. We also know that you have suffered the loss of Viktor's partnership, and are under intense strain in your private life.
In light of these facts, the First Chancellor has agreed to overlook your invective. We will not press charges, and will not seek punitive action, so long as you cease any and all communication with the First Chancellor. You are also instructed to desist any further inquiries into the whereabouts of the Hexcore.
If you continue to persist in your obstinate line of inquiry, the First Chancellor will no longer be inclined to clemency. You will find yourself facing multiple felony charges, which may carry a term of imprisonment.
Consider carefully.
The Man of Tomorrow, Piltover's brightest mind, would look pretty dim in a prison jumpsuit.
Kindly refrain from further correspondence. Unless it’s in the form of an apology. A similar letter of warning has been forwarded to Enforcer Caitlyn Kiramman. In light of your close personal relationship, we request you relay the message next time you meet.
Regards,
Sevika M.
P.S.
The First Chancellor has also requested we share the following message:
"The boy's letters are charmingly feisty. The girl's, surpassingly eloquent. I am delighted to know that two such exceptional individuals are among our neighbors. My only regret is that they spend more time throwing rocks, and less time building bridges."
"When their aim improves, they will be welcome to visit. Until then, they are advised to keep their distance."
#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#forward but never forget/xoxo#forward (never forget)/xoxo#arcane jinx#jinx#arcane viktor#viktor#arcane jayce#jayce talis#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn kiramman#arcane mel#mel medarda#arcane sky#sky young#meljay#mel x jayce#jayvik#jayce x viktor#arcane vi#vi#caitvi#violyn#caitlyn x vi#vi x caitlyn#arcane zaun#arcane piltover
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My Dear Gangster Oppa Commentary Ep 3
I know this asshole did not really say, "you're with this guy again." Bestie's opinion matters more than anyone else's, but he hasn't even met the dude! He's acting more like a parent than a best friend. Hahaha! Tew remembers who Wahl is, and he appears to not be happy about meeting him.
I didn't want to dislike Wahl, but he is pissing me off. Talking to Guy like Guy isn't allowed to make his own decisions. Not cool. This isn't concern, this is controlling. I'm about to smack a bitch. I'm not happy with you Wahl and I don't know if you can redeem yourself.
I have to hand it to Tew. He is being really calm and honestly respectful despite Wahl being a douche to him. Guy, pick the one actually giving you a choice!
I love these bitches. Especially the one in the middle. Muffin is such a cutie too. An apparently lonely cutie. HAHAHA! Way to cock block Guy. I'm here for it. If you stop the time at 6:04 you can catch Guy smirking.
Is anyone surprised that he has to go after making a scene? Suddenly he isn't so concerned he has to take Guy home. Tom is cute, I like him.
That's right Guy! Tell of Wahl!
Did one of them really call him baby face??? I predict Tew showing up.
Called it! OMG, I'm Dead. Guy works up the nerve to ask Tew about what he does for a living. That the gang members seemed scared of him. "Nah, I'm just scary looking." "No. You're pretty good-looking."
This is Tew's reaction.
This is my reaction.
Did dumbass really say he owned a shabu restaurant. He had to know that Guy would then say he'd want to go. Seriously, driver/underling is me. Between his cough, giggle and the way he looks at Guy sleeping on Tew's shoulder.
Tew is so gone. These two dumbasses are so gone for each other. Really asking him if he wants him to wash the shirt. Yes, strip right now. I'll wait. They are adorkable.
Dude is going to buy a restaurant to cover the story he gave his crush. Boy is gone gone.
My reaction to that.
Did home dude really take a nap on some chairs. Hell to the naw. That makes my back hurt just watching it.
Oh! I think we have a secondary couple.
I already like them.
Discount Lennon is at it again. So home chick is not dead, but might as well be. Lawd, how are they not dead with that much white powder. Though I'm not sure it's the same girl. Specially since there are two now.
Did Wahl really ask Guy how he got home??? Guy doesn't tell the full truth, but doesn't lie either. Damn Wahl. You got some nerve. One month anniversary. Why don't you pay more attention to your gf Wahl?
Yay for game friends!
I would punch someone if they talked in my ear like that. HAHAH the look Wahl is giving Guy. I really want to like Wahl, but he ruined it for me. Now I'm just amused.
Tew looking scary and sexy. Niiiiiiice. Villains do it better.
What's this face? Is he shocked? Is he turned on? A bit of both?
So cute! He brought him a cake.
The elevator sequence was weird. Guy concerned because he sees blood. Tew giving crazy eyes. Guy completely forgetting about the blood and turning to mush because Tew is holding his hand. But honestly, some things are worth ignoring for cake and a doting boyfriend.
I mean, these pictures say it all. 🤣🤣🤣 So he beats people up until he is covered in blood. Minor detail in comparison to how he treats you Guy.
You ever heard the quote that an evil queen is just a princess that didn't get rescued. Tew gives me that vibe. The wounded and just wanting love vibe.
Hahaha Tew totally outing them. Oh! Tew was about to make his move. Too slow Tew. Tew, you know you are in love right. Guy is acting like a total dork and you are charmed. That is love.
Oh, the fall troupe again! Though with Guy being the way he is, it's totally believable. The slow mow lean forward like there will be a kiss, but instead he wipes off frosting from Guy's lip. Totally troupe and sooo good. And Guy runs away.
The guild is super cute. I like how frank Tew is. He just lays out his feelings about Wahl to Guy. Throwing down some valid facts, my friend. Ahhh Guy! Why did you let him leave like that? Oh, yay! He chased after him.
Oh, these two idiots are adorkable. So awkward and yet cute.
Not gonna lie. It broke my heart when he didn't hug him back.
The restaurant kills me. Tew is like, it looks crappy. Underling is like, dude, it's not real. Oh lawd, sweet baby Jezebel. You are not normal about that boy, Tew. Not normal about him at all. And I'm okay with that.
Secondary couple. Not over shadowing but still cute.
Guy packing. Bet Wahl ditches him for his gf.
Guys, I'm in love with Tew. He gets it. Life is short, so important people are priority.
How much is that puppy in the window.
I love that Tew isn't shy to show his concern and affection. I adore that Guy didn't care about Wahl and turned around to wave at Tew. He even defends Tew. I mean, he is wrong, but that's not the point here.
Tew's excitement that Guy texted him is adorable.
This is me again.
Ahhh… I'm dead. When he goes, "I'm down bad."
Yes, hunny you are, but I, for one, appreciate that.
Oh, that went sideways fast. *We will talk when I get back.*
I really do enjoy Tul. He is really enjoying Tew and Guy. Me too my dude, me too. Willing to risk the wrath of his boss to tease. Love it.
This face isn't making me feel secure.
In comparison, look at this puppy dog face. So excited for Guy to be back.
OH no... They aren't going to leave us like this, are they?!?! Assholes!!! Nobody talk to me till next Thursday. I am not okay.
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How to Rehabilitate a Jock in Four Months Part 13
Part One Part Twelve Link to Ao3. Part Fourteen
This is the stoncy chapter I've been talking about y'all enjoy!
All I want is to be left alone, in my average home
But why do I always feel
Like I'm in the Twilight Zone?
Click.
No one heard a single word you said
They should have seen it in your eyes
What was going around your head
Click
Mama, oooh
I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.
Click.
Static.
“Just leave it off Jonathan?” Nancy murmured. Jonathan shrugged, clicking off the radio and putting his reaching hand back on the steering wheel. Ten and two, perfectly safe.
Did that matter to Nancy? She had always made a fuss about Steve driving one handed, but he had ignored her, even joked about her being a nag. He thought it was fun, the teasing little jabs that a couple gives each other when they’re young and dumb and in love.
Was this one of the million things he had missed about Nancy? Was that why she had stopped loving him?
Hell, maybe she never even started.
Or maybe Steve was just overthinking things. None of it mattered, not really. Not anymore. It was a bunch of inconsequential details, that was all. Nancy just didn’t want to listen to the never ending changing sounds of Jonathan trying to find something on the radio. Steve was also grateful it was finally quiet, even if the tension filling the silence of the car was threatening to crush his lungs flat.
“I don’t think it’s your fault.”
That was his voice. He had just said that.
Why the hell did he just say that?!
Steve snapped his mouth shut, eyes widening as he realized he had just spoken without even meaning to. He hadn’t even really been thinking about it, but now it was out in the air for all of them to deal with.
Jonathan flinched violently when he heard the words, like Steve had just hit him right in the jaw, and Nancy’s entire body was stiff as a board. Steve’s own limbs were locked up, joints starting to ache from how straight his spine was.
“You said-“ Steve cut himself off with a frustrated little sigh, looking out the window at the trees rushing past them. He forced his body to relax, taking a deep breath the way Joyce said to.
“I don’t think it’s your fault,” He repeated, quieter.
That’s what she had said before, after he told her off. She said it was her fault they broke up, so that meant she blamed herself, right? Or that she thought Steve blamed her? He didn’t, and he didn’t want her thinking that he did.
That was probably why she wanted to be friends so badly. All this time he hadn’t really gotten it, but now it was starting to make sense. She just wanted to get rid of the guilt, or maybe she pitied him.
It wasn’t real. It was just Nancy being Nancy- trying to make things better.
Steve wasn’t really that sure this was better. For any of them. Maybe knowing that he didn’t blame her would be enough to make Nancy give up pretending that she cared, when he already knew what he was to her.
Bullshit.
The quiet had stretched out too long, every second grating on Steve’s already frayed nerves. But just as he went to speak, to tell her to forget the whole thing, Nancy finally replied.
“I thought you didn’t care that she was dead.”
Oh.
And the fog was back.
When the power had gone out, a fog had fallen over Steve. Thick white clouds and emptiness with nothing around him to hold onto. He wasn’t in his body anymore, just nearby. Jeff had helped him start to find the light, but now Nancy’s words were throwing him dead into the center of the mist.
“I thought it didn’t matter to you. That my best friend was dead, and no one noticed,” She continued, her voice breaking.
It was good he couldn’t feel anything right now.
If he could, he would probably act stupid about this. Get mad, or be angry, try and hide all the other bigger, more confusing, emotions down under things that made sense. But, since he couldn’t feel anything, Steve thought.
