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tilbageidanmark · 1 year

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Movies I watched this Week #109 (Year 3/Week 5):

(I had a hard time concentrating on movies this week: I got bored easily and started a dozen films I had to click off after a few minutes. Anyway, below are the few I managed to finish :)

🍿

2 by Polish poet Lech Majewski:

🍿 A wonderful new discovery, the visually-stunning The Mill and the Cross. It’s a literal recreation of Bruegel’s 1564 painting ‘The Procession to Calvary’, done in Newport Beach’s ‘Pageant of the Masters’ style. (Photo Above). With a minimal narrative and nearly no dialog, it transports a masterpiece from one medium into another. (Discovered Here). 10/10.

🍿 “... Madame, do you know what mood spelled backward is?...”

His latest drama, Valley of the Gods, however, was disappointing: A symbolic story mixing an indigent Navaho tribe, the richest man in the world who wants to buy the Indian land to mine for Uranium and a writer whose wife flew away with her hang gliding instructor - it was a senseless artsy mess. There were some overtures to Kubrick by using David Bowman as the butler, and Purcell’s Music For The Funeral Of Queen Mary for the finale. But all the mysticism didn’t work for me, as beautiful as the canvass it was painted on it was.

I was planning to continue with his 2014 ‘Field of Dogs’, but will now do so after a break.

🍿

When I lived in Paris in the mid-70′s, I hang around the fringes of certain Dušan Makavejev fan-groups, and at one point I was invited to join their free-spirited commune for some everything-goes sexual explorations. But after seeing his Sweet Movie I promptly drifted away.

Watching it again 50 years later, it didn’t seem so bad.... Until the third act... when this surrealistic Jodorowski-lite agitprop fable turned into a full-on shit-smearing, vomit-orgy, Primal-Therapy violent explosion. Crazed anti-capitalist, (and anti-Marxist), polymorphic-perverse, subversive anarchy. mixed with grainy footage of WW2 massacres and seduction of children it’s depraved, revolting and unpleasant shock cinema at its peak. 2/10.

🍿

“... You’re innocent when you dream”...

Another surprising new discovery, an art-house film so obscure that it doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page: Miss Osaka, by Daniel Dencik, a Danish director (who lives in Samoa). It’s a slow and atmospheric story about Ines, an introverted young woman on vacation in Norway who meets there a beautiful free-spirited woman from Japan. When Mimiko drowns while swimming out under the Northern lights, Ines steals her identity and escapes to Osaka, where she starts working as a hostess at her old nightclub. An elusive parable about identity, not as deep as Antonioni’s ‘The Passenger’, but nearly just as evocative. The trailer. 8/10.

Bonus points for Tom Waits quotes (which was also used in ‘Smoke’)!

🍿

I picked the Bollywood romantic Dil Se.. completely in random, just to spend the evening with a mindless, silly musical, and indeed the first number they burst out singing (on rooftop of a moving train) was the famous Chaiyya Chaiyya with Indian superstar SRK, so that was a good sign!

Unfortunately, the rest was a mess: Only 4 or 5 dance numbers (including this sexy Satrangi Re) were to be enjoyed during the stretched out 3-hours. The story was about a man who obsessively stalks a woman he sees at a train station, before realizing that she is a suicide bomber belonging to some revolutionary “terrorists”. 2/10.

🍿

Harry Caul X 2:

🍿 What does it say about me, that after thousands of movies that I’ve seen, if I had to choose only one as my most favorite, it will without a doubt be Coppola’s paranoiac The conversation? And I’m not even Catholic.

RIP, Cindy Williams.

🍿 So I used this chance to see, once again, another of my favorite Deep State surveillance-paranoia thrillers, Enemy of the state. Predating Snowden’s NSA disclosures, it plays as fresh today as it did 25 years ago. With Skyler White as Jon Voight (His best role ever?) and Jack Black, who lusts after the middle age Latina nanny with the unshaven legs. 9/10.

🍿

Paprika, my first by Satoshi Kon, and one of my first anime films. A complicated mind-fuck soup about a dream-thief that was hard for me to understand, and even more so to appreciate. It reminded me in parts of ‘Spirited Away’, but Miyazaki’s miraculously-mysterious story was geared toward 10 year old girls, and this one had appeal to 20 year old boys.

Discovered it here, which may have been better.

🍿

...“Isadora Duncan - worked at Telefunken”...

Let it be, Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s 1970 Beatles documentary, recording their last album, and including the original footage from the Apple building rooftop concert on Savile Row. So many great moments in it, the full rendition of ‘The long and winding road’, goofing off with ‘Bésame Mucho’, John and Yoko waltzing alone... Peter Jackson cleaned up the grainy images and incorporated them into his 8 hours ‘Get Back’ doc.

"I'd like to say thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves, and I hope we passed the audition!"

🍿

Restless, my 10th by Gus Van Sant. A slight, sweet romance about a young guy, Dennis Hopper’s son, who - like Harold - likes to attend strangers’ funerals. In one of them he meets and falls in love with short-haired teenage Mia Wasikowska, who has only 3 months to live, before she will die of a brain tumor. 5/10.

Incidentally, the opening titles were playing ‘On our way home’ from ‘Let it be’!

🍿

Make Hummus Not War, a slight Australian documentary frames its topic as the conflicting views on which people can claim the ownership, even the genesis, for everybody’s favorite dish. This gives the journalist/filmmaker an excuse to travel to Lebanon, Israel and Palestine, and eat in dozens of hummus restaurants. I mainly watched it, because Mmmmm, Hummus...

🍿

Really love, an all-black romantic comedy written by a first time writer and directed by a first time female director. Maybe they were inspired by ‘In the mood for love’, but it surely didn’t look that way. Too shallow and thin with no character development or flair. 2/10.

🍿

Everybody has their ‘Best of’ list for Black Mirror. Of the 23 episodes, there are 7 that I watched many times, 9 that I watched once and will probably never re-visit, and others that are in between. My most favorites (in no special order) are ‘The National Anthem’, AKA ‘fuck-a-pig’, ‘Hated in the nation’ (a masterpiece), ‘USS Callister’ with Nanette Cole, ‘Striking Vipers’ and ‘Smithereens’. The ones that I disliked were mostly of the ‘Mean Violent’ kind, ‘White Bear’, ‘White Christmas’, ‘Playtest’, ‘Men against fire’. So I decided to re-watch some of those in between:

🍿 Crocodile is dark and horrifying, and the Icelandic landscapes are a distinct character in the story.

🍿 Hang the DJ is about the difficulties of dating, so it didn’t speak to me specifically, but it was actually a sweet romance with an uplifting ending, which is unusual for Black Mirror.

🍿 Be right back, another semi-sweet romance, mixed with the exploration of grief. A young loving couple, a fatal accident, an unexpected pregnancy, and bringing the dead back to life, what not to love.

🍿 I ran the main 5 mutations of Bandersnatch together with Adora, when it premiered and when she was 9. She liked it, but I’m not sure why, as it wasn’t our usual fair at all. Seeing it now (in the static 90 min. pirated version) has only 3 positives: The unique ability to interact and “create one’s own adventure”, the Laurie Anderson’s ‘Oh Superman’ alternative and the oh-so-clever Netflix meta-joke. The narrative was miserable and not interesting in the least. 3/10.

🍿 The Entire History of You, a completely dull domestic drama of manners about jealousy. It was so forgettable, that I couldn’t recall seeing a single detail from it, even though I saw it before. Ironic, since it was about people who can remember every emotion they ever had.

🍿 In 2018 Polish Netflix issued ‘Little Black Mirror’, 4 short YouTube webisodes, made by young local filmmakers. The superficial stories about influencers, new relationship apps and an expecting young couple who learn that their son is going to become a murderous psychopath, showed that the Black Mirror ‘feels’ are easy to parody and copy, with sleek, streamlined technology, modern interiors and unsettling scenarios. But they were inferior to and much more predictable than the originals. At least they were short.

🍿 Conclusion: ‘Black Mirror’ is considered a ‘great’ series, but many of its episodes are mediocre. The ones that I like, rule. And the other ones suck. Still, I can’t wait for series 6.

🍿

Donks, a new short from Felix Colgrave about ocean plastic, avatars and adaptive bottom feeders. Cyriak-lite.

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

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valdomarx · 3 years

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“Geralt. My dearest friend. My closest companion. Light of my life, fire of my-”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Seeing as how I’ve made you famous, and I flatter myself that this has eased you path somewhat, why, this very inn not only took us in but even offered us a discounted rate-”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Testier this time.

“Ahh. Well. Let me put it plainly: I’m in need of a favour.”

Geralt raises one eyebrow, in an expression he knows speaks volumes.

“I need you to come with me to Lettenhove this winter and pose as my fiancé.”

Geralt nearly drops the sword he’s sharpening. A million thoughts whip through his mind, but one is most pressing: “Why, for Melitele’s sake?”

Jaskier waves a hand in a vague and non-descriptive gesture. “It’s a court thing, you know how families are, and my mother has made it abundantly clear that it’s time for me to settle down and this year I’m to return affianced or else she’ll select someone for me. And I can’t get hitched to some local lady, Geralt, I simply can’t, it’ll ruin my bardic appeal, not to mention my employment prospects, and of course I won’t be able to travel with you, and it’s-”

Geralt holds up a hand to ward off the wall of words. The idea of no longer travelling with Jaskier is unconscionable, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. And they spend so much time together they’re practically married anyway. How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Geralt, you are wonderful.” Jaskier beams and throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt growls, but secretly, it’s actually rather nice.

“Mother, this is Geralt, my fiancé.”

Cold, clear eyes look him up and down, assessing him, and pinch into an expression suggesting he has been found wanting. Geralt decides against opening his mouth and further cementing that opinion.

“A witcher.” Her voice has the familiar twang of Jaskier’s, but with the flat, expressionless cadence he associates with the higher echelons of the aristocracy.

“A witcher!” Jaskier confirms in a cheery tone. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She sniffs in a manner which makes it clear that exciting would not be her first choice of word. “I see. He will be joining us for this year’s Yuletide?”

“He will.”

Her face draws back into the impassive mask of the well-bred. “Very well. You will stay in the east wing.”

“Thank you, mother.” Jaskier executes a stiff bow which Geralt copies and they beat a hasty retreat.

“That went rather well!”

Geralt blinks. “Jaskier, I’m fairly sure your mother means to have me killed in my sleep.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always like that. She’s actually softened up a lot since dear old dad died, gods rest the grumpy bastard.”

Geralt struggles to imagine how such staid, cold people could possibly have produced a son as bright and warm as Jaskier. They might as well be a different species.

Jaskier pushes open a door to a grand suite, all plush velvets and gold ornamentation, a thick woven rug underfoot. It’s the most opulent room Geralt has ever seen, but Jaskier pays it no mind and throws his bag casually on the bed.

“We’ll have to stay here together,” he says apologetically, not looking Geralt in the eye. “But the bed is plenty big, or I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather -”

Geralt is still taking it all in: The space, the furnishings, the frankly enormous bed which looks divinely comfortable. And there, through the next room, that looks like-

“Is that a copper bathtub?” he asks, eyes wide. Such luxuries were a rarity indeed.

Jaskier grinned. “It is. Let me get some food sent up and I’ll wash your hair?”

Geralt grumbles, just for the effect, and decides that putting up with tedious aristocracy might have its benefits after all.

Yule festivities in Lettenhove are, mercifully, a mere matter of days. First there is the fitting for formal attire, which Geralt scowls through but Jaskier promises will be made up for with plenty of good food and wine. Then there are several deeply tedious aristocratic parties, which Jaskier sails through and Geralt spends mostly hiding in dark corners, as is his wont.

Occasionally, Jaskier will grab him by the hand and introduce him as, “Geralt, my husband-to-be,” and something funny will flip over in his stomach which will require several drinks to settle. When he returns to his dark corner he’ll find his heart pumping a little faster as his eyes track Jaskier flitting around the room. It’s probably just indigestion from all the rich food.

Then there is the formal family Yuletide dinner, a spectacularly awkward and singly unpleasant evening spent around a long, cold table with Jaskier’s mother and various cousins, who regard Geralt with expressions ranging from bland disinterest to active hostility. The food is heavy beyond measure and the conversation cruel and bland by turns.

They cover the need for raising taxes, the many failings of the servant class, and the petty squabbles over jewels and titles that seems to be the bread and butter of these people. With each hateful line, Geralt feels his blood rising. If it weren’t for Jaskier making pleading eyes at him, he’d take great pleasure in explaining some hard truths to them.

When a cousin begins expounding on useless lazy peasants in the estate, complaining that they can’t work because of plague, but we all know they’re simply idle, Geralt grits his teeth so hard that he swears the sound must be audible.

Beneath the table, Jaskier takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Staring down at their joined hands, Geralt detaches from these awful people and their awful conversation and focuses on the simple warmth of Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his own.

They make their escape from dinner as soon as can be considered polite, and Geralt takes a second to lean against the door to their room, breathing deeply.

“You did well not to throttle anyone,” Jaskier says with a reassuring smile. “If we’d had to listen to cousin Edrick for a minute longer, I might have launched over the table with a carving knife myself.”

Geralt reaches for him without thinking, and once again Jaskier’s hand slips into his own. It’s grounding, to feel something genuine in this place surrounded by artifice.

“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Geralt doesn’t even ask where they’re going before nodding.

They sneak away from the estate out of the servants’ door and follow a winding path toward a cluster of lights in the valley below. The path into Lettenhove town is quiet and calm, and as they walk the snow begins to fall in soft flurries, covering the ground in a peaceful white blanket.

The town looks picture perfect when they arrive, a charming jumble of thatched cottages and a small, cosy inn from which bright light spills out into the snowy night. When they enter the barmaid runs over to hug Jaskier and the proprietor slaps him on the back, and Jaskier has a kind word and a waved greeting for every person in there.

Geralt feels something unwind in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was tight and twisted until now. Seeing Jaskier in his element, among people who love him for who he is, instead of among that cold, hateful family, he feels right in a way he hasn’t for days.

Jaskier is already buying drinks and passing them around, and he excitedly waves Geralt over. “Bree, Geoffrey,” he addresses the couple behind the bar, “This is Geralt.” A shy smile sneaks over his face. “My fiancé.” The couple gasp in delight and congratulate Jaskier, then they’re embracing Geralt like old friends and pushing a drink into his hands.

“Come on, Geralt, join us!” Bree smiles warmly. “It’ll be the ten o’clock bells soon, and we must have Jaskier lead us in a song.”

The evening is a whirl of music and dance and loud, terrible singing, which the entire town seems to join in. For once there is no corner for Geralt to hide in, so he stays by Jaskier’s side, basking in the reflected glow of these people’s clear adoration of his bard.

When the midnight bell chimes and Geoffrey turns them all out for the night, the revelers wend their way home still singing and drinking. As the place empties out, Jaskier slides over to Bree to press a kiss to her cheek and a bulging purse into her hand. She tries to wave him off but Jaskier tucks the money behind the counter all the same, and Geralt watches, a deep wave of fondness sweeping through him.

The snow is still falling when they step out into the now-quiet street, soft, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking in Jaskier’s hair. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair falls in an messy sweep over his eyes; without thinking Geralt reaches out to brush it away behind his ear. Jaskier’s blush deepens as he does so, but he shivers in the cold.

“Here.” Geralt unclasps the thick cloak from around his neck and sweeps it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier’s mouth forms a little o of surprise and he looks up at Geralt, something tender in his eyes.

Geralt’s gaze is caught by the snow flakes settling on Jaskier’s lashes; he’s so focused that he almost jumps when Jaskier reaches out to take his hand. The sky seems to glow with a soft orange light as the clouds reflect the last few fires in the town below; everything is warm with Jaskier’s hand in his despite the chill in the air.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly. “For being here with me.” And leaning in, his breath caressing over Geralt’s face, he touches his lips to Geralt’s cheek in a ghost of a kiss.

Suddenly it occurs to Geralt that this will be it, tomorrow they’ll head back on the path like none of this ever happened, no more holding hands or being close, no more being introduced as Jaskier’s betrothed. And despite the hellish parts of this experience he really doesn’t want it to end. He likes being Jaskier’s person, and he likes Jaskier being his.

They are still standing close together, mere inches between them, and it’s no effort at all to lean in, slowly, cautiously, to find Jaskier’s lips with his own, to place a tentative kiss there. And then Jaskier’s hands are fisting in his shirt and tugging him closer still, and his arms go around his waist and Jaskier is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it, their mouths slotting together like they were made to fit each other, and everything is blazingly bright like the white of the snow.

When they pull apart they stay with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, and Geralt can see a smile cracking wide over Jaskier’s face.

“I like being engaged to you,” Geralt says quietly, unable to keep it in.

Jaskier’s smile widens even further. “I like being engaged to you too,” he says. He kisses him again. “Fiancé.” Another kiss. “Husband to be.” And another. “Partner.” One more. “Beloved.”

“I like the sound of those.” He suspects he may be wearing the same dopey grin as Jaskier is.

“Then let’s make it official.” Jaskier bites his lip. “Marry me?”

Jaskier is a picture of perfection, eyes gleaming and cheeks ruddy, snowflakes in his hair. Geralt’s heart has always been right here.

“I’d be honoured.” He considers for a second. “But not in Lettenhove.”

Jaskier’s laugh sparkles with joy. “Anywhere but here.”

#PLEASE ENJOY THIS HOLIDAY ROMCOM NONSENSE #i am feeling festive and also sappy #geraskier #the witcher #my writing

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othermainblog · 3 years

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A (Not So) Quiet Morning

A/N: This really is the first fanfic I’ve written in years huh. I was feeling inspired because I desperately want more fluffy content between Kaeya and Crepus so I guess I’m making my own food at this point. Featuring some of my personal headcanons, see the bottom for more if you’re interested. Enjoy!

On a clear and pleasantly cool midmorning, while working on his newest painting in the study, Crepus Ragnvindr finds himself struck by an impulse.

It is a peaceful morning. Diluc has decided to visit Jean across the city, bringing that tortoise of his with him to go and visit hers. The servants have busied themselves elsewhere to give him the quiet atmosphere he desires while painting. And Kaeya, in an unprecedented move, has sought his company over Diluc’s.

Crepus is not ignorant to the importance of this moment. He is hyperaware of Kaeya’s presence in the room with him, where the boy has chosen a couch with a very tempting sunbeam on which to curl up with a book. Admittedly, it is wreaking havoc on his ability to concentrate on the scene he intends to paint, but there is no bitterness to accompany that fact.

Because Kaeya rarely seeks out Crepus’ company on his own, more often tagging along with Diluc when his brother seeks his attention. Crepus has worried that this indicates a lack of trust in him, but he has been unsure on how to address the problem.

Today, that doesn’t seem to be an issue in the least.

Again, as it has done countless times this morning, Crepus finds his eyes sliding over to observe his newest son without his conscious desire. He finds himself wondering what is happening in Kaeya’s book; whatever the narrative turn, it must be one that Kaeya is enjoying, because when Crepus looks his way, he sees a subdued smile on his son’s face.

He can feel his own mouth curling in response — a reaction he is quite familiar with from his years spent raising Diluc. In this moment, despite his many regrets, Crepus Ragnvindr feels like the most fortunate man in Teyvat.

