#campaign 1 still has a death grip of me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

veliseraptor · 1 year

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is it time for another 150 words meme? guess it is!!

for those who haven't been around for one of these - pick a number from the list of wips below and I will write 150 words in that project. you can send me up to three if you really can't decide on one. if you don't recognize or are curious to know more about what these are, my wip list has a brief summary of I think all of them.

twelve options and it's basically vegaspete and yi city all the way down with two wild cards

1. This place was too open and there were too many people around, none of whom he knew. There could be more of whoever those people had been around; he didn’t want to divide his focus to see if either of the two he’d dropped had ID. Pete was on his own and Vegas was compromised. “We have to go,” Pete interrupted.

“You – what? What the fuck – are those guys dead?”

“Sorry,” Pete said, adjusting his grip on Vegas. Then, because he felt rude and a little bit bad and Vegas did seem to like these people, he added, “have a good night.”

And he half dragged, half carried Vegas out into open air.

Pete wavered between driving without somebody else as eyes or waiting for a car with a basically incapacitated Vegas and decided he wanted to get them out of an uncontrolled environment now. He disentangled himself from Vegas to put him in the passenger seat, which was more difficult than it sounded because Vegas didn’t want to let go and at one point bit his neck, which made it very hard for Pete to focus the way he needed to. (Drift)

2. Vegas wondered if he should try to pretend to know who he was talking about. Nobody liked hearing that the death that’d meant so much to them hadn’t made an impression.

“You don’t even remember him, do you,” said his captor.

“I have no idea who you are,” Vegas said. “So, no.”

He didn’t like that, and expressed as much with another kick in the ribs. Vegas gritted his teeth so he didn’t yelp even though his vision swam and his head spun, his still mending insides vehemently protesting. (All's Fair)

3. Xue Yang had a deep professional respect for Wei Wuxian’s work. He was, unquestionably, a master of their shared craft; Xue Yang had built a not insignificant part of his own work on the scraps of foundation he’d left behind. He was skilled, and smart, and based on his activities during the Sunshot Campaign had a nasty streak Xue Yang could appreciate.

On a personal level Xue Yang sort of wanted to gut him with a dull knife. (demonic cultivator team up fic)

4. “Why are you guys being so weird,” he said aggressively. Vegas shot him a look that Macau met without wavering. “What? It’s making you really uncomfortable to be around.”

“So go find somewhere else to be,” Vegas said. “Nosy.”

“I live here,” Macau said. He turned his gaze on Pete. “So?”

Vegas could see Pete hesitating. His eyes darted toward Vegas and then away.

“Don’t try to pry shit out of him just because you think he’ll crack before I do,” Vegas said.

“He will, though,” Macau said, eyes still fixed on Pete. “You’ll tell me what’s going on. Right, P’Pete?” It hovered somewhere awkwardly between a wheedle and a command. Vegas reached over and smacked the back of his head.

“Cut it out, you little pest,” he said in English.

“Did you have a fight or something?”

Vegas’s insides seized up a little but before he could respond Pete said, “no, it’s not like that. Everything’s fine.” He smiled and Vegas felt like there was something scraping against his skin. He clenched his molars together until his jaw hurt. Macau looked even more suspicious.

“Riiight,” he said. “Sure.” (post canon vegaspete long(er) fic)

5. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Pete asked again, for the fifth or sixth time. Vegas gritted his teeth so he didn’t snap.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said through them. “Stop asking.” Pete barely flinched before relaxing into an easy smile.

“Okay,” he said.

“You’ll have sightline from here,” Vegas said, by way of…not apology, but maybe it would help Pete feel a little better. “Don’t worry. I don’t think…” his voice wavered and he cleared his throat. “I won’t be long.”

Pete scanned him with watchful eyes that didn’t quite match his smile. “You can stay as long as you want,” he said. In his eyes Vegas read I don’t like this.

“I know I can,” he said sharply. “I wasn’t asking permission.” He turned before he could see Pete’s reaction and walked into the cemetery. (Fidelity)

6. “Can I tell you a secret,” a-Qing said, her voice now dull. Song Lan made an affirmative sound, though he tensed. A-Qing chewed her lower lip. “It’s bad,” she said.

“Mm-mm,” Song Lan said in denial. A-Qing turned a little in his direction, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“I think Daozhang is still in love with him,” she said despairingly. Song Lan’s heart sank, the hope that he’d been wrong dwindling to nothing. He said nothing, waiting, and a-Qing kicked her heels. “I thought he’d get over it, now that he knows how awful he always was but he still…it’s not fair. That bastard is dead and he’s still making everything worse.”

Song Lan’s chest ached.

“What are we going to do,” a-Qing said, her voice small and unusually young-sounding, so unlike her usual brash, confident self.

I wish I knew. I wish I knew what was right. No, Song Lan had to admit to himself that was no longer his first question. He wished he knew what would help. Right or wrong, if it brought Xiao Xingchen some peace… (Life After Death)

7. That was the trouble, wasn’t it? Xue Yang was right: Song Lan did want him to suffer. He wanted him to feel every miserable bit of pain he’d caused him and Xingchen and so many others; he wanted him beaten down and broken and begging forgiveness that he would never, never receive. The violence of the thoughts he’d had about what he could do to Xue Yang frightened him. The ease with which he’d already done some things – nothing against the torments Xue Yang had inflicted, but that was not a standard he wanted to live by – sickened him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t crave vengeance. He hadn’t spared Xue Yang’s life out of kindness.

“Yeah,” Xue Yang said, reading Song Lan’s silence correctly. “So there you go.”

Song Lan grimaced, closing his eyes and taking a moment to center himself before saying, “whatever – baser urges I might have, as I’ve said, that isn’t how I want to conduct myself. With anyone.”

Xue Yang looked away from him. “Seems to keep happening, though,” he said. “So much for daoshi discipline, huh?”

“You are remarkably good at trying my patience,” Song Lan said. Xue Yang’s eyes darted back in his direction and he laughed; this one sounded significantly less wild than some of his others.

“It’s not just you, Song-daozhang,” Xue Yang said, his voice suddenly bright and lilting. “I try plenty of other peoples’ patience too.”

“I can imagine,” Song Lan said, which drew another laugh from Xue Yang.

“It’s a gift,” Xue Yang said, with a sunny smile. (Walking Far From Home)

8. Xiao Xingchen had to laugh. “I would try to coax you back out,” he said. “I’m sure you’d be a very cute tarantula.”

Xue Yang laughed and grinned at him even more widely. “You would think tarantulas are cute,” he said. “Sure, okay. I’ll be your special tarantula and I’ll only bite other people, not you. I’m very venomous, though, so be careful.”

Xiao Xingchen tried to look solemn. “I trust my tarantula boyfriend,” he said, but he couldn’t hold a straight face, breaking into a giggle.

“Your first mistake,” Xue Yang said, the two of them laughing together. Then Xue Yang lit into tickling Xiao Xingchen, and Xiao Xingchen almost kicked him in the stomach by accident, and the shadows of his dream faded from his mind. (Redux)

9. So. He was back.

He was back and he was alive and something was wrong with him.

There were a lot of things wrong with him. Clearly. Or maybe had been wrong with him all along and now it was just…exposed, laid bare, yanked out in the open where he couldn’t ignore it.

Vegas had done a lot of things to him but Pete thought that might be the worst. (jiggety-jig)

10. “Why won’t it work, you mean?” Xue Yang said, and laughed. “I can’t tell you all my secrets, Zichen.”

Don’t call me that, Song Lan almost wrote, but he stopped himself. There was almost certainly no better way to ensure that Xue Yang called him nothing else. Instead he wrote, I would expect you to want to brag.

“Ha,” Xue Yang said. “What would be the point? It’s not like you’d be impressed. And you already know how good I am. Was.” His smile fell away a little, momentarily, and for a split second Song Lan saw him as he’d truly been when he died, hollowed out and exhausted, bloody and beaten even before Song Lan slid Fuxue between his ribs. “You are how good I was. My greatest creation. Even more than the Yin Tiger Seal. I just remade that, after all, but you were all mine.”

Song Lan couldn’t actually vomit but the nausea was still overpowering. (the poison in your bones)

11. Liu Mingyan was a problem.

If she had to be fair (though Sha Hualing was not generally interested in being fair), she was less annoying than her brother, but that was setting a remarkably high bar, and she was more annoying to Sha Hualing specifically. As far as Sha Hualing could tell, Mingyan-guniang had made it her business to interfere with Sha Hualing’s business at every possible opportunity. Sometimes it seemed like she couldn’t turn around in the Human Realm without running into her, even when Sha Hualing wasn’t doing anything wrong. Or hadn’t done anything yet, anyway.

Or at least hadn’t done anything Liu Mingyan could possibly know about.

It wasn’t like Sha Hualing couldn’t handle her. Obviously she could; she’d defeated her one-on-one, and later on held her captive. It still made sense to be cautious. A little wary. Human beings could be tricky sometimes, and Liu Mingyan in particular made Sha Hualing uneasy. Not that she would say as much to anyone. (under pressure)

12. “All of us,” Gabriel said, “must, in our lives, learn how to surrender to some greater power. Preference may not come into it.”

Lymond’s unnaturally bright eyes blinked once. “Not mine, at any rate,” he said. “I’m sure your preference is quite informative, in this case.”

“Your wound,” Gabriel said, removing his hands, “needs tending.”

“And you, with your healer’s hands,” Lymond said. “Ille more suo victus pietate, nec sordes cavit, nec fetorum exhorruit.”

“I make no claims to the miraculous,” Gabriel said. “But such things come first and foremost to the faithful.”

“Accept Christ,” Lymond said, “and my deformities shall disappear. Deny him, and I am cast out of the body public. Is that it?” (et ipsi sunt jacula)

#fic excerpt #150 words meme #i have an upcoming 5 hour flight so....time for this meme [fingerguns]#also just generally feeling scattered across a lot of projects and sometimes this helps me focus

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tieflingprincess · 10 months

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5, 11, 18, 29 for the music asks? ...🪶

HELLO my dear, thank you for taking interest in my absolutely chaotic takes 😭

5) A song that needs to be played LOUD

Listen, I know this is meant as like "a song so badass you wanna play it at the club to dance to it" or something along those lines, but all my weirdo brain can offer is, that I have a playlist titled "boss battle" that I frequently blast so loud I feel like I leave this plane of existence to go fight some fucking fantasy battle (as normal people do.... RIGHT? 😭).... so uh yeah it's gonna be Globus - Preliator for this one, which is arguably the Nr 1 paladin song of all time. Which I guess is an odd choice for "loud song" considering how much Metal (yk, the stereotypical loud screaming music gerne xD) I listen to on a daily basis.

11) A song that you never get tired of

Kai Rosenkranz - Vista Point (from the Gothic 3 Soundtrack): I had a LOT of picks for this prompt, many tough contenders, but this song somehow has a death grip on me. Vista Point my beloved. Peak video game music from an obscure old German Fantasy RPG. The DM of the "The Dark Eye"-campaign I play once used this as ambient music and I literally broke character only to yell "Vista Point!" like an idiot.

18) A Song from the year that you were born

Loona - Hijo de la luna: I actually had to do quite some research for this prompt, as I am definetly not familliar with 90s music. Just found out that this song I was obsessed with as a little girl came out the year I was born. Fun fact, I still fondly remember the cool older Goth girl I met at summer camp who originally showed me this song (for some reason?) xD

29) A song that you remember from your childhood

Toraboruta/Kagamine Rin/Vocaloid - Soleil: Also a tough one! But hey... listen, if you grew up on the internet as a lonely weird kid and didn't have a Vocaloid phase you are LYING! This one, I remember, was definetly one of my favorites, I found it so sad and used it to write angsty fanfic. Aaah, good times xD

#these are very weird i am sorry dear friend #thanks for your ask!!#excuse my tangents and ramblings #about me #chococinochii

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englishbutter · 7 months

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Originally published on Substack, 4th October, 2023. Link!

Since this essay is 10.5k words, I've included the first section below the cut and a link to the Substack article.

A special thanks to Ubisoft ANZ for not only supplying an early copy of Mirage for me to review, but for inviting me to the game’s Sydney launch party this past Thursday. I had a brilliant time and adored meeting the amazing content creators, eating the delicious food, getting pushed outside because of fire alarm shenanigans, and having a ridiculously long 1-on-1 chat with Mirage’s narrative director, Sarah Beaulieu. Thanks for flying halfway across the planet to come and visit us!

INTRO

I have been simultaneously dreading and getting cautiously optimistic for this game for months now, but mostly I’ve been going out of my way not to think about it. My thought process was that when October 2023 came about, I wanted to go into Assassin’s Creed Mirage as neutrally as possible, because my relationship with Assassin’s Creed over the past few years has been turbulent to say the least. The first game I was around for the release of was Origins in 2017, for which I was monstrously hyped. Then when Odyssey was revealed at E3 in 2018, I crashed for I immediately hated it, decrying it along with hundreds of others online. When Valhalla came about in 2020, I simply did not care for it in the slightest. Both for Valhalla by itself, and for Assassin’s Creed as a brand.

I had entered my jaded phase, for I had played two games in a row of a thing I had recently fallen out of love with, and it was a bitter thing to experience. On top of that, I had quietly resigned myself, as had many others in my circle of friends, to never getting back the Assassin’s Creed we liked, and instead we would get more games that built entire countries with 60 hour campaigns. For back then, Assassin’s Creed wasn’t the only franchise Ubisoft was transforming. Post-Origins, their philosophy seemed to be to make everything bigger, better, and endless. A Unity within an Odyssey. I decided to cut my losses and squat on my “section” of the franchise that I liked the most, which are the 18th century games, and thought that would be enough to content me and that I would move on and find new obsessions to take the place that had been occupied by Assassin’s Creed.

Burying my hopes and dreams for Assassin’s Creed in 2020. (Assassin’s Creed III, 2012 (Ubisoft))

Then mid-2020 happened. Ubisoft’s management were hit by claims of rampant bullying and sexual harassment that stretched all the way to the top of the company. Many high profile people were fired, but for this story, the two big names were Valhalla’s game director Ashraf Ismail, and Ubisoft’s CCO Serge Hascoët. If you weren’t around then, know it was a massive event. With Hascoët in particular gone, there came some hope that these changes would not only turf out abusers and change the general company culture for the better (the results have been mixed to say the least), but be felt in the way Ubisoft made its games. But if their games were going to change, then we’d have to wait for a few years as development pipelines had the chance to catch up.

When Mirage was revealed in September 2022, that cynicism Odyssey and Valhalla had left me with still had me in its grip. I watched the cinematic trailer and kind of felt nothing. Later when I had time to reflect on my emotions it felt both freeing and really fucking terrible. I didn’t care about this thing that had had me in some kind of death grip for six and a half years by then. I could watch this promise of a thing dangled before me and be fine in the thought that I had moved on. But that realisation of detachment felt bad. Because this franchise was the one that got me into video games beyond Nintendo party games in the first place. It was the thing that led me to meet wonderful people and open doors to opportunities like the Mentor’s Guild and Star Player programs, and having my work featured in For Honor not once, but twice.

But I didn’t want to think about that either. I put Mirage to the back of my brain and went on with my life. Mirage would come out eventually, and if it looked good, I’d play it.

And that was my headspace until about a week ago when I went to that launch party. Mirage is here, and boy do I have a lot to say about it.

Basim ibn Is’haq, protagonist of Mirage. He has a nice face :) (Assassin’s Creed Mirage, 2023 (Ubisoft))

As a TL;DR review: Mirage is a solid AC game fans have been clamouring for for years. The gameplay loop is fun and engaging and fully committed to delivering the Assassin fantasy. The story likewise is good, but not great. It has memorable characters in Basim and Roshan and does reach some great dramatic moments, even if I found that its beats didn’t land as fully as they wanted. I highly recommend it for fans of Classic Creed. For New Creed fans/players who are looking for adventures like Odyssey, this game might not be for you as it exchanges country-sized maps for a single, dense urban environment (and whilst the map outside of Baghdad is large, it is mostly empty like Origins’ desert regions), has done away with character dialogue choices and romances, banished the focus on magic and mythology, and leans fully into the stealthy Assassin fantasy rather than the build-based branches of Assassin, Warrior, or Ranger you could spec into as Kassandra or Alexios. However, if you’re after some open world action adventure, historical tourism, and/or look to murder a bunch of pixel people, there’s a good chance you’ll have fun :)

This review has been split into two parts — a non-spoiler review that goes over gameplay and my general feelings on the narrative without going into details, and a longer, spoiler filled review that will be less focused on gameplay mechanics and more on narrative. I have marked where the spoiler section starts in bold and with a large page break. Feel free to come back and read my analysis on the spoiler sections once you have finished the game, as I have loads to say about it.

Read the rest on Substack!

#butter writes #butter writes: essays #assassin's creed #fandom

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teddy06writes · 3 years

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sorry to request yet another one, but you are such an amazing writer. Could I possibly have a romeo and juliet type story where reader is sleepybois sibling and is in love with either poly dream team (dream,George,sapnap) or just george xx

dream x george x sapnap x reader + sleepy boys x sibling!reader

trigger warnings: swearing, yelling, character death, Wilbur being a dumbass

premise: you are one of Philza’s children, and have fought for L’manburg’s independence, we follow your secret romance with the enemy, of course, this tragedy knows no happy ending

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You carefully dropped down over the side of the L’manburg wall, ducking into a roll before standing up and dusting yourself off, starting to sneak away.

A hand clamps around your forearm, pulling you around the side of a tree.

You hold back a yelp, instead turning with a smile, whispering, “Mr. Sapnap we simply must stop meeting like this.”

“And what? You’d have us march through your gates announcing ourselves to your brothers, I think not.” Nick chuckled.

“Well, I suppose that would put a damper on things.” You grinned, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He fit your hand into his, pulling you along as you started for where the others would be waiting, “Especially when they are so against our dear Dream.”

“To be fair, he was against us.” You argued.

“But no more.” The man himself pointed out, stepping out of the shadows, rising his mask enough to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Because we continued to fight? or Because you wanted an excuse to talk to me without it being over a declaration of war?”

“I believe it was because Tommy gave up his disks,” George offered, leaning in to place a kiss on your cheek, “Hello dearest.”

You sighed, “Phil gave him those disks. They were one of the only things to survive the blast.”

Behind the mask you could tell Dream’s face fell, and he started to turn away, “I- we did what we thought was right.”

“Blowing up my country was what you thought was right?” You challenged, crossing your arms, “You even had the audacity to cheer as my head was separated from my body by the sheer force.”

“Here we go again.” George muttered.

“We didn’t know you then! Things have changed! You and your people are free now!”

“That does not change our history.” You said indigently.

“What about when Sapnap burned the forests? That’s part of your history too yet we don’t see you yelling at him!” Dream exclaimed.

You sighed, “The forests were replanted with his help, and he has shown remorse, and regret over his actions.”

Surprisingly Dream wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest, “If that is what I takes to gain your trust, then I am sorry. I hope my past mistakes do not haunt you any longer.”

Reluctantly you wrapped your arms around him, smiling as the other boys joined the embrace.

After a few moment Dream pulled away, “c’mon, we may even have time for a proper date.”

“An election?” You questioned, “But your already the president.”

Wilbur grinned, “But I put myself in that position, if we do it this way everything is fair!”

You glanced down at the papers littering his desk, “Wil I don’t see how this makes things fair, I mean,” You picked up the note book where he’d been witting makeshift ballots, “Closing the ballots early? The people will only have one option! How is that fair?”

“Actually, I’m running as well.”

You turned to see Quackity entering the office, “You? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The man frowned, “Well, I figure if Wilbur here gets a chance to do it fair why shouldn’t I?”

“We’ll be able to beat him easily.” Your brother quietly assured you.

“You alright love? You seem stressed.” Nick said quietly.

You sighed looking up at the sky, “Wilbur plans to hold an election. He believes we can over take Quackity and Swag 2020, but now Fundy and Niki have made there own party as well.”

George turned, propping himself up on his elbow, “That doesn’t sound good. If he’s already in charge why does he need to be re elected?”

“We put him on the throne, Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, Fundy and I. He wishes to be there fairly with the support of the people.”

Dream hummed, “Do you think he could win?”

“It’s possible,” You sighed, leaning back against Nick, “But campaigns have been tricky, Tommy managed to dig up Jshlatt. They though he could help, but now he’s trying to make a claim to having a spot on the ballot.”

“I thought he was dead.” George said.

You laced your fingers through his, “Well now he’s just a drunk who’s running for president. God I hope it was just a joke.” You muttered the last part.

The boy shared glances, Nick hazarding, “What happens if someone else wins?”

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t change much for me, technically I hold no office other than managing my brothers and the campaign, it’d shift me further out of public eye, but, I think Wilbur wouldn’t handle it well.”

Dream began to trace shapes into your open palm, “Well, with you in charge of the campaign I doubt your brother will fail.”

You smiled, “Let’s hope so.”

A few hours later, as the sun began to disappear beyond the hills of L’manburg you stood up from the picnic, bidding your lovers farewell, “Wilbur’s meeting starts soon, and I’ll be missed.”

After a few traded kisses you started back through the woods toward L’manburg, sneaking back in through a gap that had never been fixed in the wall, pausing at your house to change back into your L’manburg uniform before hurrying off to the white house.

“Your late!” Tommy called sharply as you entered Wilbur’s office.

“I lost track of time working on the last of the posters.” You pulled the rolled up tubes of paper from the bag you’d grabbed at the house as well.

Wilbur took the tubes as Tommy looked at you skeptically, “Yeah, doing that and what else?”

“Well I was talking to Phil today telling him about the election,” You sat down next to Tubbo, “But not much else.”

Wilbur sighed, dropping a flyer on the table, “We have more important notion to discuss, it would seem that Shlatt is serious about this.”

You grabbed the flyer, looking over the bolded, ‘Shlatt 2020′ and then back at Wilbur, “This can’t be real. I thought you closed the ballot.”

“The people favor him enough to allow him a spot on the ballot.” Tubbo sighed.

“We still stand a chance though,” Tommy said quickly turning to Wilbur, “Right Wil?”

Your older brother hesitated, wavering for a moment, before nodding, “Yes. Yes of course.”

“(y/n) I must ask you some thing.” Wilbur said as the meeting ended and Tommy and Tubbo headed out.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you sneak out?” Your breathing hitched but he continued, “Who are you meeting? What are you hiding? Who do you talk too from- from the SMP lands?” His voice turned to acid at the last words.

“I don’t go anywhere, outside L’manburg. Other than for walks in the forest on occasion.” You lied.

Wilbur examined your face, as if searching for something, “Fine then. Don’t tell me, I will find out sooner or later.”

He strode out of the room, leaving you to pull out your com tablet, privately messaging Dream, ‘it might be a bit before I can see you guys again’

‘:(’

You rolled your eyes quickly typing, ‘Wils getting suspicious, I’m just trying to keep you safe’

‘george also says :(’ Was all you received in reply, so you quickly put the tablet away, heading out of the office and out to the street.

You took a deep breath, looking back at the podium, ballots would be collected tomorrow, and then everything could change.

“Last night, before the last of the ballots were collected, Mr. Quackity of the SWAG 2020 party made an agreement with Mr. Jshlatt of the SHLATT 2020 campaign, that if neither party won the popular vote, they would combine there votes, creating a collation.” WIlbur announced.

From your place to the side of the stage you froze, fear coursing through your veins.

“And so, the combined percentages of SWAG 2020 and SHLATT 2020, bring the coalition to 46% of the popular vote.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, feeling Tommy freeze beside you.

“Which means, the coalition government of SWAG and SHLATT 2020, have won the L’manburg election, by 1%.”

The world seemed to slow as parts of the crowd erupted into cheers, Quackity jumped around on the stage yelling as Wilbur slowly moved away from the podium, out of the corner of your eye, near the back of the stands you see your boyfriends all looking down, but you paid them no mind, instead looking Shlatt dead in the eye as he grinned maliciously at you, before turning to address the crowd.

Wilbur tugged you and Tommy away from the stage, “We’re citizens tonight.”

Shlatt leaned over the podium as you took seats near the front of the crowd, “Well that, was pretty easy.”

You felt your brothers grip your hands, as you stared up at Shlatt.

“You know what I said when I announced this campaign? I said ‘things are gonna change’ I looked every citizen of L’manburg in the eye and I said ‘you listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow.”