He thought, and thought, and thought; wracking his brains, treading the water as he tried to think about what else he could have possibly done to show Nancy he cared. He had gone to every dinner at the Hollands with Nancy, every memorial. Steve had even gone to Barb’s funeral, and that had happened after they broke up.
The only thing he didn’t do was the one thing that could put them all in danger. Steve had just tried to keep everyone safe, because Barb was gone, but Nancy was still here, and Steve could help her.
But apparently that was the only thing that had ever mattered. All the rest was just bullshit.
“I haven’t gone in my pool since that night,” Steve managed to say through the fog, “not once.”
It was true. He hadn’t gone in any other pool either. The smell of the chlorine made him nauseous now, and the feeling of water on his skin left him anxious and jumpy. He had given up his spot on the swim team, and Nancy had never asked why. She thought he didn’t care, but she didn’t even notice that.
Eddie would have noticed.
Steve sucked in a sharp breath, viciously thrown out of the mist by that idle, ludicrous thought. Eddie might’ve noticed, but that didn’t mean anything. Why on earth would it matter if Eddie would have asked?
But Eddie noticed tonight too, a strange little voice said in the back of his mind, Eddie noticed when you ran off, and he went looking for you.
No. No. They all went looking for him. They all did, because they were his friends. It wasn’t like Eddie- It wasn’t like Steve-
“I’m really tired,” Steve whispered, lacing his fingers together to try and make his hands stop shaking, his mind pulled in too many directions to form a coherent thought.
“Same,” Nancy agreed with a humourless laugh.
“Yeah,” Jonathan sighed, taking the last turn into the cul-de-sac.
If there was going to be any more conversation after that, it was quickly put on hold, because the second Jonathan’s headlights flashed across the front of the Wheeler house, the kids were spilling out the front door.
Somewhere along the drive, the power must have turned on, because all of the lights were on in the house. Bright gold light spilled along inky black grass as Jonathan smoothly pulled into the driveway, throwing the parking brake just in time for the kids to practically slam themselves into his car.
“Geez, easy guys!” Jonathan barked as he shot out of the car, inspecting to see if there was any damage. Steve and Nancy got out slower on the other side, coming around as the kids began their interrogation, throwing words and bodies directly at Steve.
“Where were you?!”
“Why didn’t you answer your walkie!”
“What is the point of party rules if you don’t follow them!”
And on and on. It was another long ass lecture, one Steve was not interested in hearing. He wanted to snap and tell them all to knock it off, but just a single look over made him close his mouth and force another deep breath.
They were good at hiding it, shoving it deep under anger and indignation, but Steve knew his kids.
Dustin’s face was buried right in the middle of Steve’s chest, his hat knocked off in the calamity, and Lucas was practically glued to his side. Mike was yelling, but he had his eyes firmly on the ground, a tell tale sign he was tearing up, and Max hadn’t even spoken yet. Even Will had pulled away to nestle against Jonathan, wide eyed and worried, alternating between looking at his friends, and their babysitter.
He had scared them. Badly.
“I’m sorry,” Steve said, apologizing easily as he made direct eye contact with Max, who was staring him down. “I shouldn’t have left my walkie where I couldn’t get to it quickly.”
“Where were you?” Dustin demanded, still latched onto Steve like a koala.
“I went with Eddie and Hellfire to go see his show,” Steve explained, gently starting to extract himself from both Dustin and Lucas. “I told Hopper about it, but he must have forgotten to tell you guys.”
Was it particularly nice to blame Hopper? No, but Steve could do damage control later. Right now he had to get his kids back to at least a somewhat controllable emotional state.
“A show?” Mike said incredulously, crossing his arms. He looked up from behind his bangs for a second as he spoke, quickly going back to glaring at the ground.
Progress. At least a little bit.
“He’s in a band,” Steve replied. “They’re called Corroded Coffin. They play metal music.”
“Cool name,” Max said shortly, speaking for the first time since he got there. Steve nodded, mentally counting.
One and Two in his arms, Three and Four standing in front of him, Five with Jonathan…
“Where’s El?” Steve asked, his heart dropping to his feet. The looks the kids shared only made the feeling worse, and Steve could feel his hands starting to shake.
The fog was rolling back in.
——————————
“She hasn’t woken up at all since Hopper dropped her off,” Lucas explained in a hushed tone as they went down the stairs. It was hard to manage with all the kids still crowded pretty close around him, but Steve managed the best he could.
El was lying on the couch, snuggled tight under a handmade blue and yellow quilt. Her curls were poking from one end, and mismatched polka dot socks peeked out from the other.
“What happened?” Steve wondered, walking over in a daze and pulling the corner of the blanket back to look down at El’s face.
“Apparently they were watching a movie, and then the lights started to flicker,” Dustin said as Steve squatted down to examine El more closely.
She was sleeping still, but not peacefully. Her brow was furrowed, and her eyes darted back and forth behind her eyelids. Whatever dream she was having, if it was a dream at all, was not good.
“She sat up, gasped, and then just… passed out,” Will added, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t feel anything when the power went out, not really. Maybe a shiver? I dunno, but my mom went with Hopper to check the lab out.”
“We’re lucky my parents are out with Holly visiting Nana for the holidays,” Nancy said.
“Very lucky,” Steve said hollowly, not really feeling lucky at all. He took El’s wrist as he spoke and felt out a pulse, just to be safe.
It was there, strong and steady. The tension melted from Steve’s shoulders, and he sighed again, keeping his fingers pressed against her pulse point.
“She’s fine,” Mike insisted, sitting on the floor next to Steve and staring at El, still avoiding looking at Steve.
“Of course she is,” Steve agreed, unable to help the smile on his face. “Like you would ever let anything happen to her.”
This was enough to crack through Mike’s icy facade. He looked up at Steve for a second before sighing and roughly jabbing his elbow in Steve’s direction. It was the closest he was going to get to forgiveness, and he would take it.
Besides, he had bigger things to worry about now. El was waking up, and not in a good way. She had started to whimper, her head tossing and turning. Then, just as Steve was going to try and shake her awake, she sat straight up, eyes wide open.
“Steve?!” El said, panic and fear heavy in her tone, cutting straight through his heart. She looked around in a panic, curls flying as she seemed not to notice any of them near her.
“Steve!” El yelled again, sounding even more terrified.
“Hey, I’m right here,” Steve said, reaching over gently and putting his hand on El’s back. He went as slow and careful as possible, but El jumped anyway, letting out a small scream of fright just at being touched, which only made Steve’s heart hurt more.
The second she realized it was Steve that had his hand on her, El launched herself at him, practically welding her arms around his neck and squeezing on just the wrong side of too tight.
“Had a bad dream,” El whimpered, nearly inaudible from where she was buried into his shoulder. Steve hugged her back, lifting her off of the couch and into his arms, gently rubbing his hand up and down the way Hopper had done for him the other day when he had his migraine.
“It’s okay, it’s over now,” He said, trying to soothe her.
“No,” El insisted, squirming her way out of Steve’s hold so she could latch her hands around his
forearms, fingers pressing in hard enough Steve was almost worried he would have bruises.
“You were holding something silver,” El started, her voice going dead monotone as her eyes glazed over. She wasn’t seeing him, just looking now. “You thought there was not enough time, so you made a choice.”
“Ellie,” Steve whispered, using his nickname for her to try and pull her from wherever she had gone.
“Me for them,” El said, steamrolling right over Steve’s attempt, “you kept thinking that over and over. Me for them. Me for them. Me for them.”
She continued to say it, lowering her voice to barely a whisper as tears pooled in her eyes.
“It’s okay, Ellie, it was- it was just a dream,” Steve said helplessly as El burrowed back into his arms, shaking her head.
Whether it was or wasn’t, she was miserable, and Steve couldn’t leave her like that. He wrapped her in a firm hug, blindly turning around to give Jonathan and Nancy a confused look, hoping they had some sort of answer.
Unfortunately they were clearly just as perplexed by El’s sudden downturn into weirdness, and the kids seemed downright freaked out.
“There is always enough time, Steve. Do not run,” El murmured, sounding utterly exhausted. “It is not you or us, and I do not want you Gone.”
Gone. The word El used because she couldn’t even think about the other one.
“I’m not going anywhere, El, I promise,” Steve swore, hoping that would be enough to stop whatever this was.
“If you run, it will get you.”
A cold shiver ran down Steve’s spine at El’s declaration. Judging by the looks the others were giving him, they had felt the same thing. It was more than just the words of a traumatized child in the throes of a nightmare. It was…
It was…
It was just more. More in a way that made Steve want to let the fog come back. He wanted to not feel anything, wanted to be blank, but he couldn’t. He had to fight it, because everyone was looking at him for an answer, and Steve didn’t have one yet.
“You were watching a movie before with Hopper?” Steve asked, going with his instincts.
“Yes,” El said slowly, unsure of why Steve was asking her. She furrowed her brow, pulling an absolutely adorable confused look. “It was called The Unsinkable Molly Brown.”
“My mom really likes that movie,” Mike said idly, mostly talking to himself.
That meant that the Wheeler’s definitely had a copy. And El hadn’t finished the movie.
“We should finish it,” Steve declared, coming up with a plan at the speed of light. “Mike, go get it.”
“What?! No,” Mike said, more shock than actual denial. “We can’t just sit around watching a movie! What if something happens?”
“Then something happens,” Steve shot back immediately, using his snarkiest tone of voice. He stood up, easily lifting El alongside him and dumping her onto the couch next to Max and making both girls let out unexpected laughter as they were jostled around.
“Until Hopper and Mrs. Byers get back, we have a job… building the world’s best blanket fort,” Steve said, placing his hands on his hips and squaring his shoulders.
“Yes!” Dustin hissed, holding out his hand for Lucas to smack. They had instantly caught onto Steve’s infectious energy, grabbing Max and Will and planning a layout that would be ideal for holding all six of them.
As they began to debate the pros and cons of grabbing chairs from the kitchen upstairs, Steve turned to Jonathan and Nancy. Jonathan looked dubious, and Nancy wasn’t much better, but they weren’t arguing against him, and that was what mattered most. He only had one more hurdle to get over, and apparently Eleven was going to do it for him.