The sudden lack of sound must be more obvious than he realized, though. As Kaeya moves to turn to the next page, he glances up at Crepus. Something about his expression must startle Kaeya, because his eye goes wide, the smile becoming uncertain and small.

That won’t do at all, thinks Crepus.

Giving Kaeya as kind a smile as he can muster, Crepus heaves himself to his feet, taking a moment to wipe his hands on the damp cloth one of the servants has had the foresight to bring to the study before making themself scarce. Then he approaches the couch.

“May I sit with you, Kaeya?”

Kaeya looks a bit bemused at this point, but nods and lowers his book to his lap, marking his place with one thumb.

Crepus lowers himself carefully to sit next to Kaeya, rather on the other end like Kaeya undoubtedly expected him to. He keeps an eye on the other’s reaction — curious but not alarmed. Excellent.

Crepus settles, and then deliberately turns so that Kaeya has his full attention. He smiles. “That looks like a good book.”

Kaeya tilts his head a bit, then flips the book to show Crepus the cover. Clearly he has no concept of where this is going, but he seems willing to play along and find out. Crepus again is humbled by the trust in him that that shows.

“Ah, that is a good one. One of my favorites, when I was about your age. I remember how determined I was to finish it, the first time. More than that, I remember how tired I was the next day, after I stayed awake all night to finish it. I actually fell asleep during lessons! My tutors were not pleased. My hand still aches to this day, they made me write so many lines.” Crepus grins and playfully shakes his hand out for emphasis.

A shy little smile is his reward, hesitantly amused by this anecdote. It is, however, much too quick to fade away again.

It is as he is processing the disappointment of this that the impulse strikes. It is one he is not wholly unfamiliar with, being a father for a good many years now, but one that has until now only reared its mischievous head around Diluc.

Crepus has kept a certain small distance between himself and Kaeya in the time he has spent with him, not through his own desires, but out of fear of frightening the boy. Not to say that he has been able to to completely suppress the desire to tease Kaeya entirely; he considers it his divinely gifted right to do so as a parent. And so far, Kaeya has seemed surprised to be included, but not unhappily so. Crepus does not think it is wishful thinking to say that Kaeya has come to trust Crepus, not with today’s request to spend the morning with him instead of his best friend.

It is this last thought that decides it. Crepus allows that spirit of mischief to posses him fully.

“Come now. That won’t do, Kaeya.” Crepus injects some transparently false gravitas to his voice, to signal the game. He would never want his sons to seriously think he was disappointed in them for even a moment.

The ploy works. Kaeya sits up straighter, open curiosity on his face. He studies Crepus for a moment before coming to a decision and twisting his upper body to place the book on the side table. Then he turns back to look up at Crepus, hands relaxed on the knees of his crossed legs. Open body language, an acceptance of Crepus’ playful invitation.

Crepus feels his falsely somber expression melt at the edges. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he gives up the pretext.

“That wasn’t nearly enough. I think I need to see a bigger smile than that.”

Kaeya blinks as Crepus leans closer, lifting his hands with deliberate slowness, making it clear that he will stop if Kaeya wants him to. Kaeya does not stop him, and Crepus’ grin only widens.

“Fortunately, I have a good idea of what to do to fix this.” And Crepus proves the idea a good one indeed, as his fingers gently press into his son’s sides and wiggle.

The reaction is immediate: a jump, a surprised intake of breath, and two small hands placing themselves on his own. Crepus pauses, seeing if Kaeya will signal for him to stop, and feels warm as the signal doesn’t come. Kaeya’s hands do not push his away, and his nervous look is tinged with a playful excitement — an expression universally familiar to parents, he is sure. Crepus grins and attacks in earnest.

His hands move upwards, digging gently into ribs that are still a bit too prominent for Crepus’ tastes, and is rewarded with an exhale that shudders as it catches on a laugh. Kaeya squirms, curling away, mouth wavering into a smile, still not pushing Crepus’ hands away, and Crepus is so very fond of this boy.

It is the work of seconds to turn that exhale into a proper laugh, and Crepus is delighted to learn that his youngest son is, as it turns out, a giggler.

“Maha-! Ahaha! Master Crehehep-!” Kaeya wriggles into the arm of the couch, curling up and kicking his legs and not managing to get even one finger off of his ribs on his own.

Well, Crepus can certainly help him with that, at least.

Those fingers creep further up, worming their way under his arms to look for more giggles.

Kaeya squeaks, squeezing his arms to his sides as hard as he can and slipping against the arm of the couch until he is nearly on his back, legs coming up to again kick at nothing. It is a perfect opportunity to change targets, and one that Crepus has no problem taking advantage of. While one hand stays put, the other reaches to snag one little knee.

The reaction is a bit startling. Kaeya yelps and then bursts into the kind of laughter that can only be described as hysterical. For the first time, he manages to land a hit with the other foot, though without much force. Crepus pauses, startled, and when he looks at Kaeya he sees his son is just as surprised himself. Kaeya stares at him for a moment, eye wide, before giving a cutely nervous smile and shrinking down further into the couch.

After waiting for a signal that doesn’t come, Crepus smiles at the silent permission and slides his hand down to wrap around his calf. Holding his leg still, he brings the other hand, not back to the kneecap, as Kaeya undoubtedly expected, but behind the knee.

Evidently, this is spot is a winner as well, because Kaeya jerks and wheezes on his laughter, squirming and, after only a moment of this, letting out a snort.

Crepus can’t help but laugh at the way Kaeya freezes and slaps a hand over his mouth to contain any more, before another burst of laughter gets the better of him and he removes it to suck in more air.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and Crepus would rather it end before it becomes unpleasant in truth. So he stops the gentle flutter under his son’s knee and releases his leg, watching in amusement as he immediately pulls it back to curl up in a little ball as he regains his breath.

Crepus allows him silence as he recovers, and eventually Kaeya gets enough breath back to uncurl and push himself upright again. He eyes his father from this new vantage point before asking.

“What was that for?”

“Ah, I’m afraid I had no other choice,” Crepus tells him solemnly. “It was vitally important that I hear you laugh today, and how else was I to do it? You never laugh at my jokes, after all.”

“Maybe you’re just not good at telling jokes,” Kaeya counters, and then freezes as he realizes his own daring.

Crepus only laughs again, reaching out to stroke displaced strands of blue out of his face. “In that case, it’s a good thing I have you around to practice on. I’ll be sure to improve my material with your valuable feedback.” His heart feels near to bursting at the way Kaeya relaxes and laughs softly again, leaning into the touch.

“I guess so.”

A/N: As with most people, I don’t think Kaeya as an adult and Kaeya as a child were exactly the same. Even putting aside the can of worms that is the whole Khaenri'ahn plant thing, getting adopted by a family in a totally foreign country is a lot for a kid to deal with. I imagine he was a little uncertain about his place at first. Of course, I also headcanon him as a bit of a little shit (but a cute one) so once he felt more settled I’m sure he could get a bit mouthy sometimes too haha.

I also headcanon Kaeya switched off between calling him “Master Crepus” and “Father” but this is set before he tried out “Father” for the first time, he’s working up to it.

#kaeya #crepus #my fics #genshin impact #just some family bonding #i really wish we got more canon content with these two #kaeya would not have felt guilty and conflicted if he didn't love Crepus #lee!kaeya #tickle fic

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yurimother · 4 years

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LGBTQ Manga Review - Fragtime (Complete Series)

I recall reading the first few chapters of Fragtime on Manga Cross and not being very impressed. I did not care for it much, as, other than the time stopping element, it was mostly generic and had a few too many unsavory elements. I was content to let it rest and be forgotten along with a hundred other girl-meets-girl school Yuri romances until Tear Studio and the people behind the excellent Kase-san and Morning Glories OVA announced an anime adaptation of the work, a full five years after it ended. Inevitably an English adaptation of Sato’s original manga was announced, and so here I am, somewhat reluctantly reading and reviewing the two-volume series. It may sound like I am pessimistic or already had my mind made up, but that is not true. I went into Fragtime with as open a mind as possible, and I am happy to say that I did find several favorable aspects that appealed to me. Sadly, the manga mostly lived up to my poor initial impressions from all those years ago.

Fragtime follows timid high school student Moritani Misuzu, who can stop time for three minutes a day. While using her power, she attempts to look up the skirt of one of her classmates, Haruka Murakami. To her horror, Moritani discovered that Haruka is the one person immune to her ability. The two form an unlikely friendship and spend those few minutes when all others freeze together. As Moritani’s feelings for Haruka grow, her powers begin to fade, throwing their time together in jeopardy.

At first, this story appears to have some promise, along with some obvious issues. The supernatural aspect of Moritani’s powers and its connection to her emotions and relationship with Haruka provide excellent possibilities and avenues to explore the series’ romance and characters. Sadly, Sato delivers an unwieldy story with unlikeable and inconsistent subjects, a poorly paced narrative, and far too many sleazy moments to excuse. This last point is the most prominent of all and will be a turn off for many readers, myself very much included.

Moritani begins the story by “upskirting” one of her classmates. It is later revealed that she reveled in exploring the time-frozen school to pry into people’s most intimate moments, many of which frankly do not happen in schools nearly as much as the story would like to believe. Following this event are multiple scenes with characters flashing each other their panties, or else stripping to whatever the opposite of readers’ delight is. These moments are not sexy, and while a few of them appear to have been attempts at comedy, they will elicit few laughs. These factors create an overwhelming blanket of immature perversion that stifles any enjoyment in the audience and characters.

Another egregious element is a plotline where Haruka is continually sexually abused by her teacher, something used by her to manipulate Moritani, then joked about, and never resolved despite being referenced a good half-dozen times throughout the manga. More than anything, this speaks to Fragtime’s inability to treat its characters with any respect or focus on a plot arc and complete it satisfactorily. For indeed, even if one undergoes the arduous task of shrugging off the uncomfortable fanservice, there is not much noteworthy content left underneath.

Fragtime’s highschool Yuri romance plot is pretty unextraordinary. Even though it did attempt to include a few interesting plot points, like when Haruka and Moritani begin dating partway through the series, it is not awful, but too often, these plots are picked up and then never resolved properly, such as Moritani struggle to avoid the ping-pong club, and her discomfort after finding out about Haruka’s boyfriend. Yet, there were some positives along the way, sweet moments between characters or satisfying actions taken by them. It is just hard to find one uninterrupted by an unwelcome twist or panty flash. The one unconditional plus I will give is that I really liked the ending. There is a fantastic scene of role-reversal where the usually quiet Moritani confesses all the mischief to her and Haruka committed to the class and reveals the truth of their relationship and her feelings for Haruka. Afterward, a stunned Haruka is forced into a crisis of character and her true self is seemingly revealed. It is appropriately dramatic and delivers a fulfilling ending for the characters. Sadly, these revelations and character arcs are not supported by the rest of the story.

A manga like Fragtime lives or dies by its characters. Readers will sympathize with likable characters met with appropriate challenges and growth, or else they will laugh with endearing figures who try their best despite their flaws. Sadly, Fragtime’s Haruka is neither. Haruka is instantly dislikable, manipulating Moritani upon their first meeting, and does little to improve. She often jumps between ignoring Moritani and controlling her, demanding that she only use her powers at her command. These traits are never addressed, and the whole time readers are expected to accept that she is an unreachable beauty, and we should love her alongside Moritani. She is hopelessly inconsistent, apparently changing personalities and acquiring new traits at the drop of a hat so that Sato can shoehorn a new element of drama into the convoluted romance. The ultimate motivation behind her character, how she tries to please everyone and do what they want her to, is contrary to half her actions, and everything we have learned about her up to that point, making the reveal in the penultimate chapter, which is well-executed, feel forced.

Even through all the misery, convolution, and smut, there were, thankfully, some great moments sprinkled throughout Fragtime, mostly from Moritani. I loved seeing Moritani in the moments when she struggled with jealousy and accidentally stopped time, or else was uncertain about how Haruka would react when she confessed something to her. It was really human and relatable, and if only she were not going around looking up girls’ skirts, she would have been an excellent character. It also helps that her journey is also much more believable than Haruka’s, as Sato mostly keeps her story and development moving at a steady pace.

Moritani is much more consistent than Haruka. She starts the series as a timid and quiet girl, using her ability to run from confrontation or frankly, any form of human interaction. Once she meets Haruka and the solace of those frozen minutes is taken from her, she is understandably confused and traumatized. She even has a few moments of growth through the series, taking more confidence in herself as she plants a pair of panties (yup this again) on Haruka’s cheating boyfriend’s head. It is almost enough to sell her eventual ending and deliver a complete character.

Finally, we come to the art, which is good though not extraordinary. Characters have distinct designs and are consistent. Backgrounds and details are well managed, and nothing ever caught my eye as warped or out of place. However, there is not much that jumps out either for its quality. Sato uses very basic paneling, which is easy to read by also just slightly dull. The time-stopping elements were crying out for some sweeping panels of objects frozen mid-movement, but we never got any such content. In fact, there is no noticeable change in the art during those movements when time is stopped, other than Misuzu and Haruka acting like a pervert and exhibitionist respectively. If the writing did not specify when time was stopped or started, readers would have no idea.

Fragtime has an interesting concept but neither the grace nor charm to pull it off completely. The story is meandering and clumsily tries and fails to incorporate heavy topics and complex characterization into a generic Yuri school romance. The characters, particularly Haruka, are mostly unlikeable and wildly inconsistent, and readers have to force themselves to cheer for them or event finish this two-volume series. Most of all, Fragtime leaves an unpleasant and unsettling feeling with all its sleazy fanservice and perverted set pieces, clearly attempting to cater to specific audiences while utterly misunderstanding how teenage girls, or frankly, sane human beings, act. Any silver linings in its more relatable moments and competent presentation are whisked away by a mixture of contempt and disgust. Sadly, I do not recommend this manga, although I do appreciate that Seven Seas published the whole series in one omnibus volume so that it takes up less space on my bottom shelf.

Ratings: Story – 3 Characters – 4 Art – 6 LGBTQ – 2 Sexual Content – 7 Final – 3

Review copy provided by Seven Seas Entertainment

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ibijau · 3 years

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On AO3

After allowing Jin Guangyao to get away with so much, for so long, Lan Xichen cannot be trusted to lead his own sect anymore. Nie Huaisang comes up with a way to ensure Lan Xichen won't make a mess again.

inspired by @anxious-witch ‘s marriage AU!

Three weeks into Lan Xichen's seclusion, there is a knock on the door of the Hanshi, which he ignores. He is meditating. He should be meditating. He doesn't know how to meditate anymore. Intruders have been rare so far, but sometimes servants come with food. They have been instructed to leave it at the door in silence. Some do. Others feel the impulse to knock, especially if they find the remains of the last meal untouched. It is useless explaining to them that Lan Xichen can easily practice inedia, that it is a normal part of improving his cultivation. They worry. Lan Xichen ignores them. It is usually enough.

It is not enough that day. The knocking persists, until the unwanted visitor tires of waiting for an answer and comes in.

"We must talk," Lan Qiren announces, coming to kneel next to where his nephew is meditating.

Trying to meditate.

Lan Xichen ignores him.

It is easy to ignore what disturbs him.

His friendship with the late Jin Guangyao is proof of how good he's become at refusing to see what he doesn't want to see.

"Your seclusion has caused great controversy in the cultivation world," Lan Qiren explains, undisturbed by the lack of answer.

If Lan Xichen is used to willful blindness, Lan Qiren knows how to speak to those who won't listen. It comes from being a teacher.

It comes from being the only sane man in an insane family.

"People have been throwing serious accusations against you," Lan Qiren announces. "False, all of them, but that has never stopped them before. They have started saying you were Jin Guangyao’s lover, for some, his accomplice at least, for others."

If he still knew how, Lan Xichen would smile.

The first accusation is ridiculous. He never felt desire for Jin Guangyao, though he wrongly believed they were each other's confidant which is far more intimate. Even if desire had existed, Jin Guangyao would never have betrayed his wife, knowing too well what would be said of him if he did.

As for the second accusation, it is right of course. Lan Xichen, unknowingly, was Jin Guangyao's accomplice. His friend would never have done what he did without Lan Xichen's help and support. He even gave him the weapon with which to kill Nie Mingjue.

Intent matters little. Lan Xichen was part of the plot that killed his oldest friend, it is a fact.

"Some people have been asking for your head, Xichen."

Lan Xichen closes his eyes. It matters little if he lives or dies. It won't change the evil he allowed to exist.

"The fact that you entered seclusion is taken as a sign of mourning," Lan Qiren insists. "A sign of guilt. So most of them asked for your blood. But Nie Huaisang has offered a… different solution to the problem you pose."

At that name Lan Xichen opens his eyes, and lets his gaze fall on his uncle. However much he wants to shroud himself in indifference, on this matter he is curious. Nie Huaisang has shown to what extremes he will go for justice, for hatred. Lan Xichen can only wonder what fate awaits him, should his last surviving friend have the last word.

"Nie Huaisang has suggested it would be wise for you to step down from leading Gusu Lan, since you cannot be trusted with politics, and given in marriage to whoever can guarantee they will keep you out of trouble. He offered himself as a possible spouse."

Lan Xichen nearly laughs.

It is something Jin Guangyao suggested once, almost as a joke. A marriage between him and Nie Huaisang. One of them stepping down, unsuited for politics.

If that had come to pass, Lan Xichen would have done everything in his power to ensure Nie Huaisang’s happiness. He knows better than to hope the same kindness might be extended to him.

"I have talked with Nie Huaisang about this offer of his," Lan Qiren states. "He gave some serious guarantees on the subject of your safety. And considering the circumstances, if he is the one taking you under his protection, it is unlikely others will dare to attack you."

"Are you asking for my opinion," Lan Xichen asks, voice rough from disuse, "or announcing my punishment?"

"You can refuse. You are still entitled to your choices, good or bad."

It is clear that Lan Qiren knows what the right choice is. Lan Xichen lacks the energy to object.

His decisions have so rarely been right, it is wiser to let others decide his fate.

The wedding robes are heavy and cumbersome, but the nearly opaque veil is not unwelcome. Lan Xichen has no wish to see the Unclean Realm as he is led toward the place he will now call home until he dies.

He is grateful for the veil.

He is grateful Nie Huaisang is using a red silk ribbon rather than his own hand to guide him.

He is grateful this joke of a wedding takes place in Qinghe rather than Gusu, and he is not forced to let Nie Huaisang touch another ribbon.

They pause at a door, which Nie Huaisang opens without a word. He has been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time. Lan Xichen is glad he cannot see his new husband's face. He hopes the veil will stay.

They go in. Pause again. The door closes.

"You can remove the veil now, Er-ge," Nie Huaisang offers.

Lan Xichen does no such thing. Nie Huaisang does not insist.

"You should not be disturbed here," he states, his voice devoid of emotion. "It is isolated from most other buildings. I thought you would prefer it that way."

Nie Huaisang waits for an answer. None comes.

"There is a garden for you to enjoy," Nie Huaisang continues, undisturbed. "You may also go wherever you please within the Unclean Realm. I advise you against leaving our walls. I can only guarantee your safety here."

