#i also think joe will never really warm up to copley and i think that's fine too! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alit0my · 3 years

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Prompt for JoexNickyxBooker.

For some reason the group thinks Booker died died in exile. Joe and Nicky are completely broken because of it. They blame themselves for not being there to protect him. But Booker's not dead. (obviously 🙃) He's just been taken and his death faked. Maybe they accidentally find him during a different job and feel even worse because they never looked for him. Lots and lots of comfort 💖

This is definitely not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it is close enough! Enjoy!

“Andy, I have some news,” Copley said over the phone. “It’s about Booker.”

“What about him? I only asked for important updates, Copley,” Andy replied, eyeing the safehouse from a distance, noticing the silhouettes of the team peeking through the curtains. There was a pregnant pause before the man finally spoke again.

“I would argue that this is a very important update. He’s dead.”

“I think we should check on him,” Nile said as she finished the final braid in her hair. “It’s been eight years, I think it would be beneficial for everyone.”

“No,” Nicky replied, sipping on his tea as he flicked the page of the current novel he was reading. He glanced at Joe, who was already looking at him, and they shared a wry smile.

“Oh come on, are you not curious as to what he’s been up to?” Nile persisted.

“You say that like you haven’t been having secret conversations with him for the last few years.” Andy stared at her, which made the youngest immortal roll her eyes.

“It fell off around two years ago, I haven’t had a wink of communication with him since then,” Nile sighed. “But it’s fine, I guess.”

Andy watched her for a moment more before her phone beeped with an update on their target’s location. “Hustle up, we got him.”

“What do you mean, he’s dead?”

“I mean, he’s dead, Andy. I got a video of his body sent to me anonymously,” Copley said dejectedly. “I’ve already had it verified. It’s real.”

“Verified by who? Find out who killed him. Better yet, find out where his body is. The least we can do is give him a proper burial.”

By pure chance, they found him.

Booker awoke with a pounding in his head and a growl in his stomach, chains rattled around him as he moved his limbs. He felt the dampness of his environment seep through his clothes before he opened his eyes and he sighed.

‘Ah fuck,’ he thought as he tried to piece together how he got here. ‘Here we go again.’

Hearing footsteps approaching he remained as still as possible, wanting to catch his captors by surprise. The heaviness of the footsteps informed him that it was guards approaching, no doubt for another round of experiments and torture. In a twisted way, he knew this was simply karma catching up to him.

Booker wanted nothing more than for his team to show up and whisk him away back home to safety, but he knew they weren’t coming.

The video of his death was of high quality.

High enough to fool the most tech-savvy person Booker knew in Copley.

So it would have definitely fooled Andy.

“Sit down, I have news,” Andy walked inside the safehouse and stood in front of the fireplace, arms crossed and face set in stone. The other three scrambled to their preferred seats on the sofa, their furrowed brows awaiting the news. Andy sucked in a breath before opening her mouth, forcing her lips not to quiver. “Booker’s dead.”

The air stilled and grew cold, and not just because it was winter. All the life was sucked out of the room as the three immortals on the sofa processed the news, glancing between each other to see if this was a gag anyone was in on.

Nothing gave.

“Andy, don’t play us.” Nile was the first to speak, the two men beside her silent as statues. “There’s no way.”

“There’s a video. Copley verified it. He’s gone,” Andy whispered and turned to the side, hiding her tears. She had always expected to be the first one to die, never having to suffer in this long life without Booker by her side after spending the previous two hundred years together. But now he was gone, and she had to deal with the rest of her life without him by her side.

Joe and Nicky stood up from the couch and excused themselves, leaving the room with haste. Andy paid them no mind. She knew they were wracked with guilt as she shared the news, especially after pushing the exile to a hundred years and hell, she was too. For this to happen to their most reckless member whilst being away from them made them all feel like utter shit.

Andy was going to find Booker’s body and lay it to rest. Preferably in Marseille, next to his long gone wife and children.