“I enjoyed your old fort,” El said softly, giving Mike one of her tiny wonderful smiles, “it was fun.”
Mike melted into a puddle of goo, like he always did when it came to her. If it was just Steve, the answer would be no. If it was the party and Steve, the answer would probably still be no. Even with his sister and Jonathan thrown in, it wouldn’t stop Mike from pitching a fit.
But El? There was nothing that boy wouldn’t do to make her happy.
“Fine. I’ll go get the stupid movie,” Mike grumbled, stomping towards the stairs. Dustin blew past him in a rush with Will hot on his heels.
“I’m stealing your pillow, Mike!” Dustin yelled from the top of the stairs, sounding positively gleeful.
“Like hell you are!” The boy snarled, taking the steps two at a time to catch up with his friends.
Steve could hear them arguing all the way to Mike’s bedroom, happy fighting that meant his distraction was working like a charm.
That was what he was best at. He couldn’t stop the monsters, he couldn’t make the fog go away. But Steve could light some candles and make shadows on the walls with his hands to tell a story. He could create something for them to focus on that wasn’t fear, for as long as they would take it from him.
That had to be enough. It was all he had to give now.
“Alright Mayfield, where do you want to start?” Steve asked, turning towards his favorite redhead.
——————————
There they were, all six of them sleeping in a pile. Again.
El in the middle, her face now lax and soft with peaceful sleep. Will on one side, Dustin on the other. Lucas and Max resting their heads on her stomach with Mike holding her hand over Will’s chest.
And there Steve was, just sitting there watching them.
Again.
It was probably going to start being creepy at some point, but Steve couldn’t stop. There was a part of him that was convinced if he looked away, maybe even if he blinked for too long, they would disappear. A single moment, and they would be gone, and it would be his fault for not watching.
At least there wasn’t any pool light to shine on them now. Just the soft orange glow of the street lamps filtering in from the high basement window.
“Hey,” A voice said from behind him, pulling Steve out of his thoughts.
“Hey,” Steve replied, not bothering to turn and look as Jonathan eased himself down, sitting crosslegged on Steve’s left. They sat quietly, both staring at the sleeping kids in companionable silence.
“Our parents used to fight a lot,” Jonathan said, cutting through the quiet. His voice was soft, low so it didn’t wake the kids, but sitting this close, Steve could hear every word.
“Mom would send us to our rooms, but it didn’t matter. When they were screaming at each other, you could hear it all the way down the street.”
You could hear it in the woods too. Steve could remember a few times he was walking through the forest and caught the barely there sound of Mr. and Mrs. Byers arguing.
He had tried not to listen, but the curiosity had been too alluring. Steve’s parents fought cold, cold to the point of freezing. They hurt each other with pointed words in a polite tone, or icy silences that made even Steve shiver. To them, being the first one to yell was losing. Then you were ‘overdramatic’, ‘irrational’, and above all ‘wrong’.
There was something so foreign about the way the couple screamed at each other, but still so compelling. Like there was no hiding their feelings, no need to push down the pain. They gave it to each other loud enough for the rest of the world to hear, and everyone in town knew almost every detail about their extremely messy separation.
Almost no one knew that Steve’s parents rarely ever slept in the same bed anymore. They continued to remain the perfect couple, a pillar of the town’s upper class society. It was a dirty little secret, the kind that kept Steve up at night.
He still wasn’t sure which way was better.
“So I used to put on music for us,” Jonathan continued, unaware of Steve’s thoughts. There was a ghost of a smile on his face, the kind that seemed to be solely reserved for Will and Nancy,.“The Clash, Bon Jovi, The Police. Whatever would be loudest.”
It seemed that even quiet kid Jonathan was loud when he had to be, truly his parent’s child. Another little quirk of his for Steve to remember, even if he had no idea why Jonathan was telling him this story.
“I get it now. Why you act the way you do,” Jonathan whispered, watching Will like a hawk. “You don’t want this to be the only thing they know. You want them to still get a chance to let this go someday, even if we never will.”
A familiar rush of envy shot through Steve’s veins. Jonathan was just so damn perceptive, able to cut straight to the heart of an issue in a way Steve could never do. Steve was perceptive, but never on purpose. It was like there was this secret part of his brain that processed things and gave him little tidbits whenever it felt like it.
Jonathan just understood.
“Do you think it was just a power outage?” Steve murmured, needing to know if Jonathan felt the same way he did.
“I don’t think it will ever just be a power outage anymore,” Jonathan said with a sigh, hitting the nail perfectly on the head, “not for us.”
“Fuck,” Steve swore, hating the way Jonathan’s words made tears prick at his eyes. It was just so damn exhausting, annoying in a way that was impossible to explain. Steve had survived as long as he did by being able to let things go. Nothing stuck, nothing held on, and he was safe.
But there was no letting go anymore.
Steve had memories, and Steve had migraines, and Steve had kids. They needed him to remember, because they needed to be able to rely on him. He had to remember because how else would he keep them safe?
It was sacrifice, and Steve didn’t mind it, but damn if it didn’t make him so tired all the time.
“At least you aren’t going crazy all by yourself,” Jonathan offered, ducking his head down the way he always did when he was being genuine or kind. Like he was scared to see what people would do when he was nice to them, or nervous if he looked they would take it differently.
Steve huffed out a soft laugh, leaning over to bump their shoulders together. It was silly, but a little bit of the awkwardness was gone. Not just the awkwardness of staring at a bunch of sleeping preteens, but also the awkwardness that seemed to permanently exist between him and Jonathan.
The door from the house to the basement creaked open, light spilling down onto the kids. Jonathan looked up, and Steve risked a glance away from them as well. If Jonathan thought it was fine, it probably would be.
Nancy was slowly making her way down the stairs, balancing three steaming mugs with the precision only she seemed to have. Both boys jumped to help her, each grabbing a cup before walking back to their spots.
“The kids?” Nancy asked as she sat on the couch nearby them, taking a sip from her mug.
“All good,” Steve reassured, looking down at his own drink. Hot chocolate, foamy and smelling absolutely divine.
He took a sip, letting it burn the roof of his mouth just to give himself something to do. The awkwardness had returned with Nancy’s arrival, sitting like a rock in all of their stomachs. Unconsciously Steve began to count the seconds, timing his breaths to beats of four.
Four. In.
Eight. Hold.
Twelve. Out.
Sixteen. Hold.
Twenty. In-
“I should have noticed,” Nancy murmured, cutting through the silence.
Steve blew his breath out early, glancing over at Nancy. She was staring down into her cup of cocoa, but her eyes darted up to meet Steve’s as soon as she spoke, needing to see his reaction.
He couldn’t give her much. Steve didn’t know what she had apparently not noticed.
“That you never went in the pool anymore,” Nancy continued when she realized he didn’t understand. “You always loved to swim before.”
Oh.
Steve placed his mug on the floor next to him, going back to staring at the kids.
“It was wrong,” Nancy started, brave as ever, unable to hide the way Steve always did. “I knew it was, but I knew you loved me, and you wouldn’t hurt me, and I was just so-“
She cut herself off, sounding uncharacteristically choked up. Steve couldn’t see, because he wasn’t looking at her.
“But I knew it was wrong to start dating you again. And I’m sorry.”
Was she sorry that she had dated him, or sorry she said yes? Did all of that mean that there really wasn’t anything that mattered between them for an entire year?
Steve didn’t want the answers. He didn’t even want to talk about this. He wanted the fog and he wanted to hide, and he even wanted the awkward silence from before.
Anything but this.
“Nance-”
“I hurt you, Steve,” Nancy said, interrupting him before he could stop the conversation.
She said it so plainly. A statement of fact, not opinion. Steve had justified everything by telling himself he was a shitty boyfriend, that he had done a bad job, and that’s why they didn’t work.
He had never even let himself really consider that it was Nancy and not him that had been a bad partner. That just wasn’t how relationships worked. He was the one that did the wrong thing, he was the one that didn’t work hard enough.
But Nancy hadn’t noticed he didn’t swim anymore.
“And I made myself think that you had done something to cause our problems,” Nancy said, with a laugh that bordered on a sob. Steve was glad he wasn’t looking at her. If she was crying, he wouldn’t be able to have this conversation. “I made it so you didn’t care enough, or that you didn’t notice, when the truth was I refused to let you in. I had to make it your problem, because I couldn’t handle it if it was just me doing the wrong thing.”
“You didn’t hurt me on purpose, Nancy,” Steve said dumbly, inserting himself in the middle of her self-deprecating spiral, unable to listen as she took the entire weight of their failed relationship.
“Does that matter?” Nancy asked.
“It matters to me,” Steve said, his voice firm and his tone set.
He forced his body to stand, walking over to the couch and sitting next to Nancy, risking a look over to see her face. Sure enough, there were tear tracks on her cheeks, and just seeing them was enough to make Steve want to balk and forget the whole thing.
But he didn’t waver, didn’t stop, because if Nancy could be brave enough to do this, then Steve had to be too.
“I meant it, Nancy, when I told you that night that it was okay,” Steve said, leaning his forearms on his knees. “You weren’t happy with me and…”
He gathered his courage, needing to admit the thing he hadn’t even really been able to say to himself before tonight.
“And I wasn’t happy either.”
“What?” Nancy breathed, turning to stare at Steve with complete bewilderment in her eyes.
Just saying it was like cutting the strings holding him up. Steve’s entire body sagged in relief and he wasn’t afraid to look at Nancy now.
“I made myself think I was, or that we would be able to get there,” Steve explained, finally fully realizing what he had been feeling in the weeks since their breakup, “but that night that El closed the gate? When I told you to go with Jonathan and let me stay with the kids? I felt this… release. Like we could both just finally breathe, because we were broken up, but we weren’t losing anyone. I wasn’t losing you, and you are never going to lose me.”
That was at the heart of everything, wasn’t it? Nancy had lost Barb, and she didn’t think she could go through that kind of pain again. Steve knew she could, he was pretty sure there wasn’t a thing in the world that would knock Nancy down permanently. But she didn’t know, and the fear of that was enough to make her act a little crazy.