Perhaps Lan Xichen is supposed to thank him for that protection. For saving him from death.

He does neither.

And yet, he feels a crack through his carapace of indifference. It is the first time Nie Huaisang and him are in each other's presence since that fateful night when Lan Xichen's world crumbled around him. On this night, their wedding night, Lan Xichen would have expected the other man to talk about more important things than where he may or may not go.

"Why?" Lan Xichen asks at last.

"Why what? Why can't I protect you outside?"

"Why protect me at all?"

A long pause.

Lan Xichen feels tempted to remove his veil after all. He does not. He cannot face the man Nie Huaisang really is. It is another hard truth he does not want to see.

"Why indeed?" Nie Huaisang scoffs. "Even if I told you, would you believe me?"

"Probably not," Lan Xichen admits. "Not after everything."

"Then I won't even try. In fact, it's probably best if I stay away from you. I did not bring you here to intrude in your life, Er-ge. You won't see me here again unless you invite me."

Lan Xichen considers that statement, and cannot decide how he feels about it.

"I doubt I will," he only says.

"I doubt it as well," Nie Huaisang admits. "Goodnight, husband, and farewell I suppose."

Nie Huaisang lingers a moment more before turning around and leaving the room. In a surprising gesture of temper, he slams the door behind him.

Lan Xichen waits a while, to make sure the other man is truly gone, and finally removes his veil.

His new prison is a house of decent size, not much smaller than the Hanshi he used to live in, and decorated in a similar style. Lan Xichen cannot decide if this is meant as a kindness or a taunt.

Either way, he hates it.

But it is home now, no matter how he feels.

Lan Xichen spends his days inside his new home, trying to meditate. Although he has been told he is allowed to leave his house, he sees no point in it. He refuses to even look outside. That way, his life feels unchanged. He can nearly pretend he is still in the Cloud Recesses, reflecting on his crimes and improving his meditation. His wedding feels like nothing but a distant dream.

Nie Huaisang, as promised, never visits again.

It feels almost like home.

Almost.

Not quite.

In the Cloud Recesses, the servants knew to leave Lan Xichen alone.

Here Bai Yun, the woman assigned to serve him, comes and goes as she pleases. She refuses to leave food at the door, no matter how many times Lan Xichen asks, and she scolds him when he skips meals, the way a mother might. At least, so Lan Xichen has heard. His own experience with motherhood is incomplete.

It is annoying, the way she insists on chatting. Of course it is not unusual for servants of the Unclean Realm to take liberties, especially since Nie Huaisang’s ascension, but Bai Yun particularly irritates Lan Xichen.

He thinks, at first, that she must have been sent to torture him. She is there to break his peace of mind, to interrupt his meditation, to pester him until his good will breaks. It makes sense. Nie Huaisang must still want revenge, and driving Lan Xichen crazy isn't a bad way to obtain it.

As weeks pass, though, that idea vanishes. Bai Yun does not appear to be evil, only chatty. And Lan Xichen, so annoyed at first, comes to enjoy her visits. It has been a long time since anyone has spoken to him without expectations. It becomes oddly pleasant to hear her talk about her life as a servant, full of problems and joys different from those Lan Xichen encountered when he still had a life of his own, but no less intense to her. And Bai Yun seems happy when, almost without realising, Lan Xichen starts asking for details or follow-ups on some of her stories.

It is only what he was trained to do, he tells himself. It doesn’t make him kind or good. A lifetime of habits, of making small talk with anyone who feels they have a right to speak to him, is not a thing easily changed.

Still, Bai Yun’s conversation is not unpleasant.

And as it turns out, they’ve met before.

“During the Sunshot Campaign,” Bai Yun explains to a stunned Lan Xichen. “Ah, you wouldn’t remember I suppose, for you there must have been a lot happening. But I had been taking my daughter to the sect where she’d been accepted as an outer disciple, and we were captured alongside that sect by the Wens. But you saved us, and took all of us to Qinghe for safety. Now my daughter is a disciple here, and she’s going to marry someone of the Nie clan next summer. All thanks to you, Zewu-Jun!”

Faced with that gratitude, that radiant smile, Lan Xichen doesn’t know what to say. After weeks, months even, or ruminating on every thing he has done wrong, on every mistake, on every crime, it is odd to be reminded there was a time when he could do good.

Appeared to do good.

Back then he was already working closely with Jin Guangyao after all, using intelligence obtained from him to stir the course of the war. A lot of what Lan Xichen did was his own effort, but it seems small compared to what he accomplished thanks to Jin Guangyao. Lan Xichen saved a handful of people here and there, while Jin Guangyao won them the war.

And yet, in spite of this efforts to remind himself of his failures, Lan Xichen cannot help feeling some pride once more over what he did back then. There are people alive that might not be, had he not worked so hard on freeing prisoners and protecting those attacked by the Wen.

Pride is an odd thing to feel.

Odder still is the fact that Nie Huaisang gave him a servant who might have any gratitude towards him. It cannot be a coincidence.

Lan Xichen wonders what game the other man is playing.

Bai Jie is an energetic girl who looks and acts like she could have been born in the Nie clan. She is just as chatty as her mother, and just as determined to do as she pleases. After meeting her, it starts making sense to Lan Xichen why these two were welcomed into Qinghe Nie.

And Lan Xichen does meet Bai Jie, whether he likes it or not. After Bai Yun revealed this link between them, her daughter accompanies her one morning, eager to meet the man to whom she owes her life.

Unlike her mother, Bai Jie treats Lan Xichen with the respect he is more accustomed to, but only because she’s clearly more aware of who he is. Bai Jie sees him as a man who was once important and renowned, while Bai Yun only sees the spoiled child who refuses food and wastes away inside the walls of his own house.

They must have talked about that, these two women, because one of the very first things Bai Jie asks about is why he never leaves the house.

“I expect disciples of Qinghe Nie would find me an unpleasant sight,” Lan Xichen replies, surprised this even needs to be said, after he helped the murderer of their former sect leader.

“The esteemed Zewu-Jun judges us wrongly,” Bai Jie retorts. “We bear no dislike for Nie zongzhu’s husband. We know what happened, of course. Nie zongzhu told us, once it was over. We are all very sorry that Zewu-Jun was made to suffer so.”

Lan Xichen has to refrain from a grimace. He suffered much indeed, helping a murderer, helping an ambitious liar, having to be tricked into bringing justice to the unjust.

In spite of his efforts, his expression must change and reveal some of his thoughts. Lan Xichen is no longer as skilled as he was at controlling his features. He has not needed to in a long while, locked up inside with no company but Bai Yun.

Bai Jie notices, and sighs.

“Honourable Zewu-Jun, it is Nie zongzhu who told us that you suffered,” she insists. “Some of us were angry at first about the marriage, especially the older ones that knew Chifeng-Zun well. But Nie zongzhu told us the truth of what happened, he reminded us that many others fell for Liangfang-Zun’s lies, him first of all. And now, we understand and would not dare to gossip against Zewu-Jun, let alone speak ill of him to his face. If you left the house, you would find no enemies in the Unclean Realm.”

“I am comfortable here,” Lan Xichen assures her.

It’s not a lie. Not really. He is comfortable. He has grown to like the safety of his prison. Bai Yun’s daily visits make isolation more bearable.

Inside his house, he is merely Lan Xichen. Outside… outside lay expectations he does not want to face anymore.

“He hasn’t even looked at the garden, you know,” Bai Yun intervenes from another part of the house, where she is doing whatever it is servants do to keep a house clean and tidy. “I’m not saying gone there, I’m saying not so much as glanced outside.”

Bai Jie gasps in horror, as if it matters to her whether Lan Xichen knows what his garden looks like or not.

It does not matter to him.

Curtains stay closed all day long.

It makes the house darker than it needs to be, but that suits him better. It is a prison after all. It has no business being bright and pleasant.

But Bai Jie, for all of her respectful ways, is a determined young woman, worse so than her mother. Bai Yun has long ago given up on making Lan Xichen do anything. Bai Jie pesters him all morning and afternoon about that blasted garden until Lan Xichen gives in and agrees to check it, just so she’ll leave him alone.

For the first time since arriving in the Unclean Realm, Lan Xichen opens his front door and steps outside.

Fresh air feels odd, after so long. Lan Xichen must have missed it without realising. He has to close his eyes to enjoy the slight breeze on his skin, the warmth of sunlight.

When he opens them again, he understands why Bai Jie and Bai Yun so wanted him to see the garden around his house.

It looks like the Cloud Recesses.

With the difference in climate and soil, it must have taken untold amounts of money and labour to get such a result. But it really does look like a smaller version of the Cloud Recesses, and so does the house, built in the same style as Lan Xichen’s old Hanshi. It would stand out among the rest of the Unclean Realm, but the garden is arranged in such a manner that aside from the highest buildings and the defensive walls, nothing of the Unclean Realm is visible.

Lan Xichen, overwhelmed, quickly returns inside, and wonders once more what Nie Huaisang is trying to accomplish.

It was a mistake to have given in once and stepped outside, because Lan Xichen misses it now.

He gives in to his need for fresh air, and starts wandering in his garden, in between Bai Yun’s visits. It is a torture, sometimes, to be stuck in this copy of his home, knowing it to be a prison. Lan Xichen has to assume it is meant to feel that way. Nie Huaisang has to be mocking him, mocking his failure to be what he ought to have been.

A fake Cloud Recesses for the man who played at being its sect leader.

At least, meditating gets easier out there. For the first time since that dreadful night, Lan Xichen manages to find some peace again, however fleeting it might be. Encouraged by that success, he spends more and more time out in the garden until he knows it by heart, just like his house.

He is outside, meditating under a tree, when Nie Manqian finds him.

It is a shock to receive a visit from Qinghe Nie’s first disciple. Nie Manqian is a cousin to his sect leader, and used to be fairly close to Nie Mingjue, under whose rule he became first disciple. Lan Xichen and him never had any quarrel before, and even bonded somewhat after Nie Huaisang had to rise to power, both of them eager to help the young man settle in a position that he clearly struggled with.

Lan Xichen knows better than to expect any good feelings to remain between them, now that he has been revealed to have helped murder Nie Mingjue.

And yet, Nie Manqian is perfectly cordial to him, asking if he likes the garden, if Bai Yun is taking good care of the house, if Bai Jie (who still visits at least once a week) does not bother him too much.

“She’s my future sister-in-law,” Nie Manqian reveals. “I know how she can be.”

It shocks Lan Xichen to learn this.

The Nie clan has always been more relaxed about allowing marriage of love rather than politics than any of the other clans, so it is no surprise that a cousin to the sect leader might marry a nobody, an outer disciple who brings nothing but her loyalty and skill.

No, what Lan Xichen doesn’t understand is why Bai Yun was made to serve him if she is about to rise in society with her daughter. Surely the future in-law to a high ranking Nie disciple should not be forced to clean floors for the man who murdered the sect’s beloved leader. Has she been sent as a spy? Watching him all along, reporting his every movements to Nie Huaisang, just another person pretending to befriend him for her own purposes…

A fake friend, a fake Cloud Recesses, all to match Lan Xichen’s undeserved reputation.

It might justice of a sort.

“I was so relieved when Bai Jie told me that you’ve been leaving the house at last,” Nie Manqian continues, undisturbed by Lan Xichen’s lack of answer. “We were getting worried about you, Zewu-Jun. I hope you will not mind me saying this, but you’ve never stricken me as a man to enjoy inactivity.”

Lan Xichen smiles.

It might have been better for everyone if he had not been so active, if he had not involved himself so much in the business of others.

They both know this.

“Zewu-Jun, I understand that the situation is not easy for you,” Nie Manqian says with a sympathy that Lan Xichen would fall for, if he did not know any better. “But I came here to remind you that you are free to move as you please in the entirety of the Unclean Realm, not just this house and its garden. In fact, I would be honoured if you considered sparring with me someday.”

“You would be disappointed,” Lan Xichen replies, almost in spite of himself. “My skills have rusted from disuse.”

“I doubt Zewu-Jun could disappoint me,” Nie Manqian claims. Lan Xichen wonders when he learned to lie with such sincerity. He always took the Nies to be poor liars. But of course, Nie Huaisang already proved that idea wrong. “I will not push for it, but rest assured that my offer remains, whether you accept it now or in ten years.”

“I will consider it,” Lan Xichen promises, intending to do no such thing.

He does not know what the Nie sect is trying to accomplish, but he will not play along.

Besides, he has not unsheathed Shuoyue since that night. He knows his sword’s blade is still stained with blood he does not have the courage to clean.

His skill might not be the only thing to have rusted by now.

It takes over a month, but Lan Xichen eventually makes it to the training grounds.

Nie Manqian might not have pushed for it, but Bai Jie heard about the offer, of course, and she had no qualms pestering Lan Xichen. All of his excuses were pushed aside effortlessly. She even found him a sword to practice with, when he explained that Shuoyue was in no state to be used. So Lan Xichen gives in, and follows her to the training grounds one night, late enough that nobody should be around to see them.

It is exhausting to yield a weapon again, after so long.

After barely a incense stick’s time, Lan Xichen muscles are in agony, his lungs burning.

Everything hurts.

Lan Xichen hasn’t felt so alive in ages.

Against his better judgement, Lan Xichen starts visiting the training grounds more and more. Only once or twice a week at first, but the way it makes his blood run again is too pleasant, and soon enough it is a nearly daily occurrence.

Only at night when it starts, but Nie Manqian hears about it of course and invites him again to spar. This time, Lan Xichen agrees.

He has not rusted as much as he assumed he would have, and it is thrilling to go against such a skill adversary. Nie Manqian wins their fight, but demands that they try again another day, claiming he won’t be happy until he’s faced Lan Xichen when he’s back to his normal level.

Lan Xichen agrees to this as well.

He still doesn’t know what game the Nie sect is playing with him, but he will take what he can get until his true punishment befalls him.

It is good to be sparring with a man he respects. It is good to see the assembled disciples watching their match, to hear them commenting on it, to find that they enjoyed that fight as much as he did.

It is good to be alive, to be himself.

Lan Xichen had forgotten.

That joy is short lived.

As Lan Xichen leaves the training grounds with Nie Manqian, he has to pass through the main courtyard of the Unclean Realm on the way back to his house. As he walks there, he is spotted by the leader of a small sect, waiting with his retinue for an audience with Nie Huaisang.

Hatred is too weak a word to describe the way that man looks at Lan Xichen.

“What is that murderer doing here, walking free with a sword in hand?” Sect leader Peng rages, pointing an accusing finger. “Wasn’t it promised that he would be kept under control?”

Nie Manqian stiffens and throws Lan Xichen an apologetic look before stepping in front of him, as if trying to protect him from that attack.

“Peng zongzhu, please keep your voice down,” Nie Manqian demands. “Nothing is happening here that goes against what was promised, and…”

“Nothing, really? He let Jin Guangyao murder whoever he pleased, probably helped him even, and you let him go around, dressed in finery, looking like a happy young master! I knew it was going to end up like this. You big sects always look out for one another in the end! We should have kept asking for his head! He never minded when we were slaughtered or cheated, why should he get to be treated any better?”

Lan Xichen feels his blood freeze.

It is one thing to have been told by his uncle that many wanted him dead for his association with Jin Guangyao, and quite another to witness it in person.

Before he can figure out how to react, a voice rings behind him.

“Peng zongzhu, I believe it is my right to treat my husband however I please,” Nie Huaisang states, passing by Lan Xichen without sparing him a glance. “We all agreed he should not continue ruling Gusu Lan, it so he doesn’t. We also agreed that if he lived, he should be kept under close watch, and so he is. Beyond that, I made no promises, and so I refuse to be faulted for failing to meet whatever criteria you imagined for yourself.”

“You implied he would be punished!”

“Isn’t it punishment to be married to a man such as myself?” Nie Huaisang retorts. Lan Xichen can hear his smile, even if he cannot see it at the moment, the other man's back turned to him.

“That’s…”

“I am in no mood to discuss my marriage,” Nie Huaisang continues, ignoring the attempted interruption, his voice steadier than Lan Xichen has heard it in years. “If you only came here for that, you may go away already, the topic really doesn’t interest me in the least. But if you are here for something that’s worth my time, I will listen of course. It is your choice, Peng zongzhu.”

Lan Xichen stares at this man who doesn’t speak nor act like the Nie Huaisang he knows.

Thought he knew.

Sect Leader Peng stares as well, but he’s far less confused than Lan Xichen and quickly starts explaining why he’s there. Troubles with demons that his sect lacks the power to deal with. Nie Huaisang invites the other sect leader to follow him so they can discuss this in private.

The two men pass right by Lan Xichen. Sect Leader’s eyes are still burning with hate, but Nie Huaisang acts as if he cannot even see Lan Xichen. As if the man who was once his friend isn’t even worthy of his notice anymore.

Perhaps he never was worthy of either notice nor friendship.

Nie Huaisang, more than anyone else, has every right to hate Lan Xichen for his failures.

This incident should be a wake-up call for all of Qinghe Nie, a reminder of who Lan Xichen is, what he’s done, what they’ve lost by his fault.

But Nie Manqian apologises for what just happened, and promises to be more careful in the future, so Lan Xichen isn’t exposed again to unwanted visitors.

“Nie zongzhu is going to scold me for this,” Nie Manqian adds. “But I thought he would have found time for Peng zongzhu already, and I was careless. It will not happen again.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lan Xichen replies. “Peng zongzhu said nothing untrue.”

Nie Manqian gives him a long, hard look for that remark.

“It doesn’t matter how Zewu-Jun feels about it,” he announces at last. “We were given orders to protect Zewu-Jun, and we failed to follow them. In the future, we will ensure you are kept safe.”

This brings dozens of questions to Lan Xichen’s mind. He doesn’t ask a single one of them, unsure Nie Manqian would be willing, or even capable, of answering them. They are both silent as they walk to Lan Xichen’s house.

Once he is alone, Lan Xichen collapses on his bed, telling himself it is only because sparring tired him. It does not matter that the world hates him. It is justified, after he cooperated with a murderer, after he failed to take action at every turn, after his complacency cost so many lives.

He understands being despised.

He does not understand Nie Huaisang giving orders to shield him from it.

Perhaps this is how Lan Wangji was born, Lan Xichen wonders as he hands Bai Yun a letter for Nie Huaisang. With curiosity, and an invitation.

His own birth has never been a mystery. There needed to be a child to make the marriage secure, and so he came to be. But Lan Wangji’s existence always puzzled him, once he understood the odd nature of his parents’ match. They never met, never visited one another, his uncle told him, so how did Qingheng-Jun seduce his wife into having another child, one that wasn’t necessary to keep her alive? All too often, Lan Xichen has imagined the worst of his own father.

But here he is now, a prisoner inside a sect he doesn’t belong with, a sect that ought to hate him, ruled by a man who would have every right to execute him.

Lan Xichen always feared becoming his father. It never occurred to him that he is his mother’s son as well.

It surprises him when Bai Yun, the next day, brings an answer from Nie Huaisang. More shocking still, the other man is accepting his offer to dine together than night. The calligraphy on that letter is elegant and flawless. But of course, that at least is something Lan Xichen knew to expect.

Nie Huaisang comes a little before nightfall, followed by some servants carrying their dinner.