It was the least she could do for her fallen friend.

“I told you there was a better way into the compound, Andy!” Joe whispered as he led the team through the dark, moist underground tunnels. “Much more effective than blowing up the front door. You know, considering you don’t know anything about explosives.”

He heard Andy scoff from behind him, amongst the soft thuds of their boots on the concreted ground. “Right. Because the one person who does know something about explosives is fucking dead.”

Silence.

Joe bit his lip and trudged onward. He could not afford to get caught up thinking about Booker when there was a mission to be done. Though, it was his fault for bringing up the man’s area of expertise.

“Light up ahead,” Nicky’s voice pierced his thoughts as they came to a halt. Being this deep underground, Joe could only think they had entered the dungeons, or whatever they called the place they keep prisoners. Dungeon sounded like the right word to describe this archaic setting.

“There’s a body over there,” Joe whispered, his perfect vision noticing the lump of a human form in the darkness, using what light was provided to confirm his suspicions. “I’m going to see if they’re alive.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Nico, Andy said-”

“I know what Andy said. Do you believe her?”

Joe sighed and paced the length of their bedroom, running a hand through his curls. There was no reason not to trust Andy, but they did still have their doubts over Copley’s trustworthiness.

“I do. Why wouldn’t I?” Joe stopped pacing and turned to his love. “He shouldn’t have been all alone.”

Nicky looked back at him and frowned. “One hundred years was too much?”

“Booker is dead, Nicky! Dead-dead! Never coming back, perma-dead! Of course it was too much!” Joe shouted before reeling himself back in. It was their decision to push for the exile, so he had no reason to be this upset. But old memories of their time with Booker haunt them, starting as bedsharing in the middle of a Russian winter and ending as him being a loving part of the relationship. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s alright,” Nicky said, waving off the little outburst before letting his hand fall to his lap. “I think- I need some time to process.. that he’s actually gone.”

Joe walked over to Nicky and wrapped him up in a hug, pulling the man close and hooking his chin over his lover’s shoulder.

It didn’t take long for both men to break down with tears.

As he got closer Joe became suspicious of the body before him; he knew the way it was leaning against the wall, the way the hair fell in front of the face, the way he knew this body like the back of his hand.

Booker.

Booker was in front of him.

With trembling hands, Joe grabbed Booker’s face and tilted it up, the other man groaning and opening his eyes slowly, blinking away the blurriness.

“Joe?” Booker mumbled, his voice gravelly from the lack of use, and Joe crumbled. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him close, squeezing him tight to his chest. He heard the others approach them, but all he cared about was Booker’s warm body against his and the soft sobs coming from the broken man.

“Hey, Book. Yeah, it’s us. Everyone’s here,” Joe whispered, eyes gazing towards the chains attached to the rock walls. “I- We thought you were dead. For real.”

Booker pulled away from the embrace and looked past Joe, eyes falling on Nicky, then Nile, then Andy, their eyes welling up with tears of their own but their faces remained focused. They were on a mission after all. “Yeah, I know. They showed me the video.”

“We’re going to get you out of here, okay? We need to grab some intel, and hopefully find the keys to your chains, and then we’ll take you home.” Joe grabbed Booker’s face lightly and tilted it to face him, smiling softly as some life returned to the man’s eyes. “We’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Booker wouldn’t dream of it.

“Okay so Copley says this should be an easy intel grab, in and out in less than an hour. We go in at three am and come out just before four. Shouldn’t be too many guards, and if there are then we’ll just take them out. Our entry points are the front door which would need explosives as its reinforced steel, or the back door which has some guard dogs that could alert everyone on site of our presence before we even step a foot onto the grounds,” Andy spoke, leaning over a map of the compound their next mission led them to. The four of them nodded their heads, taking in the information given.