He could get that. He was still counting the kids.
Steve opened an arm, and Nancy hugged him tightly, the same desperate clutching hold that she had given him earlier in the parking lot.
“I do care about you, so much,” Nancy whispered harshly into his ear, saying the words like she needed to make herself believe them, “I do care. I do.”
“I know,” Steve replied, shocked at how true it was. He did know how much Nancy cared. She cared more than anything, but she was scared about that. All that bravery, all that courage, and she was still terrified to say she loved, because she thought it would hurt worse when loss came.
It was funny how similar they were. Steve could see that now.
“Everything’s okay now,” Steve told her as they broke apart.
“Is it?” Nancy asked dubiously, turning to Jonathan who shrugged.
“If it isn’t, then we’ll survive. We always do,” Jonathan pointed out, coming over and sitting on Nancy’s other side. She leaned against him and he hooked his chin overtop her head, raising an eyebrow towards Steve.
“Still have your bat?”
“Well it’s in my car that’s sitting in Eddie’s driveway, but I think we can probably make a pit stop before the devil dogs get us,” Steve offered. Nancy and Jonathan both immediately began to laugh, trying to smother down giggles and snickers so they didn’t wake up the kids.
“What?” Steve said, teasingly defensive. “Mad that I have friends?”
“D-d-demodogs, Steve,” Nancy said through her tamped down laughter. “Devil dogs are a p-p-p-pastry!”
All three of them lost it. Nancy hid her face in her hands, and Jonathan put his forehead against the crown of her head, his shoulders shaking. Steve bit down his grin, watching the two of them with a soft golden glow sitting in his chest.
No, things weren’t perfect, and they probably never would be, but there was something about getting to laugh about all of this that was incredibly cathartic.
“Okay what is going on with you and Eddie Munson?” Nancy finally asked when she had control of herself again.
“What do you mean, Nance?” Steve asked, grabbing his mug and holding it close.
“You’re like total opposites,” Jonathan explained, still grinning. “It’s like Freaky Friday.”
Nancy snorted, and Steve sputtered as he tried to defend himself and his friend. They weren’t that different, at least Steve didn’t think so. Eddie was sweet, smart in a kind of unconventional way, and he was always trying his hardest in everything he did. He noticed everything, but he didn’t always have to comment. At least, not in a way that was too deep.
They were similar in the ways that mattered. The ways that mattered to Steve anyway.
But there was no way to explain that, was there? Not one that would make sense to anyone but him.
“He’s safe,” Steve said simply, wrapping it all up in just two words.
Nancy and Jonathan shared one of those secret couple looks after Steve spoke, communicating without words as they processed his explanation. But before either of them could comment, bright headlights raced across the windows. Someone was outside.
Instant mood shift. The easy going warmth between the three of them had disappeared, replaced by a panicky cold that made Steve’s hands tremble and his mind go blank. Nancy stood and the two boys got up right after, all three moving as a single unit out of the basement and up to the driveway.
Hopper and Joyce were getting out of his car, hopping down with drawn weary looks and slumped shoulders. Nancy grabbed Jonathan’s hand, and, after a moment of hesitation, she grabbed Steve’s with her other. They let Hopper and Joyce approach them, both groups staring the other down in the strangest standoff Steve had ever seen.
“Well?” Nancy asked, still brave.
“Nothing,” Hopper answered with a sigh, “no gate.”
No gate.
It should have been a relief. Steve should be happy now, calm and content. Instead it was a hollow victory, an achievement that only made him feel worse.
“That’s not possible,” Jonathan insisted, and Steve had to agree. After everything they went through tonight, that was it?
“There’s nothing there. Owens took us through the entire lab. Everything was still condemned, locked up tight. We even went down to the basement, and there was no gate,” Joyce explained, rubbing a hand over face and wrapping her arms around her middle.
“It was just a power outage,” Hopper said, as if that was the end of it.
But it wasn’t. It would never be the end of it. There was still too much unanswered.
“El passed out,” Steve protested, speaking up for the first time since they came outside. Not only had she passed out, she had also had some sort of vision about him that ended in him being Gone. That didn’t feel like just a power outage.
“And she’s a traumatized kid,” Hopper replied, using the same soft tone he had when they were sitting together on his steps. “She’s entitled to a few overreactions.”
An overreaction? Was that really all this was? But then what had Steve seen in the woods by the trailer park? Why had the headlights on Eddie’s van flickered?
He wanted to tell them, wanted to explain why he was pressing the issue, but Steve couldn’t make his mouth form the words. They just swirled around in the back of his mind, dark and stormy.
“We made sure. There’s nothing there,” Joyce said, reaching over and holding out a hand for Jonathan. He pulled away from Nancy and went to his mother, both of them starting to speak in low whispers. Hopper stepped closer, giving Steve a once over.
“Seems like you and El both are going for the whole MTV punk thing,” Hopper teased. Steve gave him an unimpressed look, and Hopper held up his hands in surrender. “No hate, just pointing it out.”
“I went to Eddie’s show tonight?” Steve reminded him. Recognition flitted across the man’s features and his good mood soured ever so slightly.
“Ah, yes, drug dealing Eddie Munson,” Hopper said with a sigh. Steve stuck his tongue out, annoyed that he was so focused on that one single detail. So what? Eddie sold drugs. He wasn’t the only one who did, and at least he wasn’t cutting them with ridiculous shit like Marty Feldman liked to.
“Where’s your car?” Hopper asked, clearly hoping to change the subject.
“At Eddie’s place,” Steve promptly answered. Hopper huffed out a sarcastic little laugh and Steve scowled.
“What?” He challenged, daring Hopper to say something.
“Nothing, nothing,” Hopper said, making himself the picture of innocence. He put his hands on his hips, leaning back on his heels with a sigh, “Listen, I’m gonna go in and grab El, tell the kids everything, make sure they’re okay and aren’t about to go trespassing to make sure things are settled. Do you want me to give you a ride to go get it? Or maybe you should just stay at the cabin tonight, and-“
“Steve already said he was staying here,” Nancy said in a rush. She was still holding his hand, but she squeezed it tight when she spoke, “Jonathan and I asked him. That’s still okay, right?”
Oh. She was talking to Steve. They were both looking at him, waiting for an answer.
“Yeah, that works,” Steve lied smoothly, turning to Hopper with a shrug. “Sorry, Hop.”
“Whatever works, kid. Just an offer,” Hopper shrugged. Jonathan and Joyce walked over and Hopper and Joyce started towards the basement, leaving the three of them standing alone in the driveway
“I just- I don’t want you to leave. Not yet,” Nancy explained when Steve turned to her with an absolutely bewildered expression.
For so much of their relationship, it felt like Steve was always the one asking her to stay. There were a thousand times in their relationship Steve had wanted to hear those words coming from her instead of him. And because of that a part of him wanted to leave.
That little bit of him wanted to lash out. Leave her in the dust and see how she managed it. It would be easy to do that, to put up a spikey wall to keep her out now that Nancy was showing her own vulnerability.
But that vicious little part of him was overwhelmed by an easy love for Nancy. Not romantic, not the same yearning painful ache he had carried for a year and half. This was warm, soft, coated in something that Steve knew was love, just not the kind he was used to feeling. It was nice, and Steve didn’t want to leave.
“Okay,” Steve whispered, lacing their fingers together.
“Steve’s staying tonight,” Nancy said to Jonathan. Steve had a second of being worried he was overstepping, afraid Jonathan was going to be less than thrilled at the impromptu sleepover. But Jonathan just gave Steve one of his rare smiles, grabbing Nancy’s other hand.
“Good,” Jonathan said, dragging them both back towards the house.
Tag List:
#Steve joins hellfire au#Steve harrington#Eddie munson#steddie#steddie au#steddie ficlet#st#stranger things#stranger things 2#stranger things au#post stancy breakup#post s2#Steve and eddie#st au#stranger things 2 au#ptsd Steve harrington#Steve Harrington has ptsd#steve harrington#Liam speaks up#Writing(withacapitalW)#Jonathan byers#jancy#hopper#el hopper#dad hopper
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third. damn your love.
masterlist
pairing: james x fem!reader.
content warnings: james being kind of an ass, cheating on lily, lily will be probably shit talked (i luv her i'm very sorry !), mistress!reader, uhhh cursing, not totally AU but like... canon divergent i would say. probably hurt/no comfort unless i switch the ending but--
worth mentioning: reader insert with no use of names or “y/n”. paragraphs completely in italic are flashbacks. pro quidditch player!james. muggle born!reader.
word count: 1,2k
previous chapter
chapter 3
days had passed since the last time you spoke to james, and if it was up to you, things would stay as they were. but it had never been that way. everything would always depend on james' desire. you rarely tried to communicate with him, afraid his girlfriend you catch you both. that was also why you didn't seek for him. you remained quiet, waiting for him or, on days like these, waiting and hoping he wouldn't show up.
you were still very much upset about what happened last time, but unfortunately, you were more disappointed in yourself than actually angry at james. you simply hated the power you let him have over you, hated how much you wanted to do or say something and still giving in to his whims. it was as if everything changed when he got too close, as if it were just the two of you in the vastness of the universe, no one to interfere.
even so, you were getting tired of it, just as you had grown tired of trying to discuss what you were and what future you had continuing such a relationship. you were beginning to realize that the person who might be messing things up was you; after all, you were the mistress, not lily. they were the happy couple and you were the one meddling where you shouldn't.
you shook my head quickly, trying to forget such thoughts, you were taking advantage of the solitude of the night, surrounded by photos and documents from work, you had decided about a month ago to change the way your department were dealing with its archive, but still hadn't had the time to do it, mostly because of work itself but also... because of james. you rolled your eyes at the realization that you were thinking about him again and turned back to the photos.
your department mostly archived the obliviations revolving everything around what happened and not who it happened to. it was a good way to actually find the files you might need, but when it got to the file what really matters is the people. who were the muggles, where do they live, how do they live, why were they exposed. and those details were too scattered around. some of your colleagues said you just cared too much about the muggles you wiped the memories from, which you did, but it was also a matter of organization.
before you had a chance to lie down after all the work you've been doing, you heard a frantic knocking at the door, and given it was 2am, you knew who it was. you take a long, deep breath and debate whether you should open it or not, but seeing that the lights were still on and he would notice them, you felt like you had no choice, even if that wasn't entirely true.
you mentally cursed yourself and opened the door, his hands were quick to push you against the wall, slamming the door close with his foot as his lips worked your neck.