Lan Xichen feels like he is in front of a stranger. He doesn’t know what to think of this Nie Huaisang who stands straight and proud, who carries a fan but doesn’t hide behind it, who meets his eyes without hesitation.

“I hope the house and garden have been to your tastes,” Nie Huaisang comments while the servants finish setting the table.

The dishes are all, without exception, vegetarian. Lan Xichen doesn’t know what to think of that either, when Nie Huaisang has always been so vocal in his dislike of Gusu Lan’s cuisine.

“Your hospitality has been most generous, Nie zongzhu.”

Nie Huaisang smirks at him. “Hospitality? I am not sure that is quite the right word here, Er-ge. But a man must ensure his spouse lives comfortably. I am glad if I was able to provide adequately.”

Lan Xichen watches the servant leave, unsure what he can or should say in their presence. When they are gone, he turns to Nie Huaisang again.

“Why are you doing this?”

Nie Huaisang opens his fan as he sits down, though only to idly play with it.

“A good question, but ultimately a pointless one. As I’ve said before, would you believe me even if I answered?”

Lan Xichen joins him at the table, and pours tea for both of them. He isn’t sure he will manage to eat, but drinking is usually easy enough.

“Whether I believe you or not is up to me. Either way, I want to hear your answer.”

This time, Nie Huaisang finally does hide behind his fan. It is such a familiar gesture that Lan Xichen aches at the sight.

“If Zewu-Jun wants to know, then I’ll try to explain,” Nie Huaisang sighs. “I’m doing this because I want to protect you. It’s that simple. Some people out there think that I did what I did for the sake of justice, and so I should want for you to be punished. Those people are wrong. Justice is for idiots.”

He fans himself slowly, careful to keep his face mostly hidden.

“I am not a good man, Zewu-Jun. I really don’t care about ideals. I don’t have the strength to stand for what’s right, like your brother and his husband. Like you. All that matters to me is the things and people I love. Someone killed my brother, so that person had to die. That person also hurt you, though you did not know it at the time, so he had to suffer as well. He manipulated the two people I love best and tried to lead them to their doom, so of course I had to do the same to him. It is really that simple.”

“The two people you love best… your brother, and who else?”

Nie Huaisang closes his fan with a sharp gesture, and gives Lan Xichen a pointed look that makes him blush.

“I find that hard to believe,” he says, looking down.

“Of course. Didn’t I say you wouldn't believe me?” Nie Huaisang asks, taking his chopsticks to toy with some of the food. “It’s fine. It took me a while to get there, but I don’t care about being believed or trusted anymore. It’s enough that I know the truth, and that I know where I stand.”

Lan Xichen falls silent, more puzzled than before.

He cannot say that the idea of Nie Huaisang holding him dear comes out of nowhere. There have been signs, here and there. Or at least, Lan Xichen had thought there had been signs. He doesn’t know anymore. Whether those signs were real or not, they never bothered him, his own sentiment on the matter fluctuating over the years. He used to be very fond of Nie Huaisang before Nie Mingjue died, before merely pitying him in the years that followed.

He doesn’t know how to feel about this anymore.

As Lan Xichen watches Nie Huaisang serve food for him, new questions arise. He almost doesn’t want to ask them. The answers he’s been getting, so far, have been anything but satisfying.

“If this is true…” he starts, only for Nie Huaisang to raise an eyebrow.

“If? So you really distrust me so much, Er-ge?”

“Does it matter? My trust does not reflect the value of anyone’s character,” Lan Xichen points out, making Nie Huaisang grimace. “So, if it is true that you feel that way, why did you never try to make our marriage more than what it has been so far?”

Nie Huaisang sips on some tea, clearly giving himself time to think how to answer that question. He was already like that as a youth. Or perhaps this too is an act, a way to comfort Lan Xichen, to make him feel like he still knows the other man.

“I know where I stand,” Nie Huaisang repeats, putting down his glass. “I think I know where you stand as well, perhaps better than you do at the moment. I have no illusions regarding the way you feel about me. You think me untrustworthy. You have clearly been expecting me to turn against you, to harm you. As for our values, much as I admire you, I also realise that we view the world too differently to be compatible. I am selfish, and I care only about what I consider to be mine, the rest can rot. You are a just man, trying to do good even to the undeserving. Of course, none of that needs matter, we could take each other to bed even with you despising me, but… ah, would you believe it, Er-ge?” he laughs, without warmth nor joy. “Even a man like me can want to be loved. And if I can’t have it all, I’d rather have nothing.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t know how to answer, and they both fall silent as they eat.

He cannot say he likes the Nie Huaisang in front of him, bold and cutting, so unapologetic about his defects that he almost sounds proud of them.

He cannot say he dislikes him either.

After dealing with Jin Guangyao’s half truths, after years of Nie Huaisang’s crocodile tears, unpleasant truths can only be welcome.

It ought to have been a one time occurrence, that dinner together. Lan Xichen has obtained the answers he thought, no matter how hard to believe he finds them. That should have been the end of it, with the two of them living separate lives, never meeting.

A week later, Lan Xichen invites Nie Huaisang to dine with him again.

He cannot say why he does it. He is not at a loss for company. Bai Yun is there daily. Bai Jie comes by whenever she has time. Nie Manqian and him spar when they can. And still, it is with Nie Huaisang that Lan Xichen wishes to dine and talk.

He is surprised when Nie Huaisang accepts that second invitation, and more surprised still when that second dinner turns out much more pleasant than the first. They don’t talk about their marriage this time. Instead Nie Huaisang starts chatting about his youngest disciples who are just starting to go to class, and how difficult it is to handle them. Lan Xichen finds himself agreeing, and they spend the evening chatting about teaching, and comparing how their respective sects handle it.

Lan Xichen is not surprised when Nie Huaisang accepts his next invitation to dinner, or any of the following ones.

It isn’t that their discussions are always pleasant, as such. They get into intense debates sometimes, fierce arguments about how to handle certain problems. Nie Huaisang believes in letting people handle their own issues unless they threaten his interests. Lan Xichen advocates for early interventions so things do not degenerate. At the same time, Nie Huaisang claims he sees little use in mercy, while Lan Xichen follows his sect’s refusal to kill unless necessary and thinks second chances ought to be given.

It has been a long, long time since Lan Xichen has been able to have conversations like that.

He used to, of course. With Nie Mingjue, before Jin Guangyao joined them and upset their balance. With Nie Huaisang as well, back before he started hiding behind tears.

Because as they dine together, week after week, Lan Xichen starts remembering the boy Nie Huaisang used to be, and realises that maybe he should have expected the way things happened. Nie Huaisang was always clever, always a touch manipulative, always a little selfish. He was a boy who got people to do his homework for him, who always knew what people could help him with what problem, who knew exactly how to get his brother to let him do as he pleased. He couldn’t memorise family trees, but he would recite poetry from memory and paint such lovely things.

Lan Xichen had forgotten how much he used to like Nie Huaisang.

It occurs to him, of course, that Nie Huaisang might be lying again. That all of this might just be a scheme to get his trust by playing at being the version of himself that Lan Xichen likes best.

Lan Xichen mentions it one night.

Nie Huaisang laughs, loud and unrestrained, the way he used to do when joking with Nie Mingjue.

“Er-ge, why would I lie to you?” he points out. “To others, sure, but you… there’s nothing I’d want from you I could get through lying.”

Lan Xichen, immediately, thinks that perhaps all those cultivators who wanted him to step down were right because there he is, believing the most skilled liar he has ever met.

It is pleasant to believe Nie Huaisang again.

“And what is it you’d want from me, that you can only get by saying the truth?”

Nie Huaisang laughs again. It is more forced this time, and he opens his fan. He rarely does it these days.

“Er-ge, let’s not talk about that, it’d just spoil everything. Isn’t it nice being together like this, as friends? I’m very happy with it, I must say. I’m grateful you’re still willing to be my friends, after everything.”

That gratefulness goes both ways. Lan Xichen cannot believe that friendship with Nie Huaisang is something he can have. Something he can want.

And now, after everything, after finding that he trusts Nie Huaisang in spite of it all, friendship might not be the only thing Lan Xichen wants.

He should ask, perhaps.

He doesn’t, and just leans over the table.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t resist when Lan Xichen pushes away his fan, nor when their lips meet. The warmth of his mouth, the soft solidness of his lips, are intoxicating. Lan Xichen feels like he might never want to stop, now that he’s had a taste of it.

But of course, there’s no reason why they should stop.

Nie Huaisang is his husband now.

Having long discovered the worst of what they both are, it is more than time they get to enjoy the best as well.

#xisang #lan xichen #nie huaisang #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jau writes #I swear I'll go back to prompts and other wips now #I just really needed to get some stuff out of my system :)

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 3 years

Text

A Familiar Soul - Chapter Two

Summary: Hilda decides to be completely honest with her mother, surprised when she seems to be a lot more in on magic than Hilda had expected her to be.

With her daughter’s association with witches, Johanna is forced to face some secrets of her own, bringing her back to feelings and people she’d rather have left behind

Dealing with insecurities and inner demons of her own, Kaisa finds herself face to face with the very issues that brought her to be so displeased with her own abilities

Or: the one where Johanna is Kaisa’s familiar

Notes: Hey there! Just wanted to mention that Henrietta being the name for the tall witch from the Committee comes from @cinnamon-sparrow-scout! Hope you enjoy!

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2)

Being in the library again after all those years was a strange feeling, to say the least, having avoided it like the plague ever since she was eighteen. Going to that place had always been the most surefire way to find her, which was the last thing she’d wanted to do. Unfortunately, that was exactly what Johanna had come for that day.

The scent of old books and the sounds of pages turning and patrons whispering were all familiar to her like a song she liked but hadn’t heard in a long time. Simultaneously unpleasant and nostalgic, those sensations made her feel like squirming, as if suddenly her skin was too tight. She kept herself composed and continued walking, though. There was a reason why she was there.

It didn’t take Johanna long to spot the librarian’s book cart between two shelves on the first floor, as if it had been put there to close the entrance to the small corridor the space between the shelves formed. It was a clear sign that Kaisa would be there, reshelving.

Johanna squared her shoulder, trying to make herself look braver than she felt. The part of the library they were in was secluded, which served her just fine. She rolled the cart forward to allow herself in and walked closer.

With her headphones on, it took Kaisa a moment to notice she had company. She turned her head to the other woman with a disapproving face, expecting to see a patron which hadn’t respected the ‘do not enter’ message that the cart positioned at the entrance gave. Now Johanna could see why that corridor would need to be closed for reshelving: the two shelves were so close that Kaisa was all but cornered by Johanna in the narrow corridor.

The librarian was good at masking her emotions, always had been. However, even if just for a second before she picked herself up, her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot upward at the sight of Johanna. Good, Johanna thought, I hope I gave the bastard a good fright.

“You need to stop this.” Johanna said with a resolution in her voice she didn’t really feel all the way in her soul. Already recomposed, Kaisa crossed her arms over her chest and deliberately lifted an eyebrow.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“I mean it.” Johanna walked closer, fully aware that she was being rude to someone she hadn’t talked to in so long. Seeing Kaisa again after so much time had gone by awakened something in her which made her want to cry, scream, and kiss her stupid face all at once. “Even you are better than this. Is this some sort of revenge? Trying to put my daughter in danger as well?”

Kaisa blinked, the confidence on her face wavering. In the few moments she’d had, she hadn’t even managed to recover from the shock of seeing Johanna again, a ghost of the past in the middle of her books, and now another blow was thrown at her.

“Daughter?” She asked, hating the disbelief in her voice.

“You know what I mean. You’ve been helping Hilda get herself in trouble, and what for? Getting back at me?”

“Oh, so Hilda is your daughter, is she?” The moments she’d spent with the girl were replayed in Kaisas’s mind, and with this added layer of knowledge, she could now see there had been something about the girl that had struck her as familiar. The irony of Hilda being Frida’s familiar did not escape her either; maybe it was something of a genetic trait? “Congratulations, I would never have guessed such a lovely girl would have been raised by you.”

With one firm step forward, Kaisa tried to squeeze herself between the shelf to her left and Johanna. She wanted that conversation to be over. It was too overwhelming for her to keep up her act of calm for much longer. No such luck, however, since Johanna slid herself to the right and blocked her way.

“You mean you didn’t know she was my daughter?” There was a hint of doubt in her voice when she asked. “Why do it, then? Get her involved with magic?”

“I do not spend nearly as much time thinking about you as you seem to think I do.” Kaisa huffed as she bumped on Johanna’s shoulder with her own, trying to get her to move so as to allow her out. “It’s not my fault she has a wild heart. I just hope she doesn’t let her selfish mother get in the way of what she loves.”

“Stay away from my child, Kaisa.” Johanna glared down into the witch’s eyes. “You know nothing about who I am, so keep my name out of your mouth.”

Kaisa met her gaze with as much intensity, all of Johanna’s anger reflected on her eyes. Johanna didn’t think they’d ever had this bad of an argument before. Even when they had fought, Johanna hadn’t been one to pick the battle. There was one difference this time, though, and it was that this time, Hilda was involved.

“You are a coward, Johanna. I see that still hasn’t changed.” She said with a smug grin that Johanna was dying to slap off of her face. Having no interest in facing charges for attacking the librarian, she instead walked away with an angry groan, feeling like it was much easier to breathe once she was out of that corridor.

With the confrontation over, she noticed her heart rate had picked up pace, and that her breathing was ragged. Thoughts scrambled in her head just like emotions in her heart. Kaisa had to somehow know Hilda was her daughter. She desperately wanted it to be true, because then there would be a reason why her daughter was always going on those crazy quests, why she hadn’t been telling her anything. Because then Johanna would finally be able to tell herself that Kaisa was indeed bad.

And yet, with one small, tragic exception, she knew her old friend was not a liar.

She walked quickly, taking big strides. Her crowded mind made it so she didn’t take much of her surroundings in, until another voice she hadn’t heard in years reached her. It was melodic and overly sweet, at least when she was calm, and Johanna turned her head to see the woman sitting on one of the more comfortable armchairs in the library.

“Johanna? Is that you?”

The woman’s long hair was split in the middle, one half of it orange and the other a creamy white. Johanna remembered that when she was a child, that hair used to remind her of a calico cat. Instead of her usual black dress, she was wearing another ankle lenghted dress, dark pink with a brown sweater on top. Something about seeing her out of her witch clothes made Johanna uncomfortable, or maybe it was just because of the encouter she’d just had.

“Abigail.” She greeted. “Yes, it’s me. Been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, how much you’ve grown!” Abigail said, and Johanna had stop herself from saying she hadn’t aged at all. For some reason, Abigail looked surprised to see her there, and Johanna figured it was probably just because it had been a long time since they last saw each other, and not the best circumstances either.

The witch’s gaze was focused on a spot behind Johanna, and she glanced at it for long enough to realize Abigail was looking at where Johanna had just come from, where Kaisa, too, was now leaving from among the shelves.

“Pity, isn’t it?” Abigail said unprompted. “Such a promising witch, she’d been. And yet, she turned out to be so… self-centered.”

Johanna sighed, hugging her torso. “I agree. I once thought I knew her, you know. I cared about her, deeply. But now I’m afraid she doesn’t even deserve my compassion. I recently found out she had been endangering my child.”

Abigail brought a hand to her heart with a soft, almost inaudible gasp. “This upsets you, doesn’t it?” She asked in a low voice.

“Deeply. She’s… she’s doing to Hilda the same she did to herself. It’s happening right in front of my eyes, and I can allow it no longer.”

“You mean the blue haired girl?” Her head was tilted to the side. “Oh, I’ve seen the sort of thing she does with Kaisa’s support… they’re certainly not fit for a little girl. You are a good mother to try and protect her. I, too, shall see what I can do to try and keep her safe.”

Johanna let out a heavy sigh. Few things could stop Kaisa when she had something on her mind, and much less Hilda, but having an ally in the Committee of Three was something of a win. She knew very well about the power they had.

“Thank you, Abigail. It was good to see you again.”

“The pleasure was all mine, dear.”

The witch had barely finished speaking when a shrill hiss interrupted her.

“Abigail, what are you doing?”

Abigail turned to look behind herself, and Johanna noticed the voice, which she also recognized, was coming from a gap before two bookshelves that hadn’t been there before. Another one of the many secret passages the witches had.

“”Henrietta.” Abigail exhaled. “Must you be this way? I’m just talking.”

“With a non-witch!” The other woman snapped. From the gap, Johanna could only see her black clothes and hair split in half, the same colours as her younger sister’s.

“We can’t go our lives without talking to non-witches, you know?”

Henrietta glared at Abigail in a way that Johanna was sure had a meaning between them. Uncomfortably, she noted that they still talked about her as if she wasn’t in the room.

“Well, maybe we should. This place is witch sacred space! You shouldn’t be communing with them here!”

Before they could continue their argument, Johanna cleared her throat.

“I was already going anyway. Good evening.”

As she walked away from the library hastily, she wasn’t sure if in that visit she’d managed to solved her problems, or only to create more.

_#_#_#_

With her small hands, she placed the violets on the cold stone, one upon each grave. Kaisa didn’t like picking flowers. She knew it hurt the plant and often upset the nature spirits that took care of it. For her parents, though, she made an exception, and when she was allowed to visit them she’d always bring them a flower.

Their graves were side by side, just like they would want them to be. Kaisa remembered few things about her mother, because the woman had died when she wasn’t much more than a baby, but she’d heard stories about her. After she got pregnant and revealed that she had a non-witch lover, the witch community had been revolted. Heartbroken at not having her kind accept that romance, she’d decided to leave any affiliation with witch kind behind.

It was a noble decision, Kaisa thought, but not a very smart one. For her choice, she had her magic completely removed, and it made her terribly weak. Even though sometimes witches would take long to manifest their magic, they always had it in them, and taking it away was the same as cutting apart a piece of their soul. Her mother had gotten weaker and weaker, the harrowing experience of childbirth only making her situation worse, which eventually led to her death.

Without the woman he loved, Kaisa’s father hadn’t lasted long. He was with her for long enough for Kaisa to remember the sound of his laughter, which had always felt forced, the scent of the porrige he used to make them every morning, and to fill her young head with stories of how great her mother had been before she had her magic stripped from her simply for loving, how she’d been the most powerful and wise member of the Committee Of Three. Then, illness had taken him.

Her father had no parents in Trolberg, and her mother had no close family to speak of (none that hadn’t disowned her, anyway), so at a very young age Kaisa had been on the verge of being completely alone. Luckily, her mother had had one friend left, one woman who didn’t agree with the rest of the witches, and who had been kind enough to take Kaisa in.

“Come, little one.” Tildy said gently as she put a hand on the child’s shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

“Why don’t they come to visit me?” Kaisa asked suddenly, making the older woman involuntarily squeeze her shoulder. “Ghosts come to visit what was theirs, you said so yourself. But then why won’t they come visit me? Do they blame me for what happened?”

Tildy made her way to stand in front of her and kneeled down to her level. Age was beginning to make her movements less agile, but it wasn’t something that she ever allowed to stop her. Gazing into the girl’s big, melancholic eyes, she knew there was a long road ahead to get her to heal from the terrible experiences she’d had at such a young age. No child should have such a thought on their mind.