He smirked down at you, “So let’s start making that happen. My first decree as president of L’manburg- as EMPEROR! Of this great country!”

Your breathing hitched, “Is to revoke citizenship-! Of TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot, and (Y/n)! Get them out of here!”

Suddenly it seemed as though every weapon in the city was trained on you as Tommy dragged you up out of your seat.

Wilbur was yelling at you to run, but you remained frozen on the spot, turning to look at the podium one last time before following your brothers, only a few steps behind, most of the crowd beginning to disperse

Some one practically screamed your name, and you turned in time for an onslaught of arrows to bury themselves in your body.

The last thing you saw before crumpling to the ground was Dream, Nick and George rushing toward you.

Shlatt strode off the stage, trying to move closer to your body only to be blocked by Dream’s outstretched sword.

He peered around where George had flung himself over you, “I want them out of here as soon as they respawn.”

You woke to someone pressing a damp cloth to your forehead, and excruciating pain spreading throughout your body.

Your eyes flicked open, looking around at the cave you found yourself in, in confusion. When you tried to sit up a gentle hand pushed you back down, “Don’t, you only respawned fully a day ago, you're too weak for that.”

“What’re you doing here?” You groaned.

Technoblade chuckled, “I heard someone say rebellion.”

You looked at him confused for a moment before he elaborated, “This is Pogtopia, cause apparently Wilbur can’t go more than a few months without establishing a new country. Tommy found the cavern after they were ran out of L’manburg. Tubbo is working with Shlatt to hunt you guys down, and Wilbur is trying to start a plan to get the country back.”

“How’d I get here? my bed is all the way in L’manburg.”

Techno grabbed one of the baked potatoes he’d brought up to your room, offering it to you, “That’s the thing I was meanin to ask ya, is there a reasonable explanation as to why it was the Dream Team who brought your body back here? All dramatic and not wantin to leave?”

You face flushed and you turned your head away from him, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” You brother said, moving to lean back against the wall.

You giggled nervously, “I guess it technically started when L’manburg was still fighting for independence...”

You told him of the strange glances during war councils, the way Nick had stopped in his tracks when he saw the way you looked forlorn at the burning wood, the way George found ways to sneak you trinkets signed ‘from someones special’, and the way you were never in any real danger during many battles.

You recalled your first real meeting with Dream after you had gained independence, the way he’d seemed so different then than at the signing of the peace treaty, the way that You’d received help replanting the forests, and the quiet still moments shared by the channel George almost unaware of your being there.

It was the first time you had really spoken about your lovers to anyone, and though it took a weight off your shoulders it added another as Techno subconsciously pulled out his axe and began to sharpen it.

“They wouldn’t hurt me, and the conflict that we shared was between the SMP Lands and L’manburg, not us.” You finished quietly.

Techno looked at you quizzically, “Your telling me Dream, the Dream, Mister Manhunts and smp and god among men Dream, would willingly put away his conflicts, his gains, his leverage, just for you?”

“For all of us.” You said firmly.

“That why he kept Tommy’s disks?”

“Tommy willingly gave up those disks for the country.” You muttered.

Your older brother ignored you, “That why he openly endorsed Shlatt as soon as your back was turned?”

You froze, pushing yourself to sit up, even as it made your head spin, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shlatt’s key endorsement, you know, the endorsement given to the guy who was suppose to endorse Wil?” He watched as your face fell, before quietly starting out of the room, “I won’t tell either of them, but if Dream loses a life cause you find out it was true, don’t look my way.”

You fished your com tablet out of the pack that was lying next to your cot, ‘we need to talk.’

“(y/n)! Thank god your okay!” Nick exclaimed, throwing his arms around you.

You hugged him back before turning to face Dream, “Why did you endorse Shlatt?”

He opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “And I don’t want a denial or an excuse, or- or any of that. I just want to know why you did it. Why you didn’t tell me?”

Shakily Dream pulled off his mask, looking you in the eye, “I didn’t mean to do anything that would hurt you. Technically I never publicly endorsed him, he took a piece of advice and ran with it to the people. If I had known he was going to do that I would’ve never talked to him in the first place. If I had known he was going to exile you, if he was going to take one of your lives I would have killed him where he stood with no hesitation.”

The mask shook his hand, and George gently took it from him, lacing there fingers together encouragingly.

“I know I fucked up talking to him but if he goes near you, or tries to get you exiled further, or anything like that, he’ll be dead. I- I will do what it takes to help you get L’manburg back.”

You bit your lip, still partially holding on to Nick, “Why did you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to add to the stress.”

“Also, you said Wilbur was getting suspicious, and you stopped talking to us for two days.” George pointed out.

You nodded, quietly rubbing at your eyes, “Uh, yeah, uh, so Techno knows.”

Nick stiffened, “What?”

“Technoblade knows about this- uh- us.”

“T- Technoblade, your brother, as in, The Technoblade, Mister violence, and blood god and technoblade never dies, knows about us?” George gulped.

“He only threatened Dream, so don’t worry?” You said sheepishly.

Nick chuckled, “Wonderful, that means we get out with our heads and Dream gets to fight to the death.”

“I don’t see how that’s fair.” Dream pouted.

“Maybe I just thought it better to threaten you cause I know if I tried to take the other ones you’d come for me anyway.” Techno said, striding into the clearing.

The boys sat there looking at him for a moment before he sighed, turning to you, “You better get back inside ‘fore Wil goes insane. An’ you guys better clear out before Tommy sees you and goes berserk.”

Reluctantly your boyfriends nodded, quickly muttering goodbyes and leaving, only slightly in fear of Techno, and you turned to your brother with a sigh, “He can’t keep me locked up forever.”

“He’s worried. Paranoid even, thinks Shlatts gonna send someone to kill you again,” Techno explained, guiding you back towards one of the entrances of the cavern, “The stress is getting to him.”

The days spent in Pogtopia began to blend together, the only memorable ones being the ones that were spent sneaking out and seeing your lovers, though you never excepted to see one of them within the cavern itself.

You had come down one of the narrow walkways of your new home, and when Tommy had grabbed your wrist, hissing “Dream is here! And he’s going to help Wilbur blow up L’manburg!” you were not nearly prepared to see him handing Wilbur a rather large bag.

Wilbur grinned wickedly, “This is perfect.”

“Wilbur,” Your little brothers voice was shaking, “Give me that tnt.”

Dream drew his sword, holding it up almost lazily in Tommy’s direction, “I’m going to have to step in on this one Tommy.”

You could see him smirking under the mask as you pushed Tommy behind you, “Wilbur what are you doing?”

“What needs to be done.” He said coldly, “If I can’t have Manburg no one can have Manburg!”

“And you think blowing up our home is the right move?” You said cautiously.

There was something different in Wilbur’s eyes, “No survivors.”

Techno watched this from his spot on the wall, “Wilbur I think we need to have a discussion, things like this take time to plan. (Y/n) why don’t you escort our guest out.”

You nodded sharply, starting towards the back of the cavern, “This way green boy.”

As soon as you got outside the cave you grabbed his wrist, shoving him against the rock wall, “What the fuck are you thinking?”

The now lopsided mask reviled his cocky smirk, “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

“Shut the fuck up! What are you thinking?” You hissed.

“I’m helping you get back your L’manburg!” He sounded all too happy about it.

“By siding with him? He’s gone manic Clay! He’s fucking insane!”

Dream winced at the words, “He’s your brother. You have to side with him.”

“My brother is gone. I side with that man because I am loyal to my family, so long as Techno and Tommy are with him I am. If there was ever a time for you two to ever get along it would not be this.” You backed away from him.

“(y/n), I’m just trying to help.”

“I know,” You said softly, turning back to the cave entrance, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Wars tomorrow.” George said quietly.

You nodded, carding your hand through his hair, “That it is.”

The month had passed quickly, and after the incident at the festival, and then Quackity’s meeting with Shlatt you seemed to have blinked and the eve of war was upon you.

You had snuck out, now spending your last night before the world changes again with your boys, huddled up together in one of the castles parapets. (It had been quite a shock to you when Dream dethroned Eret)

“We will be on different sides, how will this even play out?” Nick asked.

“Only time will tell.”

Dream, mask long since forgotten to the side, bit his lip, “(y/n), George, I want you to stay out of the fighting.”

“We can handle ourselves.” You argued.

“It’s George’s job to stay neutral, and you’re on your last life. None of us want to lose you.” He said softly, looking over Nick’s head at you.

“I will fight for my country. No one will stop me.”

“Even if Phil came back and told you not too?” Nick asked with a chuckle.

“Well-” You laughed, “I suppose it would depend.”

A while later, you began to head back to Pogtopia, your boys insisting on walking you back.

Upon reaching the cave you kissed each of them, “Until we see what tomorrow brings.”

They gave similar goodbyes, and you darted back into the cavern.

Coming around the corner someone grabbed your wrist, tugging it hard, and you came face to face with Wilbur, “Where the fuck were you?”

“uh- o- out.” You stuttered.

“Out with your boyfriends?” He taughtened, dragging you down through the cavern, past the new rooms that had been carved out recently, “When were you planning on telling us of this little fling?”

“What are you talking about?” Tears sprung to your eyes.

“Oh I know all about you and Dream and Sapnap and George! You and your fucking betrayal! Why the fuck would you try to betray me? I’m your brother!” He exclaimed, practically throwing you into a newly constructed cage.

You dug your nails into your palms, “Wilbur, please.”

“I know it was them who disconnected the TNT, who you keep sneaking out to meet, who you were conspiring against me with!” He locked the cage and you caught a glimpse of Techno, leaning against a wall looking down.

“Wil I never conspired against you!”

“We’ll see about that.” He hissed, “You’ll stay here until this is over. I may fail at regaining my L’manburg but I will not fail to kill those men.”

As he strode away you looked to Techno, “Techno what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he managed before hurrying away.

Tears began to stream down your cheeks as you looked around the abandoned alcove of the cavern, there was no getting out of this.

Quietly you pulled your com tablet from your sleeve, sending a messege to Phil, ‘dad I need help, Wil’s gone insane’

You leaned against the bars of the cell, Pogtopia’s few members had long since left for the battle, and you were still here, trapped where Wilbur had left you, none of your boyfriends were responding to your pings, feeling utterly hopeless.

“(y/n)?” A yell echoed through the cavern.

“Phil!” You called desperately, “I’m in here!”

A few moments later your adoptive father appeared in the doorway, shocked upon seeing the locked cage and your tear stained cheeks, “(y/n).”

You nodded as he quickly began to work at the lock, pulling you into an embrace as soon as the cage opened.

“Dad,” You hiccupped, fighting back a new wave of tears, “He’s insane! He’s gonna try to blow up Manburg again! And he’s gonna try to kill them!”

“Who is?” He asked gently.

“Wilbur! He’s gone mad!”

Phil pulled away from you to look you in the eyes, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, sniffling.

Phil took a deep breath, looking around, “Okay, you get down to where they’re fighting, you try to keep Wilbur distracted once it’s over, I’ll try to think of something to stop the tnt.”

You nodded, quickly forcing yourself up, running out of the cavern.

You hurried through the woods, pushing yourself to go faster, making it to the crest of the hill as people flooded out of the van, cheering, people of Pogtopia, L’manburg and the SMP lands alike.

You charged down the hill, not seeing Wilbur standing to the side.

“Dream! Sapnap! George!” You yelled.

They turned to see you running at them, relived to see you okay, still not understanding the cryptic things Wilbur had been saying.

“(Y/n)-” Dream was cut off a yet another arrow planted its self in your back.

“Love?” You whispered, before crumpling to the ground.

They rushed forward, but it was too late, you were gone, and George early screamed, burring his face in an expressionless Nick’s shoulder.

Dream looked up at Wilbur, whos cross bow was still raised, utterly broken, “What the fuck have you done?”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #dreamwastaken x reader #georgenotfound x reader #sapnap x reader #dream x george x sapnap x reader #dream team x reader #teddy06 writes

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

Text

In Your Hands--Ch. 5 [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4]

[This whole fic is the second chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

[CW: Vague mention of abortion, discussions of not-actually-happening spousal abuse, canon typical classism and anti-sex worker rhetoric, very mild emetophobia warning (nothing actually happens)]

She has a single moment for her sleep-slow brain to think; Madam Jin? Why on earth is she here without sending word? Is there an emergency? Has something happened to Jin Zixuan? before He Si’s voice comes again, more frantic, saying, “Oh--Ah, furen, I don’t think--!”

The door flies open with a bang and Yanli jumps, clutching the makeup removing cloth to her chest. All at once, Madam Jin is here, in her room, ashen and wind scattered, sweeping over in a flood of gold and a thick perfume, “Oh Gods, look at you,” she moans despairingly, gathering up Yanli’s free hand in an iron grip. “How far along are you? No, it doesn’t matter--these things can be dealt with when we return to Koi Tower. You,” she snaps, turning to He Si who is hovering anxiously in the doorway, hands at her mouth. “Begin packing her things.”

What? ...What?

He Si shoots her a furtive look before scurrying to her wardrobe. But her voice is held hostage by her fog-slow mind and she can only blink, stunned. It’s being bowled over by an unstoppable wave; Yanli is towed, bewildered and spinning in its undertow, still scrambling to understand. Madam Jin, however, is rolling right along, petting the back of her hand with her soft, sky-frozen fingers. “Oh, you look awful. I’ll have him gutted, I’ll have them all gutted, how could they do this to you? Men,” she spits the word like a curse, her features twisted into a snarl that reminds Yanli so much of her own mother in a temper. “I came as soon as I heard what my brute of a husband had done, but I nearly qi deviated first. You don’t have to worry, A-Li, I’m going to fix this; he is never going to touch you again. Look at me, child, let me see you.” Every line in her face is etched like agony, like fury as she presses her hand to Yanli’s cheek. “Has he hurt you?”

He? Sect Leader Jin? She hasn’t seen him since the wedding.

In fact, she hasn’t seen or heard from Madam Jin herself since before that, during Yanli’s stay at Koi Tower during the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. She hadn’t attended her wedding.

That had hurt her, for she had always been a dear friend of her mother’s and an auntie to Yanli, always taking an interest in her--though she had always assumed some of that had been as a future mother-in-law. She had wondered if Madam Jin was upset with her for how the engagement had gone and if her absence was her showing disapproval. (Yanli had had to shake herself free of that gnawing guilt whenever she thought about this, reminding herself that it was Jin Zixuan who had rejected the engagement and that even if she could somehow be in trouble for marrying A-Yao, she would never regret it.) When she had diffidently asked after Madam Jin’s absence, Sect Leader Jin had merely smiled widely and waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, she’s out traveling, visiting distant relatives and old friends. Socializing. You know how women are.”

Yanli had thought that she had a much better idea of how women were than Sect Leader Jin might, but had smiled politely, bowed, and accepted this.

Now, she watches helplessly as He Si drags a trunk out from a corner and begins layering her robes into it, sneaking frightened looks back at her mistress. “I don’t....” Yanli manages, voice cracked and thin. “Jin-furen, I’m not--I don’t--”

Madam Jin nods, her smile wobbly and proud, as if Yanli is being very brave. “It’s alright, dear. I’m here now. I’m here to take you with me, A-Li, you don’t have to stay here another minute.”

What? As she opens her mouth to protest, to ask what on earth is going on, all that Madam Jin had said finally manages to squeeze itself into her sluggish brain. Cold rushes over her like ice water.

Madam Jin hadn’t known about the marriage. Sect Leader Jin hadn’t told her, he had done it behind her back. She thinks Yanli was forced into this. She thinks A-Yao is hurting her. She thinks she’s rescuing her. The frantic speeding of her heart spins her head, as if the room is revolving around her, her thoughts a jumble. “No, Jin-furen, you don’t--you don’t understand--”

“Shhh, A-Li, I understand more than you know. The way the world uses women is not new to me. You’re not alone in this.”

“No, I--I know that I’m not--”

Madam Jin nods gently, encouragingly, sending the beautiful golden pendant from her hair stick swinging as she strokes Yanli’s cheek with the backs of her fingers. “Yes, exactly, you’re not. I’m here for you. I will make this right.”

It’s making her head throb, this feeling closing in around her; being surrounded by her familiar floral perfume, being talked to as if she were young and foolish, as if she has no idea what is good for her. She feels herself getting smaller and smaller until she's barely there at all, her voice barely heard. Pitiful. They never say as much, but that's what they must think of her. Pitiful and silly. A child again.

She hadn't even realized how real she has been feeling these days until she finds herself back in this sad little grey box where all she can do is sit and be rescued and planned for. Planned around. She feels the scattered beginnings of her own indignation wilting like unwatered flowers, greying, quieting. The words cowering in her throat. She can feel herself folding as she always has, as she's been taught, to stern women who know better.

She mustn't. Curling her fingers, she grasps Madam Jin’s hand back, willing her to hear and believe her because the story she seems to have written inside her own head sounds too awful to bear. “No...no, Jin-furen, you must understand--I chose him, I agreed, I’m--I’m--”

“Oh, child, I’m not blaming you, there is no way you could have known.”

How many times can she say no and have it fall like insignificant little drops onto a blazing inferno? How many times can it not matter before it’s no use to even speak at all? Trapped between her traitorous, cowardly tongue and the force of nature that is Madam Jin. She tries again anyway. “No, he’s wonderful, he takes care of me--”

But Madam Jin’s eyes have fallen to her wrist and a swell of rage-filled-power rises from her like simmering heat. “Is that what this is?” she hisses, and for all that she looks about to spit sparks, her hands are careful when she cradles Yanli’s hand and pushing her sleeve back to bare the faint bloom of muddy purple that rings the thin skin of her wrist.

The wrist that A-Yao had caught when she had lost her balance during their dance.

She hadn’t even noticed it bruising--it hadn’t hurt, it hadn’t. Her skin has just always been easily bruised, ever since she was a child. The panic is climbing her throat at the way this all seems to be hurtling down a cliffside with the trajectory of a bag of rocks, squeezing it almost as tight as her chest and she has to fight the urge to snatch her wrist back. “Furen, no, he didn’t hurt me--I tripped.”

He Si is frozen, one of Yanli’s gauzy over robes squeezed in shaking hands. Her eyes are darting between them, the ends of her pink ribbons quivering.

Madam Jin is bristling, the ozone tang of her rage on Yanli’s tongue, vibrating her skull like the tongue of a bell. “This is a handprint! A-Li, look at yourself! Look at what he’s done to you! You look like you’re on the verge of death!”

“I’m not, I’m--it’s my own fault, I drank too much yesterday, I pushed myself too hard!” she cries because she knows how she looks when she’s sick and hungover, but it is not her husband’s fault. “He would never--”

But no. Madam Jin’s eyes have darkened to thunderous “Absolutely none of this is your fault, A-Li, do you hear me? None of it.”

“It was an accident! He didn’t mean to--”

“You think no woman has ever thought that of a husband? That she has never blamed herself? There is no such thing as a decent man, A-Li--no less one that’s a bastard whoreson.”

It rings in her ears. Stealing the breath from her parted lips, winding her more utterly than her rage had. A knife in the ribs, clenched in her insides. If these words hurt A-Yao half as badly as this hurts now, Yanli has no idea how he is still living after all these years. They are horrid. As if he is not human. She should have felt angry; instead, she’s just betrayed.

I didn’t know you were like this.

She stares at the contempt for her husband coloring her auntie’s familiar and beloved face, unable to find the words she needs. Madam Jin softens, the press of her power abating as she strokes her hair. It raises ugly goosebumps down the back of her neck, this touch. She hates the way she is crowded close, stroking and coaxing and soothing--hates it in a way she never has before.

“You've always been so filial but there is no way your mother would have allowed this to happen if she were still alive. She would have never wanted this for you, A-Li, you know that.”

More pain. Swimming, nauseating pain because, yes, she knows--her mother would have said such terrible things about her A-Yao. Out of concern and propriety and love but they would have been vicious, just like when she had talked about A-Xian. Worse, even. She’s hearing their echoes now, through time, from Madam Jin, of one mind and memory.

If her mother was still alive, A-Yao would not be her husband. She knows this for a fact.

Madam Jin seems to take her struggling silence as encouragement and continues with new insistence, like she thinks she’s getting through to her.

“And this is not what I would ever want for you either, child, whether you decide to marry my idiot of a son or not. I love you like my own daughter, and you deserve so much more than gutter trash. You don’t have to force yourself to suffer through--”

Sudden, molten rage spurts up from Yanli’s stomach up her spine and to her head until she feels incandescent with it. “He is not trash,” escapes her, low and trembling. Her hands are balled into fists in her lap, despite Madam Jin’s gentle hand around her wrist.

Pity floods Madam Jin’s face. Yanli could scream. “Shh, shhh, shhh, A-Li, it’s alright. Oh, you never could say a cross word about anyone. He can’t hear you. Neither can your brother or that awful Wei Ying. It’s just us. You don’t have to be brave anymore.”

Her pulse is throbbing in her head, her chest, the tips of her fingers, the soles of her feet. “I’m not. A-Yao is kind, he is good, he is--”

“Oh, A-Li, please, don’t you see what Guangshan was doing? It was an insult, him being sent here. He sent you this--this beast instead of taking you in and giving you the protection you deserve and that idiot of a brother of yours accepted and I will never forgive them for it. You were supposed to be--”

A-Yao, Xianxian, and now A-Cheng. No. No more. She will take no more. “Jin-furen,” she says, slowly, staring at the white hills of her clenched knuckles. “Please don’t talk about my husband that way.”

Madam Jin insists, “You don’t want someone like this in your line--he’s probably diseased! Think of your Clan! Think of the children! Your mother tolerated Wei Ying because of his parentage, but she would draw the line at--”

“Jin-furen,” she says, her voice ringing now, raising up her gaze to stare into the woman’s startled eyes. “Please do not ever talk about my husband that way. Or my family.”

Finally, Madam Jin falls into intent silence, watching her from dark circled eyes. As if she’s trying to find a way around her words. Find out how she’s lying or hiding or being bullied into this.

And it makes Yanli burn.

“I love him,” she says with a conviction that sings down through her chest like the Jiang clarity bell that is laid out carefully on the edge of her makeup table, waiting to be worn. Shining.

Because she had been wondering before and is certain now. Because there is no fear or doubt when she says it, because it is as easy as breathing and feels just as true--she loves him, not just because he needs it and deserves it but because he is hers and she is his. And she’s so angry that it’s Madam Jin and not A-Yao who is the first to hear it.

Madam Jin lets out a disbelieving sound through her nose, eyes pitying again. “Oh, A-Li, this isn’t love. Not with someone like him.”

He has never made me feel as small as you are now. And I don’t need to convince you.

Yanli stands, though her head swims and her knees buckle, vision sparkling at the edges with fury and vertigo. Madam Jin also stands, grasping Yanli’s elbows with worry crowding her face when she sways. “Child--”

“Jin-furen, I think you have misunderstood what is going on here. I’m not leaving.” She looks to He Si, who is still by the trunk, watching with huge eyes. “Please put those back.” The maid slowly opens the wardrobe back up without looking away.

“A-Li, be reasonable.” Madam Jin sounds alarmed. “Is it because you are with child? Is that why you’re being so--?”

“I am not.” It is none of her business whether or not they have indulged in their marriage bed or if they ever will. It is absolutely no one’s business at all. This current is coursing through her like a clear river--higher than rage, higher than panic, brighter than the sun. It is fast and her ears ring and she feels flushed and close to collapse but she is finished with this entire conversation. She is the Lady of the Jiang. She is one of Lotus Pier’s hosts. This is her room. She turns her gaze back to Madam Jin, sees her distress and can’t find it in herself to feel guilt. “I thank you for your concern, Jin-furen. But this is a Clan matter.” She keeps her voice chill and polite.

“A-Li, you’re being too kind for your own good.”

“Thank you, furen. I’m not.”

“I’m not going to let you do this to yourself!”

Yanli straightens her spine, lifts her chin, and says with the most arctic voice she can manage without being blatantly rude, “On the contrary, Jin-furen, it is already done. And I have never been so happy.” Before Madam Jin can respond, she continues. “You must be tired from your trip. We will find you a room so that you can recover for your departure tomorrow.”