“So no back entrance due to the dogs, but blowing up the front door wouldn’t cause a disturbance?” Nicky asked, leaning down to get a closer look at the map. “I’m sure there has to be another way inside.”

“By all means, Nicky, have a look. Those are the two main ways inside, but you might find a sewer or something we can crawl through, though I really don’t wanna do that,” Andy stated, crossing her arms. “Copley also said there might be prisoners. We should check before we leave.”

“If there are prisoners, maybe there’s a secret entrance to get them in and out?” Joe asked. “We’ll need to scout it before we act, how much time do we have to complete this?”

“We should be in and out within an hour,” Andy said. “Prisoners or not, we gather the intel first, got it?”

“Yes, boss.”

It felt like an eternity, but the group made their way back to Booker, albeit under gunfire. The man flinched as Andy and Nicky hoisted him to his feet and quickly released the shackles from his wrists and ankles before pulling him towards the exit, Nile and Joe quick to follow as they covered the trio from behind.

The road home was hard.

So very hard.

For the captee and his rescuers.

They managed to get back to their safehouse without any further harm, and Booker felt himself being pulled inside and to the bathroom. He doesn’t remember how, but he found himself in the tub surrounded by bubbles and pressed against a hard, warm body. Hands were gently rubbing his arms and torso as he stared into the abyss, thinking of everything yet nothing.

He did not remember the past two years. He did not know that he spent that long in captivity. He did not know that that was how long his family didn’t look for him.

He did not know how that made him feel.

“Booker?” The body behind him whispered, careful not to spook the man. Booker bristled slightly but did not respond. “Booker, are you with us?”

“Leave him be, Nic. Let’s get him clean and warm,” Joe said softly from outside the tub, a hand on Booker’s shoulder. “We can deal with everything later.”

Booker soon found himself in a bed wrapped like a cocoon in blankets, the bed dipping on either side of him. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who the two bodies that joined him were, he knew.

He knew they would have to talk. About his betrayal. About his capture. About them not looking for him. About them.

But that can all wait.

Right now he’s warm, he’s secure, and he’s surrounded by the two people that matter the most to him. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep away all the exhaustion, all the torture, all the mental anguish of the last two years.

And shit, he was tired.

AO3 Link

#the old guard #booker #ot3 kinda #first fic in a while plz be kind

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lovelikedestiny · 3 years

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3. Copley: And our kingdom is gone

White glowing skin, touched by stars,

kissed by silver moonlight.

When Joe gets up and leaves the room with one last stroke of Nicky's head, just as Copley has entered the living room, Copley asks himself when the immortals started to trust him.

Andy and Nile are exercising in his backyard and Copley, hoping they don't destroy his amateur herb patch or his dahlias, has tried very hard to give them privacy. By that he means that he is not standing on the porch like a stalker and watching the two women attack each other without mercy and with deadly skill, faster than he has ever seen.

Astonished, he stops and stares at the door Joe has disappeared through before he realizes that he is not alone in the living room. Nicky nods slightly to him, one corner of his mouth curved into something like a half smile and Copley only realizes that because he has spent the last few days closely observing the immortal warriors and analyzing their behavior.

Copley has always considered himself to be a passable, if not a good judge of people - this skill was very helpful in his job and served him well. But Nicky's micro-expressions are on a completely different level. He seems perfectly at rest within himself and nothing in his face indicates what is going on inside him. Admittedly, Copley finds this just as intimidating as Andy's sharp presence, Joe's death look and Nile's powerful charisma. Nicky must be really good at playing poker, Copley thinks, and inwardly shakes his head because it's like wondering what Joe likes to do in his free time besides the obvious drawing, or what kind of ice cream Andy prefers to eat. And Copley isn't sure that the relationship between him and the ancient warriors can be considered as that familiar.

He fully understands their vigilant, suspicious attitude towards him and is determined to help them with their current problem, because he is complicit in the events that have happened and hopes to gain their forgiveness. Guilt and shame are still present in his heart for being blinded by the prospect of helping people with illnesses like the one that plagued his wife, even though all the signs of Merrick's sadistic play were right under his nose.