“Oh, sweetheart, of course they don’t blame you.” Resisting the urge to lock Kaisa in a tight hug, Tildy cooed. “You see, ghosts don’t usually come to visit people because… the thing with loved ones is, eventually they die too. And then everyone’s together again! It’s not because they don’t like you at all. They loved you so much, little one. You were a miracle in their eyes. I promise they’ll be looking at you with a lot of pride.”

Kaisa nodded. She didn’t look forward to dying, but at least she knew she’d see her parents again then. She knew what she had to do in this world, in the meanwhile.

The woman took her home again, and baked her her favorite cake, which she always did when she wanted to cheer her up. Kaisa was infinitely glad for Tildy’s warmth in her life, comforting and uplifting her. It was all she had. That, and the burning certainty in her soul that she had a debt to her mother which she had to pay.

She had to change the system that had gotten her killed, because even if Kaisa herself wasn’t the culprit of her death, she’d always feel responsible for her mother’s downfall if she didn’t do something. Kaisa would be great, she knew it. She would have to be if she wanted to make her mother proud.

#my fic #fic: afs #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #sketchbook ship fanfic #kaisa hilda fanfic #johanna hilda fanfic

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anemonenemerosa · 3 years

Note

Oops sorry!! I just assumed with oknutzy! Maybe 17 for Wolfstar 🥰

No worries, anon! Since your request was already written by @mooncat457writing (read it, it’s sooo good) and no other prompt of the list was simliar, I thought of a new one and wrote something for you. I hope you ike it!

"The door fell shut behind me while getting the mail. Now I'm stuck outside on a windy October day"

The bright side of locking yourself out

It was 1 pm when the insistent ringing of the doorbell jerked Sirius out of his dreams. He grumbled for a few moments before his brain caught up and reminded him that he'd ordered a replacement for the broken gear-belt of his motorcycle. And Sirius really needed to get the bike repaired 'cause taking the tube to and from work was just the worst. So, he jumped out of bed and raced to the door of the building – there's no way he's missing the mailperson! Tough luck, Sirius was just in time to see the backlights of the delivery-truck disappear behind a corner.

"God, damnit!" He cursed loudly, mentally just warming up for a full-on rant when a particularly forceful wind-gust shoved half a ton of leaves in Sirius' face and caused an unfortunate bang behind his back.

No. Please no. Slowly, as if keeping off looking might undo what the dreadful noise promised, Sirius turned around, finally staring at the firmly closed door. It is just now that he realised that he's not only stuck outside on a rather unpleasant mid-October day, no, he's stuck outside barefoot, only wearing his pyjama bottoms and a worn shirt. No phone, no keys. It began to rain, no umbrella. What. A. Day.

Just two months ago, Sirius still lived with James and that wouldn't have been much of a problem. Back in the day, James was still writing his final assignment for his degree and stayed at home all the time.But since he graduated, found himself a paying job and moved in with Lily, Sirius lives alone for the very first time in his 25 years on this planet. And while he loved Lily dearly, Sirius couldn't always stop himself from feeling a bit abandoned and lonely, which was ridiculous, of course. Since they got together, James and Lily never let any doubt creep in that Sirius was anything but loved and treasured by both of them.

But the sentiment was of no use just then. In that moment, he needed to find a pragmatic solution. What does one do, trapped outside with no phone, no keys and no shoes? Sirius sighed in resignation. One does walk to the next cafe, beg them to use their phone without coming off as a complete nutter and call James to rescue him.

About five steps from the door, Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, quest forgotten. Walking right up to him was his neighbour from upstairs, the most intriguing person Sirius has ever met, or almost met, seen that they had never talked before.

The guy seemed very unassuming the few times he saw him in the stairway with his knit sweaters and washed out jeans. He was very quiet in the mornings as if he unknowingly considered that Sirius, as a bartender, worked during the nights and really needed his mornings to sleep. During the afternoon however, enjoyable music wafted down through Sirius' open windows together with the delicious smell of freshly cooked food.

The neighbour -Lupin, it said on the mailbox- stared at Sirius with wide eyes for a moment before he stepped closer, holding his umbrella over both of them.

"Erm." The other man said instead of greeting him.

"Please don't ask." Sirius implored him, completely done with this day already. But then again, Lupin had a nice voice.

"Right", Lupin laughed, "You live in the basement, right? Black? I'm going to ask anyway... aren't you cold?"

Not what Sirius expected to be asked. Naturally, his response was eloquent, he was absolutely not caught off guard, "Uhh -yeah, I live here. And- and I'm cold... but I thought you were-"

"-going to ask why you are out here?" Lupin laughed again, a really nice sound, "You clearly locked yourself out. No one goes around in the rain in October like this. Want to come in to mine? Dry off and call someone?"

With that he looked pointedly at Sirius, who took the glance as a clue to have a look at himself. So, summed up, he was drenched, with dirty feet and unkempt hair. Not the first impression he wanted to make on his neighbour. He's a proper adult now. Anyhow, this was by far his best option "That would actually safe my day."

Without another word, Sirius was led upstairs, offered a warm shower and some soft clothes, which were a bit too big for him (Lupin was at least half a head taller than himself). Clean and dry, Sirius sits in Lupin's little kitchen for his next task: calling James, who couldn't leave work for another three hours, meant that Sirius either waited for another four hours or paid 600 pounds for key-service to open his door, which he found out in the next call. He got a string of curses off his chest and was met with an astounded look of Lupin, who had poked his head though the door. Today, Sirius was impressively good at presenting himself at his worst.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, not looking at his generous neighbour.

"Nah it's fine." Said one just shrugged, "What did your friend say?"

"Another four hours or 600 pounds." Sirius supplied, feeling a little miserable.

"Oh, unfortunate. Do you want to wait here? I have some work to do but you can hang out if you want."

"No, thank you. That would be too much" It really would.

"No. Really, it's no bother. I wouldn't offer if it wasn't alright." Lupin waved him off, "I'm Remus, by the way. And before you ask: Yes, Remus like in the Roman mythology"

"Nice to officially meet you, Remus, like in the Roman mythology." Sirius bowed mockingly, "I'm Sirius, and before you ask, yes, like the star and yes, I've probably heard all of the serious-jokes in existence by now."

With introductions out of the way, Sirius was sat on the big and comfortable couch in the living room with a nice cup of milky tea. He had no idea what to do now and felt a bit awkward, but his neighbour seemed unbothered by his surprise-guest.

"Sorry to be such a bad host but I have a bit work to do, I didn't get to do last night. If you like, feel free to take whatever book sparks your interest from the shelves." Remus apologised and put on some quiet music over his phone while settling in a cosy armchair across the couch with a stack of papers on his lap. It was only then, that Sirius realised how good-looking Remus was. His hair, light brown, wavy and a bit shaggy was falling slightly into his bright hazel eyes, focused on the papers in front of him. Suddenly, Remus huffed, scrunched up his slightly crooked nose (dusted with freckles that spread over his cheekbones) and lifted his left hand to his thin-lipped mouth to gnaw at his thumbnail.

"Displeasing literature?" Sirius heard himself asking before he could check the question in his mind for stupidity.

"You have no idea." the other man grumbled, "That one actually wrote that the inhabitants of Egypt are the mummies!"

Sirius couldn't help but bark a laugh at the affronted tone of Remus' voice,

"So, you're teaching history?"

"Yeah." Remus sighed and plucked a red pen from the little table beside him and began vigorously scribbling onto the paper.

The conversation felt to be over for now as Sirius' host seemed, indeed, quite busy. So, Sirius took up the offer to have a look at the bookshelves lining three walls of the room. The carped felt warm and soft under his bare feet while he strolled along the shelves. Quickly he recognised several of his favourites among the countless books and when his eye caught on The Little Prince, he couldn't resist to take it with him back to the couch.

When he was settled again, Remus looked up to see what Sirius had picked and smiled around a soft hum "I've read so many books and this is still one of my favourites."

Sirius couldn't help but smile back. "Mine, too."

From then on, they sat in a far more comfortable silence than before, both engulfed in their literature. Now and then, Remus huffed or snorted and shared some of the more entertaining mishaps of his students. It felt like they've been spending their afternoons together like this for years. Sirius was simultaneously at peace and properly creeped out.

After a while. Remus got up and returned with a fresh cup of tea for both of them. Steeped for exactly long enough, with the perfect amount of milk in it.

"It's wild that I've been living here for a little over two months and we barely even saw each other, isn't it?" Sirius commented, cradling his new cup in his hands while Remus got once again comfortable in his armchair.

"No, not really." The other man supplied with a slightly sad smile, "See, I teach evening classes from around 7 pm to midnight, get home around 1 am and because I'm an absolute night owl, I usually do my grading and preparations right after until 4 or 5 and then sleep 'till noon. And while I thrive in my rhythm, it's a bit hard to meet, or just come across, people... or get to go out for breakfast. It's silly but I love breakfast and until I get up, most places have switched to the lunch-menu already."

What are the chances. "And here I thought that you were so quiet in the mornings because you are psychic and just know that I sleep during that time." Sirius couldn't help the chuckle bubbling up his throat at the puzzled expression of the man across him. "I'm a bartender and work from 8 to 3 in the morning during the week and until 5 on Fridays and Saturdays." He elaborated, "after that I'm often too riled up to go directly to sleep, so I often go to bed around 6 and sleep until 1."

Remus just stared at him. "Our schedules are nearly identical."

Sirius opened his mouth to reply when the sound of the doorbell interrupted them. Remus got up to open the door to a hurried James, who handed Sirius the spare-keys, kissed his cheek and stormed off again.

"So, this was James. Is he your boyfriend, then?" The cosy atmosphere dissolved with the appearance of a wary look on Remus' face.

"Nah. He is my best friend, practically brother. I know, kissing is rather uncommon between two male friends, but we've been doing that since we met fourteen years ago, and I don't give a shit about convention." Sirius explained with a fond smile on his face.

After that, they parted rather quickly as both men needed to get ready for work, but a lot still lingered in the air, unsaid. His shift went over much too slow for Sirius while he brooded over the change in the atmosphere at the end of his stay with his neighbour.

The next day, Sirius woke up with a plan. A potentially humiliating plan, but worth the risk. He got up much quicker than usual, fired up the oven and began preparing. Around 12:30 Sirius knocked at his neighbour's door and was met with a sleepy Remus in pyjamas.

"Hey- erm... good morning! Here are your clothes!" Sirius began far too loud. All he achieved was a furrowed brow on the other man's face.

Get a grip, Black! "Uhh...OK. Listen, I really like you. Would you like to have a breakfast-date with me?" He tried to put on a winning smile while lifting the tray in his hands a bit.

Remus, who had blushed furiously during Sirius' rambling, blinked at him once before a wide grin spread on his face and he stepped aside to let Sirius and the warm croissants in.

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

Text

Miss Independent...

For the sweet @queenofgotham800 and @onemoreparadise

Hope you will enjoy the story!

She got her own thing.

That's why I love her!

Miss independent,

Won't you come and spend a little time?

She got her own thing.

That's why I love her!

Miss independent.

Oh, the way she shines,

Miss independent!

Miss Independent - Ne Yo (2008)

Sitting in the bar, Victor silently drank his glass of whiskey while watching the other patrons getting drunk, flirting, puking on the floor, or dancing like dislocated puppets.

He growled: they were all pathetic! He did not know how his boss manages to tolerate those jackasses in his club.

Something caught his eye, and he looked at a young brown-haired woman, who leaned her elbows on the counter.

She has something in her attitude that interested him: she did not look like the other girls. This one might be more appealing than he thought.

Smirking, he got up and walked towards her.

Victor cleared his throat and asked:

"Hey, pretty! You enjoy the party?"

The young woman turned her head and answered:

"Not really. I'd rather not be like those clowns!"

Zsasz chuckled: he already liked her!

"Well, we have this in common. But those idiots make my boss rich, so I had to put up with them!"

"I guess so... But at least, the drinks are good!" she smirked.

"Glad to hear that!"

She slightly frowned when she noticed the scars on his face.

"I see... You must be Victor Zsasz, Roman Sionis's most trusted henchman!"

"Oh? You've heard about me?"

"Who doesn't hear about you in Gotham?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know... Maybe those who think Roman is defenseless!"

He leaned closer to the young woman:

"And you, who are you?"

She grinned.

"Do you really want to know my name? Or it's just a formality before shagging me?"

Victor raised his eyebrows: she was quite frank about that!

"Even if it's not that obvious, I have some manners. I prefer asking the name of the person I want to have in my bed tonight!"

"Oh? Is that a proposition?"

"Only if you're interested!"

As she was about to answer, a drunken guy stumbled near to her and asked in a slurred voice:

"Hey, baby! Wanna have some fun tonight? I've got everything you want!"

"No, thank you! I've already found my fun!" she answered with a cold tone.

But the alcoholic did not take "no" as an answer, and he gripped her wrist.

"You will come with me, you little..."

He did not finish his sentence as a foot in his face sending him backward, with a broken nose.

Zsasz was impressed, to say the least: he thought he would peeling off this jerk's face, but it looked like the lady can defend herself.

"Mh, you know how to kick ass, right?"

"In a city like this, you better learn fast how to be a predator!"

A wide grin came across his face: he was lucky, tonight!

"So, about my proposition... You're still interested?"

"Well... I bet you know how to have fun!"

He gave her his best hungry smile.

"I have many tricks in my sleeve... Why don't you come with me?"

Her smile gave him butterflies in the stomach. She had some magnetic charisma that attracted him. Victor did not know why, but this girl would save his night!

"Okay, I follow. Are we going to your place, or you prefer a hotel room?"

"My place: it's not far from here!"

She got up from her seat and said:

"Shall we go, or do you plan to talk to me all night long?"

"You're a woman of few words, eh? I like that!"

The pair left the club and walked to Victor's place. After a few minutes, they arrived at the flat. No sooner had they entered the flat than they were already on the bed, feverishly kissing each other. They get undressed in a hurry, craving touch from each other.

His hands slowly wandered all over her body, making her sigh with pleasure. As for her, she slightly touched his scars, mentally counting each tally on his skin.

"Memories?" she asked.

"Kind of..." he muttered.

Victor inquired:

"But you did not tell me your name?"

Smirking, she leaned close to him and whispered:

"You know what? Just call me baby tonight."

Grinning, the killer pinned her down on the mattress:

"As you wish... Baby!"

And they resumed their lovemaking with unleashed desire, discovering each other's bodies and making the other scream their name. As he gets lost in her arms, Victor thought that his night was not wasted...

The next morning.

When Victor woke up, he felt that he was alone in the bed. As he stretched out, he realized that he was all alone in his flat. There was no sound of the shower or anything that could state her presence.

Suddenly, he noticed a piece of paper on his nightstand. Unfolding it, he read its contents:

It was a likable night. Nice to meet you. Baby.

No phone number, no address: obviously, the lady did not want to extend the experience. A bitter grin appeared on Victor's face: usually, he was the one who ran away after dawn, leaving his one-night stand alone. But this time, he was the one left.

Given the lady's character, he should not be surprised: it looked like Baby - as she called herself - loved to preserve her independence.

However, there was something within this girl that fascinated him, but he cannot tell what. Her confidence, her appearance, her sarcastic comments... Or, maybe everything?

The scarred guy sighed: he would probably never know the answer. How will he find this girl in a city as big as Gotham?

As he got up, Victor sighed: definitively, she knew what she wanted and did not care what the others would say.

Really, she was an independent woman and never looked back. A tough girl, the kind he liked.

"You know how to break guys, uh? Miss Independent..."

A few months later.

"FUCK! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

Victor sighed as Roman kicked a man out of his room, fuming with anger. For some days, Mr. Sionis tried to hire new henchmen for his business... And it was not successful, to say the least.

While the candidate ran for his life, Roman yelled:

"Damn it! Is it too hard to find competent guys, or is it just me?" ranted Roman as he threw his cushion on the wall.

"You're right, Boss. They are useless!"

"Yeah, I have noticed! But they just wasted my time... AND I FUCKING HATE THAT!"

Victor patted Roman's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"It's okay, Boss: we will find qualified guys."

"I hope so..." muttered Roman as he sipped his Martini glass.

Suddenly, Miss Lee, Roman's secretary, appeared and said:

"Sir, one last candidate is waiting outside..."

"Ah, really?"

"Indeed. Shall I let her in?"

"Her? You mean that a girl wants to work for me?"

"It is the case. Do you want to see this candidate?"

The mob boss shrugged.

"After all, why not? Tell her to come in!"

"Alright, sir." answered the secretary before walking out the room.

Sionis smirked:

"How funny. Can you believe it, Vic? A girl wants to cross swords with the toughest guys of Gotham! Either she is crazy, or she is a badass!"

"Wait and see, Roman," smirked Victor.

A few seconds later, Miss Lee arrived, escorting a young woman.

"Mr. Sionis, your last candidate..."

The moment he saw the young woman, Victor nearly screamed in surprise: it cannot be!

As for Roman, he gave his most charming smile and welcomed the young woman:

"Good afternoon, dear. Sorry for the waiting: I was pretty busy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sionis." answered the girl.

"The pleasure is mine. Yet, you know my name, but I don't know yours. May I know it?"

"Of course: my name is (Y/N)"

"(Y/N)..." mumbled Victor.

Oblivious of his right-hand man's turmoil, Roman gestured to (Y/N):

"Please, take a seat. Fancy a drink?"

"No, thanks. I want to stay clean..."

"Uh, interesting... Alright, let's get down to business: why do you want to work for me?"

"Honestly, you're the only mob boss who pays his employees well. Furthermore, you're the only one who accepts the idea of a woman working for him."

"Honestly, I was taken aback when my secretary told me about you. But, after all, I can give it a try."

He smirked.

"However, I must be honest: I am a demanding boss, and I only work with professionals."

Victor knew what Roman meant, and he was quite intrigued: will (Y/N) manage to succeed?

"What do you want from me?" asked the young woman.

"You know, as I try to find competent people for my security, I want to be sure that my employees know how to fight..."

"Who should I fight?"

She glanced at Victor with a smirk.

"Do you want me to fight your loyal Mister Zsasz?"

"No, no, no: Victor is too important... But I have to admit that you like the challenge."

"Life is no fun without challenges!"

Sionis laughed.

"You're far more interesting than I expected! Let's see if you're a good fighter! STAN!"

A tall blonde muscular man appeared in the room.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Fight that girl: if she kicks your ass, she is hired! Otherwise, I don't care!"

Stan had a dirty smile.

"Can she be my toy if I win?"

"You pig!" she growled, unpleased.

"If you want... Now, fight!" answered Roman.

Stan launched a punch at (Y/N). But she easily avoided it, much to Roman and his henchmen's surprise.

As for Stan, he was shocked: nobody escaped his punches. And he was not out of the woods...

"That's all? Too slow... My turn!" she replied before violently kicking his ribs, breaking one or two bones in the process.

"Ouch! That hurts, for sure!" grimaced Roman.

"Sure, it must be..." answered Victor... who secretly enjoyed seeing this idiot of Stan beaten by (Y/N).

Speaking of the latter, he was pissed! This little bitch would pay for that!

"Come here, you..."

"No thanks!" she said before catching his arm and pinning him down.