Madam Jin is standing stiff, staring at her with ill concealed frustration and concern. Then, she announces to the room, “It has been years since I’ve visited Lotus Pier. I will stay a while and make certain that Ziyuan-jie’s home and family are being cared for properly.” Her gaze never leaves Yanli’s face. She looks as though she is planning a kidnapping behind her eyes.

Yanli cannot make her leave; this fury would only go so far when her body is already about to fail and when being obedient and filial were the quenchants of her forging. Madam Jin is her elder and the wife of an allied Sect Leader. And so she merely gives a jerky curtsy and glances aside at He Si. The girl nods and bows, gesturing past herself to the door with a nervous smile. “This way, furen?”

Madam Jin sweeps out and down the hall with stung dignity, head held high. Yanli manages to totter over to the doors on shaky legs to close them, but ends up leaning on one to catch her speeding breath. Her entire face is buzzing, sweat beading at her hairline. There are 2 lotus petals still stirring in the eddies from Madam Jin’s wake in the corridor, their delicate little curves swirling like boats in a breeze. The little things her own auntie had said kept washing over her; the way she had assumed Yanli’s hypothetical pregnancy would have been a problem she had the right to ‘take care of’; the immediate and easy dismissal of Yanli’s truth; insulting her brothers. She feels like throwing up.

The only person she had spoken highly of was who she thinks Yanli is. And within those confines, Yanli finds herself twisting. She has always wanted to be good, to be loved. But not like this, some poor doll in need of a rescue. Not as some prize that had been gifted to the 'wrong man' when all that made her good and whole were her people.

Her people. Madam Jin has just shown herself to no longer be trustworthy enough to be one of them. The severing leaves her watery kneed, but fierce in her conviction. She has lost nearly everything, before. She will never allow herself to even come close again. It is a small price.

“Shijie?”

At Xianxian’s voice, she looks up, finds him striding down the hall, face creased in worry. She manages a weak smile and reaches out when he comes near enough, letting herself lean heavily into his arms with a gust of breath. “Xianxian. I’m alright, I’m just...need to sit down.” Things are wavering, as if they’re underwater, her head pulsing with pain.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Are you sure?” he asks, alarmed as he dabs at her face with his sleeve, bearing her weight as she shuffles back toward her chair. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Here, over here, sit. Was it dinner last night? You don’t usually drink.”

She does sit, more heavily than she would have liked, and closes her eyes as he takes one of her fans from her drawer and crouches before her, wafting cooler air over her face. After a moment to catch her breath, she looks at him and gives a small smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with A-Yao?”

He reaches up with his other sleeve to gently blot her forehead again. “We got back a while ago. Yao-ge told me to find you because you were upset. Did I just pass the reason in the hall? Shall I go chase her out for you?” He gave her his impish smirk, the one that makes her laugh. But she hears the weight of the offer behind the joking.

As gratifying as that might be to her right at this moment, with this indignant anger still gushing through her, she knows better than to let herself get swept up in petty revenge. And she knows A-Xian’s temper. Better not tell him at all how much Madam Jin had upset her. She shakes her head and takes his free hand, holding it in her lap like an anchor as her heart slowly calms. “No...no, I’ll take care of it.” She simply breathes for a moment as she settles back, then pets his cheek when she sees him eyeing her doubtfully.

“Shijieeee,” he whines. “How can I help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong? How can you leave Xianxian in the dark?”

There is no need for anyone else to know the vile things Madam Jin had said. She will get better at this, hammering herself into a shield for them--for all of them. “It’s nothing worth repeating, nosy Xianxian.” As she speaks, she pokes his nose gently and he scrunches it up.

“Was it about Yao-gege?”

He knows her too well. She sighs. “It was.”

It’s beginning to dawn on her how blind she has been to A-Yao’s plight. The way no one from the Jin had so much as written to him in the month or so that they have been married, as far as she knew. The way Jin Guangshan had talked around him during the arrangement of their engagement, as if barely worth mentioning. And now Madam Jin had surely never shown him any kindness, if they had ever met. No mother, and his father’s family disdainful, shoving him out as soon as they gained him.

And so who in the world has A-Yao had to stand with him? No one? No one at all? Where are his sworn brothers, Chifeng-zun and Zewu-jun? Where is Nie Huaisang, if they had been so close, as A-Cheng had claimed? The very thought has her stomach rolling. This is unacceptable. She is going to fix this.

“A-Xian, we’re a family,” she says, fiercely, leaning forward to take his face in her hands. “You, A-Cheng, A-Yao, and I. We are never going to be parted from each other. We’re all we have left in the world. We have to be there for each other.”

He blinks, fan freezing. Then he nods, slowly. “Sure, Shijie. Of course. Always.”

“I’m not ever going to let anyone hurt you.”

His smile flicks on. “Wow, whatever Jin-furen said really got you upset--you sure you don’t want me to kick her out for you? I’ll do it, you know, no problem. You know how I feel about upstart Jin’s annoying you.”

His familiar teasing eases her stinging soul until she smiles again, brushing back one of the wisps of hair that frames his face. “I know. But no. Just...just be kind to A-Yao around her. Be respectful.”

“I’m always respectful!”

Tugging his hair, she says, “Of course, of course, that’s why he was afraid you were going to try to push him in the lake.” When he ducks his head with a sneaking grin, she plucks the fan from his fingers and bops his head with it. “I need you to get my letter writing set for me, can you do that?”

He rises, rubbing the spot as if it had hurt--but he eyes her dubiously. “Shouldn’t you sleep, Shijie? Get some food? I can make you soup!”

Her head was indeed still swirling and pounding, and at the mention of food, it twinges--though she’s not certain if it is with hunger or further nausea. So she shakes her head mournfully, sweeping the fan slowly beneath her chin. “I don’t think my stomach could take the spice of your cooking right now, Xianxian. But I would love it if you brought me some tea when you come back.”

And because he is wonderful he does, a pot of chrysanthemum tea that has clearly been chilled by one of his talismans, because it still tastes fresh, fully steeped, and delightfully cool. He also has added a bowl of lotuses floating in water on the tray he sets before her, presumably from his adventure.

“Did you have fun ‘playing’ with A-Yao?” she asks as she unloads the tray onto her desk.

“Oh that,” he rolls his eyes performatively, collapsing on his back onto her bed. “Yeah, we talked a bit, picked those. But he wouldn’t get in the water, even though it was ridiculously hot. Really, Shijie, your husband has no idea how to play!”

“Well,” she smooths the paper out before her with the slim bars of boxwood, carved in relief with cranes and bamboo--another present from A-Yao. “Then you will just have to be patient and teach him how.”

And she begins to write. Xianxian doesn’t last longer than halfway through her first letter before becoming bored and wandering back out with a cursory, “Call me if you need me, Shijie!” Condensation slowly beads on the teapot and cup beside her, and the water of the lotus bowl sparks amber in the sinking sun through her windows. Even though she has only been conscious a scant few hours of the day, she feels exhaustion through every ounce of her body and brain, sleep calling her back to her bed. But she fights it, lights the lantern on her desk, and keeps writing.

Just as she’s finishing the last letter, the door opens. She brightens and turns, mouth open to greet A-Yao--but it’s He Si, slinking in the door, looking shamefaced. “Furen.”

“Oh, A-Si. How did it go?”

Strangely, the girl's eyes well with tears and she falls to her knees. “Furen, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, I panicked, I just--!”

The edge to her voice is sending spikes of pain through the backs of Yanli’s eyes and she winces, putting a hand to her temple. He Si sees and claps a hand over her mouth, eyes huge. “A-Si, it’s fine, truly. I felt badly having left you with her when she was bound to be upset. Are you alright?”

Giving a watery nod, she clambers back up to her feet, wiping at her eyes. “Yes, furen. She just wanted me gone, so I went and organized the reception of her luggage and maids that came later. I meant to be back sooner,” she adds miserably as she begins to unload the abandoned trunk. “Everything the Jin do is so complicated. Is there anything you need? Something I can get you? Medicine?”

“I’m going back to sleep soon, so maybe something for pain, please. When you’re done, you can take these letters to be delivered and...well….” She adds, shyly. “Maybe my husband? I thought you were him, coming in. I thought...he would have returned by now.”

The maid pauses in her hanging of a lavender robe and thinks. “I believe I saw him in his office working as I was coming back. Should I go get him?”

“Oh, no, if he’s busy, I can wait. I was just...I miss him.”

Timidly, He Si offers her a smile. “If I may...you were so brave today, furen. I never would have been able to talk back to Jin-furen like that. Defending your husband’s name….” She sighs, eyes dreamy. “It was so romantic.”

Yanli hides a smile behind her sleeve. “Ah, well....thank you, A-Si. I don’t think you need to be told that what was said in here is not to be spread to anyone else.”

In response, He Si pretends to close a padlock at the corner of her lips and mimes throwing the key over her shoulder. “Not a word, furen.”

The girl had proved herself to be discrete in her service so far. And so a corner of her heart feels placated. But something is starting to tug from the back of her mind, like she has forgotten something or overlooked it. It niggles there, like a fretful worm, even as He Si finishes returning all her displaced clothing and spirits the letters off. It starts to seep in when she strokes down the smooth lotus petals idly with her finger. A-Xian had said that A-Yao had sent him because she was upset. How had he known? And shouldn’t he have visited her before now, since he had been so worried?

Lotus petals...there had been lotus petals just like these on the floor outside of her room. It was not unheard of, on some windy days, but these had been fresh, as fresh as these very flowers on her desk....Oh. Oh no. Worry clutches her stomach in its sick claws and she hides her face in her hands with a low groan. Her stupid, slow mind. She had just said she would fix A-Yao’s loneliness but then had left him to it without knowing. How much had he heard? Or how little? He Si hadn’t mentioned seeing him in the hall when she left with Madam Jin--had he gone before her declaration? Had he only heard her half hearted attempts of defending before she got her proverbial feet underneath her? Just her horrible, stunned silence?

No wonder he isn’t here with his poor, tender heart. It might just be crushed in his chest with how poorly she had managed to defend him. She hastily tucks her feet into slippers and totters out.

The walk to his office is thankfully fairly short, if dizzying. Two passing servants hurry to support her elbows when they see her hesitating at the courtyard entrance, where there are no more walls to support her. She releases them just outside his door, where she can peer around the crack. At this, she scolds herself for being so childish and cowardly--but she needs to know how to approach. A-Yao is slippery when he’s hurting and she wants him to actually hear what she has to say.

In the warm lantern light of his office, he is stoic and straight backed, reading something on the desk while he himself is unreadable. His eyes are dark, his mouth a straight line. Hidden tension. He doesn’t look shattered and betrayed. But then, he never does. If he has truly heard all that she thinks he has, she would have almost (almost) preferred to find him bereft, to fully see the depth of what sort of devastation had been brought to her love so she can soothe it all. She knocks uncertainly, sees him raise his head, face unchanging. “Come in.”

When she opens the door, he smiles--and for a moment, hope pokes its little head up. Maybe he hadn’t been there at all, maybe she’s mistaken and he had been protected from Madam Jin’s vitriol.

But no. That smile is empty, just like his eyes. There is no warmth, no blooming before her as there has been. He is hiding. He opens his mouth to say something, but she blurts out first, “I’m so sorry, A-Yao.”

He blinks, closes his mouth and settles back, as if curious. “Whatever for?”

“For what you heard.”

That smile twitches at the corner, briefly and she can almost see him weighing the option of pretending, of asking what she means. Instead, the smile widens into dimples and he shakes his head, as if rueful. “I’m the one who should apologize. I never meant to eavesdrop, I was returning after my outing with Wei Wuxian and I happened to have abysmal timing. I promise that I don’t make a habit of listening outside of doors, I would hate for you to think that of me--”

Her heart aches. “A-Yao--”

Doggedly, he continues, smile unwavering. “How are you feeling? I’m surprised to see you up, you said you would sleep most of the day.”

“I did, I just...I had to come and see you.”

“Do you need anything? I can send someone to stand watch by your door all night in case you do. You would only have to call them in.”

That made it sound like he wasn’t planning to come to bed at all. This morning he had to be pushed to leave her side. Is he mistrusting her? Does he think he is unwanted? Is he isolating himself? “No, A-Si is bringing me something that will help me sleep. A-Yao, I need to know, are you alright?”

“Perfectly. Do we know how long we will be accommodating Jin-furen?”

“I...no, hopefully it’s not very long.”

“I shall have to tell the kitchens to make some Lanling delicacies, then.”

“A-Yao…” Her declaration is laying on her tongue, heavy, wanting to be given to him like a treasure. But she sees his shiny eyes and his shiny smile and the way he is doing his deft little flicks of conversation away from himself. Knows that he would probably take it as pity or placation and not truth. He will not believe that she loves him if she tells him now. “How much did you hear?”

“I feel terrible even mentioning it, Jiang-furen, it was a lapse in judgement.”

A pang in her chest, right where the knowledge of love had tolled earlier and even though it is still almost stiflingly warm, even after sun down, she suddenly feels very cold and alone. “Don’t,” she says, softly. She manages to kneel before his desk (he had tensed to rise, to help her, she had seen it) and takes one of his hands where they are placed just so on the desk before him. “Don’t leave.”

He blinks, some of that shell shifting in surprise. “I would never.”

“Don’t pull back like that. Please. I’m A-Li.” She lifts his hand, puts his palm to her cheek. “I’m not Jiang-furen. You know that.”

He is quiet, face...held. Held on, held together. Considering. “A-Li,” he repeats her, not quite a question, not quite a confirmation. His fingertips shift, flexing slightly against her cheek, his thumb gentle at the corner of her eye.

“Yes. A-Li. I want...I want to know how much you heard so I can know how much to explain, I….”

Something flickers in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain,” he says, voice low. “I shouldn’t have listened. It was a private conversation.”

“That’s not at all what I’m worried about.”

“...Then what are you worried about?”

“I...that you have been hurt. That you feel like you somehow need to stay away from me. Because you don’t and--and I don’t want you to.”

He is silent, dark eyes completely opaque in the glow of the lantern light. But his mouth has thinned. Has she struck something? Yanli grasps at this like someone drowning. “A-Yao, what she said was horrible and she is wrong. I don’t agree with a single word. You’re not...I can’t even repeat what she said, but you’re not any of those things. And I never--I never meant to be silent, I just….I’m not good with words and when I’m tired like this...I get...foggy.” Her tongue feels slippery and out of control, like she’s trying to shove the words out as quickly as she can, to get them into this sliver that has opened in him before it closes again. “I don’t know when you left. Did you hear me say that I’ve never been so happy? Did you hear that--” It’s sliding around her mouth, bumping her teeth because she wants him to have it, to be able to hold it. “I said I love you. I love you, A-Yao.” It spills.

And he freezes.

And she knows it’s a mistake.

He smiles with dimples. Closes. Whatever part of him had been listening and believing her was gone, retreating entirely. He turns his hand from her cheek, drawing hers down to the table to squeeze and release. “It’s alright, A-Li. I’m not upset. You don’t have to do that.”

Lie, lie, and lie. “A-Yao, I mean it,” she whispers desperately around the lump in her throat, her fingers in an artless tangle across whatever missives he was reading. “I do.”

His smile widens and his eyes do not join it, over bright and frozen. He swallows and says nothing. Tears crowd her eyes, hot, blurring. She swipes uselessly at them with her sleeve. It’s not that she’s hurt by his reaction. She doesn’t blame him at all. It’s not that she thinks he doesn’t care for her. It’s not rejection, they have both come too far and shared too much for her to believe that, even if she might feel its blade.

It’s just that it’s so much at once; having a horrible pain day and Madam Jin and A-Yao hurt and she can’t take it back and give it to him at the right time and she’s so tired. She had first said it in anger, and now desperation. This isn’t at all what she had wanted.

She’s doing it again. Never enough at the right time to protect those she loves. Never able to voice what was needed. She should have been able to prevent this. His hands are fists in his lap and his lips have whitened, smile now a sick thing that isn’t even trying to be convincing as he stares at the table. “A-Li--” he says in a croak and she has to save him, he has been hurt too much for today.

So she talks over him, trying to school her breath not to catch. “D-do you think you’ll be coming to bed tonight?”

“I have...work.”

Nodding, she begins to push herself up to her feet with great difficulty, now that her legs are pins and water. He’s up in an instant beside her, looking concerned, but the way that he hesitates before touching her breaks her heart--so she reaches out and takes his hand. It’s a moment before she steadies, leaning against his chest and it strikes her again just how nice and warm he smells. She wishes he would come and let her snuggle up to him to sleep. She wishes he had never heard such horrible things.

Does she beg him to stay? Or does she let him come in his own time?

“Will you walk me back?” Yanli asks in a small voice. “I don’t think I can make it on my own...my knees….”

“...Of course.”

The walk back to her room is just as slow as the walk from it. Yanli wishes that it was anything like the lovely drunken stroll they had had the night before--when she had laughed at the stars and basked in his affection. He’s closed up tight, now, and she doesn’t know if she will ever be able to pry him out of his shell again. She has to believe that she can. That his fragile trust wasn’t irreparably broken. All she can do is stand with open arms and hope he knows it’s safe to return to them.

He supports her to their bed and helps her sit. And he pauses, gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips, and for a breathless, hopeful moment, she waits. And then he bows--not a full salute, but an inclining of his head, his hands fisted in his robes. “Goodnight, A-Li.”

Her heart drops down into mush. “Goodnight, A-Yao.”

She will not push him before he’s ready. She can wait until he trusts her words again and she will tell him as many times as he needs. They have time.

They have time.

“A-Yao?”

He pauses at the door, head turning until she can see a sliver of his profile, still and closed.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. I’ll miss you.”

His fingers scrunch up in his dark blue sleeve, the corners of his lip pulling down. But he ducks his head wordlessly and disappears around the doorframe.

Luckily, He Si returns with her pain medicine only minutes after A-Yao has left, because her legs and head are throbbing. Luckier still that the girl seems to have the good sense to not ask why she’s desperately and unsuccessfully stifling tears.

#IT IS COMPLETE #Trauma trauma everywhere and not a healthy coping mechanism in sight #Things were rolling along so smoothly up until now too #peony to lotus #my stuff #my fic #yaoli #Yanli: oh no this person's actions are as good as my fault because I didn't know how to stop them and they hurt my loved ones :(((#JGY: :) [mouth closed screaming]#Also this fic WILL go back to fluffier pastures with some emotional h/c pretty soon--I'm not about wallowing in misunderstanding #They each have trauma and unhealthy tendencies to work out but it's not going to be an agonizingly long time promise

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scarletjedi · 3 years

Text

Untamed Time Travel Fix-It Fic But Make it Mingcheng part 3B

@piyo-13

Part 1: The Setup

Part 2A: Gusu Revisited

Part 2B: Gusu Unleashed!

Part 3A: The Return of the Plot

PART 3B: THE ROAD TO WAR

Things happen pretty quickly after that.

The Nie Soldiers accompany Lan Wangji back to Gusu, beating Wen Xu’s forces there, warning Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen of the coming attack. When Wen Zu arrives, Gusu Lan is ready. With help from the Nie and Lan Wangji, the Wen are beaten back at the gates. Wen Xu retreats to regroup - setting up a siege. The Cloud recesses don’t burn, but they are trapped.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian return to Lotus Pier, intending to begin building up subtle defences thinking it’s better to not tip their hand that they know an attack is coming. They are welcomed back, but find Lotus Pier preoccupied: Yanli had asked Madam Yu to arrange a date for the wedding, now that she had spent (supervised) time with Jin Zixuan and they found themselves to be most compatible. This puts Madame Yu into a good enough mood that she doesn’t scold them (much) for coming home the long way ‘round. With the piers distracted, it’s pretty easy for Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to begin to build their defenses. Wei Wuxian begins to worry about Lan Wangji - he was supposed to meet them in Lotus Pier once the Wens were defeated.

An auspicious date is picked for Yanli’s wedding — and then comes the summons for the Wen Indoctrination. Their defences aren’t finished, but it’s more than they had before — and with luck, they would have time after they return.

The circumstances are different, but the power dynamic is still very much the same. With Gusu under siege instead of burt, the threat is not so absolute, but it’s not enough yet to trigger a full on push back, no matter how much Nie Mingjue campaigns for it (and plans. He has no desire to end up without Baxia at Wen Ruohan’s feet again, no thank you — and no desire to let Meng Yao out of his sight).

Jiang Fengmain and Madame Yu fight over sending Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian again, but this time, when Wei Wuxian begins to sink into himself, Jiang Cheng grips his knee where they can’t see, offering his support — and warning him to be silent when it looks like he’d talk to defend Jiang Cheng.

“It’s an impossible situation,” Jiang Cheng says, voice level, and the steel in his voice is enough to make both of his parents stop. “If we go, we’re their hostages. If we stay, we draw their forces down on us like Gusu Lan — and as strong as our rivers are, we don’t have a mountain to keep them at bay. Are we ready to fight off the Wen army?” He looked between his parents. “I know we are strong, and I know we cause no offence enough to be a target, but we are a target. I am willing to go to Qishan, to buy us time at home to prepare.” He looked at Wei Wuxian, scowling when he saw how proud Wei Wuxian looked.

The night before they leave, Jiang Cheng is restless. He knows he’ll get little rest in the coming weeks, but he can’t seem to quiet his mind. So, he does what he has always done, and slips out to the end of the moonlit pier.

It’s not quiet on the water, but the sounds are gentle: water lapping at the pylons, dragonflies buzzing, a frog croaking. It settles him, and he sits with his feet dangling over the darkened water.

He hears his mother approach - a courtesy. She wants him to know she’s coming, and he decides to wait. She is alone, without Jinzou and Yinzou, and that is enough to make him pause.

He looked at her, curious, when she sits next to him, but she doesn’t say anything, eyes on the moon.

So, he says nothing either. They sit in silence for several minutes. Long enough that Jiang Cheng is getting ready to excuse himself, when his mother holds out her hand and waits.

Frowning, Jiang Cheng takes her hand. She grips him right, suddenly, and it’s a good thing because he tries to pull away in surprise when Zidian slides off of her hand and onto his.

“Mother?!” The word is choked between his teeth, his memory of the last time she had given him Zidian burning fresh in his memory. “I can’t—“

“You will,” she said, cutting him off. “And you will bring it home once more.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. “I will.”

She nodded once, and wrapped her arms around him, pressing his cheek to her chest. His mother could be hot tempered, sharp to the point of cruelty, but she was his mother and she loved him fiercely. Jiang Cheng held on.

They go, with extra provisions hidden on them, trying to figure out a way around giving over their swords - in all of their planning about the war, that was a detail that they had missed.

Their arrival in Qishan is a little rougher, with the Wen Army engaged rather than victorious, but it still matches pretty evenly to their memories — including the moment when Wen guards drag Lan Wangji up the stairs, alone. Jiang Cheng has to hold Wei Wuxian back, because Gusu wasn’t supposed to have fallen.

When Lan Wangji is close enough, Wei Wuxian still leans in to whisper at him. “Lan Zhan!” But before he can say more than that, Lan Wangji reaches out and cups the side of Wei Wuxian’s face his his hand — it’s shockingly bold, and Jiang Cheng has to stamp down the knee-jerk reaction he has to watching his brother’s shameless romance with his husband - and it’s worth it to hear Jin Zixuan choke behind him, and watch Nie Huaisang hide his laughter behind a furiously moving fan.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, and that must have meant something to Wei Wuxian, because he smiled widely, even when the guards dragged them apart.

In the end, there was no way for them to get around it, and their swords were taken from them. Later that night, when the guards had passed, they gathered in the rooms Jiang Cheng shared with Wei Wuxian — all except Lan Wangji, who had been placed under guard, which made Wei Wuxian twitchier than normal. Jin Zixuan was the one pacing, however, clearly discomforted by his lack of sword, even though he had lived through this once before and knew exactly where they were being kept.

“Jin-xiong,” Nie Huaisang whined, “Please sit down, you are making me dizzy.”

Jin Zixuan barely spares him a glance. He hadn’t been any better about being without Suihua the first time around, but at least he wasn’t bothering poor Mianmian with it this time. The fact that she hadn’t strangled him before they made it to the Xanwu’s cave...

“Let him be,” Wei Wuxian said. He had finally collapsed backwards onto his bed, next to where Nie Huaisang was fanning himself. His arm was draped dramatically over his eyes and Nie Huaisang fanned him for a moment, in sympathy. “If he wants to waste his energy, that’s on him.”