"james..." putting both hands on his chest, you prepared yourself to push him away, trying to find the strength to get him out of there. "stop," it came out weakly, much more than you intended to, almost letting yourself be carried away by his touches. but then, a flash of awareness came back to you as you heard him groan, everything you thought about earlier and everything you wanted to say to him with it, you felt your strength return and pushed him away, looking at him showing as much seriousness and firmness as you could master, your breath still uneven.
"come on, honey, we've moved past this little game of you pretending you don't want me and denying me, come here," he said, approaching you again. you watched him come closer once more and moved aside, walking towards the kitchen. you needed to drink something if you were really intending to continue with this. sure, your first option had been to avoid him for at least a couple of weeks so you could organize your thoughts, but it was simply impossible to avoid james.
"we need to talk," you said coldly after filling one of your largest wine glasses. you heard him sigh, took a sip of the drink, and felt a knot in your stomach when you saw him sit at the small kitchen table. you were definitely not expecting that. you were absolutely sure he would deflect and try to take you to bed, as he had done the last time you said those words. seeing him willing to talk hit you hard, and you lost the words you wanted to say, resorting to the first ones that came to your mind.
"you disappeared," you shrugged.
"as if you weren't used to it," james raised an eyebrow in your direction and looked at your glass. he knew your didn't drink casually, only if you were nervous. "if you must know, i wanted to come earlier, but lily wouldn't leave my side after i turned down wimbourne's offer. so we're like, totally wasting time."
"you seemed so sure. what changed your mind?"
"just decided not to keep rubbing her the wrong way. know her well enough, don't feel like dealing with her making my life hell over a stupid transfer."
you felt an unfamiliar anger take over you. you absolutely hated the way he talked about her, as if she was the worst person to be with, such an annoying, bad girlfriend. if she was so bad, why was he with her and not with you? you drank the remaining contents of your glass in one go, sighed loudly, and looked at him, taking in every detail of him—the curls, the lips, the glasses you liked so much, the tired eyes but never without that sparkle you knew so well. watching him always calmed you down in some way, but it didn't work as you thought it would. you were too tired.
"you're a bloody bastard," you were firm but he shrugged, smiling slightly. "not a joke. you're a dickhead. and i've let myself be made a fool by you. i've let you into my house, complaining about your girlfriend, and i've let you use me for almost an year now, hoping that you would change."
you shouted what had been stuck in your throat for so long, and he got up, realizing how serious you actually were.
"you agreed to this," he said coldly, crossing his arms and biting his lower lip. "we haven't been a couple for years, and we agreed on that."
"bollocks! you came to my apartment and intoxicated me with your stupid scent, with your touches, your voice. you know i've never been able to get over you, and you take advantage of that when you're fed up with her."
you ran your hands over your face in agony, trying to control the tears that were already inevitably trying to escape your eyes. you passed by him awkwardly and went to the living room, sitting on the sofa.
"where are you trying to go with this?" he asked from the kitchen.
"where are we trying to go with this?" you replied back, looking at the floor, and silence was your only answer. "what am I to you? we spent almost four years not being friends, talking to each other once in a while and meeting at some parties because of sirius and rem. then last year, you show up at my door drunk, saying you need me. what am i to you? come on, tell me."
"you're my best friend, and apparently, you're in a bad mood, on your period or something, " he said, leaving the kitchen, and you watched him leave, frustration building up in your stomach. "i'll call you later when you're back to yourself."
"yeah, go away! you never talk when you know you're wrong anyway, bloody coward," he slammed the door behind him after he left and you got up, even angrier, grabbing one of the vases from your shelf and screaming in frustration as you threw it at the door, breaking it in tiny pieces that now covered the floor.
you looked at him with tears in your eyes and you knew surely that james could feel how hurt you were by his actions, and that was your intention, you were silent, not having said a word to him since he had arrived to your house, despite his countless attempts to talk to you and apologise, your stubbornness was lasting almost an hour now and you knew he was about to lose his temper, so you decided it was time to speak before you weren't in the right anymore.
"where were you?" your voice was low, tired, frustrated, and you had all reason for that, leaving you alone in the hospital's waiting room while your mum was freaking out all over the place seemed like a reasonable reason to be upset.
"quidditch practice, c'mon, try looking into this from my perspective." james tries to get close to you again and you move away, wiping away the tears that were stubborn enough to keep rolling down your cheeks, you cross your arms and he scoffs at your denial.
"and what's that, really? using that bloody mirror so i could tell you my father had a heart attack and i needed you, and then proceeding to continue to play? is that it?"
"what? no… i'm new to the team, i can't tarnish my name by running out of training." you roll your eyes and it's your turn to scoff, throwing your arms up in the air, not believing what you're hearing. "don't do that, listen to me, take me seriously. my grandfather's heart went through worse countless times, and he was always fine. i knew your dad would be fine."
"yes, i remember, because i was by your side during all those times." you don't even mention how different it was just by the fact your dad was a muggle, in a muggle hospital, no healing magic to help. you glanced at the clock, it was late and you were both alone, your mom forcing you to stay there and rest; you feel your eyes wet and don't bother trying to stop them from falling, "james, as a friend, you're my best friend, if you're not going to be with me when i need you, who will? will quidditch always be above me, above us?"
"please don't talk like that, honey." he runs a hand through his hair in frustration and sits down next to you, lowering his head and covering his face with his hands. "i'm sorry, you're right."
"because if it's always like this, maybe we should break up." you say at once, feeling your heart clench and holding back the sobs that join the tears.
"you're tired, go to bed, i'll make you some tea, i'll stay here in case you need me in the middle of the night." he ignored what you said completely, getting up and going into the kitchen. part of you felt relieved that he hadn't accepted the suggestion, but a large part was annoyed that he'd simply run away from confrontation, that he'd been such a coward.
it had always been quite rare for you and james to actually fight, maybe that wasn't a good thing, considering you kept everything inside until you exploded, but while you were dating it was quite pleasant, when you disagreed on something, one of you would always give in; but when you did fight, it was unbearable, james had always been cold during fights, always the type to leave before finishing the conversation, while you were the explosive and impulsive one, talking way too much without thinking, yelling more than you probably should, and then you wouldn't speak to each other for days because of the it.
from past experience, you imagined he would disappear for a while, so you sighed and switched off the lights, heading to your room, more than ever you just wanted to sleep, sleep for a few good hours and put your mind at rest, but you knew yourself too well to know that after what happened, you would definitely end up dreaming about james, but you hoped it would be something good, something that would relax you at least during your sleep.
just before falling asleep, you remembered to reply the e-mail your mother had sent you during the day, saying how much your dad and her were loving their visit to france and were thinking about staying to help your aunt with her restaurant. your heart ached when you realized it wasn't a joke, your mom saying at the very end that she knew you had your own exciting life but that they would love to have you with them there.
a chance to run away.
tag: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @dreamsygirl
#lari writes sometimes#marauders x reader#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james x reader#james x you#james x y/n#james potter imagine#james potter scenario
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Ik this is a dark ask but you said that you enjoy angst...What if Peter was suicidal? Couple years after Ben & Gwen and he generally just doesn't want to live anymore thinking it would be best if he just died? If he did have a significant other would she have to talk him from of the ledge once or twice? Again you really don't have to answer this if you don't want to. I'm not trying to glorify suicide or depression at all. I think you're a great writer and would be the best equipped for this type of subject matter
I don't think it's too dark! Not for me, at least. This is right up my alley and very much something I believe Peter would be going through with his guilt. Talking about and writing about suicide and suicidal tendencies and depression in fiction are not glorifying the topic. You're allowed to express yourself and write/read anything you please, no matter the topic. Don't forget that!<3
Trigger Warnings: this is a short angst drabble about depression, self harm, and suicidal tendencies, mentions of self harm include (burning self in shower, standing under freezing shower, cutting skin, burning on stove), gory details about Gwen's death are described
The water scalded his skin.
It was as hot as his apartment shower would allow it to go.
His palms were pressed against the wet wall in front of him in a braced stance with his head hung low. He held his back under the liquid fire through clenched teeth.
Feel the pain. Consume him. Until there was nothing left.
Let it burn through his flesh, let it melt away his muscles, and dissolve his spine until he was nothing but a steaming pile of visceral, bloody goop.
What’s the point of anything?
Peter’s pale skin turned red under the water. The bite of burning agony was everything he wanted. He could stay here forever to let his skin slowly melt from his body.
And he did.
At least, until the hot water ran out and ice replaced the heat. It was then that he allowed himself to lay down. Curled up under the stream. Cocooned by the dirty tub walls. The change of temperature sent his body in shock. Pools of icy water sloshed around his body. This hole in the wall apartment never had good drainage. It was filthy and broken just like him.
The cold overtook him much like the heat had. It held a different kind of burning bite but one he relished in.
It numbed his blistering back until he felt nothing. There was no more pain. His mind slowed to a sluggish pace. His blue lips trembled along with his chattering teeth.
His eyes closed. Here in the shower, he could find a peace he never could outside of it.
“Peter!”
The water halted.
A towel was being thrown over him. Stealing him from his safety. He was so close. Just a little longer. That’s all he needed. Just a little longer and he could finally be free.
“What are you doing?”
She knew what he was doing. It wasn’t the first time she had found him in some sorry state. Whether he was beaten to a pulp and laid out on the street, slicing off parts of his flesh with a rusty x-acto knife he stole off some petty thief, holding his hand over the open flames of his stove, or teetering off the edge of a skyscraper. She knew exactly what he was doing.
He was forcing his body to reflect the pain he felt on the inside.
Because when he looked in the mirror, his reflection didn’t speak the truth. He looked too whole. His body was intact. It wasn’t broken or damaged like he felt. It was lying to him.