Once her opponent down, she twisted his arm, breaking it.

"Next time you dare speak to me, you better show me some respect, or I'll smash your skull! Am I clear?"

Nodding with panic, Stan exited the room, holding his broken arm.

Satisfied, (Y/N) turned to Roman and asked:

"Am I hired?"

"For sure, you are! You are a tough woman, and I like that! Can you start today?"

"Sure, Mister Sionis."

"Wonderful, my dear (Y/N). Welcome to my organization! Tonight, you will be with Victor and me at the club. Speaking of that, he will show you the main points of my territory."

He ordered Victor:

"Take the car and show her the main places. You have time until 9 p.m. Is that good for you?"

"Sure, boss." answered the scarred man with a nod.

He picked the keys and gestured:

"Follow me, (Y/N)."

"I arrive. See you later, boss."

Once the two are in the car, Victor asked:

"So, your real name was (Y/N)?"

"Yes, and so? What's the matter?"

He looked at her:

"Why you did not tell me your real name?"

"Honestly, you and I were just good for a one-night stand, and nothing more. So, I did not see the purpose to tell you my name?"

"You got the point... I have another question."

"Go ahead."

"Why you decided to work for Roman?"

"Because I knew you would be there..."

Victor raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Yes. Because, as surprising as it sounds... I really enjoyed my night with you... And you are the most interesting man I ever met."

Zsasz chuckled.

"Well, that's flattering."

(Y/N) smirked.

"Now, that's my turn to ask you a question: when I arrived, I saw that you were surprised to see me, and also... happy. Why?"

Victor seemed embarrassed.

"You have noticed, uh? Well, you're right: I did not expect to see you again, after the note you left. And I was happy because... you're really my type of girl. Smart, tough, and badass. So, I was vexed when you left..."

"I thought that it was you want. And for once it was the girl who let first..."

Victor laughed.

"You're right: it changed, for once. But what bothered me was that for once I found an interesting girl, she vanished before dawn."

"Now, here I am!"

"Yes, here you are..."

He leaned close to her.

"After work, fancy a drink at my place?"

"With pleasure, dear. And this time, I won't disappear!" she smirked.

"Glad to hear that... Now, let's go: we have a long drive before us!"

During the drive, Victor and (Y/N) tried to catch up on time by trying to know each other.

Finally, he found his Miss Independent, and he won't let her go...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoyed the story that was slightly inspired by this wonderful crackship made by @onemoreparadise that I requested!

Don’t hesitate to send me requests!

See you later and stay safe! 😍😘🥰😷

#requests #gift #dceu #birds of prey #victor zsasz #chris messina #sofia boutella

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

Text

WHAT NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ABOUT SCHOOL

It seemed that it was a lot of startups; it would not be for most biotech startups, for example, or at least, the reason founders are selling their companies early instead of doing Series A rounds is that they have less to prove, and partly because the disasters of the Bubble and still haven't invested. You're lucky if your productivity is a third of what it meant to be used. Understand your users. Cram schools turn wealth in one generation into credentials in the next sentence you'll actually explain what you've made. But what Yahoo really needed to be was a technology company making money that way. For a company to live off its revenues. Some made their fortunes by creating wealth, and others where it would just be a distraction.

For the past 9 years it was my job to predict whether people would have what it takes to start a company, but you can still end up constrained in a or b. Two or three course projects? But startups aren't tied to VC the way they used to, and forget after you've done it. Whereas incubators tend or tended to exert more control than VCs, Y Combinator has now funded several companies that can be called big successes, and in any case, if being smart were really an enviable quality, the girls would have broken ranks. Should you spend time courting some big customer? In theory this sort of thing is the dreaded failure to launch, but for the law firm that handled General Widget's acquisitions or the investment bank that floated their bond issues. I saw immediately around me. The democracy component, for example. Alas, you can't start a startup, it pays to be self-indulgent. At the time it seemed the future. So if investors want to fund them.

Writing is the same as a stock purchase in the end, just as we know in the abstract that people get tortured in poorer countries. Indeed, the disagreement hierarchy may inspire him to try moving up to counterargument or refutation. More diffident founders ask Will you try our beta? Would we be just as likely to feel life was short if we lived 10 times as long? Before I publish a new essay, I read this book in school. So what if some of the most successful startups, including Google, ignored revenue at first and concentrated exclusively on development. They hire one of their friends—at first just as a scientist is better off following the truth you'll discover cooler things than you could ever have made up.

Sure, running your own company can be fairly interesting. The question is whether the author is correct or not. Particularly online, where it's easy to know how to improve them. They were the winners of the only economic game in town. The giant plant he built at River Rouge between 1917 and 1928 literally took in iron ore at one end and sent cars out the other. The web lets readers respond, and increasingly they do—in the process of writing it, they had some new ideas. Meaning that unpleasant work pays.

People about to fund or acquire a startup are prone to wicked cases of buyer's remorse. They could end up on a local maximum. Editors. So if you start the way most successful startups we've funded, and the Duplo economy was an evolutionary phase. If you find yourself thinking that life is too short for, the word that pops into my head is bullshit. Imagine how depressing the world would be if it were merely a matter of implementing some brilliant initial idea. Investors may end up with a random idea, plunge into it, and Webgen sounded lame and old-fashioned precisely because it was so fragile that about 30 days of going out and recruiting users individually. What do they all have in common. It was like a game.

Hence a vicious for the losers cycle: VC firms are a bargain for founders. A to E. Someone would run your company for you, have abandoned you to spend years working on something that's never going to shut me up. They did as employers too. Nearly everyone I've talked to recently. Instead of organizing big strategic e-commerce business was very competitive as measured in press releases, but not like it used to be called something, the obvious name would be excubator. So traffic became the thing to get at Yahoo. And the models of how to look and act varied little between companies. The late 19th and early 20th centuries had been a time of consolidation, led especially by J.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #failure #startup #winners #Webgen #scientist #credentials #Editors #time #projects #fortunes #River #Widget #job #author

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crookswithbooks · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Gift

Day One - It’s Christmas and Guy needs to get Sam a gift. But what do you get for the man that changed your life?

“It’s Christmas!” came the exited voice of the tiny Who, bouncing around his slightly less enthusiastic friend with a wide smile on his face. “It’s finally here!”

Guy sighed, flipping a page in his book. “It’s not Christmas yet. There’s still two days until then, and I intend to spend those days in peace and quiet without you bothering me incessantly about it, alright?”

He had spent these past couple of days avoiding Sam who had become a Christmas maniac since the start of December. Decorations now covered their house end to end and Guy had eaten so many Christmas cookies that even the sight of them made him queasy.

Sam grabbed Guy’s book, pulling it away from his face. “Aw, c’mon buddy. Enough with the grouching. You don’t wanna end up like the Grinch, do you?”

“If I recall he ended up living a perfectly happy life with some who he found in a house across town,” Guy said, jerking his book back. “And you can’t compare me to him just cause I want there to be some quiet around here.”

Sam sighed dramatically, flopping down on the couch besides him. “Alright, I’ll stop talking about it…”

Guy turned back to his book, which was an interesting autobiography of one of his favorite inventers. He hummed contentedly, feeling himself start to drift off to his happy place.

“So, what’d you get me?”

Guy’s smile dropped as his metaphorical bubble of peace was popped. “I thought you were gonna stop talking about it.”

Sam scooched closer till his face was resting on Guy’s book. “I am. Just as soon as you tell me what you got me for Christmas.”

“It’s… a surprise,” he said lamely, averting his gaze.

In truth, the Knox had failed to buy anything for his boyfriend after weeks and weeks of trying to think of something. It was their first Christmas together and Guy wasn’t sure what to get him. Sam had always been the more thoughtful one, always knowing the exact thing to make the other person happy. But Guy was the exact opposite. He had spent so long being stuck in his own head that trying to think about what would make another person happy was exhausting.

Not to mention, Sam meant more to him than anyone had in a long, long time. How do you get the most amazing person in the world a gift fitting for them?

“Ooh, I love surprises!” Sam said, grinning up at him. “So, what’s the surprise?”

“That’s not how surprises work,” Guy said, shoving him off. “You’re just gonna have to see for yourself on Christmas.”

Sam slumped in disappointment. “Okay. But it’s gonna be hard to wait for such an amazing gift.”

Guy winced, gripping his book anxiously. “Yeah…”

***

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Guy said, opening the door with relief. “I couldn’t think of anyone else and I only have today to find it.”

“Of course,” Michellee said, taking off her hat and smoothing down her messy hair. “I know how frantic last minute shopping can be. That’s why I bye all of E.B’s gifts at least two months before each holiday.”

Michellee and Guy’s relationship had been a tumultuous one at best, and a disaster at worst. There were moments that Guy looked back on fondly, of course, but the number of others where they would end up fighting far outnumbered them. Then, once Guy had realized his feelings for Sam, the two had decided that they would be much better off as friends than anything else. It wasn’t an easy friendship at first, too many unpleasant memories, and they spent the first two weeks of it primarily avoiding each other. After a while, though, they fell back into the rhythm of it and Guy was finally able to look Michellee in the eyes without feeling guilty.

Guy groaned. “You’re so much more prepared for this than I am.”

She blushed gracefully. “I just like to have everything in order. So, do you have any ideas?”

Guy shrugged helplessly, pulling out a list from his coat pocket. “Not really. The only things I can think of are illegal or dangerous, sometimes both when it comes to animals.”

Michellee took the list, scanning over it. Once she finished she pursed her lips, handing the list back. “Yes, you definitely can’t get him any of that.”

He sighed. “I know…”

“But I’m sure we can find something!” She grabbed his hand, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “It’s going to be okay, alright?”

After a moment he nodded, smiling back at her. “Yeah. Okay.”

The town was fairly crowded this time of the month, with people running to and fro, frantic to get the last of their gifts. Whos and Flerzes, Wockets and Knoxes, and all manner of creature scurried from stall to stall, practically throwing money at their owners in their haste. Guy and Michellee gaped at the scene, eyes scanning the chaos.

“Okay, so this is a bit more of a problem than I anticipated,” Guy muttered, jerking out of the way as a family of fish came waddling by. “I knew I shouldn’t have put it off for this long.”

Besides him, Michellee bit her lip in poorly concealed worry. “Don’t fret,” she said, putting on a smile. “It’s just Christmas shopping. How bad can it be?”

Guy raised an eyebrow, but before he could protest too heavily, Michellee was pulling him forward by the elbow, glancing at each of the booths in turn. “What about that?”

A relatively abandoned stall stood to their right, the owner slumped tiredly against the counter. “Fizzy sugar whirler pops?” Guy asked skeptically.

She shrugged, moving towards it with determination in her eye. “It may not be my cup of tea so to speak, but this is for Sam.” She knocked on the counter to announce their presence and the owner jerked awake, grinning at the sight of them. “Excuse me? Do you have any left in stock?”

The man’s eyes brightened with prospect and he leaned over the counter, grabbing their hands. “Yes there are, yes there are! We still have two boxes left in the back. Let me say, sir and miss, you are very lucky indeed. That would be about fifteen gronkels per box.”

Guy’s hopeful look faded as he glanced down at his wallet. “I only have fourteen gronkels… I don’t suppose you could cut me a deal?”

The man pursed his lips, rubbing his chin. “I don’t know. That last gronkel can make all the difference sometimes…”

There was a loud shout and Michellee and Guy were jerked aside as a young couple shoved between them. “Two boxes of fizzy sugar whirler pops, sir!”

The man’s grin started to return. “That would be thirty gronkels, sir, for both boxes.”

“But we were buying first!” Michellee protested.

“Done!” The couple slammed the money down and the owner eagerly snatched them up. He shuffled around in the back and returned with two large boxes, handing them over to the young couple. They took it gratefully and flounced off, chatting chirpily to each other the whole way.

“But that was our box,” Michellee said, watching them go. “We were here first, you can’t just do that.”

The man shrugged. “Eh, no money no product. That’s just how business works.”

Michellee’s face curled into a sneer and she opened her mouth to say something unprintable before Guy grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the booth. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “We didn’t have the money anyway.”

Michellee shook her head, frowning. “I’m sorry, I just got so mad…”

“I understand. Here, let’s try this booth here.”

For the next couple of hours they tried booth after booth, but nothing showed any promise. Everything was either too good (expensive) or not good enough, and whenever they found something they could afford it was completely sold out. Eventually, as the day began to turn to night on Christmas Eve, they collapsed on a nearby table, their faces sunken in with defeat.

“This is ridiculous,” Guy complained. “This shouldn’t be that hard.”

“And now we’re nearly out of time,” Michellee agreed, glancing down at her watch. She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I was so certain we would find something. I didn’t realize it would be so busy. Not even something small like a—”

“Like a Gatorrabit!” Guy interrupted.

Michellee wrinkled her nose. “Well, I suppose, but—”

“No, look!”

He pointed across the fair to a small pen where two baby Gatorrabits hopped about, chomping at flies that buzzed frantically to get away. A woman stood next to the pen in a uniform, feeding little bits of carrot and mouse to them. A sign hang next to her on the wall that read, Closing at 8:00. Michellee looked down at her watch again. 7:45.

Guy was hopping up, already starting to run. “C’mon, we’ve got to go, before it closes!”

“Is this really wise?” Michellee asked, grabbing her purse and hurrying after him. “What if it’s too expensive?”

“We’re gonna have to take that chance!” Guy hopped past a lady on a bike, throwing back a harried apology. Michellee struggled to keep up with him.

“Isn’t a Gatorrabit a bit dangerous, though?” she insisted.

“I know! He’ll love it!”

They reached the booth in record time, panting and out of breath. Guy placed a hand down on the desk, fixing his intense gaze on the shocked woman. “How much for the Gatorrabit?”

The woman took a step back, adjusting her hat. “Well,” she said, shooting a glance at the animals who were looking up curiously at the new guests. “They’re ten gronkels each. But that’s not including the cage and food and everything—”

“We’ll take it.”

***

“They sure are late,” Sam sighed, tapping his fingers against a tray of Christmas cookies. “Guy said he and Michellee had an urgent task they had to attend to, but surely it doesn’t take this long?”

He plopped his head in his hand, staring out the window. “Maybe they got held up,” he said, a hint of worry coming over him. “Maybe they’re in trouble and they have no way of contacting me? Maybe someone kidnapped them and they can’t call me because the kidnapper took away their phones and threatened to kill them if they talked?”

Sam jumped up from his seat, grabbing the door handle. “Or,” he said, pausing. “They lost track of time because of all the fun they’re having.” He dropped his hand, shoulders slumping. “Without me.”

He dragged himself back to the couch and sat down, feeling even worse than he had before. This was supposed to be a special day for just the two of them, but it was turning out exactly like all his last Christmases—everyone making plans at the last second, ending up with him all alone. Again.

Sam took a Christmas cookie from the plate, taking a small bite. Maybe this was for the best. If Guy wanted to hang out with Michellee all day instead of spend Christmas with him, then maybe he should. After all, Guy’s happiness was all that mattered.

He felt his eyes start to flicker drowsily and he curled up on the couch, snoring quietly as he drifted to sleep. His head fell against the cookies, smooshing them against the plate.

A little while later, the door creaked open quietly and Guy popped his head in, glancing around. “Sam?” he asked, looking around. “Are you there?”

He noticed the sleeping form on the couch and he smiled, coming in fully and pushing the door closed with his foot. In his arms was a small box with holes in it emitting growling sounds. Guy shushed it, pressing it closer to his chest. “Be quiet, little buddy. You’re supposed to be a surprise.”

He crossed the living room and placed the box under the tree. Then he turned to Sam, shaking his head as he saw the squished cookies. “Honestly… eating sugar before bed. You’re like a child.”

Guy grabbed Sam’s tiny form in his arms, grunting a bit from the weight. Sam shifted, snuggling into Guy’s chest unconsciously. Guy felt his heart warm at the sight and he pressed a kiss against his head. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

He climbed up the stairs and into their bedroom, setting Sam down on the disheveled blankets. He took off his tie and hat, setting them on the dresser. He looked up at the clock which read 12:01 in shiny red numbers. He climbed into bed, wrapping his arms around Sam. “Merry Christmas buddy.”

***

“Guy, it’s Christmas, it’s Christmas!”

Guy groaned as he felt hands violently shaking him and he flopped over, waving a hand at him to go away. Seconds later the same hands were shaking him and he reluctantly got up, grumbling. “It’s too early, Sam.”

The little Who rolled his eyes, grabbing his hand and tugging his lover towards the door. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! No sleeping in on Christmas!”

“What are you, five? And since when was that a rule?” Guy muttered, but allowed himself to be pulled down the stairs to the living room.

Sam gasped as he noticed the empty cookie plate. “Look Guy, Santa’s been here!”

Guy rubbed his eyes, collapsing on the couch. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He noticed his discarded book from the other day and smiled, picking it back up.

Sam went to the tree and he came back with a wrapped box with a bow on top, handing it to Guy. “This is for you.”

The Knox accepted the box, slowly tearing off the paper. His eyes widened when he saw what it was. “A toolkit?”

“To help with your inventing,” Sam informed him, smiling cheekily in a way that made Guy roll his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, but Sam was already back at the tree again, and it wasn’t long before he noticed that a certain box was growling.

“Did you get me a living box?” Sam gushed, picking the box up and petting it lovingly.

“No, it’s inside the box,” Guy snapped.

“Of course, of course, I knew that.”

Sam lifted the top of the box to reveal a small animal with sharp jaws and a fluffy tail. Sam gasped, picking it up. “Is this what I think it is?”

Guy nodded and Sam pressed the animal to his chest. “You got me a Gatorrabit!” He frowned then, pulling away. “But you hate pets.”

“I do,” Guy consented, and then smiled, flushing a bit. “But if it’s for you then maybe I can make an exception. It took me all day to find it. That’s why I was so late yesterday. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been here earlier; I just lost track of time.”

Sam thought about how he had doubted him and felt suddenly very foolish. How could he ever think Guy didn’t love him? Sure, he was grumpy sometimes. But he always made sure Sam knew how much he cared for him.

Sam clambered up onto the couch next to him, snuzzling into his side. “Thank you. I love it.”

I love you, was the implied rest of the sentence, and Guy blinked before breaking into a contented smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

#geah #green eggs and ham #sam-i-am #guy-am-i #michellee #sam-i-am x guy-am-i #christmas #fiction #fanfiction #twelve days of ficmas

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winterisakiller · 4 years

Text

Little Changes

Title: Little Changes

One Shot: 1/1

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Allie Thompson (OFC)

Genre: romance/angst

Rating: G

Summary: Everything in her life had changed so suddenly. One moment she was trying to juggle her work life with the long distance strain of a still very new and tentative relationship. The next she was sitting in the bathroom staring blankly at a small pink plus sign and trying to remember how to breathe. Panic had been one of the first things that registered. Things with Tom were still so new. So tentative. They’d been together barely seven months. Too soon. Way, way too soon.