All the more, the fact that Joe left him alone with Nicky in a room, presumably to use the bathroom, feels like a minor victory, and Copley tries not to seem too baffled by it.

The minimal change in the bright mountain lakes that make up Nicky's eyes shows that he's not doing as good a job as he has hoped. In Nicky's eyes and the features around his mouth, the most emotions can be read, Copley noted, even if it will take him a lot of practice to see as much in Nicky's face as Joe. He will probably never reach this level, because he certainly does not have 900 years for a character study.

Nicky's minimal facial movements also make it harder for Copley to tell if he's in pain or to recognize the warning signs that precede any vomiting of blood - which is now occurring with terrible regularity.

Since he has found a tough nut to crack in Nicky, Copley has started to pay attention to Joe after Nicky's first blood break, in order to learn more about Nicky's behavior. With this tactic, Copley adds daily to his mental list of Nicky's signs of certain sensations, and to his chagrin, the signs of physical pain seem to be increasing in frequency.

Copley, one of those people who whine hard when they stub their little toe, admires the stoicism with which Nicky endures his rapidly deteriorating condition. Only his slow, sluggish movements and a barely noticeable frown are frequent indications of Nicky's discomfort, as well as a slight lowering of the corners of the mouth and the twitching of his jaw pointed out for Copley by Nile.

And of course the tremors from the chills going through Nicky's body at that moment. In addition to the thick hoodies, they pulled out all the stops with various blankets, socks, hot-water bottles and tea and Joe gives Nicky his body heat anyway, just like Andy and even Nile.

This deep, family bond between Andy, Joe and Nicky is met with great fascination by Copley and although Nile has only been an immortal for a few weeks, even Copley can see how easily the young woman has integrated into the team like a matching piece of a puzzle. It also shows him how much the emptiness of his house oppressed him after the death of his wife and that he finds himself wishing to be a part of this unusual family of extraordinary individuals.

With a quiet clearing of his throat, Copley de-freezes himself from where he has been standing for an alarmingly long number of seconds and turns the heat up. With the onset of autumn it is not a problem to heat so strongly because the nights are gradually getting colder. And Copley finds that he's already used to the high temperatures in the constantly heated living room. Sweating a little to keep Nicky from freezing as little as possible is probably the least Copley can do.

"Thank you, Mr. Copley," Nicky says, returning his attention to the open book in his lap, which Copley cannot identify as one of his. While he grimaces inwardly - whether that's because Nicky is the only one who continues to call him Mr. Copley, or because of how rough and strained his voice sounds, Copley can't tell - he sits down in the place where he is working. At least when he's not in his study. Actually, the professional atmosphere of his office always helps him to be more productive, but since Andy and her team moved in with him, Copley has gotten used to finding the presence of the others very pleasant.

When Joe returns, Copley is back to work retracing Meta Kozak's footsteps. She is currently moving from the western US towards New Mexico, but Copley doesn't know what her destination is or where she is keeping any evidence from Merrick's lab and that makes him angry at himself. He tracked Andromache the Scythian and her group of immortal warriors down so he shouldn't have any problems pinning Kozak down too. On the other hand, he had time to track down the immortals, and in this case it seems to be running like sand through his fingers.

Neither of the others is pushing him to hurry up or do better work, which Copley appreciates, but they all see Nicky's crumbling form every day.

Five minutes pass with no sound coming from the sofa, except for the occasional rustle of paper when Nicky turns a page or the sound of Joe's pen in his sketchbook, and Copley longs for a fifth cup of coffee.

"Copley?"

"Yes?" Even if Copley suspects what Joe wants from him, he takes his eyes off the irritatingly bright screen of his laptop to look at him.