“Oh?” Nie Huaisang asked, fake-innocent enough that Jiang Cheng turned to watch. “But Wei-xiong, didn’t you say that—”

Whatever “Wei-xiong” said, they would never know, because a knock sounded at the door. Almost as if they really were still teenagers, the four time travelers exchanged a panicked “oh shit!” look.

“Don’t just stand there, hide!” Jiang Cheng hissed, and the knock sounded again — this time, with an accompanying, low: “Wei-gonzi? It’s me!”

“Wen Ning!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, bounding off of the bed.

“Wei-gonzi?” Jiang Cheng protested, though there was little force behind it. “It’s my room too.”

Wei Wuxian ushered Wen Ning inside quickly, and shut the door behind him.

“I don’t have much time,” Wen Ning began, before Wei Wuxian could speak. “But I brought — ” He reached into his robes and pulled out a Qiankun pouch, pushing it into Wei Wuxian’s hands.

“Hey, food!” Wei Wuxian said, peering inside. He reached in as if to take something, and Jiang Cheng snatched it away. “Hey!”

“They’re feeding us now,” Jiang Cheng said. “We should save this for when they stop.” He turned to Wen Ning with a short bow. “Thank you, Wen Ning.”

Wen Ning nodded. “There’s medicine, too. Pills to restore qi, to stop bleeding and prevent infection.” He turned back to Wei Wuxian. “I spoke to Huanguan Jun,” he said, and that had Wei Wuxian’s full attention. “He’s not uninjured, but he has no broken bones. The official story is that he was captured outside of the Cloud Recesses and sent as a warning and as leverage, but he says it was a plan to get here, to help with the Xuanwu.”

“Does he have a plan to return our swords?” Jin Zixuan asked, and — well, it’s an understandable question. None of them had figured it out, after all, but Jiang Cheng’s hope lasted only the moment before Wen Ning shook his head.

“We did it last time,” Wei Wuxian said. “Injured and with makeshift weapons. We can do it again.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nie Huaisang said. “I want no part of that.”

Last time, Nie Huaisang managed to faint just before the night hunt that ended in the Xuanwu and their escape, and — well, to be honest, Jiang Cheng never actually found out how Nie Huaisang made it home. It wasn’t like the Wens would have sent him back after sending the other young masters to their deaths.

He didn’t escape it this time, marching sullenly along with them. He whined often enough that his feet hurt that Wen Qing managed to convince Wen Chao to call a halt so she could see to them. Judging by the way she paused when he took off his boots, his feet were not nearly in as poor condition as his complaints made them sound. Still — everyone would be better off for a break, and without Lan Wangji’s leg —

Ah.

“You’re a menace,” he murmured, leaning against he tree that Nie Huaisang sat beneath. Nie Huaisang flicked open his fan, holding it to shade his face.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said, and Jiang Cheng snorted in amusement.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jiang Cheng kept his voice low, barely letting his mouth move. “You weren’t here last time. How did you get home?”

“Oh, Meng Yao let me out,” Nie Huaisang said. Jiang Cheng stared at him, but Nie Huaisang didn’t look up. “It was before he came to Wen Ruohan’s attention. I’m sure, if he’d already been granted any sort of position within his court, I’d have been left there to rot until Da-ge came to get me.”

But, they had changed things. Meng Yao had never killed that general. He was never banished from the Unclean Realm, and never went to the Wen Sect. Nie Huaisang had no man on the inside, and therefore decided to face the Xanwu of Slaughter rather than find another way out of Nightless City.

Nie Huaisang was a little bit terrifying, and continued to be terrifying all the way until they were in the Xanwu’s cave and fighting both it and the Wens. Not that Jiang Cheng was paying that much attention to him, being that he was currently using Zidian to strangle the life out of Wen Zuhilu much more quickly than he would have liked given the threat-rich environment he was in — but he was aware enough to his surrounding to know that Nie Huaisang’s ever-present fan also doubled as a fucking battle fan which had to have been a later-in-life development for his pre-time-travel self because what the fuck Nie Huaisang!

Other bits of information flashed through his awareness — Mianmian disarming that terrible Wang Lingjiao — Jin Zixuan fighting surprisingly well with a sword taken from a fallen Wen disciple — Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian fighting back to back — the Xuanwu of Slaughter eating Wen Chao —

That was enough to make Jiang Cheng drop his hold on Zidian, dropping Wen Zuhilio to the ground as he stared at where the Xanwu of Slaughter had it’s head reared back as it gobbled up Wen Chao like a snake!

“Oh, gross...” Wei Wuxian muttered.

Wen Zuhilu’s sword lay at Jiang Cheng’s feet. It was, in the end, a simple thing to pick it up and drive it through Wen Zuhilu’s back, hopefully cutting his heart in two. If he wasn’t dead before, he was surely dead now. Jiang Cheng didn’t spare him another glance as he joined the others in hiding from the Xuanwu as they planned.

The Xanwu killing Wen Chao fixed one problem, and Jaing Cheng killing The Core Melting Hand solved another. So now, of course, they were faced with a new problem. Previously, Wen Chao’s cowardice meant that none of the Wens had remained in the cave with them to face an angry Xuanwu, and their escape was thus unhampered by the enemy. Now, they had Wang Lingjiao pouting under the influence of the Lan silencing spell, a handful of Wen Chao’s entourage, and Wen Qing - who wasn’t a problem herself, but keeping her sympathy for them a secret certainly was.

“Well, now what?” Nie Huaisang hissed, fanning himself with his damned war fan, Huaisang!

“We wait for that thing to calm down and then we leave,” Jin Zixuan said, like it was going to be that easy. It wasn’t like they could go back the way they—

Except they could. Wen Chao never gave the order to retreat and cut the ropes. They could, conceivably, get out the entrance of the cave and not have to deal with the Xanwu again.

Jiang Cheng met Wei Wuxian’s eyes, saw the same realization there, and then his features set in the same resolve that he had last seen in the burial mounds, when it was all falling to shit.

“Jiang Cheng—” Wei Wuxian started.

“I know, I know,” Jiang Cheng interrupted. “I got you the first time.”

“Then could you share with the rest of the class?” Nie Huaisang asked, only a little dry.

“We can not leave the Xuanwu here,” Lan Wangji said. Then, after a beat. “Alive.”

Wei Wuxian was already nodding. “Exactly Lan Zhan. It was sleeping before, and not a threat, but it’s awake now, and if it gets loose it could cause a lot of harm before it could be subdued. If it could be subdued, with everyone distracted by, you know, the war.”

Jiang Cheng noticed Wen Qing’s attention shoot to Wei Wuxian, and he remembered, belatedly, that they weren’t actually at war yet. Only Qinghe Nie was actively skirmishing, and the Sunshot Campaign wasn’t formed until after the fall of Lotus Pier. Luckily, She seemed to be the only one who noticed the slip — after all, one of their biggest arguments to get the campaign started was that they had already been at war, just not unified.

“You want to take out the Xuanwu of Slaughter?” aked one of the surviving Wen that Jiang Cheng didn’t know. “Without your swords?”

“They defeated us easily enough,” Wen Qing snapped. “Do you wish to provoke them? Or would you like to be first chosen as bait?”

Jiang Cheng exchanged a look with Wei Wuxian, who flashed a quick grin before stroking his chin in a clear impersonation of Lan Qiren. “You know, that’s not a half bad idea.”

“It was their plan for us,” Jiang Cheng added, playing into the bit. “It would only be fair to use it on them. We could even have Mianmian choose, since she was the first chosen.” He nodded at Mianmian, who seemed surprised to be addressed, but he focused his sharpest grin on Wang Lingjiao, who had paled considerably and no longer struggled against the spell.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said quietly, plaintively, and Wei Wuxian pouted at him.

“Fine,” he said, flouncing dramatically. “I guess we’re better than using live bait.

Jiang Cheng nodded. “I wouldn’t trust ‘em anyway. You need to only bring people you can rely on into a fight as dangerous as with the Xuanwu. Jin Zixuan,” he said, and didn’t bother repressing his smirk when Jin Zixuan stood a little taller at being addressed so suddenly. Turns out his Sect Leader voice was useful, even if his voice still hadn’t settled into it’s full register. “We need someone to lead everyone else away while the Xuanwu is distracted. Can you do that?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, resolved and not a little bit relieved at not having to fight the Xanwu without his sword.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng said. “Take Nie Huaisang with you.” He looked at Nie Husaisang. “I don’t want to be the one to tell your brother we took you anywhere near the Xuanwu, no matter how much he nags you to train.”

Nie Huaisang waved it off with his closed fan. “It’s alright. I have absolutely no desire to go anywhere near that thing. I’m not built for night hunts.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said, voice quiet as he came up beside him, using the soft sounds of the others getting ready to leave as cover. “Last time, Lan Zhan and I could handle it. You should get out too.”

Jiang Cheng bit back his initial spike of anger, telling himself that this came from a place of concern not a dig at his skills — but, being back in this place, this time was dredging up a lot of dirt that he thought he had left behind, and he wasn’t surprised that Wei Wuxian was falling back into old habits as well.

“Last time, I didn’t have Zidian,” Jiang Cheng said. “And I know Lan Wangji didn’t have those guqin strings on him, either.” Blinking, Wei Wuxian looked over his shoulder to see Lan Wangji pull a coil of strings from his sleeve. “And more importantly, last time, you and Lan Wangji nearly died, and were out of commission for days. With the three of us, we might just walk away.” He gripped Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “And if you try to sacrifice yourself for me again, I’m telling A-Jie.”

That cracked a smile on Wei Wuxian’s face, and he nodded, pulling back to stand, arms behind his back as they watched the others make their way back out of the cave.

Before he left, Jin Zixuan paused and said, “How long should we wait for you?”

Jiang Cheng blinked and exchanged a look with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji spoke: “Six hours.”

A bit surprised, perhaps by the specificity, Jin Zixuan nodded, and followed the others out.

They have the advantage, this time, of their own weapons — Zidian, the Chord Assassination, and Wei Wuxian’s knowledge of resentful energy.

“I need a dizi,” he muttered to himself as they crouched down to draw diagrams in the dirt.

“I will get you a dizi,” Lan Wangji said before Jiang Cheng could say they probably had some back at Lotus Pier. That caused Wei Wuxian to flush pink and protest quietly, hiding his face in his palms.

“If you’re going to flirt the entire time, I’m going to leave,” Jiang Cheng said. And, when Lan Wangji shot him a look that said “do it, bitch,” Jiang Cheng continued, “and I’m going to tell everybody you’ve eloped and you won’t be able to go anywhere without a chaperone until my mother and your uncle settle the marriage contract.”

That shut him up.

It’d eventually decided that they would take the same basic strategy as last time. Wei Wuxian would grab the sword pinning it in place, and Lan Wangji would strangle it to death with the Cord Assassination. Only this time, Wei Wuxian would not be crawling into the Xanwu shell, what the fuck, and would be summoning the sword to him from the outside using resentful energy. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng would both then strangle the beast, and hopefully between the two of them it wouldn’t take a full six hours.

And, well, that’s pretty much what happens. Wei Wuxian stands out of range while Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng take their place, and then he begins to whistle. The sound of it isn’t loud, but it fills the cavern with an awful pressure, and Jiang Cheng shook his head like there was water in his ear. Then, like a branch giving way, something small but dark and foul rockerted out of the Xanwu’s shell, the Xanwu’s head roaring after. Jiang Cheng reacted, and Zidian wrapped around the Xanwu’s neck in the same instant as Lan Wangji’s chord, and the Xanwu snapped its teeth mere feet away from Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian smirked, and shouted something that squirmed in Jiang Cheng’s ear, and the sword — the fifth piece of Yin Iron — embedded itself in the top of the Xuanwu’s head.

The Xanwu roared and Jiang Cheng pulled harder, sending a sharp pulse through Zidian, where it met a similar pulse from Lan Wangji—

And the head of the Xanwu popped clean off, falling to the water below, and sending a small wave up to soak Jiang Cheng’s boots. He kicked his foot, disgusted, and watched as drops of water flicked off. Great.

Jiang Cheng let Zidian curl back up, dormant, and stared down at the corpse of the Xuanwu. “That took you six hours?”

Wei Wuxian was blinking at the Xuanwu, equally surprised. “To be fair, Lan Zhan was injured, and we hadn’t eaten in days.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji agreed, curling up his chord. “No proper weapons. Wei Ying was also injured, and did not yet have his understanding of resentful energy.”

“And you weren’t here!” Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Cheng kicked off his rock and joined the other two. “No, I was running to get help, and I almost didn’t make it in time.” He clapped his hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “This is better.”

He turned his back, giving them a moment of privacy while he drew the talisman that would dry his boots. It wasn’t a talisman that he bothered to use often, being wet was part of living on a pier, but it was one that every disciple learned early and learned well. It had saved him from a weeks worth of blisters last time, and it would do the same now.

It didn’t do anything for the smell, however, and Jiang Cheng resigned himself to needing a new pair of boots. Again.

Climbing out of the cave wasn’t actually easier than leaving though the water, though if Jiang Cheng had to choose, he would choose not sneaking past the mythical murder beast without a weapon.

“What are we going to do about the Wens?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I mean, they can all die, as far as I am concerned — except Wen Qing, of course — but...”

“We can’t let them go back,” Jiang Cheng said. “Wen Chao is dead, and even though it’s not our fault, you know we’ll be blamed. We want to keep that information to ourselves as long as possible.”

“Hostages?” Wei Wuxian asked. “It’s just - I don’t want that woman anywhere near Lotus Pier and, sorry Lan Zhan, we don’t know if the Cloud Recesses is able to handle a hostage right now.”

Which left Jinlintai or the Unclean Realm. The Jins were closer, but Jiang Cheng knew better than to trust Jin Guangshan and with the Nies already fighting, he didn’t want to anything to make them a bigger target.

Not that it mattered anyway, because when they climbed out of the cave they found the area filled with Nie cultivators — and Nie Mingjue, who was holding Nie Huaisang while he hung like a limpet, crying about everything he had to endure. It’s only when they appear, and Nie MIngjue relaxes, that Jiang Cheng realized that Nie Huaisang was physically holding Nie Mingue back from rushing into the cave himself.

He so surprised that it takes Lan Wangji bowing in greeting before Jiang Cheng remembers to bow himself.

Apparently, Nie Huaisang had planned more than just escaping with them via the Xuanwu, and when they had first left on the hunt, had managed to sent message to Nie Mingjue - along with the other half of a tracking talisman that was attached to Nie Huaisang’s fan. The timing was simply happenstance, and with an actual sect leader present, the decision of what to do with their prisoners was technically no longer Jiang Cheng’s.

Jin Zixuan stared at them openly. “That was not six hours.”

“Thank the gods,” Jiang Cheng said, then paused. “How long was it?”

“About two,” Nie Huaisang said, miraculously no longer a sobbing mess. He joined them, pulling Nie Mingjue with him. Nie Mingjue eyed him sideways, as if aware Huaisang was plotting something, but not truly minding. “Dage said he’ll bring everyone back home, and send official word to Wen Ruohan once he’s sure you are home safe and can muster your defences.”

Jiang Cheng looked at Nie Mingjue. “Are you sure?” he asked. “That’ll put a lot of heat on you, and more quickly.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “I could execute them here.” Which - wasn’t a terrible plan, except that previous fighting had been on Nie land - an act of war, yes, but Nie killing Wen on Wen land was an act of war that Wen Ruohan would recognize.

“Not Wen Qing!” Wei Wuxian said quickly, which got him a look from Nie Mingjue. “She’s just as much a hostage as we were. She healed Nie Huaisang’s feet!”

Nie Huaisang nodded vigorously. “She did.” When Nie Mingjue looked at him to confirm, Jiang Cheng nodded.

There, in front of the Xanwu cave, Nie Mingjue and the Nie cultivators kill the remaining Wen, and Wen Qing is taken as hostage.

Later, the histories would mark this moment as the true beginning of the Sunshot Campaign.

Part 3A

Part 4: Sunshot!

#mingcheng #mincheng notefic #my fic #fic update #the untamed

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 16, part two

(Masterpost of All the Rewatches) (Previous Post) (Canary’s Pinboard of Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes

Just A Box of Rain

The brothers find Jiang Yanli and tell her what happened. Pro Tip: a good way to deliver bad news is like this. 1. say "I have bad news" so the person can be prepared for a shock 2. clearly state the bad news.

Standing in front of the person with tears streaming down your face and looking away when they try to meet your eyes is not, actually, a super effective method for delivering bad news.

This episode continues to be punctuated by closeups of characters' hands as they respond to events.

Yanli clutches her broken lotus pendant, cutting her palm and bleeding as she weeps.

Not-at-all symbolic rain drenches the three of them while they cry, standing apart and not comforting each other.

Sometimes a hurt is so deep deep deep You think that you're gonna drown Sometimes all I can do is weep weep weep With all this rain falling down

(more after the cut)

They upgrade their boat with repaired seats and a real oar, and move along toward a hopefully-safer location.

The scenery continues to be gorgeous, and it appears to be actually really raining on this river or lake. We see Wei Wuxian's hand on the boat's oar as he takes his siblings to what he hopes will be safety.

Maybe you're tired and broken Your tongue is twisted with words half spoken

OP is valiantly resisting dropping a chunk of "Don't Pay the Ferryman" lyrics in here, because projecting European symbolism onto Chinese media is not my bag. This scene does carry a lot of weight, though, showing Wei Wuxian’s sadness and isolation, his ever-growing distance from his siblings and reminding us of his servant status. While his siblings sit under shelter with tears falling down their faces, Wei Wuxian stands in the rain, laboring to protect them and not letting his own tears fall.

It's totally reasonable that Wei Wuxian is the one to man the oar, right? I'm sure Jiang Cheng is the more exhausted of the two of them even though Wei Wuxian started off his day yesterday getting whipped FIVE times by the Zidian and ended it by being choked for 45 seconds.

Self-Isolation

They reach an inn, where Yanli has a fever, maybe from being left outside all night while her brothers failed to work out any of their interpersonal shit, followed by getting extremely rained on for hours and hours.

Wei Wuxian carefully puts on a bright, optimistic face for her, practicing for his future fake happiness after the Burial Mounds.

Jiang Cheng sits and has a lot of feelings, totally not helping while Wei Wuxian tends to Yanli. This is not typical of him and just shows how deeply shocked he is by what's happened; usually he is extremely attentive to Yanli and careful with her health.

Wei Wuxian tries to get Jiang Cheng's attention, so that Jiang Cheng can take over caring for Yanli while Wei Wuxian gets medicine. Jiang Cheng is busy staring into the middle distance, and won't respond.

This is Wei Wuxian realizing that absolutely nobody is going to help him.

Wei Wuxian goes out in his distinctive robes with no hood or anything, to buy some fever medicine, and is quickly surrounded by guards. They hear "we caught him" and run off, leaving him be.

What Wei Wuxian doesn't know, that we learn in Episode 50, is that Jiang Cheng and his death wish decided to take a stroll, and seeing the Wen soldiers approach Wei Wuxian finally snapped him out of his reverie. So he let himself be caught in order to draw them away from Wei Wuxian.

Let's talk about this choice. In terms of clan roles, Wei Wuxian is absolutely the expendable one. Jiang Cheng became the clan leader when his father died, and knew it from the moment he saw his father's body.

So far he's 1. Tried to go back to fight and die, against his parents' express instructions 2. left his sister alone in an inn with a fever 3. given himself up to be killed in place of his chief disciple, when it's his disciples' job to die for him, if it comes to that. All but two of Clan Yao's disciples died to protect fucking Captain Blowhard, for goodness sake.

All of these actions are emotionally super understandable; he's young, he's had a terrible shock, and he's an emotional guy who's never heard of Dialectical Behavior Therapy. And I'm not here to defend feudal power structures. But perhaps Jiang Cheng shouldn't ring the "YOU PROMISED" bell quite so loud in the future, considering his own relationship to his obligations.

Wei Wuxian begs Yanli to stay put and stay safe while he goes to find Jiang Cheng, and he promises to take Jiang Cheng back from the Wens. Yanli clutches his hands and asks him to promise again that he will rescue their brother, and that they will all go to Meishan together. But for once Wei Wuxian is completely honest, and disentangles his hands and sets off without another word.

More running ensues, this time in the rain. To quote Adam in Season 7 Episode 1 of Spooks, "all this traumatized running is starting to really annoy me." (Spooks is the shit. Don't watch it if you like characters to have a lifespan longer than a mayfly's)

Camera Operator: Finally, a little appreciation

Wei Wuxian arrives in Lotus Pier, and can we just take a second to appreciate the decor of this place? Look at that tile floor with the cobblestone border, and the bamboo wall panel behind him.

He grabs the first Wen he finds, who turns out to be a much-needed friend.

Rescue Me

The Untamed is the tale of a man’s devotion; devotion so strong it transcends clan allegiance and even death. And that man’s name is Wen Ning.

Initially Wei Wuxian chokes him, like bros do, until he recognizes him and lets him go...

...only to immediately grab him and demand to know if he had a part in the massacre. Wen Ning stays pretty calm, seeing the angry side of Wei Wuxian for the first time, and explains that he heard about what happened, and is there to help.

Wei Wuxian absorbs this and lets him go, giving us a closeup of their hands together, with Wen Ning not so much resisting Wei Wuxian's grip as giving a steadying grip of his own to his best friend.

Wen Ning, who Wei Wuxian saved from one water demon, has already saved Wei Wuxian from one horrifying animatronic dog, and does not actually owe him a life debt at this point. Wen Ning has defied his sister and his entire clan and flown to Lotus Pier with a team of minions, with the specific intent of fucking things up for Wen Chao to the best of his abilities, simply because "Wei Wuxian is a nice person."

Wei Wuxian isn't feeling like a nice person just now, however, thinking that he can use Wen Ning as a hostage to...what, trade for his brother? Wen Chao would probably be happy to kill Wen Ning himself, but his dad needs Wen Ning as a way to control Wen Qing, so maybe that plan would work.

Then Wei Wuxian sees this small pouch hanging from Wen Ning's belt, and it stops him in his tracks.

For once we are not given a flashback to explain his thinking, so I’ll provide one

The talisman he gave Wen Ning to protect him, now protects him from Wei Wuxian himself. He lets Wen Ning's arm go, and tries to think of another plan.

Wen Ning already has another plan, and has come to Lotus Pier prepared to enact it.

Wei Wuxian can't believe he's found someone to help him. In a moment of wrenching vulnerability, he asks Wen Ning to save Jiang Cheng and to retrieve the bodies of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. Wen Ning immediately agrees.

Wen Ning then embarks upon the least sneaky sabotage campaign of all time, chatting to the guards while messing with the wine, and generally acting like a person who is up to something.

Nobody respects him enough to worry about it, though, and the party proceeds as planned.

The banquet is set up in the cleaned-up courtyard of Lotus Pier The Yunmeng Supervisory Office, and features dancing girls performing in the center of the beautiful carved paving, and corpses hanging in the doorway.

I bet Jin Guangyao hires this same dance troupe for his future parties.

Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao sit at the main table, snuggling and being gross, but mercifully not necking on-camera because this is a 100% no-necking show. The drinks are sent around and Wen Chao tells Wen Zhuliu to drink up.

Wen Zhuliu is busy gazing wistfully at Yu Ziyuan's corpse.

Let's face it, Wen Zhuliu is the only dangerous person in this place at the moment, so what he does next is the make-or-break for Wen Ning’s plan.

Wen Zhuliu smells his wine and immediately can tell something is wrong. He takes a long moment to consider the situation, eyes on Yu Ziyuan, and then downs it, letting his emotions--perhaps something in the neighborhood of remorse, perhaps simple disgust at his craven supervisor--get the better of him.

In the morning he will be able to tell Wen Chao with 100% precision exactly what the drug is, probably from smelling it right here. This is the only miscalculation Wen Zhuliu makes in the whole show, and it eventually costs him his life.

Wen Zhuliu has no reason to think this decision will hurt him. It's definitely impossible for Jiang Cheng, whipped and crushed, to avenge himself and his parents. But Jiang Cheng, with Wei Wuxian’s help, is going to achieve the impossible.

We end with Wei Wuxian hiding while he waits for Wen Ning, as strung out as we have seen him so far, although he's got worse mental states ahead of him on his journey. He doesn't know yet if he was right to trust Wen Ning, and the episode ends with him, cold, wet, and miserable, waiting to find out.