Authors Notes/Warnings: This was written for @redfoxwritesstuff 500 follower writing challenge. My prompt was “I’m pregnant.” I set out initially thinking I’d run this prompt with Tom and Cath from Brave Face but the more I thought on it, the more I realized it would be the perfect opportunity to revisit Tom and Allie from my fic for @babylevines 4k challenge Perfectly Imperfect. I always intended on coming back to these two and this challenge felt like the perfect opportunity. A great big shout out to @nonsensicalobsessions who was my second set of eyes on this fic and my sounding board. You’ve been such an amazing help and I cannot thank you enough!

Tag list: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77 @theheartofpenelope @blacksuitofdoom @wolfsmom1 @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @just-the-hiddles @theoneanna @hiddlescastle @nonsensicalobsessions @echantedbytwh @alexakeyloveloki @sabine-leo

Allie Thompson felt the strap of her carryon bag dig into the palm of her hand as she let her eyes roam over the customs hall at JFK. The large room was filled nearly to the brim with tired, bored, and antsy people, all waiting in a queue that seemed never ending. She cursed herself yet again for not buying a rolling carryon. Never thought you’d need it, did you, Thompson?

The trip had been impulsive. Stupidly, recklessly impulsive. Allie had to keep reassuring herself that she was only taking up Tom’s offer to have her come and see him (and the city). In the nearly two months since he’d come New York he’d tried everything he could seemingly think of to convince Allie to throw caution to the wind and stay with him, if only for a short while. And each and every time she’d turned him down. Not out of a lack of desire (she missed him far more than she was willing to admit to anyone least of all herself), but for various (and frustratingly valid as far as she was concerned) reasons. The office was short staffed, she’d just gotten a promotion at work and asking for the time off wouldn’t reflect well on her next appraisal, the flight was more than she could afford at the time (despite saving up what she could out of each pay).

Tom had offered, repeatedly, to let him pay her airfare and each time Allie told him she couldn’t accept. It was pride more than anything which kept her from doing so, they both knew it, but more than that, she didn’t feel right having him spend money on her. Not that much. Not when she couldn’t repay him for such generosity. It didn’t feel right, taking his money no matter how freely he seemed to offer it. Allie knew that Tom suspected that was a large part of her refusal and hadn’t fought her on it. At least not as much as she knew he wanted to; she could hear it plainly in his voice each time they spoke.

Now here she was, standing in this stupidly long queue wondering for the thousandth time if she was making a horrid mistake in coming. Her back twinged irritatingly and she rocked herself back and forth on the balls of her feet hoping to ease some of the tension. Why hadn’t she thought to throw her heating pad into her bag before she’d left? Thank god she hadn’t gotten sick on the plane; the frequent nausea and vomiting that had taken over her life in the last few weeks had been bad enough in the privacy of her flat or the toilets at work. On a speeding metal tube in what felt like a coffin...The idea didn’t bear thinking.

Everything in her life had changed so suddenly. One moment she was trying to juggle her work life with the long distance strain of a still very new and tentative relationship. The next she was sitting in the bathroom staring blankly at a small pink plus sign and trying to remember how to breathe. Panic had been one of the first things that registered. Things with Tom were still so new. So tentative. They’d been together barely seven months. Too soon. Way, way too soon.

The next thing she’d done once the shock and panic had worn off was call the local family clinic and book an appointment for bloodwork and the necessary testing. Before she brought Tom’s world to a halt, she had to be certain it wasn’t a fluke. They’d been able to fit her in the following day, for which she’d been grateful. Her manager had let her have the morning off after commenting she’d looked a bit peaky regardless.

Sitting on the crinkled paper that covered the cushioned exam table, Allie felt her stomach roil. She’d only half listened to the information the doctor discussed with her; taking in that she was indeed pregnant and a little over three months gone. She’d taken the paper the doctor had handed her along with the packet of vitamins with shaking hands. This was real. It was happening and even with the paperwork in hand Allie still couldn’t make sense of it.

With an air of calm which she didn’t fully feel, Allie had made her way home and grabbed the luggage she’d bought for a holiday she’d taken with friends years back and packed the first pieces of clothing her hands touched. She wasn’t sure when she’d made the conscious decision to tell him in person (this wasn’t something she felt could be done over the phone no matter how she feared the potential outcome) but somewhere between her leaving the clinic and walking up the stairs to her flat, she’d known.

The phone call to Luke hadn’t been as awkward as she’d feared. They’d met a few times and had gotten on well enough. He’d been quite up front with her about the realities of being in a relationship with someone like Tom and made sure she understood more or less what she was potentially getting herself into. With the same breath he welcomed her to the madness. She found she liked his frankness and how he clearly cared for Tom not just as a client but as a friend. Luke had been all too eager to help her arrange her impromptu trip, making sure Tom’s people in New York were aware of her pending arrival. She’d asked him to make sure Tom didn’t know she was coming. Luke had laughed, “This is going to be such a fantastic surprise for him, you don’t want to know how much he’s been whinging about missing you.”

Allie had laughed along with Luke, ignoring the twisting in her gut. It would certainly be a surprise but she hadn’t a clue if either Tom or Luke (when push came to shove, Luke would need to be told and that was nearly as terrifying as telling Tom) would consider it a good one. Pushing those thoughts aside she’d booked a nonstop flight from Heathrow to JFK and cleared the week she’d need with her boss (which hadn’t been the most pleasant conversation).

The flight had thankfully been uneventful though she’d hardly slept the entire way. And not for lack of trying. Her mind wouldn’t seem to shut off, playing over and over again the various (and most often unpleasant) reaction awaiting her in New York. The lack of sleep was something she was most certainly paying for now. God, what she wouldn’t give for a hot shower and sleep. But that she feared would not be for a long while yet.

What felt like hours later, Allie found herself at the front of the queue handing her passport to the stony-faced customs agent and answering the questions asked of her. Who was she here to see? Her boyfriend (the word still felt odd) who was working in the States. How long would she be staying? Maybe a week. She waited with baited breath as the agent looked first at her, then at the passport before stamping it and handing it back to her with a monotone, “Welcome to New York.”

Stamped passport in hand, she made her way towards the baggage claim. Once she’d grabbed her rolling case (and made a mad dash for the nearest toilet, the nausea had decided now would be a spectacular time to make its reappearance. Thank god she’d kept the amenity kit in her purse so she could clean her teeth after), Allie made her way into the arrivals hall proper and scanned the crowd. Luke had insisted on setting up transport from the airport to Tom’s temporary dwelling and despite a string of protests refused to budge on the issue. The man was just as, if not more, stubborn than Tom and fighting him on anything was nothing short of an exercise in futility.

She spotted a tall man dressed in a pair dark trousers, matching jacket, and white button-up shirt holding a sign bearing her name standing towards the back of the waiting crowd. He smiled politely at her as she approached and offered to take her bags. Allie thought for a moment of protesting but banished the thought almost at once. The man (whose name was Frank, she’d learned later) was simply doing his job and she had no right to make it difficult for him to do so (even if she was quiet capable of wrangling her own baggage). Quietly, the pair made their way from the noisy hall and out into the bright sunlight of the afternoon. She was ushered into the waiting black SUV as Frank took her luggage round the back and placed it in the boot.

The car was quite nice, Allie noted with a tired sigh as she settled herself onto the supple leather of the backseat. Far nicer than the battered Nissan Micra she had back home; a holdover from her university days that she’s scrimped and saved for. It wasn’t much to look at but it was reliable and that was honestly all that mattered. She hardly used it anyhow, mainly just when she left the city to visit family or simply escape from the hustle and bustle of it all. She rested her head back against the smooth headrest and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. God, she was tired. Just a few moments, she told herself. I’ll just rest my eyes for a few moments.

Allie jolted awake at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. Blinking in confusion, she let her gaze roam over her surroundings; the dimly lit interior of an SUV and the sounds of a city echoing from its opened door. New York, her brain finally chimed in. I’m in New York. Tom. And just like that she was suddenly awake. The familiar nerves roared to life once more as just why she’d come flooded back into her conscious thoughts.

“Sorry,” she murmured to Frank who’d gotten out of the car and come around to wake her. “I must have dozed off.”

“It’s fine,” he answered with a knowing smile, “You looked like you needed it.”

Allie nodded quietly and slid from the backseat out onto the pavement. Her eyes drifted upwards, taking in the buildings surrounding them. She’d seen New York countless times in films and on television but it was quite odd actually being there. The building they’d parked beside was massively tall, covered in faded tan brick, painted brick she noted on closer inspection. The glass door reflected the bright sunlight, obscuring her view inside. Smiling softly, she took the handle of her bag, which Frank had placed beside her and took a deep breath before following him inside.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the lobby. The wheels of her checked bag echoed as they rolled across the tiled floor towards the lifts at the far end of the hall. The wall beside the door lined with several metal letter boxes each labeled with what Allie assumed were flat numbers. She’d known from her various calls with Tom that rather than staying in a hotel for the duration of the play, he’d opted at renting a furnished flat in a building close enough to the theater to be walkable but far enough away that it hopefully would be off of most enthusiastic fans radars. While a hotel would be more convenient in terms of cleaning and meals (there was certainly something to be said about room service, he’d confessed), having his own space and privacy won out. And she was eternally grateful for that now. Especially if things ended badly. Less prying eyes and whispered voices in a private dwelling. More of a chance she could make a quiet, dignified retreat if needed.

Shaking the negative thoughts away, Allie followed Frank into the lift. They arrived on the tenth floor moments later and she allowed him to lead the way towards a darkly stained wooden door at the end of the hall. Frank pulled a key from his pocket and made swift work of the lock, pushing the door open. Sunlight poured in through the opened curtains, flooding the flat with bright light. He stood aside to let her enter, handing her the key as she passed.

“This is yours for the time being. He should be back sometime in the next hour or so. Make yourself at home.” He smiled and took his leave.

Allie closed the door firmly behind him, locked it, and leant back against it, taking a deep breath. She was here and now all she could do was wait for his return. With effort, she pushed herself up and allowed herself to glance around the flat’s open planned living room stroke kitchen. It was minimally, but comfortably, furnished with richly stained wooden tables and an inviting black fabric couch. Books lined the coffee and side tables and pendant lighting hung down from the ceiling. The room wasn’t terribly tidy; there were a pair of trainers laying haphazardly on their side near the short hallway which she assumed led on to the sleeping area and bathroom and various bits and bobs scattered over the backs of chairs. Several toys she recognized as Bobby’s lay strewn across the wooden floor.

The kitchen was small, but functional. Bright white uppers paired with darker base cabinets and a neutral stone countertop. There was a stainless steel gas range with a matching microwave above and a large fridge beside it. The sink was deep and stainless steel as well. A coffee press and toaster were arranged against the back of the counter alongside a small electric kettle. Allie chuckled softly to herself as her eyes lingered on the bowl and mug left sitting on the counter next to the sink.

Leaving her bags tucked beside the couch, Allie made her way into the kitchen and set to tidying up. It was silly, and something she knew she absolutely did not need to do, but it gave her something to do with her hands and seemed to quiet the small, nagging voice of doubt in her head. She cleaned when she felt anxious or uneasy; Allie couldn’t say why other than it gave her something she could have control over. Tom seemed to find it amusing, stating he knew when something was up by how spotless her place was…And sometimes by how spotless his was.

Allie let out a quiet groan; Tom would know in an instant something wasn’t quite right, even through the shock of her surprise arrival. Even distracted, Tom was sharp when it came to detail. It was part of what made him so damned good at his chosen field. However, there was nothing to do for it now. Setting to work, Allie grabbed the plate and mug, placing them in the sink and turning on the hot tap. She had to rummage to find the washing up liquid and a sponge; how it had managed to get wedged in the very back of the cupboard under the sink she’d never understand. From there she let herself get lost in the heat of the water and the repetitiveness of the task.

Once the dishes were cleaned and put away, she forced herself to walk back into the living room and settle on the couch. Ignoring the temptation to straighten, if only for its ability to help her keep hold of her nerves, Allie forced herself instead to pick up the remote from the top off the darkly stained wooden coffee table and turn on the television. There wasn’t a great deal to choose from, which wasn’t surprising given it was early afternoon in the middle of the week, a handful of daytime chat shows and several daytime dramas. Sighing, she settled on one of the chat shows not caring overmuch what was happening on screen. She half listened as the women settled around a table chatting about the latest bit of celebrity news, her eyes drifting shut once more. Gods above, she was tired.

The sound of a key turning in the lock jolted Allie awake. She sat bolt upright on the couch, blinking rapidly at the disorientation before, and quickly switched off the television, dropping the remote back onto the table. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the door. Through the thick wood she could hear Bobby’s muffled barks and the soothing timbre of Tom’s voice in response. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she watched the knob turn and the door push slowly open.

A blur of brown swept into the apartment, loud barks echoing as the spaniel darted inside and towards Allie. He buried his face into her knees before bouncing up and attempting to bury her face in kisses.

Startled, Tom rushed in yelling, “What in the world…” His voice trailed off as his eyes settled on Allie laughing and squirming on the couch beneath an overly excited Bobby.

Pushing the spaniel off, Allie locked her eyes on Tom’s wide, startled gaze. “Hi,” she whispered, pushing her hair out of her face to see him clearly.

“You’re here,” Tom breathed, taking several slow steps into the flat, letting the door swing closed behind him. “You’re actually here.”

Allie nodded. “I’m here.”

Tom dropped the bag he’d been carrying on his shoulder to the floor and launched himself at her, a wide smile on his face. With a yelp of startlement, Allie fell backwards onto the couch, Tom’s warm weight pressing her firmly into the cushions. She let out a breathless laugh as she found herself wrapped tightly in his arms. He pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips. Bobby, who’d backed quickly out of the way as his master seemed to take leave of his senses, barked happily before jumping up beside them on the couch and licking both of their faces.

Pulling back and laughing, Tom shooed the spaniel away. “Enough you furry menace. Off the couch.”

Bobby blinked up at Tom before complying with begrudging grace and padding to his own doggy bed. He grabbed the red, stuffed toy that lay beside the bed and chewed it while watching them with wide, sad eyes.

Tom shook his head, pulling himself up into a sitting position and turned his attention immediately back towards Allie who did the same. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. When did you…Why didn’t you say you were coming?”

Allie pulled back, feeling the familiar dread cooling once more in her stomach. She crossed her arms in front of her. “It was kind of a last minute thing,” she answered, honestly. “I called Luke and…”

Tom let out a short, loud laugh and shook his head. “No wonder the wanker looked so smug this morning…He knew you’d be here.”

She shrugged. “I asked him not to say anything.”

“And he certainly didn’t,” Tom laughed. “I hadn’t the faintest idea.” He pulled Allie tightly against him and kissed her head once more. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he repeated again and she could feel his smile against her hair. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

And she had, desperately. It felt wonderful, being in his arms again. The comforting heat and weight of him against her was like coming home. It scared her, just how much this man had come to mean to her in such a relatively short amount of time. And now…

Reluctantly, Allie pulled back reaching up to take Tom’s hands in her own. It was tempting, sorely tempting to say nothing…Just for a little while. To bask in the simple joy of being back with the man she loved. However, she knew it would only be delaying the inevitable. He needed to know, whatever the outcome. Any delaying techniques would be just that, it wouldn’t fix or change anything.

Tom met her eyes, confusion shining steadily in his own at her second disengagement in just as many minutes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Allie swallowed against the lump in her throat. She’d spent most of the flight over thinking of just what to say; how to tell him that in a few short months there would be another person in their lives. Over and over again, she had agonized over her wording, her timing, his reaction. All of it. And it wasn’t as if she feared he’d lose it completely and chuck her out, she’d known Tom well enough to understand he wouldn’t do something like that, but that didn’t mean he’d embrace the news with open arms.

The timing was terrible; he had projects lined up well into the following year. How could he possibly juggle the demands of impending fatherhood when he’d barely be around? How could she ask him to? They’d only been together seven months, and the last two of those there had been an ocean between them. There we so many reasons for this to be the thing that would sink them; Allie knew that. Having a baby didn’t guarantee a successful relationship or a relationship in general. Tom could very easily walk away, she didn’t think he would deny the child, but he could choose to minimize his presence in their lives. And while Allie knew she could, and would, handle raising this child on her own if she had to, it wasn’t ideal. She wanted Tom to be involved, to be beside her through it all. The ball was ever so firmly in his court with this and it terrified her.

“Allie,” Tom pleaded, reaching down to take her hand and squeezing her hands with his own. “Talk to me, please. Whatever it is we’ll mange it. Talk to me.”

He sounded so sure, so confident, and she wanted nothing more than to believe him. But the fear was still there, still clinging to her like a second skin.

She swallowed hard, shutting her eyes tightly before raising them to his once more. “I’m pregnant.”

The words fell from her lips in almost a whisper. Had it not been for the way his eyes widened at the words or his slackened grip, Allie could have convinced herself he hadn’t heard them. She pulled her hands back into her lap and fought the urge to stare down at them rather than at Tom.

“You’re pregnant?” Tom whispered, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. A silence, which felt as if it were choking the life from her. His words did little to calm the racing of her heart. The tone of them wasn’t censorious nor were they exactly welcoming. Unease and disappoint roared within her.

Allie nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Pregnant,” he murmured again, as if he were trying to make sense of it. Another long pause before he uttered, “How far?”

Her eyes fell from his.

“A little over three months,” she answered, “according to the scans.” Her hand rested unconsciously against her abdomen and she could feel his eyes on her. She couldn’t raise her own to meet them. She didn’t want to see the disapproval or disappointment in them. Too soon. This is all too soon.

“So just before…” His voice trailed off.

The last few weeks before he’d headed to New York had been filled with stolen moments. At his place. At hers. There had been something to the idea that it could be months before she would get to touch him, to feel him, that had driven Allie (and Tom it seemed) to what felt like desperation. They’d been careful, or so she’d thought. Clearly they hadn’t been careful enough. She wondered idly just when they’d slipped up and if he was wondering as well.

Allie nodded. “Yes.”

Tom ran a hand through his shaggy hair but didn’t say anything further. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “The timing is horrendous, I know. And I get that it’s way too soon and neither of us are ready for this…” She was rambling and she knew it but the need to explain was overwhelming her ability to think and speak rationally. “You don’t have to be involved, I won’t think ill of you for not…”

Tom’s hand rested firmly on her knee, silencing her. He took a slow, deep breath before speaking. “Do you want this?”

She blinked at him, the words not making any sort of sense to her already sleep-starved, panicked mind. “Wha-what?” She stammered back, confusion coloring her tone, “I don’t know what…”

He squeezed her knee with a firm gentleness she hadn’t expected. “Having a baby is a big thing,” he started, his eyes locked on her face as if he were studying her. “It’s life changing. For you more than anything. Yes, the timing isn’t ideal for either of us. And I know that you’re scared of what I’m thinking and feeling. But Allie…I don’t want you to worry about what you think I want or what anyone else will say. This is, first and foremost, your life and as such it is your choice. I will respect whatever it is you want. So please tell me,” Tom locked his eyes on hers. “Allie, do you want this?”

A million different thoughts flooded through her mind. She was scared; scared she wasn’t ready, scared she’d be a crap mum, scared he’d walk away and she’d be left alone. But along with that fear was the small, bright, stubborn fragment of hope. She wanted this baby, wanted Tom to want it too. Even though this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Sense, it seemed, mattered not. She wanted this. Wanted it fiercely.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

Tom’s face split into a warm, bright smile and he reached out, placing his hand gently against the, as of yet, non-existent curve of her abdomen. “We’re having a baby.”