When he closed his eyes, he saw her blood still coating his hands. It had soaked through the Spider-Man gloves. It had sunk into his skin and dried in cracks along the lines of his palm. He didn’t need a palm reader to know that he was cursed. There was blood on his hands. Blood that could never be washed off. No amount of showers could erase her from his skin.
It didn’t stop him from trying.
The tender break in her skull haunted him. He had pressed his hand against the back of her head like he had held her so many times when she was alive. His fingers had sunk into the fragmented hole in her skull, accidentally coming in contract with the fleshy softness of her brain. Her beautifully, intelligent brain. Smartest woman in his class. Future scientist, Gwen Stacy.
Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy, deceased.
Cracked open her skull and spilled her brains across the ground because he was too slow. Neck snapped by his own web. Spine severed in two. He had failed her. She trusted him. She believed in him. And he had let her die.
He didn’t deserve to live.
“Peter, get up!”
She was leaning over him, her sleeves were getting soaked in the pool of ice water around him as she tugged at his arm.
Get up.
Gwen never got up. Why should he be allowed to get up?
This was where he belonged. Naked and broken. Surrounded by ice.
“Peter, please…stay with me…Peter! Please! I can’t…I can’t live without you…get up…don’t you do this.”
He could hear the tears thickening her voice and choking back sobs. He knew those words. He knew those cries. Pleading. Begging.
He couldn’t let her feel like him. He couldn’t do that. He knew this pain too well. He couldn’t spread it forward. It was his to keep. His to hold onto. He couldn’t let it slip out of his grasp to someone else. Not to her.
That’s why he never finished the job.
He could push himself right to the edge but never take that final leap. It was his selfish burden to bear. He would carry it until the end of time.
He opened his eyes.
For her.
Because he had already ruined one lover's life.
Because he couldn’t ruin another's.
If you liked this and want more of this topic, I think you would really enjoy my one shot Nicest Thing.
#andrew garfield#tasm#peter parker#tasm peter#tasm peter parker#tasm fic#tasm x reader#tasm peter x reader#tasm peter fic#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker fic#tasm angst#peter parker angst#peter parker angst fic
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A game of teasing
What's there to be sad about in life when you managed to bag a gorgeous, adorable, tall golden retriever as a girlfriend. Exactly I win bitches, Zamora wins again hoes. Laying in bed while thinking about my baby, Haechi. She is most likely stuck in practice right now. Wolf'lo has been training hard ever since then got invited to SWF2. It was kinda new to all of them, with them obviously being amazing in dance battles, though choreography was a whole other story that I won't get into right now.
So, after waking up this morning to those most amazing orgasm, might I add. I sat here contemplating, should I be a good girl or just add a little spice to her say. "I mean, she is probably so bored and missing me so much right now. Therefore she won't be anything but happy. Then again, she might come out home all mad and shit, but either way, I get what I want. So it doesn't matter. " Welp, there goes that good girl bullshit for the day.
So, I jump up running to my closet with a wicked smile on my face. She is gonna love this so much. I grab one of Haechi's shirts and take off everything else. Then, I ran back out of my room, getting everything in place. To those of you who are able to take good ass pictures with no effort, I hope you get sent to the deepest pit in hell. Literally fucking witchcraft. I grab my ringlight last to take a couple with it, then a couple without. Nudes are all about the detail, baby. Then, I sit directly in front of the mirror with my legs open, giving her a nice view if you know what I mean.
" I'm such a thoughtful girlfriend. I would kill to marry myself." I sit there adorning the photos and pick out which ones to share. "Got to make sure she gets a good show, not too much, though she can come home for the full thing." I send all the messages while saying, "I miss you so much baby", yea that's gonna get her. I lay back down, waiting for my evil plan to take effect and laugh.
While I was sitting in the studio, I got a message from my girlfriend. "Look at her all love struck," I hear Halo telling the entire dammm world. And try to cover up my blushing face while opening up my phone. It's barely been a few hours, and she already misses me, "Wow, she just can't get enough of me, huh? Maybe one day you guys will be able to experience these feelings, you know." I say all cocky while looking at my crew.
I go back to looking through my phone scrolling on Instagram. Oo right my baby sent me a message, I'm so forgetful it's literally sad. I open up my messages and see her text. Aww, she misses me. I knew it. Then I scroll up, and my fucking jaw drops. Omg. I log back out and log back in to make sure I'm not seeing anything. Then I see it again. "Why is she fucking doing this to me?" I sit there with my jaw clenched staring at the photo. How the fuck is she so wet? I almost forget I'm in a room full of people until I hear Halo tell everyone breaks over.
Haechi- You think that shit is fucking funny, huh? I'm gonna be back home in a couple of hours and your ass is mine.
I heard a notification pop up on my phone and stop reading the book that I had picked up while I was waiting on Haechi to reply. I quickly read the text messages and smirked just the reaction I wanted. Actually, what if she breaks me. "I didn't really think this through, did I?" Well, it's too late now. Now or never. I open up the camera and pose while lifting up my or her shirt technically to reveal my pierced nipples. Then reply back.
Zamora- I was just trying to give you some motivation, baby. Show you how much I love you. Can't wait for you to get home, that is if you can keep up.
I look at the message before I send it and just stare at the screen. Before I know it, my finger has already hit send. "Maybe I took it too far. She is totally gonna break my vagina." It's fine. I don't mind not walking. Ok, I take it back. I'm scared now.
Haechi- I'm on my way, had to leave work early since my girlfriend is such a fucking slut. It's never enough for you, is it. Eat you out this morning, and you still pull some shit like this. Call out from work tomorrow. You're gonna be busy. I'll make sure of it.
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Official HC request of one of Charm's old Chicago flings showing up to do some business with her father?
Like he shows up and Becca, who Charm has always kept updated on everything, immediately sidles up to her, forgetting that Bucky loves to eavesdrop in their conversations.
"Is that him?"
"Jesus, Bex. Yeah. I don't know how but he's gotten even hotter since Chicago."
"Who are we talking about here?"
"None of your business, Barnes."
"Charm and the guy that just walked into the office used to-"
"It was a one time thing. Two times, five. Doesn't matter."
"And what the fuck is he doing here?"
"Shut up, I'm trying to listen."
I
AM
SCREAMING-
Darling ooooh my God, this is amazing! 😍 I love this so muuuuch, thank you thank you thank you! ❤️
I have like, so many ideas about the Chicago ex! 😍
Becca knowing everything about him yes please! 😂 Like, knowing Charm, she probably gave her every single detail! ❤️
Bucky normally playing it cool and unbothered but eavesdropping the moment he sees them whispering and giggling lollll😁
"It was a one time thing. Two times, five. Doesn't matter." Oh I already love the Chicago ex HELP-
The way Bucky dislikes him instantly 😂
I feel like Charm and him definitely hit it off and I imagine him as someone really smooth and good at flirting 😏
He would see Charm and smile at her, then would make his way to her and flirt with her right in front of Bucky😂 He'd go like,
"Well it's been a minute sweetheart."
"Or a couple of years."
"Still breaking hearts?"
"Isn't that supposed to be my line?"
"Nope, mine. I'm the one who didn't get a text back after you graduated and moved back here."
"I just figured you would be busy."
"So am I finally getting the tour you promised me if I ever decided to visit your city?"
"If you promise to play nice."
"I'm always nice."
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The Power of Love Part One
Pairing: Hardcase x Reader (She/They)
AU: Right to Love Clone Matchmaking AU
Rating: SFW
Summary: Both Hardcase and Reader have a hard time with romantic partners understanding them.
Content Warning: Mention of sex
Word Count: 2405
Link to Playlist I use for this AU
Part 1/Part 2/Part 3
Notes:
- I'm working on a couple of OC profiles for Isa and Greatheart. They kind of ended up with a backstory.
-Credit for dividers goes to @freesia-writes and the clone trooper helmets @lornaka
-Title image by me
“Hardcase!” She said sharply. “You aren’t even paying attention!”
He had spaced out again. While on holocall with Kia.
“Oh, sorry,” he apologized.
“Have you been chewing your shirt strings again?” She huffed.
He looked down at his sweatshirt, new civilian style stuff. But had been printed with a logo one of the guys from the battalion had made for them. It was probably his favorite piece of civi clothing, much to Kia's disgust. But, yeah, he had been chewing on the strings. Kix had explained why he did stuff like that, but he didn’t really remember the details. Not that it would matter to Kia.
“What are you, 5?” She asked.
Absentminded he answered, “13,”
“What?” She hissed.
“13 standard” he answered, his mind automatically going down the spiral of 'Because of accelerated growth, mid 20's because the injections that fixed the accelerated growth made that variable... or something?'
“You know what I meant,” Kia huffed.
He looked up at the projection and wondered what he was doing. Appeasing her so he could keep pretending to be the person she wanted him to be?
Without consideration he said, “I'm done,”
“We are not done talking!” she demanded.
“Not what I meant, but yeah that too. I'm done with whatever this is,” He responded.
She shrieked in protest. And he shut the call off.
He made his way back to the bunkroom and threw himself into his bunk, retrieving his data pad and headphones.
Before he could disappear into music and drawing Fives appeared.
“And how is the ever lovely Kia today?” Fives asked, batting his eyes dramatically.
“Pissed off,” Hardcase said, trying to go back to his datapad. Fives snatched it out of his hands.
“Fives, not now,” Hardcase said.
“Kriff off, not now,” Fives said, passing the datapad back to Echo, who handed it to Jesse.
“What happened?”
“I got tired of trying to be someone I'm not for someone I don't
really care about,” Hardcase huffed. “Can I please have my 'pad back?”
“No way,” Jesse said, “we got tons more to talk about,”
“Why were you doing it if you didn't care about her?” Fives demanded.
Hardcase shrugged, “The thing to do, I guess. You guys are all happy with who you are with and I just thought it was because I kark things up,”
“That's different, we didn't pick up someone following us around 79's,” Fives pointed out.
Hardcase being in a rare bad mood answered, “Well, I never have trouble picking someone up. Figured that's why you went,”
A general insulted shout went through the group.