Next Episode: Still miserable, but with a cape! Soundtrack: 1. Patty Griffin, Rain 2. Grateful Dead, Box of Rain

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #rain #moar rain

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teletraan-meets-jarvis · 3 years

Text

Monster - Part 2

AO3 Link

Characters: Commander Fox (Main), Commander Wolffe, Commander Cody, Captain Rex, Commander Stone, Corrie Medic Triage (OC).

Summary: Fox deals with the aftermath of his actions, unsure as to whether his brothers can forgive him.

Warnings: 16+, swearing, mentions of death.

Word Count: 3.5k

Part 1 here

Author’s Notes: I've been agonising over this chapter for far longer than necessary so please take it from me. Hopefully it's not complete gibberish. Feedback is appreciated as always, it's my first time writing such prominent clones all as proper characters in a fic so would be great to know what went well and where I can improve! This fic ends with this chapter but the ending leaves it open for imagination, if anyone has any cool thoughts for what may happen my inbox is always open to discuss further! Fic is below the cut, enjoy 😊.

When Fox next came around he was on the cheap sofa in his office. The rigid object making his back stiff, he must’ve been out for a while. He groaned as he attempted to sit up. He felt weak, his entire body sore and sensitive as he shuffled about.

“Welcome back, sunshine.” Stone greeted him while Triage appeared and started poking at him. Stone must’ve relieved Thorn from Fox babysitting duty. The thought made the Commander groan.

“How you feeling, boss?” The medic questioned as he started shining a small light into his eyes.

“Shit” he replied truthfully. “What happened?”

“You had a breakdown, a bad one.” The matter-of-fact bedside manner of the Guard’s chief medical officer was something Fox usually favoured, except when he was on the receiving end of it of course.

“Oh”

“It’s lucky Thorn found you when he did.” Triage chided while tapping away at his Datapad. His clean-shaven face focused as he went about the task. “You’ve got a visitor by the way”

“Hey vod” the gruff voice was followed by an even gruffer Commander strolling into view. What was Wolffe doing here?

“Thorn called.” Hm apparently he’d asked his question aloud.

Fox hadn’t seen Wolffe in months, he was always away on missions and rarely got down time when his Jedi had to return to Coruscant. His scar still stood out prominently against his tanned skin, but it looked better each time he saw him again, like it was slowly settling in to being a part of him. His armour was tattered, the grey paint scratched and chipped while the white plastoid was covered in the dirt of battle.

“Well I’m fi-“

“Don’t try it mir’sheb. I know what happened.” Fox flinched. Wolffe’s tone was flat when he spoke, his face unreadable and despite being one of the eldest of their batch, Fox felt very vulnerable under his little brother’s gaze.

As cadets and during command training, their batch had always been close, but Fox could confidently call Wolffe his best friend out of the lot. Their competitive nature pushed them to always be the best, their dry humour so cutting that only the other could truly understand it for what it was. Both of them were blunt, but over the years, the war had moulded them slightly differently. Where Fox was hardened and distant from his time on Coruscant, surprisingly, some of Wolffe’s ragged edges to his personality had softened. Not really noticeable if you didn’t know him from before, but Fox chalked it up to the friendship and mentoring of his wise Jedi and also his position as a Commander. Wolffe had lost his entire battalion early on in the war and Fox had held his heartbroken vodas he swore he would never let anything come between him and his men ever again. From that point on, Wolffe had gotten to know each member of his squad personally, always ensuring that they knew that despite his hard exterior, he’d always be there for them if they needed it.

Despite all this and how well Fox knew his brother, all that knowledge was doing nothing for him in his current situation. Wolffe knew that he’d killed another clone, yet he hadn’t lashed out yet. Was he just waiting until they were alone? The tension in the air threatening to smother them with each second that passed. Fox wasn’t ready for this conversation.

“We’ll give you two some privacy.” Triage announced before dragging a worried looking Stone out behind him.

Fox didn’t say anything, he just waited for the onslaught from his younger brother. He was sporting his signature frown which could mean a hundred different things.

“Before we even get into this, I just need you to know that we don’t hate you, Fox. We’ll always love you, you di’kut.” Wolffe’s voice finally carried some emotion now that they were alone. It held a mixture of things, brotherly frustration at Fox’s self-loathing, a fear for finding out things he might not want the answer to and the smallest twinge of betrayal for what Fox had done. But among the rest of it, among the words said, there was love. Fox huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Beats me as to why”

“We’re family. We don’t need a reason. We’re stuck with each other, whether you like it or not.”

Silence lingered between them as Fox finally found the courage to speak about the elephant in the room.

“I don’t know why I did it. I didn’t mean to.” His voice was faint, almost like if he said it any louder it’d all be real.

“I know ori’vod”

Fox finally launched into an explanation of what happened. His chest constricting further and further, threatening to rob his body of air as he pushed himself to get the story out. His hands shook in fear of what his closest brother would think of him, of what he’d done. Wolffe hadn’t spoken during the entire story, resigned to just watching him from his perch on his desk. Fox was panicking.

After what felt like the longest silence of Fox’s life, the younger Commander exhaled roughly, his bare hands rubbing at his scar out of habit as he processed the information. “You told Rex this?” Fox was shocked that out of everything to ask, that that was his question. The Guard Commander shook his head.

“Well, we better get him over here” Fox jumped out of his seat and placed a hand over his brother’s comm link.

“Kriff Wolffe, the poor guy has suffered enough. Last thing he needs is me begging for forgiveness for something he can’t forgive. I killed one of our own, one of his last few best friends. He hates me. And I really don’t blame him.”

“Maybe so, but he deserves to hear the truth from you. Whether or not he believes it is up to him.” Reluctantly, he let his arm go and stalked back over to the sofa. “I’ll comm Cody, he’s over there with him now.”

“Didn’t realise you were both planet side.” Fox grunted out, he could really do with some caff, his body was exhausted.

“The 104th were on their way back since Plo had some Jedi stuff to do, we touched down this afternoon. As for the 212th, they finished their last mission and once they heard about everything that’d been going on, General Kenobi requested they come back to help out. Though I have a feeling that was Cody wanting to check in on Rex.”

Fox wanted to ask how Rex was, but the searing guilt that burned in his chest couldn’t bear to ask the question. So he decided to check on some people who potentially hated him a smidge less, only a smidge though.

“Have you heard from the others?”

Wolffe nodded and went on to tell him about what the rest of their batch had been up to. Gree had recently been assigned to General Yoda, who he was absolutely terrified of. Fox didn’t blame him, the Jedi was extremely powerful for someone so pint sized, he’d also heard that he had a wicked sense of humour which would definitely stress Gree out, much to the amusement to the rest of his batch. Ponds was getting on nicely with Mace, they’d recently had a successful campaign near the outer rim and were due back on Coruscant soon. The eldest of their batch, Bly, was doing well too. Apparently Wolffe thought he had the hots for his General as Bly apparently refused to shut up about how amazing and strong and caring she was. Fox wasn’t sure if he was messing with him or not, but the thought brought a small smile to his face nonetheless. Trust Bly to fall in love with his Jedi General.

“What about you? How’s life in the Corrie Guard?” Wolffe asked.

Where could he even begin. Fox never offloaded about his problems onto anyone, except maybe his fellow Commanders in the Guard who he shared the burden with. Wolffe wouldn’t understand. A part of him also wanted to be the dutiful big brother and not place any worries or fears onto his vod’ika.

“Not much to report, same as always” he wasn’t lying at least. It was easier this way, for them not to know. They could keep thinking he was safe away from the battlefield. Their hopes in this war were already pretty low, they didn’t need to know about the horrors that lurked away, hidden among the senate corridors and the low levels of Coruscant.

——————————

Anxiety gripped at Fox’s chest as he paced a hole into his metal office floor. Waiting for Cody and Rex made him feel as if he was waiting for a death sentence. He thought of all the ways he could potentially escape but he knew Wolffe would be all over him. The 104th Commander always was a fan of tough love and things didn’t get tougher than this.

There was a slight commotion outside which pulled the both of them to attention.

Rex came storming in, his face set like stone, an angry frown marring his features and deepening the creases in his forehead. Once he set his sights on Fox nothing could deter him. “Rex, wait!” Wolffe shouted but he couldn’t stop him in time. Rex’s fist slammed into Fox’s nose with a sickening crack, sending the Commander sprawling backwards, catching himself on his desk as his nose started gushing blood.

Cody ran in from nowhere and locked Rex’s arms behind his back, trying to calm their little brother. “Rex, will you just listen to him.” He shouted down his ear while Fox recovered from the blow, cradling his now broken nose as Wolffe came to his side to help him back up.

“Why? Why should I listen? He didn’t listen to Fives!” Rex screamed back as he writhed in Cody’s arms. His words cut into Fox, making him grimace.

“I know. I’m so sorry, Rex.” Fox apologised with a burning sincerity, but it only deepened the frown on Rex’s face.

“I don’t want your apologies.” The Captain shouted back, gone was his usual professional composure. Right now he was a broken man who’d lost one of the last few people he’d let get close to him. There was no rank in this room right now, they were just a group of hurting vod, trying to pick up the pieces.

Rex spat his words out at Fox with a look that could kill, he probably wanted it to. He looked like he wanted Fox to hurt as much as he was right now. “Maker, I know Palpatine had you wrapped around his finger, I just didn’t realise how much.” Ouch.

“Rex” Cody reprimanded, his Marshall Commander voice coming out as he tried to defuse the situation. The Captain’s face was still masked in hurt and anger, but he did back down slightly after his verbal blow. “The past couple days has been hard for you vod, we know that and we’re here for you. But we wouldn’t be asking you to listen to Fox right now if we didn’t think it was worth it. Please, just give him a chance.” Once he finished, he nodded at Fox to signal him to get started. He took a deep breath and readied himself to try and explain the unexplainable.

“I know it sounds ridiculous but what happened back there, It wasn’t me” he started, and Rex just scoffed, still struggling against Cody’s hold. “Look, I can’t explain it. But I set that gun to stun, I swear to you, Rex. I know you all think I’m some cold, order-following droid but I would’ve brought him… I would’ve brought Fives, in for questioning. You- you have to believe me.” Fox pleaded, blood still trickling down his face from his broken nose. He wasn’t their usual, sarcastic, caffeine deprived big brother. No, Fox was a complete mess as he tried to reason with Rex. He couldn’t bare his brothers thinking that he did this willingly, that he’d turn on his own kind with just a simple order.

“What do you mean it wasn’t you?” Rex’s gaze was still unsure, but he’d never seen Fox like this before. He looked desperate, much like Fives had.

“I- I blacked out. One minute we were moving in and as soon as I saw Fives, and I know this sounds crazy, it’s like something else took over. I was just watching from the sidelines.” Fox gave an exasperated sigh as he tried to explain himself.

“Like something was controlling you?” Rex asked, the cogs in his brain turning as he waited for a reply. Fox just gave an ashamed nod and dreaded realisation dawned on Rex’s face.

“Maybe Fives wasn’t crazy” he said it as barely a whisper but with the silence in the room they all managed to hear it.

“What do you mean?” Cody questioned as he finally let his vod’ika go, content that he wasn’t going to assault the Guard Commander further. Rex used the freedom to go and lock the door to Fox’s office.

“What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room, understand? No one can know, not our vode, not your Jedi, nobody.” The three of them nodded.

“Before he died, Fives was trying to explain what was going on to General Skywalker and me, he said that there’s something in our heads that could make us do whatever someone wanted… Even kill the Jedi.” Wolffe and Cody’s eyes widened at the thought, finding it impossible to even comprehend hurting their Generals who they cared for deeply.

“And if, if, he’s right about that, well, he said the Chancellor is in on the whole thing. That he set him up. And as insane as it sounds, that could explain why he sent Fox, of all people, to hunt him down.” Rex finally spared him a glance that wasn’t filled with complete hate, there was a slight bit of pity in for good measure instead.

“You’re saying that the Chancellor has some sort of control over me?” Fox replied. The colour draining from his face as he considered the option.

“I’m saying… it’s a possibility. After seeing what happened with Tup, what you’re saying happened to you doesn’t seem far off. He had no idea why he killed General Tiplar. Said he didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Okay hold on, so you’re trying to tell us that Fives uncovered a plot by the Chancellor which involves all of the clones having something in their heads which allows them to be controlled, with the likely purpose of it being to kill the Jedi?” Wolffe asked with the hopes that he might wake up from this weird dream he found himself in.

“Pretty much” Rex replied.

“Ozik” Cody cursed. “And you believe him? Fives? You sure he didn’t just lose it?” The Marshal Commander needed this final confirmation from his brother.

“I-” Rex exhaled and dragged a gloved hand down his face “I think I do. I wasn’t sure before but with what Fox is saying, it’s all a bit too much of a coincidence. I believe him enough to at least look into what he was talking about. He wouldn’t have risked everything he did for nothing.”

Fox tried to keep breathing as the conversation went on. Controlled. A plot to kill the Jedi. Maker this was too much. Surely they had to be wrong. But then he remembered his shit show of a life, the things that the chancellor made him do, things he’d never do willingly if he had the choice like a true sentient being. Maybe it wasn’t such a faraway reality. He repressed the shiver that threatened his body.

“You do realise we’ll get executed on the spot if we’re found looking into this. This is treason. If what you’re saying is true, then it sounds like they went to some pretty serious lengths to keep Fives from outing them.” Wolffe added, ever the pessimist. Not that Fox blamed him, they were moving into dangerous territory with this talk.

“You three can walk away, but I owe this to Fives and Tup.” Rex said, conviction written all over his face.

“I’m in” Fox announced as he wiped most of the blood away from his nose and mouth. The ache from his broken nose setting in as the adrenaline from his and Rex’s confrontation started wearing off.

Wolffe and Cody shared a glance, a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. They both shared strong bonds with their Jedi in different ways, they wanted to do everything in their power to protect them, but could they keep this a secret for long enough? Obi-Wan and Plo were very in touch with their Commander’s emotions. There was a chance they’ll figure out something was up sooner than they’d like. They would just have to work fast. Cody nodded at Wolffe, and the decision was made.

“We’re in too” Wolffe confirmed. “I don’t want any more of our brothers to die if we can help it.”

“What about Skywalker? He was with you and Fives, do we at least have him on side?” Cody asked and Rex pulled a disappointed face.

“As soon as Fives mentioned the Chancellor being involved, Anakin wrote the whole thing off… It’s just us.”

“We can work with that” Cody comforted with a hand on his little brother’s shoulder and a small smile. The Commander’s comm link started chirping and he gave them all a sorry look. “It’s the General, I better take this and head back. But we’ll catch up later.”

“79’s?” Wolffe offered. Despite none of them fancying a night out, there was no better place to get privacy than a noisy bar filled with identical faces. Cody nodded and quickly departed.

Eventually they had to call Triage back to deal with Fox’s nose. He’d done well to hide the pain during the chat between the four of them, but it had quickly started to take over his thoughts. Thankfully his CMO came armed with pain stims and for once, Fox didn’t get absolutely ripped into by the medic as this injury wasn’t a result of his own stupidity. Well, to be fair, he was sure that assessment was up for debate, especially from Rex who was talking quietly with Wolffe around Fox’s desk.

Fox poked at the metal brace and bandages on his nose, the Bacta patch under it was a squishy texture. Triage knocked his hand away like a parent would a child who was reaching for the last cookie. “Don’t touch it” he warned, and Fox moved his hands back down to his side. “Given our accelerated cell regen and the Bacta patch, you should be good to wear your helmet again by tomorrow” Fox gave his thanks to the medic by clasping his wrist in a handshake before he was left alone with his vode again.

Wolffe conveniently dipped out to use the fresher, leaving Rex and Fox alone for the first time since the incident. Fox’s heart rate sped up as he thought about it, the scenes of Fives’ death playing over and over again in his head like a horror film on repeat. That look on Rex’s face when their eyes met over Fives’ body, seared into his brain as a constant reminder of what he did.

They stared at each other from across the room, Fox was still sat on his cheap, rock solid couch while Rex was stood by his desk.

Fox couldn’t hold the eye contact; he broke it off and shifted his gaze to his hands.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. It’s not what I’m asking for, you're well within your rights to hate me. But I just want you to know that I wouldn’t hurt you like this willingly. It’s the last thing I’d ever want.” Fox broke the silence. Still not brave enough to meet Rex’s eyes, to see the disappointment and betrayal which would likely be waiting for him.

He heard some shuffling and the couch sink down slightly beside him. He dared a look over and saw Rex’s scratched leg armour.

“I don’t hate you, Fox. I know you were put in a tough situation. I know I like to think I would’ve handled it differently, but truth be told, I don’t know what could’ve happened if Fives didn't put us in that ray shield. And while I don’t want to think about it, I have a feeling someone would’ve got to him eventually. It was inevitable.” He paused and took a shuddering breath. “I just… I just need a bit of time.”

“I appreciate that, take all the time you need.” They both shared a small smile, content that they’d get past this together. There was light on the other side of this dark tunnel.

Rex really did care about Fox; he’d always looked up to him over the years. He remembers the small stuff, the words of encouragement when a training simulator went wrong, the proud look on his face when he got promoted to Captain, the many nights of drinking Thire’s rocket-fuel moonshine in Fox’s office when Rex needed to escape from the war for a few hours.

They’d be fine, time was always the best healer. Fox just hoped that they had enough time left.

Back to Part 1

Back to Masterlist

#star wars #clone wars #star wars fic #star wars fanfic #clone wars fic #clone wars fanfic #commander fox #commander wolffe #captain rex #commander cody #commander stone #clone oc #clone wars season 6

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

internal bleeding

pairing: kix / mechanic!reader

word count: 2425

summary: work can be dangerous, even for someone who barely leaves the star cruiser.

a/n: i’m hitting three birds with one stone with this one!! not only is this shitpost prompt #1 AND a separate request i got a few days ago, but the 14th was my bestie @morganas-pendragons ‘s birthday!! have a little kix, kayla, as a late bday treat

warnings: getting kinda crushed by a ship, fives being a dumbass

the guys had just arrived back on board the resolute from what you heard was an almost too easy campaign. despite the lower than normal admittances to the medbay, there were still plenty of ships to tend to with varying amounts of damage.

your normal drill on days like this one was to work like hell until kix was relieved of duty for the night, then go with him to his bunk and let the both of you sleep out your exhaustion in the comfort of each other’s arms. the next morning before you were both summoned to your duties would be spent catching up on each other, letting the worries melt away as you chatted about everything and nothing all at once. it was a system that you both adopted soon after you started dating, one that you were extremely grateful for.

it was nights like that where you were able to see your boyfriend vulnerable in a way he couldn’t show often. if the campaign was more rough than usual, then you were able to hold him and remind him just how wonderful of a man he is. you hated to see him hurting but took comfort in the fact you were always able to bring him back to you, back to his brothers.

thoughts of laying in kix’s loving arms keep you blissfully distracted during the later hours, when the rest of your fellow mechanics had already retreated to the bunks for the night. others thought your late hours spent under various ships were because of your dedication to the cause, but they didn’t know about you and kix. you worked hard so your medic was safe, so his brothers were safe.

those reasons were what had you under general skywalker’s delta-7b aethersprite at some unholy hour of the night. your reputation preceded you, and after some good words put in by torrent company, you were able to become the only person besides general skywalker himself allowed to make repairs on it.

it was a strenuous job sure, what with how the jedi knight wore down his ships, but you enjoyed your work and felt honored to be respected at such a high level.

that is, you enjoyed it when the jacks holding the ship up weren’t breaking while you under the damned thing. you heard the telltale creaking of the jacks while your entire body was on the ground below it. you were never more grateful that chet had convinced you to use one of the rollers.

with all the speed your half-conscious body could muster, you walked your feet forward as fast as you could from under the delta and thought you were home free, but then an excruciating pain erupted in your left arm. the ship was on top of the limb and the weight was no pain you’d ever felt in your life. you were certain your scream should have gotten somebody’s attention, but it seems that you’re all alone.

your comm was, unfortunately, on the wrist of your crushed arm and on the off chance that it wasn’t busted beyond repair, you couldn’t communicate with the thing regardless because the buttons were out of reach.

maybe if the surveillance team would see you eventually but you doubted it. there was no way in the galaxy you were going to let yourself be bested by a damn ship though, so you got to yelling for someone to help you and hoped you wouldn’t lose your voice before help came.

--------

“kix, i know for a fact you haven’t slept in at least two days. get your ass outta here or i’m gonna call your girl in here and have her drag you out.”

“i’m not gonna leave when there’s still so much left to do.”

“you’ve done plenty, vod-”

“coric, i-”

kix wasn’t sure who had a hold on his arm but suddenly he was being dragged out of the medbay, and his body was too weak to resist the familiar grip. “vod, you’ve got a pretty woman waitin’ for ya and she’d hate to see you working yourself to death like this. let’s head to the barracks-”

“no,” kix mumbles, “she’s waiting for me in the hangar, it’s what we always do.” to be frank, kix isn’t completely honest how he’s able to form a coherent sentence with how tired he is. fives says nothing, just nods and takes a turn towards where you were waiting.

the closer the brothers got to the hangar, the more they heard it. they weren’t completely sure what “it” was, but it was a little worrying. the noise kept repeating itself and when they were closer, it sounded… human. they were yelling, and were they crying too? it was hard to tell from here.

warning bells were ringing in their heads and any tiredness kix had before was shoved down deep as they ran to investigate the source of the noise.

if you weren’t in so much pain you would have thought to keep track of the time you spent under the ship. your arm was in a strange limbo of total numbness and almost blinding pain and you couldn’t even focus on your surroundings because all of your focus was on the pain.

no one was listening, no one had been for the past however long you’ve been laying there. your throat was raw from screaming and you began to sob, which didn’t exactly help your throat. you weren’t completely certain when your sobbing began to contain cries for help but what you did know was that the longer you were under this ship, the worse the damage would be.

several more minutes of sobbing and screaming and nothing. not a soul cared that you were pinned down. you were doomed to spend the rest of your days under general skywalker’s ship, forever known as the mechanic whose love for her work killed her.

but wait a minute, were those footsteps? or was it the pounding of blood in your ears?

the two soldiers enter the hangar and their eyes nearly fall from their skulls when they identify your body in such a precarious spot under the bright yellow ship

“cyare! sweetheart, what happened?!”

their feet pound hard on the durasteel floor towards where you were pinned, fear the dominant expression on both of their faces. kix has never seen you cry out of something that wasn’t laughter, and he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to see his headstrong cyare temporarily defeated by a hunk of metal.

“kix, help me get this off her!” fives yelling for his help and the sobs from your throat snapped him back to reality as he helped lift the ship just enough for you to move to the side enough to free your arm.

it almost hurt worse now that the weight was gone which made no sense. once you were free, the men dropped it with a clang and kix was immediately hovering over you, examining the wounded limb. he quickly notices the way your veins are swelling and the unnatural angle of your wrist and is brought to two conclusions: there’s some sort of internal bleeding in your arm that needs to be taken care of immediately, and you have a broken wrist.

“what’s the damage?”

“internal bleeding and a broken wrist. could have been worse but this is a bitch of an injury.”

“internal bleeding? isn’t that where the blood’s supposed to be?”

you wanted so bad to laugh at the stupid joke, it was one of the worst ones you’ve ever heard from him. the most you could muster is a sob-laugh accompanied by a shake of your head. you’d give him the proper laughter later when you weren’t in blinding pain.

fives is watching worriedly as his vod unzips half of your jumpsuit, using the sleeves to tie your arm to your torso. he knows that as a mechanic, your hands and wrists are crucial for your job. would you be let go for this? oh gods, what if you had to leave the resolute? kix would be absolutely crushed without you.

whispering a soft apology in your ear, he lifts you into his arms and begins to run to the medbay as fast as his legs could go. the jostling irritated the wound and brought the tears down harder, and with every step kix was cooing gently and giving choked apologies for hurting you.

“i thought i told you to leave, k- holy shit, what happened?!”

“she was working in general skywalker’s delta when the jacks collapsed and the ship fell on her!”