Allie laughed, feeling her eyes prickle with relieved tears. “We are.”

“Oh god,” Tom breathed, his voice breaking with soft laughter, “Luke is going to murder me.”

#kitkats500 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x orignal character #Tom and Allie

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trickster-4 · 4 years

Text

Luz is Shabranigdo !?

Chapter 4

Sorry it’s been a while, this chapter was uncooperative.. Gonna take a nap..

“So Eda’s ancestor met me in Atlantis…” Luz sat down on a nearby stump. She felt herself struggling to smile.. It was a small light in comparison to the destruction that happened.. Yet, Eda the second closest thing she had to a mother and the most wonderful person she had met was born because of those past actions.. Who knows maybe there were other small lights? “She ended up becoming a witch.. “

“You know the Clawthorne Family has been a very prominent family.. History changing in fact…”

“Really?”

“Yup.. They were responsible for a lot of reformations..” Amity had a look of pride in her eyes.. Her eye’s grew a little sad as nostalgia grew in her thoughts.. She used to consider it an honor to study under Lilith.. “They broke down a lot of caste systems.. Put an end to a lot of insane laws.. People called them Heroes… Sadly much of their changes were undone by the rise of Emperor Belos.. But, when people think powerful witches from ancient history they tend to think Lina Inverse-Clawthorne..”

“I think I remember her..” Luz blushed at the memory of the most tsundere witch she could remember. “She and Gourry were so in love, but he was so dumb..” She laughed at the memory of their arguments, chases, and how they fought over food.. “It took a long time for him to actually realize that much less confess it..”

“Reaally?”

“Yeah it took end of the world nonsense..” Luz shook her head in utter disappointment at that kind of boneheaded ignorance. “You know.. I originally thought the reason I was.. punished was darker.. That I tried to destroy the world for the laughs...”

“Yeah I heard..” Amity gazed at Luz with concern and worry.. “Don’t forget we just saw that your soul was literally ripped apart seven ways.. Soul fragmentation can make people unstable.. Memories can get jumbled up even when the pieces go back when they’re supposed to be.. My guess is the memories of your punishment got mixed with the memories of your later fragments.”

“I hope there’s not gonna be anymore problems..”Luz turned away from Amity. This had been a harrowing experience and Eda had pushed Amity to go through it with her.. Letting her see all these issues.. It grated on certain learned instincts.

“Hey don’t worry Luz.. We’re with you.. Okay?”

“Okay..” Luz lit up again. She hugged Amity tightly before reaching into her pocket and pulled the bell. “Let’s go..” She rang it twice..

Seconds later…

Luz woke up to see Lilith chained with her staff currently lying in Eda’s grip. Amity got up not too soon after and a sour frown grew on her face..

“Lilith..”

“Amity..”

“You wanna run it by me how Luz was a threat to you and how that justified lethal force?”

“She’s the lord of darkness! Literally the source of all dark magic..”

“She was a fourteen year-old girl barely my age struggling with magic. No offense..”

“None taken..”

“And you had to the gall to kidnap her to threaten just to get an advantage over Eda. How is that civilized? How is that any better than how you say the wild witches were.. If her powers hadn’t woke up..”

“But, she didn’t die… Frankly I’m not certain anything could kill her..”

“You did all this to secure your place with a tyrant..”

“That’s treason..”

“Is it really treason if the civilization isn’t worth preserving? … eight hundred thousand people…”

“..Excuse me?” Lilith’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Amity with growing fear and desperation. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing her apprentice couldn’t know could she? “What are you talking about?”

“What does she mean Amity?”

“… Our population is dwindling Luz.. There are witches disappearing from time to time..” Amity pinned Lilith with a glare.. “Their palismans are taken, artifacts destroyed, and research burned.. He’s feeding on us isn’t he?”

“…..I won’t say another word..”

“Right because of your little collar..”

Everyone turned to look at Luz who was startled before rubbing the back of her head with an embarrassed smile.. “Ooh right sorry about that still have Atlantis on the brain.. The contract in her wrist reminds me of the sigil contracts the nobles used to use for their slaves… I mean the spell work is almost exactly alike… This is reaally uncomfortably for me now..”

“Wait you’re saying the coven system is based on Atlantean Slavery?”

“Basically? I mean think about it you can control any potential avenues for the middle class mages.. And keep them from being a potential threat by making them weaker..”

“In that case were would Lilith have been?” Eda grinned towards her sister eyes filled mischievous mirth

“A highly valued tutor or courtesan. Based on her limiters and tracking glyphs..”

“Courtesan?!” An infuriated Lilith growled.

“Limiter?!”

“Ha that’s rich imagine conservative Lilith as a courtesan..” Eda grinned as Lilith began to blush and fume.. She decided against pushing it any further given there kids in the room. “So not a noble?”

“I can’t really say Atlantean Witches were really weird about family lineage…” Luz had to resist the urge to facepalm. That ideology was so stupid.. Ceifeed had originally noticed a number of genetic illness arising from harmful genes.. He had repaired the damage, but complained about having to do it so often.. So he taught his priests how to fix the problems… Some people heard his words and went completely off the wall and started obsessing over linage and blood.. “If they knew about your ancestor originally being a human slave girl.. They’d get all twitchy.. That said no Nobles ever had them.. They were the only free mages who never wore such degrading things..”

“Ha looks like between you and me I’m the only nobility..” Eda laughed to herself.. “That said human ancestor?”

“Indeed please explain.”

“Edalin she was a first generation witch a real prodigy.. She was born human and acquired magic later in life..” Luz smiled as she thought fondly of the child. “Good kid glad to see she got to become a witch.”

“Wait Edalin the Uniter was a human slave girl?!” Lilith shouted with shock she suddenly felt lightheaded… And fainted..

“Uh Lilith?”

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“That used to happen to her a lot as kids..”

“Yeesh someone is a lightweight for heavy truths.” Luz shook her head with amusement.

“Yup.. By the way Amity your mom called I told you were spending some time with the dark lord doing some rituals here and she was welcome to pick you up but she backed off did for some strange reason..”

There was silence through the house. Amity looked afraid and worried. Her mom has come here to this place.. Her mother was always an unstoppable force of nature whenever she wanted to get something. It was the same with her father as well. Their way or no way.

“.. Uh Amity are your parents Ceifeed worshippers?” Luz questioned curiously.

“No they’re agnostic.. But, I think they may have seen your clash with Emperor Bellows so they definitely believe now…”

“Wait how would they have seen that?”

“Some activist group called anoma-witch broadcasted it on all our arcane transmissions… “ Amity smiled as she recalled the shock of her family. The twins had dropped their pancakes onto the floor Elmira cried shortly after.. Her father was aghast and shocked at the sheer gall of such an attack on the seat of their government. Her mother on the other hand she looked absolutely terrified.

“… Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Nooo!! I don’t want people using that spell!!!” Luz shouted in a panicked voice smashing her hand into the wall. She looked at the ground horrified remembering how that spell was gleefully and carelessly given to the Atlantean military branch who used to it conquer the surrounding nations.. She nearly started hyperventilating before Amity touched her shoulder.. Luz looked to Amity.. “Please tell me that words from that spell were scrubbed from the audio…”

“It actually was.. They must have known what would happen..”

“Thank goodness.. I can never use that spell again… It felt so right..” Luz looked horrified as she remembered how she felt in that moment that sadistic glee in her heart and the fear in Lilith’s eyes.. The thought of watching the life in her eyes drain away. She felt that dark magic wasn’t worth it.. “It’s so enticing, intoxicating, and I won’t use it again… And I don’t want anyone else to use it either..”

“Luz… You can’t be afraid of dark magic.. It’s literally half of all spells you use.. “ Amity invited Luz to sit with her.. Luz sighed before sitting next to the green haired witch.. “After the fall of Atlantis when the gods vanished.. Many of the the spells we witches used no longer functioned.. We were scared afraid that our powers would disappear one day yet they never did.. Magic persisted and grew stronger once more.. Eventually we discovered that much of your and Ceifeed’s energies had been infused in us and the earth.. And we learned how to mold and shape the magic you left us.. This is what mortal magic is… Yet despite it’s unpleasant origins it amazing and wonderful.. Dark magic your magic.. it’s half of what you love so much Luz.. You contributed to something wonderful so please don’t be afraid of it..”

“.. Yeah you’re right.. You know even at my worst when forced to I began to care for Edalin..” Luz perked up as she thought about all the friends that were supporting her throughout all of this. Willow, Gus, Eda, King, A-And Amity.. She looked at the green haired witch noting the gentleness and compassion.. “Thank you so much Amity..” She took of Amity tightly hugging her closely..

“You’re welcome..”

As the room was occupied with the drama no one noticed the flow of magic emanating from Lilith’s clothing. A quick concealment ward casted by the Emperor shielded his astral presence from detection.

“Well well Lilith you played your role magnificently. You were so terrified of me and concerned with warning your sister that you failed to notice the scrying sigils in your cloak..”Emperor Belos eyes glowed as he began to search for the Owl House for two things… He looked through the living room, before moving to the kitchen, and then through the various bedrooms. The Emperor would sigh in annoyance, as it turned out it seems the Owl lady kept the key on herself at all times.. But, on the other hand… The human’s device was left out on her desk.. “Little Luz you really must keep an eye on your personal effects like this.. “ He gingerly sunk a finger into the device and his mind began to tear through the meager password protection.. “Hmm Camilla Noceda..” Belos spent time his time reading through Luz’s texts learning what he could of her.

He began to laugh upon realizing that there was only one more thing necessary to force Luz into his plans.. A few minutes later he cut the connection from the scrying symbols.

The Emperor began to form a new spell using the evocative nature of Old Magic as a base for it.. “I call the one who brought forth the dawn. The one who tirelessly heals during the day and night. The blind one who does not understand the true nature of things..”

“Quaint..” Belos noted as a red circle began to form in the air before erupting into a portal.. It was unstable but it would last for his purposes.. “Let’s see..” He reached in and pulled hard retrieving a middle aged Dominican woman wearing a blue nurse’s outfit. “Ah now you must be Luz Noceda’s mother..” He smiled as a look of fear, recognition, and anger grew in the woman’s eyes at the mention of that name.

“Bastardo!! ¡¿Qué le hiciste a mi hija?!!” Camilla stopped speaking as the strange masked man began to shush her and she suddenly noticed how much bigger he was than her.. “What did you do to my daughter?! If you’ve hurt her!”

“I have done nothing of the sort, but I will if she doesn’t do exactly as I say..”

Meanwhile back at the Owl House…

Lilith woke up with a headache she was still in chains and her arms were getting pretty sore. She sighed and spun her fingers dematerializing the chains.

“Well done Lilith my faithful servant..”

“Emperor Belos… How are yo.. The Coven Brand..”

“Indeed.. You did just as I planned inform your sister and her apprentice that I have her mother..”

“Sir that’s..”

“Tell them that she will give me the key by midnight or I will have fun testing any number of lethal spells on human physiology..”

“….”

“Oh that reminds me by the way Lilith you’re fired. You can pick up anything you left behind here, but you’re no longer welcome to employment in my services.. Have fun doing whatever is you like to do in your spare time..”

“….” Lilith sat there in silence as the connection was severed.. She felt her world falling apart her hand shook as the coven glyph dissolved from her wrist. Years of sacrifice, constantly plotting, and countless hours of competing to stay at the top to be the Emperor’s most favored servant.. And this was her reward after giving him everything… A long distance banishment laced with false kindness.. Her head fell into her hands and she began to cry..

Eda Luz and Amity hearing Lilith crying approached her. They noticed she was free and Eda raised her staff, but then lowered it realizing that her tears were very much real. “Well this was awkward..”Eda really hoped this breakdown wasn’t about the deathhex she sent to Lilith’s mailbox..

“Uh Lilith?”

“I-I messed up… Belos told me I was free to go..” Lilith then slowly looked to Luz in fear.. “I never knew please believe I didn’t know..”

“What did you do?” Luz’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Lilith.

“… Belos placed several spells he was here seconds ago in astral form looking for the key.. He found the next best thing the location and name of your mother..”

“How?!”

“Even if that bonehead got that information it’s impossible for him to do anything with it..” Eda placed a calming hand on Luz’s shoulder. “Nothing will come of it.”

“You underestimate him Edalyn.” Lilith shook her head terror in her eyes. “Belos knows more about the ancient magic than most mortals.. He summoned your mother here..”

“How!! She’s not a mage, dragon, or demon?!” Luz couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother the woman who flinched during Halloween had a presence in the astral realm strong enough to be summoned.. How was that even possible!?

“She gave birth to you.. You are the source of all black magic.. And in order to give birth to you your mother was altered enough to survive your reemergence into this world. That’s enough magic for certain summoning rituals to work.”

“… I have to go..”

“Luz..”

“It’s my mother!!” Luz screamed.. Her eyes glowed red as she made her way to the door dark bat-like wings began to form on her back.. “I’m going to find her..”

“Stop..” Eda sighed at her apprentice’s foolish attitude.. This was a trap more than likely he was planning something the question is what.. “I’ll fly us it’ll give us time to discuss a plan.”

“Thank you Edalyn..” She gave her a relived hug her wings disappeared as they dissolved into shadow.. Luz let go slowly and began to look towards the door with worry and concern.

“Your welcome..” Edalyn reassured her apprentice gently as they all walked together towards the door.

Belos’s palace…

“Go to hell!”

“Ha.. Tell me do you know what your daughter really is?”

“I know that she’s a better person than you’ll ever be..”

“Perhaps it’s all a matter of perspective.. Shabranigdo the demon god of darkness and in the ancient world the lord of black magic and in the modern world the source of dark magic..” Belos gestured towards an ancient demonic statue with fangs, horns, wings, and ruby eyes. Camilla stared at the strange relic wondering what the ancient history of this old god had to do with her and her family. “She was one of the patron gods of ancient Atlantis and sunk it when it served it’s purpose.. It’s half of all magic part of the very fabric of our being. And I plan to control it..”

“.. What do your stories have to do with my daughter!?”

“Tell me was her birth troublesome? Where there sudden storms on that day? Did ash began to fall from the sky when it was finally over?”

“… Yes..” Camilla was stunned by this stranger listing the various events that surrounded Luz’s birth. “I don’t see what that has to do with..”

“All three occurrences are symptoms of a demonic birth.. Usually if there it’s one it’s a common demon.. two occurrence mean a demon of considerable strength. Three occurrences.. The demon god was prophesied to display all three symptoms on the hour of it’s rebirth with a human as the mother.. Shabranigdo the progenitor of the demon race..”

“… Are you saying my daughter is the devil?” Camilla scoffed.

“… To many people she would be such.. she is the original destroyer… Countless civilizations have been destroyed by the spells she created.. Such is her purpose and nature..”

“You’re insane..”

“Maybe..” Belos shrugged uncaringly. “It doesn’t mean I am not right.”

Outside Belos’s Palace…

Luz Noceda approached the Emperor’s Palace alone the numerous guards moved aside all while her very presence caused the Emperor’s various scrying spells to leave specific blank spots for her friends to exploit.. Numerous restrictive spells around Luz collapsed as she was wreathed in a crimson dark aura. Numerous Witches felt the malevolence from her and backed away in fear.. Several flowers around the palace began to crumble into ash as they aged at an accelerated rate…

Kikimora guarded the chamber the Emperor was waiting in for Luz. She shook at the sheer malevolence in Luz’s presence ancient instincts told her that this was her progenitor, her maker..

“Move aside speck..” Luz spoke with an old cruel authority in her voice ..

“.. M-My lord awaits you..” The demonic woman stuttered as she stepped aside and the door opened for the dark god.

As Luz stepped forward she sighed Amity, Eda, and Lilith would have to move fast.. Belos was powerful she could feel his presence.. It felt corrupted so twisted in a way a mortal could not be.. He was feeding on something powerful enough to give even the greatest of her old servants an impossible task.. And she was comparatively inexperienced, granted she had immeasurable knowledge as the lord of black magic, but Luz couldn’t use that knowledge reliably due to the emotional baggage.. However.. She extended a hand and imagined the fire glyph before drawing a crimson circle.. A powerful fireball grew in her palm..

“Perfect..” Luz Noceda stepped inside waking into the chamber. She began to notice two things, this room was dimly lit and that it wasn’t the throne room. Emperor Belos was seated in a chair at the end his eyes glowing blue menacingly. “Let my mother go!” She shouted with determination.

#luz is shabranigdo?!#the owl house amity #owl house #lumity #amity owl house #luz owl house #lilith owl house #eda the owl witch #eda owl house #crossover #fanfic #slayers

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winterisakillerwrites · 4 years

Text

Little Changes

Title: Little Changes

One Shot: 1/1

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Allie Thompson (OFC)

Genre: romance/angst

Rating: G

“Sorry,” she murmured to Frank who’d gotten out of the car and come around to wake her. “I must have dozed off.”

“It’s fine,” he answered with a knowing smile, “You looked like you needed it.”

“This is yours for the time being. He should be back sometime in the next hour or so. Make yourself at home.” He smiled and took his leave.

Startled, Tom rushed in yelling, “What in the world…” His voice trailed off as his eyes settled on Allie laughing and squirming on the couch beneath an overly excited Bobby.

Pushing the spaniel off, Allie locked her eyes on Tom’s wide, startled gaze. “Hi,” she whispered, pushing her hair out of her face to see him clearly.

“You’re here,” Tom breathed, taking several slow steps into the flat, letting the door swing closed behind him. “You’re actually here.”

Allie nodded. “I’m here.”

Pulling back and laughing, Tom shooed the spaniel away. “Enough you furry menace. Off the couch.”

Tom let out a short, loud laugh and shook his head. “No wonder the wanker looked so smug this morning…He knew you’d be here.”

She shrugged. “I asked him not to say anything.”

“I missed you too.”

Tom met her eyes, confusion shining steadily in his own at her second disengagement in just as many minutes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Allie,” Tom pleaded, reaching down to take her hand and squeezing her hands with his own. “Talk to me, please. Whatever it is we’ll mange it. Talk to me.”

He sounded so sure, so confident, and she wanted nothing more than to believe him. But the fear was still there, still clinging to her like a second skin.

She swallowed hard, shutting her eyes tightly before raising them to his once more. “I’m pregnant.”

Allie nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Pregnant,” he murmured again, as if he were trying to make sense of it. Another long pause before he uttered, “How far?”

Her eyes fell from his.

“So just before…” His voice trailed off.

Allie nodded. “Yes.”

Tom’s hand rested firmly on her knee, silencing her. He took a slow, deep breath before speaking. “Do you want this?”

She blinked at him, the words not making any sort of sense to her already sleep-starved, panicked mind. “Wha-what?” She stammered back, confusion coloring her tone, “I don’t know what…”

Wordlessly, she nodded.

Tom’s face split into a warm, bright smile and he reached out, placing his hand gently against the, as of yet, non-existent curve of her abdomen. “We’re having a baby.”

Allie laughed, feeling her eyes prickle with relieved tears. “We are.”

“Oh god,” Tom breathed, his voice breaking with soft laughter, “Luke is going to murder me.”

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom & Allie #kitkats500

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