“I have NEVER had a problem with the ladies,” Fives insisted.
“No, he's right,” Tup, perched on his bunk over Hardcase's, “You do come on a bit too strong Fives,”
“You too!” Fives asked, clutching his chest as if stabbed, “I'm wounded, how dare!”
“Five's questionable flirting prowess aside,” Echo said. “That does not account for the pretty boy up there,” he gestured back to Tup.
Considering that, Hardcase had to agree. Tup, between the long hair, somehow exceptionally thick eyelashes and general sweetness could take his pick of any room home if he wanted.
“If I promise to go to the matchmaking service, will you please give me my datapad back?”
And that's how, two days after their return to Coruscant, he was being marched into Right to Love. He had hoped that when they got back that the others would be so involved with their partners that they would forget.
Not a chance. Hardcase was pretty sure that their partners were in on it. Rex's definitely was.
He figured that's why Rex had decided to come along too. It made sense when the others had gone with Rex. Rex, to be fair, was a disaster. Even then it had only been Echo, Fives, Jesse, and Kix that had gone. He, Tup, and Cody met them afterwards.
Not only those four but now Rex and Tup were also happily following them over to the room set aside for the “moral support/friends profile” thing.
He wasn't anxious, honestly he didn't expect anything to come of it. He was there to appease his brothers so that he could go back to base and go about his life.
But when he read the first question on the formwork, 'What are you looking for in a potential partner' he let himself imagine.
He was pacing when the woman entered the room.
“Oh, sorry,” he said immediately.
“What for? I kept you waiting,” she smiled. “I’m Isa, it’s good to meet you. Your profile was interesting, that’s why it took some time.”
Hardcase shifted on his feet, he was used to being called interesting. But it was usually in a more exasperated tone.
“Ma’am?” He said.
“I have a lot I want to ask you, you are truly interesting,” Isa said, “I’d offer to walk while we talk, but guess you don’t want everyone to overhear everything?”
Hardcase thought of Echo and Fives trying to spy on Rex’s date. “Yeah, rather not,” he agreed, sitting down.
As she sat across from him Isa said, ”if you need to stand and move around while we talk, I understand,”
In answer to his confused expression she continued, “I have a friend, they also have the urge to move more often,”
Hardcase wasn’t used to people outside of Kix or Rex that understood, most of his brothers just coped with it in whatever way. It made Dogma's anxiety worse.
He nodded and Isa continued, ”Your answers were very unique in a way we don’t often see,”
‘Oh, so back to being weird’ Hardcase thought. He was beginning to see it’s what the nat borns saw as defective. Not that he wasn’t defective, he definitely was. He had just accepted that difference long ago and embraced it. It hadn’t gotten him decommissioned , so why worry?
“I think you are misinterpreting what I’m saying,” Isa said. “You are very creative, and actually very much know what you want. If half our clients gave us as rich of answers as you gave us our jobs would be much easier”
“I didn’t think I did, I kind of rambled,” he answered.
“No, it was all very useful,” she answered. “Useful enough that I have someone in mind. I just want to ask some questions first,”
Half an hour later he was walking into the lobby, the others were sitting around waiting for him
“Are we going to go? I’m starving!” He said, when he joined the others.
They went to a plaza that had several food speedertrucks parked around. They went to one that was selling nerfdogs.
Finding out that there were spicy options, Fives and Jesse get into their usual “who can handle the heat” competition and order as hot as they can get.
The others got typical nerfdogs and toppings. Echo tried to appeal to Kix to pull his medic status to stop them.
“I'm the medic,not their keeper. They want to be stupid, let them!” Kix said, while Rex ignored the whole situation.
“So, how'd it go?” Echo asked, looking at Fives and Jesse in disgust as the two of them stared each other down taking the first bite.
Hardcase said between bites, “they liked my profile,”
“Of course they did!” Fives said, pretending his eyes weren't tearing up from the spice, “you’re one of us. Obviously you’re amazing even if you are a di'kut .”
“Look who’s talking,” Rex muttered.
Fives was too busy trying desperately to cover his reaction to the spicy food to be dramatically offended...this time. And Jesse was too busy trying to power through his to laugh like the others did.
The others went their separate ways after lunch. Except Rex, who walked back with him.
“You aren’t waiting for a com,” Rex observed.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Hardcase couldn’t tell if Rex knew or if he should be offended.
“They already matched you, haven’t they?” Rex asked.
“Yeah,” Hardcase answered, ”Echo find a way to bug the room?”
Rex laughed, “He would, wouldn’t he? No, he’ll wait until you get your information. But as soon as you agreed to go I had a better slicer friend fix your accounts to where Echo is only going to see the default 'We're still working on your Match' message. You will, of course be able to see everything you need.”
“Why?” Hardcase wondered why Rex would go through the trouble.
“Because I wouldn’t mind the boys getting a bit of payback. And I know you are up for a prank, my credits are on whoever they picked for you will be too” Rex grinned.
“Do you really think so?” Hardcase asked him.
“They are really good at finding what a person needs. I'm fairly sure that you need someone to have fun with. If they knew who to match you with right away, I think it's a good sign,” Rex answered.
“Absolutely not” you said, leaning back in the chair. “I told you to take my profile out of the system because it was karking up your stats”
“It was two matches, and the results of both gave us feedback with which to optimize our questions” Isa responded. “And you were being dramatic, like you are now,”
“Great, just great,” you grumble. “I guess this means you already told him I’d meet him,”
“Of course!” Isa exclaimed, “you two need each other,”
You sigh and sip on your drink, popping a flavor bubble in your mouth. You had become friends with Isa on the medical frigate even before Greatheart had arrived there. Now she was close enough to consider family.
“If you want I can call someone else and have them compare the profiles,” Isa offered.
“You don’t have to do that,” you sigh. “It’s hardly your fault that some of these guys don’t really want what they think they want. ”
“We have a better set of questions we ask in the interview stage,” Isa insisted. “Still, I’ll send it out to the others for review and get feedback.”
You pick up the data pad she had slid over to you awhile ago and opened the file.
“Hardcase… you are joking with me, making up a guy?” You shake your head. “I get it, fine. I’ll go with whoever you set me up with,”
“Good, because this is him,”Isa said.
“Why do you guys not do pictures of them?” You ask, exasperated.
“Because,” Isa gestured, “you have to be around them all the time to be able to tell the difference outside of hair and tattoos the way we do”
“Well, you know your stripped down profiles tell us nothing.” You point out.
“You are being obstinate,” Isa said. “Fine. he’s still active military, in a battalion that rotates from assisting in the efforts of making sections of the undercity safe and recovery efforts off planet,”
“Still in because he doesn’t do anything else?” You ask, scrolling down but you see an extensive list of hobbies and interests.
“No, if I had to guess it has more to do with his brothers. It’s a particularly close knit group. I’ve done matches for a few of them,” she told you, “all successful by the way. They always have one or two of the others with them when they come in. This time there were five, plus their CO,”
“We already said I’m the problem child,” you point out. “Highly
visible tattoos?”
“Yes, but honestly they are gorgeous,” Isa said.
“Really? Should Greatheart be jealous?” You ask.
“Jealous of what?” The man in question walked into the room. “Hello, Love,” he gave Isa a quick kiss. Then looked at you and said, ”Heard you brought me caf, sis”
You gesture to the cup on the desk next to the tea you brought Isa. “This guy with the ‘gorgeous’ tattoos,” you say.
“The guy from this morning?” He asks. Isa nodded and Greatheart pulled the other seat in the room up to Isa’s desk.
“Isn’t it your break, wouldn’t you rather do something other than meddle in my love life,” you ask.
“Nope, sis, you are priority,” he said, sipping at the caf. “Does have some nice tats, evidently designed them himself. Talked to his CO for awhile, I think Isa’s right,”
“You two have already been talking about this?”
“No, after he left I went to suggest it to Isa. Just seemed like,” he shrugged, ”I don’t know. I had a good feeling about it. But Isa had already set up the date for you two,”
“Which club is it at anyways?” You ask. The dates Isa set you up at usually were at a club.
They had been a couple of guys that said they were looking for someone fun and adventurous and that they liked a good laugh. Turns out fun was going to the clubs adventure was sex and good laughs were with his brothers. Basically they wanted a long term battalion bunny that could sit next to them, laugh at their jokes, and look pretty. Weird was not pretty, and honestly their idea ofsex wasn't terribly adventurous either.
“Not a club,” Isa said, gesturing to the ‘pad.
You sigh and scroll down. “Oh, we’re being upfront with the weird this time,” you say.
“He seemed really interested, says he likes trying new things,” Isa said. “And i thought that might work out better if they saw you doing things you like outside the clubs. He was willing to meet there. He actually put anywhere on his list of preferred places,”
“The rink isn’t on mine,” you point out.
Isa shrugged, ”It will work out the best,”
“‘Heart, what did his CO say?” You ask.
“You can’t…” Isa began.
“You have confidentially clauses with him,” you say. “He doesn't with the CO,,”
Greatheart grinned, “well, if I didn’t know his CO by reputation I’m not sure I would have believed him. Guy was quiet, fidgeted a lot… but then most do here. But when he came out of his interview he was… well more like someone I’d see you with. And with what his CO said, he just makes sense.”
“But what did he say?” you ask again.
“Someone is excited,” Isa said.
You roll your eyes and focus back on Greatheart, who says. “He had some really good stories about him. He seems like a lot of fun, and you might have trouble keeping up with him instead of the other way around,”
Thanks for reading! Check out more of this AU @tcwmatchmakingau
❤️Love and Wrecker Hugs!❤️
Part 1/Part 2/Part 3
Tag list (Send a message, ask or use this form to join or be removed)
@lightwise @captainbutterflynonsense @sleepycreativewriter @523rdrebel @inneedoffanfics @cloneloverrrrr @Trappedinlimbo15 @chubbyhedgehog @blueink-bluesoul
#hardcase my beloved#hardcase x reader#star wars#the clone wars#clone wars#clone wars fan fiction#sunshine writes#tcw matchmaking au#clone matchmaking au#right to love au#the power of love
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Okay, here's the post I promised based on @ocean--grey 's poll! So if anyone randomly finds this and is confused, the poll was a question about who makes Lister feel the worst about himself: Low Lister, Sebastian Doyle, or the brain-in-a-jar from "Out of Time." I went tag crazy in my reblog, and this is just what didn't fit 🤣
So, Lister was ganged up on and victimized by all of the Lows in a scene that has to have been one of the most disturbing things that ever happened to him. But one small, probably unintentional detail that I'm going to emphasize is this: all of the Lows were working together, and reasonably well. They all teamed up against him, a solid team, 4 against 1.