“there’s a free bed over here!”

coric was struggling to comprehend you crying, that just wasn’t something that happened. ever. he would have continued down this rabbit hole of “holy kriff” but kix was beginning to shout orders. he literally just kicked this man out of the medbay moments ago, this isn’t going to fly. not even - no, especially when the patient is his cyar’ika.

coric and fives could tell that kix’s hands were shaking from several feet away. whether it was because of you, his ongoing lack of sleep, or both, neither of them were sure. a silent plan was devised and fives was soon pulling kix backwards away from you. he was struggling in the arc’s hold, yelling about how he had to be there, how he wasn’t going to leave you. coric was then able to bring the needle to his vod’s neck and pushed in the sedative.

fives gently sat his brother in one of the sparse guest chairs and pulled a second chair next to kix’s. you two weren’t going to be alone, not through something like this.

you woke up connected to machines you knew the names of and how to fix, but not why they were attached to you. then you tried to move your arm and you remembered exactly why in seconds, your eyes seeing spots with the pain. it was nowhere near as bad as it was when you were still under the ship, but it was terrible for just waking up.

then you tried to lift your other side and panicked when you couldn’t move your entire right side. that wasn’t where you were hit, what gives? then you recognized the anti-droid aurebesh and lightning bolt designs and let yourself calm down.

it was just kix, and he was curled around you like a tooka kitten trying to steal warmth. his hands held your right one to his chest, his forehead pressing against your shoulder while the rest of his body was curled up to make itself as tiny as possible. even in sleep, kix was always putting your comfort first.

not wanting to wake him, you decided to gently trace the designs in his hair and count down the minutes until you could kiss him like you’ve been wanting to ever since he left for the planet’s surface.

a throat clears from kix’s other side and you poke your head up with confusion. why was fives there? did he even sleep last night? didn’t look like it.

the arc trooper could see the question forming on your lips and answered it before you could say a thing. “i uh, i didn’t want either of you to be alone when you woke up. i hope that’s okay.”

“that’s more than okay, fives. it’s really sweet of you.”

“yeah it was a guessing game as to which one of ya would wake up first,” you raised an eyebrow as to why they’d be unsure of whether you or kix would be up before the other. “he was frantic when we brought you in, nearly punched coric when he told him to move away from you. had to sedate him to get him down.”

you gasped at the revelation and turned to press a soft kiss to your boyfriend’s crown. it was still jarring to know that you had someone that would fight tooth and nail for you, despite having been with kix for nearly a year. but for him to be given a sedative because he was so violent in his need to help you? it was bizarre. violent was never a word you thought would describe kix, but trying to punch his brother seemed to fit under that category.

he stirred next to you and his hands tightened their grip on yours, his forehead pressing a little harder against your shoulder. a few grumbles came from his throat as he awoke, eyelids droopy as he raised his head.

“are you okay, cyare?” this was more like the kix you know, always putting others above himself from the moment he’s awake.

you hummed and continued to trace his lightning, nodding in reply. “yeah, because you saved me.” he smiles and places a gentle kiss in the palm of your hand before lacing his fingers with yours.

“i helped a little, i think.”

“fuck off, fives.” your boyfriend mumbled groggily as he wrapped himself around you, burying his face in your neck.

“i did!”

it hurt a little less to laugh now and your boyfriend seemed to lose a bit of the tension from the night’s previous events. you smiled and felt kix curl even closer to you, legs tangling with yours like they do every time you share a bed. “thank you fives, your heroism is most appreciated.”

kix chuckled into your skin and began to leave soft kisses on the skin there. “now leave us alone, dumbass. i need some time with my girl.”

fives chuckles and rises from the chair that served as his bed the night prior, patting your leg as he walked by the cot you were laying in. “no funny business in the medbay, you two!” he jokingly wagged a scolding finger at you both.

“oh, get kriffed!”

fives’s head was the only thing visible to you now, a smirk on his face in spite of the somber mood he was in prior to your waking up. “that seems to be your goal, vod!”

your medic grabbed the nearest projectile and hurled it at his head, fives yelping as he ducked barely a second before a datapad stylus speared him in the eye. “thought he’d never leave,” kix jokes. you chuckle at the ribbing and let yourself rest. there was a lot of healing to be done before you’d be back to working shape, you knew that, but having your kix beside you would make it all the easier.

happy late birthday, kayla!!! love you bunches!!!

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hellowkatey · 3 years

Text

Ghosts of the Past: the continuation

A continuation of what happens after Obi-Wan sees Nield twenty years after Melida/Daan. Anakin finds out his former master's rough apprenticeship beginnings, Obi-Wan faces some unexpected consequences of his past when Ahsoks gets hurt, and Nield addresses some regrets.

Read ch. 1 here | Read it all on AO3

Anakin is in the middle of combing droid parts and blaster dust out of his hair when there's a knock at his door. Considering Ahsoka is having a sleepover with Barriss, he just spoke to Padmé and she is at her apartment waiting for him, and Obi-Wan is supposed to be on a campaign, he has no idea who could be showing up at his door this late at night.

Watch it be a council member giving me some random task that'll ruin my night with Padmé.

The door buzzes open, and he's surprised to find it is indeed a council member ready to interrupt the night with his wife. The council member being Obi-Wan.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Hello to you, too, Anakin."

"Aren't you supposed to be in the middle of a battle?"

It looks like he's just walked off the battlefield. His robes are dirty and singed in places where blasters blew right through the material. He at least took off his armor, but from the dirt still smeared across his cheek, that's pretty much all he's done. Anakin's confusion quickly turns into concern. It's unlike Obi-Wan to show up anywhere looking rough for wear, even if it's just to see him. The knight's worry raises as he realizes his master grips a handle of Corellian whiskey in his right hand.

"Ended the battle early," he says distantly. His eyes are a little glassy and cheeks tinged pink. "Are you going to invite me in or do you want your dinner in the hallway?"

"Dinner?" Anakin looks to his former master's other hand and realizes he's also holding two bags of Dex's take-out. "Oh. Right, sorry," he steps back, and Obi-Wan strides into his apartment.

He's acting weird. That as much is obvious. Anakin tries to brush up against his master's shields to get a feel for his mood, but they're tighter than usual. Another red flag.

"The 212th was granted a week of leave before our next campaign," Obi-Wan explains, setting down the bottle and bags on Anakin's table. Anakin slips into his usual chair as Obi-Wan sets a bag of food in front of him. "Their's starts tomorrow, but Cody took over the debriefing so I could make it back early." Obi-Wan sits now, unwrapping his own burger. He stops when he realizes Anakin is still staring at him, food untouched. "What, do you not order a double burger and curly fries anymore?"

"What's going on?"

The Jedi Master raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Can I not come visit my former padawan?"

"Are you seriously going to act like you aren't being weird right now?"

"I'm acting as I normally do, Anakin."

"You left the front early and you started drinking without me. What's wrong, Obi-Wan?"

Anakin expects him to get defensive. Expects him to turn on Master Mode and lecture him about respect or whatever. But instead, Obi-Wan sighs and sets down his burger.

"I want to tell you a story, Anakin. A story that..." his eyes flicker to the bottle of whiskey, "requires a little bit of loosening up on my end."

Somehow him being honest is more worrisome than if he did get defensive and lie about it. So Anakin stops arguing with him, nods, and goes to the kitchen. He takes the moment to send his wife a quick message that he would probably not make it over for the night since Obi-Wan needs some company. Padmé will understand. Anakin returns with two cups, one with ice and the other with ice and some cola. He hands the one with only ice to Obi-Wan.

"You're freaking me out," Anakin says as he adds a small amount of the whiskey to his soda. How the hell can he drink this stuff straight?

His former master smiles. "No need to freak out."

"What is it about?"

"Well if you allow me to speak—"

"Okay, okay. Let's hope this story lives up to the suspense you've created."

Obi-Wan grimaces, taking a long swig of his drink before clearing his throat. "When you were a padawan, you used to always ask me about what missions I was going on when I was your age. Do you remember?"

Anakin leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, but you never actually told me."

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "No, I didn't, I know. I always felt bad about not telling you. You were quite the pouter. But I convinced myself that telling you about my early missions would do more harm than good."

"You're freaking me out again, Obi-Wan."

"Just listen. Before the war started, there was a rule that younglings had to be chosen by a Master by the age of thirteen. If not, the youngling was reassigned to one of the other Jedi corps."

"Okay..."

"In my case, I was assigned to the AgriCorps."

Anakin leans forward as disbelief courses through him. "Wait, wh—"

"I aged out," Obi-Wan interrupts, not meeting his eyes anymore. Instead, he stares out the window beyond Anakin. "Qui-Gon considered taking me as his padawan but decided against it. In his words, I had too much anger within me. So the Jedi reassigned me to the AgriCorps on Bandomeer."

Anger? Obi-Wan? "That doesn't make sense."

"It's what happened," Obi-Wan whispers. "I began as a Jedi farmer, and Qui-Gon coincidentally came to Bandomeer for unrelated Jedi business. That in itself is a long story, but I was captured and Qui-Gon came to save me. He then decided to train me."

"Obi-Wan why didn't you tell—"

"This is the preface of my story. So you understand the context of what happens later." Anakin leans back again, biting on the inside of his lip with nervous anticipation. If this is just the background, how bad can the actual story be? "So Qui-Gon and I did not start on a good note. He had no interest in training another student. His last padawan fell to the Dark Side... and was actually the one who captured me on Bandomeer. Needless to say, he was wary of me in the beginning."

"But he warmed up to you, right? You and Master Jinn were close when I met you guys."

Obi-Wan presses his lips into a thin line, finally looking Anakin in the eye again. "Eventually, yes. We found common ground and he grew to be like a father to me. But due to my actions, that did not happen for a few years."

He pauses, taking another sip of his drink, and then gesturing to the untouched Dex's bag. "Your food is going to get cold, you know."

"I know." Anakin ignores the food.

"We were sent on a mission to Melida/Daan," Obi-Wan continues. "It was a planet in the midst of a civil war. The Melida vs. the Daan. Or, so we believed. We were there to retrieve a Jedi that had failed to check-in. She was trying to negotiate peace between these groups, but we discovered it was not just the Melida and the Daan fighting one another. There was a third group. All the children from both sides had left their families and formed their own side. The Young, they called themselves, and their mission was to bring and end to this multi-generational war."

Anakin vaguely recognizes the name Melida/Daan from his history classes but remembers nothing else about it.

"We found the missing Jedi. She was hurt, so Qui-Gon was eager to return to the Temple. But the Young were pleading for our assistance. He told me we couldn't help them. I disagreed, and we had an argument. So he gave me an ultimatum. Either I come with him, or I stay to fight with the Young."

Anakin's eyes grow wide. "Master, you didn't—"

"I stayed."

"But he came back right? He dropped off his friend and came back to help you!"

The silence that falls over the room says what Obi-Wan doesn't. The Jedi Master resumes staring out of the window.

"I fought with the Young for nearly a year."

"How old were you?"

Anakin doesn't like the pause that comes before his master's answer. "Thirteen. Fourteen by the end."

"You were a kid," Anakin mutters in disbelief.

"I was, but... I was one of the eldest. There were seven-year-olds who were wielding blasters. Eleven-year-olds were dying in bombings. Friends that I loved dearly died in my arms, and other friends found ways to blame me for deaths I could not control." Anakin can see the tears brimming in his Master's eyes. His own hands are shaking.

"Qui-Gon did come, though, didn't he?"

"We were so close to peace, but we were only kids. Warfare and diplomacy require different types of decorum. I called the Jedi to help us finally end things. The council sent Qui-Gon."

Anakin deflates.

"We negotiated peace. This time I returned to the Temple with him, but he was not pleased with me. I had made almost all of his worst fears about taking another padawan come true."

"You didn't turn to the Dark Side or anything, though!"

"I left the Order, Anakin," Obi-Wan lets out a shaky breath. "The council was reluctant to accept me back, but thank the Force they did. Qui-Gon on the other hand... He took me on a whim, and when I defied him it was like a slap in the face. I was placed on probation while he decided if he was going to continue as my master. Evidently, he eventually did forgive me, but it was a long, painful road."

Feeling constricted in his seat, Anakin stands, pacing into the living room. He's learned so much information so quickly. That his master almost wasn't a Jedi? Obi-Wan Kenobi, council member and Jedi Master was almost a farmer? Qui-Gon Jinn left his thirteen-year-old padawan in the middle of a war for a year?

It doesn't make sense yet he can feel his former master's anxious energy clouding the Force. He isn't lying. Anakin turns to the man waiting quietly for him to say something. Though he has so many questions, the first that pops out of his mouth is: "Why are you telling me this now?"

"We had a diplomat make an emergency repair stop on my flagship just before this last battle. A representative from what is now Melidaan."

"The... unified planet, then?"

He nods. "His name is Nield, and I fought alongside him in the war. It was the first time I'd seen him since. It was also the first time in years I'd really talked about the war out loud, and... I realized I've been ignoring this for almost twenty years now. I avoiding telling you because I didn't want you to be disappointed in me like Qui-Gon was—"

"Master! Disappointed in you? I would never—"

"You are so much like him, you know," Obi-Wan says with a wistful smile. The glossiness in his eyes is even more prominent as the alcohol starts to settle in.

"You think I'd leave you in a war zone?"

A soft smile appears on his master's face, "Technically you have. On a number of occasions, actually."

"Those were sanctioned abandonments."

Obi-Wan chuckles, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "You have all his best qualities, Anakin. And some of his more annoying ones, but I've chosen to forgive those."

The knight walks over to the window with his back to Obi-Wan, arms folded across his chest. He's still overwhelmed by this new information. Unsure of how to feel. Sympathetic? No, Obi-Wan hates it when people pity him. Angry? He has the right to be frustrated that Obi-Wan has been lying to him for years. Letting him believe that he was this perfect padawan with a perfect apprenticeship...

But the overwhelming emotion that is hitting Anakin is not pity or anger, but guilt. Because a part of Anakin has always held onto the secret belief that things would be different if Qui-Gon Jinn had lived. That Master Jinn would have understood him in a way that Obi-Wan just can't because he was model Jedi.

He's been wrong all this time.

Anakin is suddenly thrust back to a time when he himself was a padawan feeling the galaxy pull him in a different direction. He told Obi-Wan he was going to leave the Order after their mission. And Obi-Wan still stayed by his side. Still treated him the same and protected him. It was ultimately Obi-Wan's unconditional support that persuaded Anakin to stay with the Jedi. Would Qui-Gon have done the same for me?

For the last ten years, Anakin has told himself that Qui-Gon would have stayed by his side. Now, he isn't so sure.

"I'm sorry," Anakin finally says, slowly turning around. Obi-Wan is quick to rise from his seat and approach him.

"I did not tell you this so you pity me—"

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Obi-Wan falls silent. "And for all the times I pushed you away because I didn't think you understood what it was like to feel like a screw-up... Force, I was horrible sometimes! Why didn't you ever tell me?"

The Master steps closer, placing his hands on Anakin's shoulders. "I truly did not think it would help. Or that you would think I was discounting your feelings, and I would never want to do that."

"What about your feelings?" Obi-Wan swallows hard, obviously not expecting this sort of question. He squeezes Anakin's shoulders, smiling softly.

"I am still learning how to confront them. And this— confiding in you— is part of that process."

Anakin can't hold himself back anymore. He closes the gap between them, throwing his arms around Obi-Wan and hugging him tightly. And Obi-Wan does not hesitate to hug him back.

There was a time when Anakin was a young padawan when he believed his Master was the greatest Jedi who ever lived. Sith Killer with a silver tongue, Obi-Wan Kenobi. A valiant knight and an even better teacher. He's always looked up to Obi-Wan. Saw him as a father figure. Though that giddy feeling of pride for his Master faded as he grew, Anakin feels it now just as he did when he was ten. Obi-Wan is by no means the perfect Jedi he's always believed him to be, but Anakin prefers it that way. Somehow it makes him even better.

______

Waging battles in desolate landscapes was one thing, but when the fighting spreads to urban areas, Obi-Wan is always on edge. There is something fundamentally wrong with tearing through the middle of a city with tanks and cannons. It's so easy to distance oneself from the reality of war. Easy to see the tall buildings and duracrete streets as either cover or a tactical liability. Obi-Wan just sees family homes left vacant. Stores and restaurants ransacked and abandoned. The amount of desolation depends on the length and amount of resistance the locals put up against their Separatist occupation.

And this city has been under the thumb of the droid army since the beginning.

Tesha Prime was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nestled in the middle of Separatist-controlled planets, it stood no chance of maintaining its independence. It's estimated they were under secret occupation as early as the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo, but their pleas for assistance were stifled until recently.

Obi-Wan one came to Tesha Prime as a padawan. One of Qui-Gon's side missions-- he enjoyed their specialty textiles and made a detour to purchase a friend a throw blanket. Its capital of Taloona was a beautiful city, advanced in technology but maintained the vintage glamor and elegance of their Old Republic architecture. Walking the streets now, it pains his heart to see crumbled buildings and durasteel military structures taking over the once picturesque skyline. War has tainted the rich history of this planet. Basically erased it. As the Jedi General moves swiftly through the waves of droids, diverting blaster shots from his valiant soldiers trying to free this city, he cannot help but be reminded of Melida/Daan.

Melida/Daan was an urban planet much like Tesha Prime. Completely different in their architectural inspirations and cultures, but violence does not discriminate. Rubble looks the same no matter what it used to be. He remembers Melida/Daan in the hastily painted graffiti urging for resistance against their aggressors. In the sound of bombs causing duracrete walls to collapse. In the yells of pain and the shouts of orders as medic clones traverse the battlefield to pull their fallen brothers out.

Obi-Wan grimaces, biting on his bottom lip so hard he tastes blood.

Seeing Nield and telling Cody and Anakin about his early exposure to war has brought about an unexpected consequence. Remembering. The nightmares of seeing Cerasi's murder and holding children as their life Forces faded away plagues his nights. Sometimes he will awake with a start, his first instinct to reach beside him where Nield used to sleep an arm's length away. When he doesn't feel a warm presence nearby, Obi-Wan begins to panic until he turns on the light and realizes he is not in the barracks of the Young, but in his quarters aboard his star destroyer. He's not thirteen, he's thirty-six.

Try as he might, though, the memories of his youth are not leaving him alone. He's been distracted by the flashes of Melida/Daan in battle before, but Taloona is messing with his mind more than usual. The city air smells the same. The wrecked streets feel the same beneath his boots. Obi-Wan is just thankful that his training allows him to shove his anxiety aside. He releases it into every moment of calm he can find. He must stay on his game for his men. For the people of Taloona and Tesha Prime.

But it's a shrill gasp of pain exploding through the Force that makes Obi-Wan tunnel. He whirls around from his place atop a fire escape and can see Ahsoka on street level with the 501st's battle route. Her eyes wide and arms wrapped around her chest as her knees buckle and she falls to the ground. The air leaves his lungs as though he's been punched.

"Ahsoka!" he yells as he leaps from the fourth story of the fire escape. The 501st has begun to regroup to compensate, Rex barreling through the crowd to reach her. Obi-Wan gets to her first, pulling himself between her and the front line and tucking her into his lap.

She's so small, he realizes. So young. Barely older than I was.

"You'll be okay," Obi-Wan says, cradling her head in the crook of his arm. He blinks and there's blood everywhere, dear Force, where did this blood come from? He presses his hands to the center of her chest where the blood seems to be pouring out.

"Obi-Wan?" the voice calling his name is distant, but he ignores it. I need to stop the bleeding. He squeezes his eyes shut to keep himself from vomiting.

"Do you hear me? You'll be okay, Cerasi," he whispers.

"Master Obi-Wan?" Louder this time. Closer. A warm palm rests against his cheek and when he opens his eyes Ahsoka is staring up at him with deep concern laced in her features.

She's awake? That can't be! The blaster shot... the blood... No, there is no blood. There never was. Ahsoka is lying in his arms, a scorch mark on the breastplate of her armor, but it didn't go all the way through. He blinks through the tears in his eyes. This is not Melida/Daan. I'm not there anymore. I'm thirty-six, and the war is over. This is the Clone Wars. Ahsoka is Anakin's padawan. I'm not thirteen. Melida/Daan is at peace. Nield is alive and well.

"General?" Another voice. He looks up and realizes he isn't alone. Captain Rex is giving Ahsoka a stim, glancing up at the High General every so often. Cody kneels next to his brother, more focused on Obi-Wan as reality slowly creeps back. Though he cannot see his face beneath his helmet, he can feel Cody's patient understanding. These men unfortunately know the look of someone lost in a time other than the present. And Cody is one of the few that knows exactly where his mind has gone.

"General Kenobi, are you alright?" Cody attempts to get his attention again. This time Obi-Wan nods, trying to relax the tension in his muscles.

"Yes... of course," he looks down at Ahsoka who's hand slips from his cheek. It reminds him too much of the way Cerasi's hand dropped like dead weight as her heart stopped. He shakes away the memory. The stim is setting in, clearing the cloudiness of shock from her eyes. "Are you alright young one?"

"Yes, Master Kenobi, it just surprised me. It's a good thing I had on armor for this battle."

Obi-Wan swallows thickly. The Young never had real armor. On such small bodies and without adequate medical attention, nearly every hit was a lethal one. He smiles, slowly sitting her up. "A very good thing indeed."

The battle felt like it droned on for days. Perhaps because a rotation on Tesha Prime is thirty-four hours. Or because Obi-Wan completely immersed himself in the Force, letting his instincts take charge over his mind. Obviously, his mind was not to be trusted. He's just thankful his brief blur into the past didn't cause more of a scene.

Obi-Wan walks through the aftermath now. The shooting and the bombings have ceased, but sometimes silence isn't any better than the sounds of war. At least focusing on the battle kept his mind occupied. Now he buries himself in his cloak, tucking his hands away so nobody can see they're still shaking.

"Master Kenobi?" the voice is soft, unimposing. Obi-Wan turns to find Ahsoka standing a few paces away. She's out of the armor now and in her usual clothing. Like Obi-Wan, her cloak is draped around her as the night finally settles in to cool the heat of the day. Despite the scare from earlier, she looks unharmed.

But she looks younger than Obi-Wan usually notices her to be. Maybe it's the too-big cloak that swallows her lanky adolescent figure. Or the timidness on her face that is not characteristic of his grand padawan.

"Yes, Padawan? How are you feeling?"

She catches up to him and matches his pace. The Togruta shrugs.

"Tired. A little sore, but Kix says none of my ribs are broken. Just a little bruised."

"And Anakin, have you seen him yet?" Anakin took charge of the air raid, leaving Ahsoka to command the troops from the ground. Obi-Wan hasn't run into him yet, but he expects his former padawan to come looking for him once word gets around about Ahsoka's close call and Obi-Wan's... strong reaction.

Ahsoka shakes her head. "No, but he commed me. The fighters are just going to go back to the hangers. The battle went on for so long they need to refuel."

Obi-Wan pinches the hairs on his chin. "Of course, smart of him. No need to waste fuel to land and take off again," he glances over at the padawan with a playful smirk. "Though don't tell him I said he was smart. After the stunts he pulled in the air, the last thing he needs is an ego boost." The padawan chuckles softly, but her smile fades quickly. They walk in silence for a few moments before Obi-Wan rocks into her to nudge her to the side. "I can tell something is troubling you, young one."

"Master Kenobi... who is Cerasi?"

Obi-Wan's own smile disappears. "Where did you... hear that name?"

"You called me Cerasi... when I was shot. I didn't even realize it at first, but I remembered and... I don't mean to pry, and you don't have to tell me, I was just curious--"

"It's alright Ahsoka," he stops her rambling, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. They stop walking in the middle of a market square and he leads her to sit on the edge of a large fountain. It has long run dry and is half-decimated, but it is a place to stop. "Cerasi was a good friend of mine. And she... was hurt in a very similar way to you, but unfortunately, she did not have armor to protect her."

"So she's..."

Obi-Wan nods.

The padawan exhales shakily, her fingers brushing against the place the blaster would have hit her. "Were you... there when it happened?"

He nods. "I was."

Her hand rests over his and she squeezes his fingers. "I'm sorry about your friend, Master Kenobi."

"It was a long time ago. I'm not sure why I said her name."

"It happens. Sometimes I almost accidentally call you Master Skywalker. Or I call Anakin Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan smiles. "Oh, I bet he hates it when you do that."

"I keep telling him it's a compliment but he doesn't want to hear it."

They both laugh. Obi-Wan lets the peace and lightness of the moment settle around his body like a warm blanket. While he hates the fact that padawans are fighting in this war, he also loves their resilient presence. Ahsoka never fails to make him feel better, even when she isn't actively trying to.

"I'm glad you're okay, Ahsoka. Though I will be more insistent you wear that armor from now on. We can send your measurements to have you properly outfitted in gear that won't hinder your saber technique."

"But Master, then I won't have a good reason to not wear it."

"But it'll make your Grandmaster worry about you less."

Ahsoka sighs dramatically. "In that case, I guess I could learn to work around it."

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and tucks his hands back into the sleeves of his cloak. "I swear, you and Anakin are going to be the death of me one day."

"Not if you wear your armor, Master," she says with a wry smile. Ahsoka glances at her comm and stands.

"Is Anakin asking where you are?"

"Rex. I told him I'd help with the med evacs," her blue eyes flicker up. The universal silent plead for dismissal.

"Go on," the general nods.

"Are you sure you're okay, Master Kenobi? I can tell Rex I'm sitting with you."

He stands and places a hand on her shoulder. "I am. We can talk more after dinner."

Ahsoka smiles and takes off running back toward the evac zone. Her cloak billows behind her as she disappears around the corner. The Jedi Master exhales a deep breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

_______

Nield, two drinks already warm in his belly, walks into the quiet cantina with the perfect amount of confidence to get through what he's about to do. It doesn't take long for his gaze to rest on the two cloaked figures seated at the bar. Before he can convince himself otherwise, the diplomat crosses where the two men are seated.

When he ran into Obi-Wan Kenobi two standard months ago, Nield was shocked at how the scrawny Jedi had changed after so many years. While it should not have been a surprise— he himself had changed quite a bit as well— in his head, Obi-Wan was still a thirteen-year-old with a horrible haircut and a pretentious amount of self-importance. (Nield has been to enough therapy since his warring days to realize his hatred of the young Jedi was a lot of his own projection. It did not change the way his mind remembered the boy that was once his companion.)

But alas, Kenobi grew up into a Jedi Master and a High General. When they spoke those months ago, Nield congratulated him on achieving his Jedi rank. They spent many nights during the war talking about the people they wanted to become once the fighting was resolved. Nield remembered Obi-Wan's anxieties over whether or not he would try to return to the Order that left him behind.

He questioned the second rank he had achieved, though. High General of the Grand Army of the Republic. Nield wasn't questioning his qualifications— Kenobi was a natural-born leader, even as a kid. There was no doubt he excelled at his position. What he questioned was why. Why would he want to take on that role again?

That led to a much longer explanation. One that Nield walked away deciding the answer his old friend was avoiding was simply: I did not want to go to war again, I had to.

Obi-Wan, of course, had the same question for him. Travel the galaxy was his previous answer to the question: who do I want to be when I'm not fighting a damned civil war? It wasn't what he told the others of The Young, but a secret desire he confided in Obi-Wan while they chatted to keep one another awake on watches. Nield wanted to be a nomad. He wanted his home to be among the stars rather than a planet or civilization.

"And you became a representative for the very planet you wanted to put behind you forever," Obi-Wan had said with the same smugness Nield gave him.

"I do get to travel."

"I suppose. But it isn't living among the stars."

They ended the night with the conclusion that they both failed their childhood dreams in some ways. But what is adulthood, if not living to find things to regret?

For Nield, he ironically walked away from his reunion with Obi-Wan with new regrets. Which is what brings him to this random cantina on Keitrum.

He doesn't need to try and get the attention of the Jedi General— as he approaches, Obi-Wan Kenobi's stool swivels around. There's confusion in his tired eyes and furrowed brow, and then he relaxes, a small smile on his lips.

"What a surprise," he muses, causing his companion to also turn around. Nield recognizes the shaggy dark hair and piercing gaze of General Anakin Skywalker almost immediately. "What brings you to Keitrum, old friend?"

"Definitely not the same reasons as you," Nield says tightly, eyeing the armor they were keeping hidden beneath their billowing robes. Well-used armor, tainted with dried blood and oil stains. Obi-Wan is clad in a more complete ensemble of shoulder, chest, arm, and leg pieces, while the younger General appears to only sport the shoulder and chest armor. Oh, the false security of youth. They look as though they came straight from the battlefield to grab a celebratory drink. Nield suspects that is exactly the case.

"Friend of yours, Master?" Skywalker says, curious eyes flickering between the two of them.

"Something of the sort," Obi-Wan replies, leaning back so they can see one another. "Anakin, this is Nield, a Representative of Melidaan. I met him—"

"When you were part of The Young?" The wide-eyed General finishes, suddenly looking his age. Nield raises an eyebrow at Kenobi. So you told him after all.

"Yes, we... fought together."

"And against one another," Nield adds.

"Yes, that too, I suppose."

Nield settles down on the opposite side of Kenobi and listens as he explains to the young man the nature of their... history. Though Obi-Wan gives him a charitable amount of leeway and understanding for his actions, Nield can't help the guilt that builds as the story goes on.

Especially as Skywalker keeps looking his way with increasing outrage and obvious protectiveness over his former Master.

"...after Cerasi... died," Obi-Wan says in a softer voice. "we had very different approaches on how to proceed."

"You wanted revenge?" Anakin asks Nield with off-putting intensity. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"I was angry," he glances at Obi-Wan. "I thought about it a lot, though. How the people who killed her needed to pay. Obi-Wan had to help me get out of that mindset. It wasn't what she would have wanted."

Now it's Obi-Wan's turn to look surprised. They'd avoided recounting the specifics of the war when they last talked, and that's exactly what Nield regretted. He never got to tell Obi-Wan he's sorry for the way their friendship splintered back then. The war, the death— it changed him for the worse. It aged his soul, made his heart turn to stone. It took many, many years to come back from the shell of a person he became.

"We were kids," Obi-Wan whispers, a creak in his tone.

"I'm still sorry. You did nothing but help us when nobody else would. You were always one of us, no matter what I said as a punk kid. You were one of us, and honestly, the best of us. Your name still comes up among those of us that remain."

The Jedi Master stares at him for a long moment before staring down at his drink as he swirls it. Skywalker assumes being a wallflower, switching between fiddling with the commlink on his wrist and monitoring his Master's facial expressions.

"How many?"

"About half from when we last saw you." A moment of silence. Nield lets out a breath and then continues. "Not all gone, just not living on Melidaan anymore. They attended university. Traveled. Got married and moved away."

Neither say it, but he knows they both are thinking it. We fought so hard for a peaceful home. Leaving seemed like a dishonor to those who died with the dream of growing old on the land they left their family for.

But Obi-Wan left too. And Nield does not actually blame him nor anyone else for leaving.

"I hope they're well."

Skywalker's hand suddenly clasps Kenobi's shoulder. "Ahoska and the men are here. I'm gonna go tell them to put their drinks on your tab."

"Anakin, don't you dare, the accounting department was so angry with me last time!" he calls after him, but the young General has already disappeared into the thickening crowd. Obi-Wan sighs and looks back at Nield who can't help the amusement on his face.

"So that's Anakin Skywalker."

"In all his glory, yes."

"He reminds me of you as a kid."

"Oh Force, don't tell him that. I'll never hear the end of it."

Nield laughs. "I'm glad I got to meet him. Put a face to your stories."

"I take it meeting my former padawan is not the reason you have come out of your way to find me. Nor is this the coincidence you make it out to be."

"Perceptive as always. I just realized we skirted around the obvious when we last spoke. Pretended that I didn't alienate you from the Young after you devoted everything to help us."

"Like I said earlier, we were kids, Nield."

"And like I also said earlier, I'm sorry. That's why I wanted to see you again."

Obi-Wan smiles, holding out his hand. Nield shakes it. "I'm sorry too, old friend. I'm glad we got to see one another again because I needed to thank you. You and one of my officers convinced me to finally tell Anakin about the war."

"How'd he react?"

"Better than I anticipated. But now every free moment has turned into storytime."

Nield recalls the few fond moments of the war when Obi-Wan would sit in the center of the room and tell all the younger kids a bedtime story. An attempt to thwart the nightmares away. "You were always good at telling stories."

"Apparently so. I usually draw quite an audience."

"It helps though. Talking about it. Doesn't it?"

The Jedi General nods. "For the most part. Though I see our war everywhere, now."

"The dreams?" Nield asks. Obi-Wan frowns. That's a yes. "The war can't be helping. Every time a speeder backfired I thought I was..."

"Back there again," The Jedi finishes for him. "Yes... Our recent terrestrial battles have not been helping."

Nield cannot imagine what it must be like to be back in the middle of a warzone. The fact the galaxy is at war at all was enough of a trigger for the flashbacks to his youth. It's why he takes his duty as a representative so seriously. He will do anything and everything to keep his home away from this conflict.

But his friend does not have that luxury. Nield waits for Kenobi to meet his eyes again.

"It still affects me, too. Bad days come out of nowhere. No matter how many times people tell me 'recovery isn't linear' it still surprises me. But before I knew it, I had more good days than bad and even the bad days didn't compare to what they used to be. It'll get better, Obi-Wan. I promise you it will."

Obi-Wan holds his stare. He's harder to read now than when he was thirteen, but Nield can still recognize the look in the Jedi's eye when he trusts someone. Though Nield doesn't feel he deserves this trust, for Obi-Wan's sake he's glad he's willing to listen.

"I will remember that," the Jedi says softly. "Thank you."

Nield raises the drink that was placed before him at some point. Obi-Wan does the same. The words come tumbling out before he can think of anything else to say. "To our brothers and sisters in the trenches... and the pursuit of peace."

The chant feels acidic on his tongue.

"We fight for our future, and the lives those who have died deserved," Obi-Wan continues. He hasn't forgotten it either.

"To unity."

"To freedom."

"To the Young," they say together, voices barely carrying beyond the space between them. Their cups clink together, and for a moment they're back in the lookout station. Kenobi, Nield, Cerasi, and half a bottle of red wine they found when pillaging an abandoned home for supplies. They didn't actually drink the wine-- it was obviously rancid. But that cheer they made up between giggles and dares to taste the sour beverage became their battle cry.

He tries to sip his brew but it tastes like that damn expired wine. For some reason, that makes him smile. Somehow the moments Nield cherishes the most lie among the worst points of his life. Perhaps because Cerasi never made it past the war to record over the old memories with new ones. Perhaps because Obi-Wan disappeared before Nield could come to his senses.

But for some reason, he's been granted another chance. Nield isn't sure what he did to deserve such a gift, but he'll accept it. Kenobi sits next to him, washing away the bittersweet chant of their youth with a brew.

Another survivor, and now, a friend once again.

#ghosts of the past #anakin #jedi apprentice #melida/daan #if you saw this saying im gonna post it in 3 parts no you didn't #i figured out the problem

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imaginaryelle · 4 years

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I just re-watched THAT scene and a thought hit me: Lan Wangji just stands there watching Wei Wuxian fall from the cliff... Why doesn't he jump onto his sword and swoops down to at least try to save him? Or is he all out of spiritual power? Or does it simply take to long to start and rev the sword? Not saying it's a plothole, I was just wondering...

I mean, I think this is a fair question and I know I’ve seen it discussed elsewhere. I just can’t seem to find the post or remember if any conclusions were reached, so I’m excited to dive into this. As always if anyone has insights or headcanons they want to add on to this, please do.

Because I like pictures, here’s ep 33 Lan Wangji holding his sword and staring in horror as Wei Wuxian falls (what is Jiang Cheng thinking? Who knows.)

Why isn’t Lan Wangji doing anything? He just stands there for long enough that Jiang Cheng backs away and leaves him on the outcropping, all alone.

Poor guy.

Okay, moving on. I think there are at least two ways to approach this, and one is from the production perspective (since this cliff encounter is a thing that only happens in the drama) and the other is from the in-universe perspective (aka, Doyalist vs Watsonian), so I’m going to look at both.

For the production pov, there’s really only one scene (I think) where we see anyone actually riding a sword in the drama, and it’s when they’re confronting the water demon/abyss in Caiyi (ep 5). At that point there’s no prep time, everyone just jumps up and then steps onto their swords (which is actually even more ridiculous to me than the image had already been in the novel because I thought they were at least riding on the scabbard but no! Riding the bare blade like a skateboard. I love it.)

How majestic.

Lan Xichen is the only graceful and cool person here. The only other sword-riding shot in this scene that shows more of a person’s body than their head and shoulders is when Lan Wangji drags three people into the air at once and we get a brief glimpse of Su She’s feet kicking wildly.

So, based on this scene’s execution and the general scarcity of other sword-flying scenes (even with the Nightless City confrontation, Lan Wangji just flies in with his quqin, no sword under his feet), my out-of-universe theory would be a combination of budget and aesthetic at play. If the production can get by on wire work with super extra long jumps that don’t seem to require actually riding the sword, they will. It’s logistically simpler, and it frankly looks better on screen. It’s also a staple of the entire film genre, whereas this sword thing is not, so the crew and effects people would have more experience with it as well. (In-universe I have a lot of questions about Wei Wuxian’s retained ability to do those jumps. Do they not use spiritual energy? Does he still have spiritual energy, just not a golden core? Is he using resentful energy instead? How does this work?)

From a more story-side view on the production, they’re working against the fact that they changed the plot to add Lan Wangji’s presence at Wei Wuxian’s death and they want to capitalize on that relationship, so having Wei Wuxian knock himself over the edge as he destroys the seal (or something where he steps back as Jiang Cheng rushes him or any other number of possibilities) no longer fits with the emotional beats they’re trying to hit. Also they really need Wei Wuxian to die here for the plot to function. Having Lan Wangji mount a sword and swoop down to try and save him again just adds extra complications and delays the desired outcome of WWX = dead and LWJ = distraught. In that sense, it really does start to look like a plot hole, because it feels like they’re ignoring the capabilities of a character in order to get the result they need. I do think they try to address this, but since multiple people have this question and I personally had to watch the scene more than once while actively thinking about it to notice all the relevant details… the efficacy of those efforts is maybe questionable. (Also like.. why does Jiang Cheng wait three days to go look for Wei Wuxian’s remains? Why is anyone waiting at all? Why is anyone surprised they can’t find a corpse when the visual we get implies Wei Wuxian is falling into lava? There are many, many questions that can be asked here and for a lot of them the out-of-universe answer is probably going to resemble “because the plot/original source material demands it” without much helpful in-universe support.)

In-universe (and probably more pertinent to your question), yeah, Lan Wangji could be low on spiritual power (and upon rewatch, I think he genuinely is). He could be physically exhausted as well as injured, too. For someone who carried three people in two hands 2-3 years ago and canonically has only gotten stronger since, he sure is having trouble pulling one person up over the side of a cliff. And that exhaustion really isn’t outside the realm of possibility, no matter how strong and powerful he is. He just traveled pretty far! If the theories that he found A-Yuan before coming to Nightless City are true (since he’s not injured in those flashbacks), he likely spent a ton of spiritual power even before getting into this battle where he first confronted Wei Wuxian and then started fighting pretty much everyone on the field by himself. Then, in a moment of fear-induced distraction, he gets injured! He’s actively bleeding! So yeah. He could definitely just be physically exhausted.

All that blood loss is not a good sign, and it actually speeds up (visually) as he expends this effort. We can see his arm trembling all throughout this scene, and then his grip slips (thus the face). Even after that he slips again, not losing his grip, but losing the strength to hold himself up at all. In the end he’s literally just lying on the rock depending on gravity to keep him in place and putting everything else he has into holding on to Wei Wuxian. He can’t do more than glare in Jiang Cheng’s general direction and tell him to stop.

Bichen is right there. If he had spiritual power left, I think he’d probably be sending his sword out to block Jiang Cheng’s angle of attack. That, or he needs two hands to accomplish such an action (It doesn’t require hand motions later/in the future, but maybe he develops that skill precisely because of these events). So yes. He’s physically exhausted. He’s spiritually exhausted. But I think there’s more going on here, too: He’s also at the end of his rope emotionally, and that’s how he ends up standing there, horrified and unmoving.

He’s had a rough time recently: Everyone hates his best and only friend/love of his life, and he has to listen to them call for his death/judgement at fancy dinner party meetings on and off for over a year. No one will listen to him when he tries to present a different view. Even his own brother is (not unreasonably) much more concerned about Lan Wangji’s personal safety than what his silence on this issue is costing him emotionally, and his uncle is distinctly unsupportive of the friendship from the beginning.

I think Lan Wangji spends a lot of time questioning his upbringing in those months (we see him actually verbally do so when he’s punished after Wei Wuxian’s death, but I think it starts well before that). What is right and wrong? Who decides it, and how? When does justice and holding people responsible for their actions turn over into unjust persecution? What is true, and what is a lie, and how much does that matter when weighed against social/political/spiritual harmony? These are concepts that are buried pretty deeply in the Lan Sect’s teachings but the world is twisting all of them before his eyes, and I have to think that takes a toll on him. Additionally, just as things start looking up (they let him write the letter to invite Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling’s celebration! They listen to him, other people support his idea!), he has to deal with the facts that:

1) His best friend who he’s in love with just killed a bunch of people, including Jin ZiXuan and some of Lan Wangji’s own Sect brothers.

2) Wei Wuxian is clearly losing control of his resentment-based cultivation path, and is thus personally in danger on a spiritual level, and

3) Everyone now wants to kill Wei Wuxian again, possibly even more than they did before, and anyone who supports Wei Wuxian is an enemy of the entire cultivation world.

Later in the series, Lan Wangji says he regrets that he wasn’t at Wei Wuxian’s side at Nightless City. That he didn’t support him, despite what we see of him trying to help Wei Wuxian find Jiang Yanli and then, after she dies, stop him from killing himself. To me, this could very easily imply that Lan Wangji is still trying to walk a tightrope in those scenes, or perhaps trying to be a bridge. He’s deliberately not choosing a distinct side, because he refuses to hate and reject Wei Wuxian, but he’s also refusing to declare open support. He’s acting entirely on his own, in a balancing act between friendship and love vs his family, his entire life’s teachings, and all of his society. Certainly I find that sort of situation exhausting, and I’ve never had to do it for something so high-stakes or large-scale.

Then there’s the actual cliff scene itself, where he’s visibly desperate. How intense does an emotion have to be for Lan Wangji to so clearly show it?

Wei Ying, he says, come back. He knows Wei Wuxian is breaking down. He at the very least guesses that he’s going to do something wild like step off that outcropping, which is why he follows him in the first place. But he has no idea what to do, so he tries the same thing he’s been trying for years: Come with me. Let me help you. This is a bridge, and he’s offering to help Wei Wuxian cross it. But just like every other time he’s tried it since the Sunshot Campaign ended, it doesn’t work.

Note that Lan Wangji actually is flying here, without the sword, so if he doesn’t have any spiritual power when Jiang Cheng shows up, this is probably a last, desperate burst to go with this last, desperate act.

I don’t think he really has a plan here. Not a new one, anyway. This is a still a plea of Let me help you. And, notably, Wei Wuxian doesn’t accept his help.

Not once during this whole scene does Wei Wuxian reach up with his free hand or try to help Lan Wangji help him in any way. He smiles, and he says: Lan Zhan, let me go. Because he doesn’t want a bridge. He doesn’t want to go back. Honestly it’s a pretty explicit and heartbreaking message: Lan Wangji’s offer of help is not enough to make Wei Wuxian want to stay alive. Not right now. He needs more than that. He’s lost too much to believe, right now, that anyone is going to choose him and his side, or that he’s worth that effort. And to be clear, Lan Wangji isn’t even offering that in this situation. Wei Wuxian is one slippery handgrip away from death, and Lan Wangji is still not saying “You, I choose you.” From anything Wei Wuxian can be expected to infer, his offer here is no different than it’s ever been: let me show you the way back to the right path. Let me help you fit back into the world the way you used to. And Wei Wuxian can’t do that; he has no golden core, it’s literally impossible even if the rest of the world would let him try. But at this point he doesn’t want to go back either. He doesn’t even want to try. That world hates him, and willfully misunderstands him, and has taken too many people from him now for it to be worth staying in. He wants to die.

And then Jiang Cheng arrives.

Wei Wuxian’s reaction to his brother’s presence is to smile, say his name, and just–accept his hatred. He closes his eyes and waits for the sword to fall even as Lan Wangji calls for Jiang Cheng to stop. The only time he shows distress between stepping back off the cliff and his actual death is when Jiang Cheng twists his sword and compromises the stability of the outcropping so that Lan Wangji is also in danger.

I think it’s possible that if Jiang Cheng had also reached for him and tried to pull him back up, things might have gone differently. Maybe that would have been enough to alter Wei Wuxian’s thinking. But as it is, when Wei Wuxian falls, he falls with his limbs relaxed and a smile on his face. There’s no flailing and screaming like when he was thrown into the Burial Mounds (in ep 33. There’s some arm-waving in ep 1). And I think that moment of him pushing Lan Wangji back and then letting go, more than anything, is what stops Lan Wangji in his tracks, because Wei Wuxian could have saved himself. He had strength and energy left. Enough to push Lan Wangji up and back and nearly to a standing position. He could have accepted Lan Wangji’s help, easily. But he didn’t, because he wanted to die, despite all the effort and inner turmoil Lan Wangji has gone through on his behalf (most of which Wei Wuxian doesn’t know about but, still).

That’s a pretty serious emotional kick in the head. Lan Wangji cannot ignore, at this point, that even if he did have any physical or spiritual energy left, Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to be saved. And that’s when we get this face (actually from ep 1):

He has nothing left. He has at this point spent over a year, maybe two, trying to save someone who, when it came down to the final moment, didn’t want to be saved. There’s nothing more he can do, in this state of exhaustion and despair, and it wouldn’t matter if he tried.

Personally, I think he looks like he’s about to be sick, and I don’t think it’s just the image of Wei Wuxian falling and dying that’s working on him here. It’s also the knowledge that he fucked up. He didn’t do enough, or more accurately, didn’t do the right things, in order to encourage Wei Wuxian to keep fighting for himself or anyone else (I’m not saying this is a healthy or reasonable thought, I just think it’s a thought he’s having). And I think this realization plays directly into how he treats Wei Wuxian when he comes back sixteen years later. He knows that questioning Wei Wuxian on his path of cultivation doesn’t go where he wants it to, so he doesn’t do it. This time is going to be different. He’ll break rules. He’ll drink alcohol. He doesn’t scold Wei Wuxian for making dumb, selfless decisions like transferring the curse mark from Jin Ling’s leg to his own, he just accepts it and expresses concern over Wei Wuxian’s well being. He stops asking if he can help and starts just doing it: Wei Wuxian can’t walk so he’ll carry him. Wei Wuxian needs someone to speak for him, so Lan Wangji will do that, with his brother and with the whole cultivation world. And then we come to this:

This is exactly the same move. Wei Wuxian will protect Lan Wangji, but not himself.

But.

Lan Wangji is no longer trying to be a bridge. He’s not going to hold out his hand for Wei Wuxian to accept or disregard. He’s crossed over to be on Wei Wuxian’s side. And that’s what makes the difference.

#lakritzwolf #cql meta #the untamed #chen qing ling #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #possibly i got a bit carried away #but this was fun #tw: blood #tw: suicide #in the novel lwj makes that change before wwx dies #and is thwarted by a combination #of wwx's breakdown and his own clan #but the drama cut that scene #so it had to happen after #long post #so long #seriously

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drarry-we-meet · 4 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Sucks

Part 1

Draco grit his teeth as another wave of ooohs and ahhhs sounded across the small collection of cubicles. He tried to ignore the outbreak of distinctly feminine chatter and focus on the report he was currently writing. After reading the same paragraph three times, he was finally able to get back into the flow of things. He was halfway through drafting his next sentence when a loud bang followed by assorted squeals and giggles broke out, and he couldn’t help but sneak a peek.

Longbottom was currently surrounded by a cloud of glittering pink smoke that smelled strongly of roses, and there on his desk was a humongous box of chocolates. Draco sighed, he was more than ready for this Valentine’s Day nonsense to be over with. It was bad enough hearing all the witches in his department cooing like a pack of wild doves each time one of them received a flower delivery, which of course was every few minutes. But to make matters worse, this year the wizards seemed to be getting just as many gifts thanks the Wheezes new ad campaign which insisted that witches must also get soppy romantic trinkets for their gents.