And so, I find it FASCINATING that this episode directly follows "Terrorform" and "Quarantine," two episodes that heavily emphasize the everyone vs Rimmer dynamic.
Social patterns can be brutal. At the end of the day, there's very little that makes people feel more together than disliking the same person, especially if they can feel justified about it. And Rimmer is extremely easy to dislike, justifiably.
But unlike Cat and Kryten, who have fairly simple relationships with Rimmer (they know they need him there, and he has a couple redeeming qualities, but they genuinely dislike him), Lister actually sees Rimmer as a human being, with feelings that matter. He wouldn't have chosen to have this guy play a huge role in his life, but he does care about him.
And, sometimes, he treats Rimmer terribly.
It's usually not just him. It's him, the Cat, and Kryten playing off of each other, having Rimmer be the odd-man-out. And he gives as good as he gets, so it probably feels fine, mostly. You can't say that Rimmer doesn't deserve to have his own terrible actions thrown into his face, now and then.
Rimmer was exhibiting some horrid behavior in "Quarantine." His treatment of the rest of the crew before the virus set in was vindictive and petty in really destructive ways. But it was also a direct reaction to his peers talking about shutting him down. (Notably, this was right after an episode where they all pretended to like him, then threw it back in his face.) He probably saw that as a genuine threat to his life, and responded to it the way he's been conditioned to, since he was a kid: weaponize rules, use every scrap of power you have, no one else will help you.
Lister has come to understand Rimmer pretty well by this point in the show. He understands that "the wrong parents" doesn't just mean that Rimmer is ambitious and vain; he knows the guy survived some genuine, serious abuse. (Notably, he's the only character who looked disturbed at Rimmer's Uncle Frank story. Even Rimmer didn't recognize how messed up that was.) Everyone has seen Rimmer at his worst, but Lister has seen him at some of his best, like in "Marooned" when he waxes poetic about friendship and sacrifice, and wants to mirror what he saw as an act of selflessness. Lister knows how badly Rimmer craves acceptance and respect, and knows that he's actually capable of being decent under the right circumstances.
But he doesn't exactly keep that knowledge at the front of his mind. Very understandable, when your bunkmate, say, locks everyone in a room for weeks without entertainment or decent food. And it's especially easy to forget about when you're with two other people who can't stand the guy.
But I think sometimes, when the others aren't there, he remembers that Rimmer is a very miserable, lonely person, who faces almost constant antagonism from everybody in his life. He brings it on himself, but I don't think Lister wants to be a person who enjoys teaming up with his buddies to pick on the group misfit.
And yet, in series 4 and 5 especially, he kinda IS that person.
And I can't help but wonder if his treatment at the hands of the Low crew (ganged up on, having his autonomy taken away, being bombarded with everything he hates about himself) wasn't, in part, a reflection of the way he feels about all that subconsciously.
#it's late so i hope this makes sense 😅#i think that series 10-promised land lister has finally found a good balance of ribbing the guy while watching out for him#which i love sooooooo much you have no idea#please don't read this as ''lister is mean to rimmer! bad lister poor rimmer!''#it's just musing about the cognitive dissonance of knowing that someone's behavior comes from deep hurt#but not being able to stop yourself from responding to it (particularly in a group dynamic)#which imo makes lister SUCH an interesting character
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First writing on this blog!!!
Firstly I apologize for this being delayed since I planned on doing this during Cloud's bday, but sadly I had no motivation for writing at that time
but!!! Considering that it's pretty much his bday month, I suppose it's still valid to do so(or anytime, really, I'm just a perfectionist at times lmao) <3
♡ Finding a Birthday Gift For Cloud ♡
Summary: Headcanons of possible gifts for our Cloudberry's birthday <3
Reader Details: The reader is Gender Neutral!
Let's start out with the fact that you're a bit indecisive with what to gift Cloud, thus leading you to panic a bit, yeah?
Well fear not!!! If ya ain't got it covered, then you have all rights to ask Tifa for advice, this girl would be the closest to knowing what Cloud would enjoy(Look I just love Tifa playing the wingwoman role, she's perfect for it <3)
"C'mon, you're Cloud's lover and he cherishes you deeply, so anything you gift him will definitely melt his heart!"
Tifa reassures that even if the gift isn't a big deal as you'd expect it to be for him, she wants to let you know that Cloud is overall going to love it, especially since he wasn't really one for big deals(but again, coming from you, he'd love it no matter what).
Alright, let's look over the options shall we?
Firstly, Cloud enjoys having time alone with you, so expect to turn your gift into a birthday date for him, preferably at home.
You could do takeout and buy him a cake....but the snail in your ear convinces you to try something new. So in the end, you decided on cooking and baking from scratch.
Whether you're a good cook or not, fear not! Again Tifa can definitely help you out in case you fear burning the place down lmao.
If you're already experienced in cooking and baking, you might feel like going a little more over the top than usual, if not, perhaps settling for something simple, but still delicious, would be more of your level?
The flavor of the cake can be up to you!!(Okay but personally . In my bitchass humble opinion . I have fantasies of serving Cloud a cloudberry cake . amen)
Look I understand the man ain't a flower enthusiast but cmon . Flowers are the ultimate form of showing affection to a lover. + It'd be completely different coming from you so he'd defs melt like butter on a pan if you gave him flowers.
Get him cloud shaped balloons. I dare you. deadass.
"Th-This is...all for me..?"
Live Cloud Strife reaction
Congrats you got this blonde baby's cheeks to burn up and make his heart combust at your surprise when he comes home.
He probably, most likely, doesn't realize it but his smile just grows by the second and god fucking dammit he's such a cutie when he smiles and you know it......
"Of course it is silly!! Happy Birthday Cloud~!!!"
"...Are those cloud shaped balloons?"
...Yeah he'd defs frown at the floating inflated clouds in the room, his face getting redder with blush, but that's only a bonus for you as you laughed at his cute expressions. Nonetheless, you know he isn't mad or anything, he was aware you were just teasing him because who doesn't love a good teasing from their lover as a form of affection?
Anyways, after you two stuff your faces with the meal and dessert you cooked up for him with love, you can never forget that Cloud deserves physical affection on his special day, even if he has a hard time asking for cuddles.
Cuddle up and watch a movie!! Maybe even enjoy a hot drink on the side like tea or hot chocolate that you prepared.
And the best part about couples watching a movie is when they don't pay attention halfway and start focusing on kissing and nuzzling each other.
But honestly? That's the best part to the both of you.
Just having you in his life is a gift he receives everyday, and the night you just made for him is a bonus that he cherishes as well <3
#🌠ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟCosmo writings#cloud strife x reader#cloud x reader#final fantasy vii#ff7#ff7 x reader#can't talk i'm having the biggest Cloud brainrot in human history rn#my braincells disintegrate#I mean can you blame me? This motherfucker ruined my life(affectionate)
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Round 1 Poll 78: Relationship stuff
The Addams Family submission:
The idea that Gomez is ""Connecticut Clark"", ""just Ken"", or ""knows Morticia is out of his league"", or that his only purpose is to be Perfect Husband And Father to the point of talking about him as if he's not his own person. The Connecticut Clark meme is meant to refer to a character with no supernatural traits, no interesting backstory, and nothing special or unusual about him, married to a cool supernatural wife. I do not think ""nothing unusual about him"" applies to a master swordsman (at least in the films, the competence of other versions admittedly varies) who in the 60s show built a robot and a supercomputer in his home, is unharmed by leaping out of a plane without a parachute, has 6 toes on one foot and might have a tail, and regularly eats poison and is unaffected by it. He is an Addams. His mother is a witch. He is descended from a long line of pirates and outlaws. He IS a goofy dork but he is not JUST some random goofy dork.
""Just Ken"" similarly tends to refer to a character who doesn't do much or have many skills and is very much secondary to his wife or girlfriend... Gomez is not a supporting character in a story about Morticia, he is an equally major character to her in most versions of the series, and fights and defeats the villains of a story more than once. Surely if we're going to see them as couple goals, part of what makes their relationship so healthy IS that they are both their own people with their own interests, friends, and lives? A relationship where one is just the other's sidekick doesn't sound like goals to me.
He also doesn't really seem to think of Morticia as out of his league--he adores her, obviously, but his high opinion of her is *not* usually accompanied by a low opinion of himself. He's actually pretty confident, and even a bit vain about his looks (even the less conventionally attractive versions), and has said at least once that he considers *her* fortunate to be married to *him*, as well as obviously considering himself lucky to be married to her.
It's frustrating as a fan of his character when lots of people SAY they love him, but only really seem to love how much he loves Morticia, forget about the things he's canonically good at in favour of ""all he knows how to do is love his wife"", aren't interested in exploring his relationships with anyone other than Morticia and maybe Wednesday (I'm talking the rest of his family, but also his friends, and in most versions he did also have other romantic relationships before meeting Morticia), and don't really want to discuss him as a person (especially when it comes to...his actual flaws as a person that aren't just ""he's dumb, but it doesn't matter because he's so sweet"", or his canon mental health issues, or piecing together his backstory from the bits of info we get about it, or...really anything about what might actually be going on in his head rather than him just being a kind of satellite characters). Especially when people will analyse Morticia in such detail and with the Netflix show in particular are now doing the same for Wednesday.
Gravity Falls submission:
ford hating/not caring about/overlooking/belittling/underestimating mabel. this one goes out to you "Return to the Bunker"
#stop spreading this insert fandom here poll#the addams family#gomez addams#morticia addams#gomez and morticia#gravity falls stanford#gravity falls#stanford pines#mabel pines#gravity falls mabel
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