Draco would have admired such a brilliant marketing strategy, that had surely doubled their profits this year, if it didn’t cause him to have double the annoyance at the same time. While the witches gifts were more traditional and quiet; flowers, chocolate, jewelry. The men’s gifts were far sillier; singing heat shaped telegrams that burst into miniature fireworks at the end of their song, stuffed bears that did cartwheels across desks before exploding into a shower of confetti, and large boxes like Longbottom’s that went off like a bomb, leaving behind chocolates once the smoke had cleared.

Of course it didn’t help matters that Draco knew he wouldn’t be receiving anything this year. It wasn’t that he was alone, at least not technically. He had been seeing, or at least sleeping with, Harry-savior-of-the-whole-fucking-wizarding-world Potter, for just over 4 months. Not that it counted though, probably. They had never discussed whether or not what they were doing was exclusive. For Draco it was, and he was fairly certain it was for Harry as well, seeing how he barely had any free-time as Deputy Head Auror and all. But a lack of time to see other people, and actually wanting to date someone were two very different things.

Case in point was the Mountain of gifts that Draco could see steadily growing in the office across the room filled with their cubicles. Witches and wizards from all over the world sent Harry gifts each holiday, but this one always seemed to be the worst. Two curse breakers were currently stationed in the room sorting, screening, and vanishing questionable gifts, while Harry himself was still out meeting with the muggle liaison of Interpol for some reason or another. He wasn’t due to return until Monday, and by then his office would be clear once again.

The safe candy was set aside to be distributed to various departments in the ministry, particularly those inconvenienced the most by this whole fiasco; the mailroom, the janitors union, the curse breakers, and of course the aurors. All of the mail was piled neatly for his secretary to review. The majority of it would be vanished of course, but a few of the most polite ones would be answered eventually.

In fact, now that Draco thought about it, his willingness to always be available to Harry no matter how last minute or weird the hour was, in order to be able to see Harry in between his many meetings and trips abroad might be the only reason Harry even bothered with him at all. It was that thought, paired with the reminder that so far whatever ‘this’ was between them had remained a carefully guarded secret from even their closest friends, that caused a sharp clenching pain inside his gut. Draco determinedly pushed all thoughts of the idiot-who-lived far from his mind and tried once again to focus on work.

By lunchtime, the continuous loud bangs and rose scented smoke that accompanied them, had the beginnings of a migraine forming behind Draco’s eyes. He decided to escape the ministry for a bit and get some fresh air at the cafe across the street. He had just finished, and stood up to don his coat when a shadow appeared across his desk. He looked up into the sneering faces of Zacharias Smith, his well-endowed girlfriend, and a couple of brand new trainees whose names he didn’t care to remember.

"I was just about to head to lunch Smith so whatever it is you need will have to wait till after I return,” Draco kept his most impassive face in place, but his voice was firm. He knew the only thing Smith wanted was to start trouble and he wasn’t in the mood for any of it.

Smith smirked, “I just wanted to ask you where your Valentine’s Day gift was," he asked with a faux sweet voice.

That threw Draco for a loop for a minute, “What are you talking about?"

Smith and his group immediately started laughing, Draco wasn’t sure what the hell they found so funny or why on earth they were asking him about Valentine’s gifts of all things.

Smith’s smile had only gotten wider, “Well Malfoy, he emphasized, maybe it has escaped your notice, but you’re the only person in the entire department, possibly even the entire ministry who hasn’t received even one measly card.”

Draco could feel his heart rate picking up, but he hadn’t lived with old-moldyfarts for nothing, and was able to keep his face blank and posture relaxed. Smith was just getting warmed up though, pointing out how ‘of course’ they shouldn’t be so surprised that he hadn’t received anything, since he was death eater scum and all. By this point they were attracting the attention of the rest of the office.

Draco could see out of the corner of his eye that Granger was heading their direction, but Draco would rather die than have someone he once allowed to be tortured in his house defend him from a spineless git like Smith.

Draco carefully rolled his eyes and shook his head at Smith, “is that really the best you could come up with today Zachary?” Because he knew how much Smith hated people using the shorter form of his name, "you must be having just such a fulfilling Valentine’s Day yourself if you would rather spend all your time talking to me than your girlfriend, what are you 12?” He then swept out of the office before Smith could reply or Granger could reach them.

He was waiting down the hall for the lift when a fierce grip grabbed his arm and spun him around. It was Smith’s girlfriend, and Draco was fairly shocked to be manhandled by her. She, unlike her slimy boyfriend, had always seemed like a genuinely nice person. However her face right now was twisted in fury.

"No one will ever love you," she spat. "You can look down on us all you want, but in the end you will be a bitter old man and die alone. You don’t even have any friends!” She spun on her heel and left then.

Draco was left reeling in the hallway, his vision swimming a bit and his breathing a bit too fast and shallow. As the room came back into focus he locked eyes with Granger. Of course she had followed him out into the hall, of course she’d probably seen the whole thing. Fuck. The lift chimed and Draco stumbled back into in, jamming the door close button to stop her from pursuing him any further. He knew that look, that look of pity, and it made him sick to his stomach.

Draco ended up skipping lunch, he walked aimlessly around the nearest park until his face and fingers were numb with cold despite his gloves and warming charms. The words, “no one will ever love you,” played on endless repeat in his head as he fought to direct his thoughts toward anything else. He didn’t know why he let their words get to him like that, he didn’t give a shit what Smith or his girlfriend thought.

But the words had cut him to the bone, mainly because it was a very real fear he had held onto since the end of the war. His friends had all fled the country after the trials, some even before, and his dating life had been pretty nonexistent for the last 6 years. Nothing they had said was technically wrong. The men Draco had been with were ok with fucking him as long as no one ever found out. He just wasn’t the type of person anyone could ever take home to meet their parents.

And Draco had been ok with that, or so he thought. Relationships were just messy, unnecessary. Until Harry. Harry was the first man Draco had ever been with who took him to dinner, (at muggle restaurants), who always spent the night, who held him after sex, who made breakfast for him the morning after. Harry made him watch muggle films on his couch while giving him neck rubs or foot rubs and always made sure he had Draco’s favorite tea on hand. By the second month Draco had begun to think that maybe, just maybe they were something more than just sex.

But then one day they had been interrupted mid-foreplay by one of Harry’s friends visiting unannounced, and Harry had quickly shoved Draco into the closet and told him to be quiet. Draco had died a little inside that day. It was an unspoken agreement after that. Draco was a secret, a dirty little secret, just like always.

Draco returned to the office a few minutes late, half frozen and despondent, but as always he didn’t let any of it show on his face. He had considered skiving off the rest of the day, but wouldn’t give Smith the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under his skin.

He buried himself in his work and carefully ignored any whispers or glances he felt come his way, but he was still attuned enough to the atmosphere of the room to notice as everyone was wrapping up their tasks at the end of the day and loudly discussing their romantic plans for the evening, when a ripple of silence suddenly overtook the room. It was so quiet and still that Draco looked up, wondering if everyone had somehow been stupefied simultaneously.

His jaw dropped as his eyes met green. Harry was standing just in front of his desk looking so very fit in his deputy head uniform. His brass buttons shining, his hair tousled just right, his brilliant eyes unobstructed since he’d finally ditched his horrid specs long ago. He was holding a garment bag in one hand and the biggest bouquet of long stemmed roses in the other. They were wrapped in white silk with a dark red bow, each petal had gold filigree on the edges.

"Are you ready to go darling?” He asked with a warm and inviting face, a fair bit of mischief in his eyes.

Draco, who had no idea what was going on, but was pretty sure he must have passed out from all the fumes and was dreaming just nodded.

Harry smiled brightly and laid the garment bag over Draco’s desk. "Well that’s good," Harry said, handing the roses to Draco, who took them dazedly, "Hermione told me you were too busy to pick up your suit today, so I went ahead and got it for you. We don’t have much time until the Portkey to Paris leaves so we’ll need to hurry home and change. I don’t think Le Cinq will let us in without the formal wear.

Draco who had decided he was definitely dreaming, simply nodded again and stood. Harry wasted no time walking around the desk to meet him. He placed a chaste, but lingering kiss on his lips, grabbed the bag and steered Draco toward the door with a warm hand on the small of his back.

The entire trek to the doors no one moved, Draco wasn’t sure any of them were even breathing. He wasn’t sure he was even breathing. Harry had just publicly outed them. Every face in the room was stricken with shock, except for Hermione who smiled at them both and Ron who gave him a curt nod. Draco realized neither of them were surprised. They know, he thought, oh gods they already know. He looked at Harry again and Harry gave him another dazzling smile and kiss on the cheek.

As soon as they were outside the doors a cacophony of noise sounded behind them and Harry turned to wink at Draco, but instead of heading toward the lifts, he simply wrapped his arm more firmly around Draco’s waist and apparated them on the spot.

-gift for @mothermalfoy

Link to Part 2: https://drarry-we-meet.tumblr.com/post/190868463275/valentines-day-sucks-warning-this-2nd-half

#harry x draco #drarry #draco and harry #harry potter #drabble #my first time sharing my writing online #yes it’s messy i was really tired when i proofread it #this turned out a lot longer and angstier than intended #Valentine’s Day #giftfic

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jackandjackiekennedylover · 3 years

Text

11/22/63

[Age 2]

[Y/N=YourName]

Warning Blood.

You were the youngest of the Kennedy kids.

When your parents had to go to Dallas Texas for the last thing for the campaign before 64.

You had thrown a crying fit that you didn't want them to go. It was so bad that Mrs.Shaw couldn't calm you down.

Fine. We will take you with us, Your Mother Jackie said.

You stop crying after that.

You are my daughter alright, Jackie mumble.

Jackie had you on her hip as she walks onto the plane.

What took you so long, Why is y/n here, Jack asked?

Y/n was crying and Mrs.Shaw couldn't calm her down and I'm surprised that she hasn't got sick yet from all the crying, Jackie said.

Mr.President and Mrs. Kennedy. We are leaving now and we will be in Dallas Texas soon, The pilot says.

Mrs.Shaw had dress you in a pink dress and a big pink bow on your head.

You were on Jackie's lap as She was reading a book to you.

They live happily ever after. The end, Jackie said as she closes the book.

You let out a yawn as you close your greenish-grey eyes like Jack's.

Sweet dreams, Jackie said as she lays you down on the bed and puts pillows by you, so you won't fall off the bed.

She lay Jack's suit jacket on you.

You grab hold of his jacket in your sleep.

Y/n has your attitude alright. You told me that if you didn't get what you want or the Kennedy charm didn't work, You get red in the face. She gets red in the face alright, Jackie said with a smirk.

She is only two and y/n is using the Kennedy charm on you, you fall for it all the time, It's funny to me, how much our daughter is acting like me and look more like me each day, Jack said with a smirk.

The baby monitor went off.

You had woken up from your nap and you weren't happy.

Your turn, Jackie said as she gets back to her magazine.

Fine. You owe me big time Jacqueline, Jack said.

I love you bunny.

Hey. What wrong princess, Jack said as he picks you up from the bed.

You continue to cry.

Shh. Daddy is here, It's ok, Jack said as he rubs your back in comfort.

You lay your head on his shoulder as he rubs up and down your back.

Mr.President and Mrs.Kennedy. We just landed in Dallas Texas, The pilot says.

Do you want me to hold her, or what, Jackie asked?

Nah. I got her, Jack said as he put you on his hip.

Jackie looked at her daughter and her husband before she walked off the plane, Jack and their daughter was behind her.

There were signs that said. JFK FOR 64.

Here you go, A lady said as she hands Jackie red roses.

Thank you.

Weird. I had got yellow roses from the other stops, Jackie thought.

This way Mrs.Kennedy, Agent Jim said.

Jackie gets into the car first, then Jack and their daughter.

She lays the roses on her lap.

Jackie had moved a piece of her hair out of her face.

Jack had grabbed her hand into his and smile at her.

She looks at Jack with a smile before she waved at the crowd.

They are now entering Dealey Plaza.

Mr.President. You don't say that Dallas doesn't love you, governor colley said.

Bang!

Get down, Jack said as he grabs Jackie and their daughter moves down to the floor.

Bang!

The crowd was running away screaming and worrying if their First Lady and The President was ok or not.

They were out of Dealey Plaza.

Jack raised from the floor and help Jackie and grab their daughter.

They were cover in blood from the bang.

Lyndon B.Johnson Blood.

Lady Bird was covering her husband's blood and had a piece of his brain in her hand and her white gloves were now red.

Hospital now, Clint yelled.

Parkland Hospital.

We need to take the vice president now, The nurse said.

Mr.President and Mrs.Kennedy. Are you guys alright, Clint asked?

Yeah. We are fine, just a little scared that all, Jackie said.

Jack looks at her before he grabs her hand as they walk into the hospital.

It's was Jackie, Jack, Lady Bird sitting in the chairs as they wait on the news.

Mrs.Johnson, The Doctor said.

Yes, Lady Bird said as she got up from the chair.

We did all we could ma, but we lost him, I am so sorry for your loss.

Lady Bird covers her mouth as the tears started.

In the room. Lays Vice President Lyndon Baines Johnson, absolutely lifeless, stripped of all clothing except his boxes, ghastly pale eyes closed cover in blood.

This could have been Jack, Jackie thought.

Vice President Lyndon Johnson is dead, I repeat Vice President Lyndon Johnson is dead, He is dead at 1 pm.

November 25

Today was Lyndon Funeral.

Jackie was dress in a black dress and Jack had on a black suit. You were dressed in a black dress.

Jack had you on his hip as he grabs Jackie's hand into his as they walk behind the casket.

There were 3,000 people here for Lyndon Funeral.

Jackie watched as Ladybird and her two daughters Lynda and Luci walk up to Lyndon Casket.

That could have been Jack instead, Jackie thought.

Jack looks at Jackie with a sad smile before he grabs her hand.

Jackie looks at her husband before she grips his hand, scared to let go.

The paparazzi were taking pictures of Jack and Jackie and You as they walk down the stairs.

Jackie and Jack watch them as they put the dirt on Lyndon's grave.

Lady Bird was on the ground sobbing.

The paparazzi was taking pictures again as Jack who had you on his hip again and Jackie leave the graveyard.

December 25th.

Crying had woken Jack up from his sleep.

He looks over at Jackie. She was still sleeping.

He glanced at the clock. 10 am.

Daddy is coming, Jack said as he climbs out of bed and walks into your nursery.

You were standing up in your crib. Your face was red from crying.

Shh. It's ok, daddy is here, Jack said as he picks you up.

You had stopped crying when you noticed that you were in your daddy's arms.

You just wanted to be held didn't you, Jack said as he looks at you.

You smile at him. More like the Kennedy smile.

You are my daughter alright, Jack mumble.

You move your hand up to his cheek as You look into his eyes, same as yours, and smile at him.

I love you so much, Jack said as he kisses your forehead.

Good morning to my two favorite people, Jackie said as she leans against the door

How long as you been standing there, Jack said.

The whole time, Jackie said.

Jack look away as his face turned red.

Aw. You look cute when you blushed, Jackie said.

I will get you back for this Jaqueline, Just wait until we are alone, Jack said.

The kids were asleep for the night.

Jackie was looking around for her husband. But she couldn't find him, she was starting to get a little scared since Jack said that he will get her back.

Jackie was so focused on looking for her husband, She didn't notice behind her was Jack walking toward her with a smirk on his face.

I got you, Jack said as he wrapped his arms around Jackie.

Holy crap. You scared the crap out of me, Jackie said.

I told you that I would get you back for what you pulled earlier, Jack said.

What are you going to do about it, Jackie teased.

Jack look at her before he picks her up and puts her over his shoulder ( Ik that JFK had a lot of back problems but just pretend it not so bad in the chapter )

Jack, Put me down now, Jackie said.

Nope, Jack said as he throws her on the bed.

Jack. What has gotten into you, Jackie said as she looks into her husband's eyes.

I want to try another baby, Jack says as he climbs on top of her.

Really. I have always wanted to have another child, I was scared after Patrick's death, Jackie said.

I was to Jackie. But now I'm ready, Jack said.

I love you so much, Jackie said as she pulled him into a kiss.

I love you too, Jack said as they both get under the covers.

They made love.

#president kennedy #first lady jackie kennedy #jbk #jack kennedy #jackie kennedy #jfk #11/22/63 #john f kennedy #daddy daughter moments #the kennedys

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mason-knight-retired · 3 years

Text

Before Asteria

(timelines? don’t know her) --

The halls of the defunct Cerberus base are uncomfortably familiar.

There are ghosts lurking in the shadows. The warren-like layout of this place was almost identical to Phoenix 1, and with every door they kick open, every room they check, Mason almost expects to find Tatsu or any other familiar face huddled in a corner.

Even with the flickering lights overhead from the failing power grid, Mason could easily imagine he was back on P1. It’s disturbing on too many levels but it’s not until they shift into the long hallway of the residential deck that it really seems to hit home.

There are rows of self contained suites for the operatives. His room, along with Ethan’s, had always been larger and nestled at the end of the hallway on P1. Virtue of seniority, he supposes.

By the end, Ethan’s room on P1 had been mostly for storage.

Mason knows he’s not the only one uncomfortable walking these halls. Ben and Nico feel it too, but it’s something they all pointedly ignore. Until they can’t any longer.

The dragoon comes at him with a lash Mason meets with his own and with the movement, the same terrifying dream replays behind his eyes - the nightmare of each one of them, twisted and remade into one of these and he hesitates. Despite the fact Ethan’s ring on his ringer and Ben and Nico are at first at his back and then in front of him, he hesitates to take the death blow.

There’s a blue crackle in the air and Nico booms past him, hot on Ben’s tail, so fast Mason hadn’t even felt the biotic brush against him until he was on the opposite side of the hall and squarely colliding with the dragoon’s chest. Then it’s on the ground, convulsing grotesquely as something bloody and black oozes from between the plates of its armor.

Marie’s voice sounds in Mason’s ear through the tinny speakers in his helmet. “What was that?”

“Hostiles,” Mason replies curtly. Ben moves on ahead, kicking the doors open and hunting for more quarry. “Dragoons as we expected. Stay alert, there might be more.”

When Mason turns around, it's straight into Zeus shiny blue breast plate looming over him, uncomfortably close. “What?”

Nico’s eyes glitter through his face plate, just a golden glow on the other side. “You hesitated, Huntsman.”

“Of course I fucking did.”

“One day that’s going to get you killed.”

Mason grits his teeth and bites back his retort. He glances sideways at the dragoon on the floor, the armour so familiar and foreign at the same time. Maybe it was the nightmares that kept replaying behind his eyes, but he still couldn’t separate phoenix and dragoons any easier this many months into the fleet’s campaign than it had been at the start.

Nico doesn’t move.

“Come on, Zeus. Get moving. We still have three more levels to clear.”

“You’ve lost your edge,” Nico tells him.

Mason snorts and kicks the body on the floor in irritation. The black ooze leaks over his armored toe and squelches as he hauls up the dragoon’s limp wrist and tries to pry away the gauntlet. It’s an ugly job, the gauntlet fused into the dragoon’s wrist and bone. He tries not to let himself think about who this man was, if there was a family out there that missed him, or someone he loved waiting for him to come home.

Maybe Zeus was right. “Maybe I should hand over command to you then, huh, Zeus?” Mason says it with a bitter edge, a challenge wrapped up in annoyance, although who he’s really pissed at, he can’t tell.

Nico moves out of his way slowly but Mason can feel the way his eyes burn into him. “Maybe you should.”

Nico’s answer plants a seed in the back of Mason's mind and its tendrils grow with every quiet step back on the Berlin. He passes the observation lounge and overhears Luca crooning over his guitar, singing some slow song about love and loneliness and missing the one you love and he backtracks to stand in the doorway and listen.

Luca catches his eye but he doesn’t stop until he’s finished his song.

“Got anything happier?” Masons asks, venturing into the room. Maybe a distraction will help push away the aching loneliness. When he’d first come on board the Berlin, he had missed Ethan desperately too, but this now was a different kind of ache. Bittersweet in a way, because he knows Ethan is missing him too.

“Not really in the mood,” Luca huffs, glancing down at his feet. There’s a bruise around his eye that’s faded and Mason knows the reason for it is still languishing in the brig. He wishes there was more they could do about it, but this wasn’t Cerberus, and the kid wasn’t really one of theirs. The Alliance had to follow their own protocols.

Mason hesitates to leave anyway.

He tilts his head. “You okay, Luca?”

The engineer looks up, as though surprised Mason would address him. He sort of is. “You know, I think you’re the only one who doesn’t call me ‘kid.’”

“Is…” Mason frowns. “I can, if you want me to?”

“No,” Luca flashes him a small smile from under his curls. Sometimes he reminds him a little of Ben from before, although with a lot less batarian thrashcore and not entirely chaotic pranks. “I kind of hate it when they call me kid.”

Mason finds himself drifting closer. “I heard about what happened. I’m sorry.”

Luca grimaces and the twang of the strings goes from pleasant to something harsh before stopping all together with a slap on the guitar’s body. “Uh. Thanks. But it’s cool. I can handle it.”

Luca starts to play again, another song Mason doesn’t recognize and Mason sags back against the couch as he listens.

The gold band around his finger feels heavy.

“Let me get this straight-“

Marie pinches the brow of her nose and sighs. She looks tired, more strung out than he’s ever seen her and the guilt rides him hard against his breastbone. “You want to go back to the citadel?”

“You don't need me here, Commander,” Mason shrugs and tries to soften the news by playing to her ego. It almost works but then her lips purse as he continues. “I thought you did. But you've got Nico. You've got Ben and Maddox, even if he’s not fighting fit yet. You don’t need me just now. And I... I just want to be with Ethan. We just… it feels like we only just found each other and then I had to say goodbye to him. And it turns out I’m not as okay with that as I thought I would be.”

“I can understand that, Mase.” She glances at the band on his finger, then looks away. “Priorities change, I get it. But.... It's temporary, right?”

“I hope so. I know things haven’t been exactly great between us lately, but-“

“Shut up. I still love you. I love all of you phoenix boys. But we’re not done here.” She waves a hand, encompassing the ship. “Not by a long shot. I still need all of you.”

“I know. And you’ll have us when it counts, I promise you that, Ree.”

In the docking bay, Mason hoists the duffle bag over his shoulder and peers into a familiar set of bright green eyes. “I'll stay if you need me too, Benji. I feel bad being the one to ask you here in the first place and then leaving myself.”

“No,” the little vanguard grins. “I’m good, Boss. But say hi for me. Both.”

“I will. And with any luck, I might even be able to bring them back with me. It might make things more pleasant around here.”

Ben scrunches his nose. “Yeah,” Mason laughs. “Okay, no. It won’t. It was fun having Ethan on board for a while though.”

“More fun for you.”

“Guilty. But… Look, Benji, real talk now. Promise me you’re going to keep on top of your meds and regular check in’s with Kate, okay?”

Ben nods solemnly and Mason squeezes his shoulder. “I told Luca to keep an eye out for you, but I’m pretty sure he’d do that anyway. In the meantime, you stay out trou.... No, actually. Forget that.” Mason shakes his head and grins. “Get out there and raise hell, little cat.”

It takes far too long to get back to the Citadel, a handful of hops and jumps in passing cruisers and a near miss on account of the reapers, but he’s never been more happy to step foot back into the artificial air and stand under the artificial clouds.

He’s walking down the ramp when he sees him – Sabre, husband, the love of his life - the face and body he traced over and over in his mind on the Berlin during the long nights alone. His face splits into a grin in spite of himself and he shakes his head in a disbelieving laugh.

“How did you know?” he asks without preamble as he gets close.

Ethan holds himself still and watches him, eyes hungry. “I knew as soon as your ship came through the relay. Do you really think I wasn’t keeping tabs on my heart while you were out there?”

Mason comes to a stop in front of him, still grinning and flooded with so much love he’s almost dizzy with it. The latent hum of Ethan’s biotics brushing against his own settles him in a way nothing else could. “I should have known. Kinda ruined my epic surprise though.”

“No. It didn’t. Not by a long shot.” Ethan’s hands cups his face, brushing over his lips. Those hazel eyes Mason has been dreaming about go soft as he holds Mason reverently and presses their foreheads together. “Hi, baby,” he whispers.

Mason drops his duffle bag and grips Ethan close. “Hi. I missed you so much.”

#ethan sinclair #scooter roosevelt #mason knight #luca moreno #alskdjklasjd thank god they're together again #eason #married eason #before asteria #marie miller

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