Joe's dark, serious eyes are in such a strong contrast to the soft, warm expression of affection that they always take on when they come to rest on Nicky. "Is there-" Joe pauses to reconsider his choice of words, but Copley realizes in it the unrest that comes with Copley's own uneasiness. "- any news?"

To be honest, Copley prefers an angry, menacing Joe to the version whose tiny spark of hope Copley has to stifle over and over again, and he hates it. Still, he keeps his calm and shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. I was able to locate her on the recordings of a hotel in Phoenix, Arizona, where she stayed for three nights. But I can't tell where she's going next. My guess is New Mexico, but she has changed direction several times in the past two days.” He sighs and shakes his head again. "She is very careful, which means that she expects you to search for her."

The pale, blurred face and cold, lifeless-looking eyes on his laptop cause a disgusted, hate-like feeling in his stomach. Copley wonders how he could ever expect from such an immoral doctor who sliced people up for the Nobel Prize and took samples without letting herself be disturbed by their screams of pain to do something good for humanity.

Joe nods slowly and turns to his drawing with furrowed eyebrows, chewing on his lower lip and Copley looks at Nicky, only to notice that Nicky's focus has long been on his love. Copley thinks he sees something like concern in Nicky's eyes and then he reaches out his hand and squeezes Joe's, saying something in a lowered tone in that strange language and Joe snorts and grins slightly.

Copley has seen moments like this quite often lately. It's no secret that Nicky's condition weighs as heavily on Joe as a block of cement, and while Joe is definitely a smiler, there's nothing like it to be seen. Dry comments from Andy or deliberately silly jokes from Nile make him smile and, at best, even laugh a little. But only Nicky manages to ignite the humorous spark in his eyes and he does that as often as possible.

In the same language, Joe replies something, causing a low snort from Nicky about that Joe looks so happy, as if he had won the jackpot, before he seeks Copley's eye contact again. "Thank you, Copley."

Copley high fives himself in his head for the further progress he's made with the immortals and smiles. "Of course, I will keep you informed about further results."

"We really appreciate that," Nicky says, putting his book aside. He coughs heavily and Joe is immediately on alert, ready to jump up and grab the bucket they've positioned next to the sofa since the accumulating blood-vomiting, but Nicky pulls himself together. "Have you eaten anything today, Mr. Copley?" He asks hoarsely.

"I beg your pardon?" Copley blinks.

Up to this point he hasn't even given a thought to food and is amazed to realize that he has actually not eaten anything since last night because he was too busy following Kozak's trail. As if on command, his stomach growls softly and Copley is stunned that Nicky pays remarkable attention to who is eating what and when.

"Oh," Copley says, staring at his keyboard and then at Nicky, who is patiently waiting. "I'm afraid not, no."

He didn't even finish his sentence when Nicky gets up from the sofa - so slowly that it's painful to watch - and heads for the kitchen. "Do you like French omelettes?"

"Nicky-" Joe is hot on Nicky's heels, which is no wonder given Nicky's slow pace, every step taken so carefully, as if every move would hurt him. Because Nicky is supposed to take it easy and rest, Andy and Nile have thrown him out of the kitchen a few times because standing at the stove had exhausted him. And even if Copley doesn't know all the habits of the team by a long way, he can see how much Nicky loves to look after his family and that cooking and baking gives him great joy. This makes it all the more difficult for him not even be able to do that.

And the way Joe looks, he is more than aware of it. But instead of putting Nicky back on the sofa and advising him not to use the kitchen to make Copley a French omelette because it could harm his condition, Joe just says gently, "May I help you?"

It is not a statement that has been disguised in a question to avoid contradiction. It's a real question that Joe means wholeheartedly and leaves Nicky to decide whether he wants to work alone in the kitchen or to be helped. Joe didn't ask if he could cook, but asked Nicky's permission to help him cook and leave the main work to Nicky. And that Joe pays such careful attention to Nicky's feelings and wants to do something about it that he feels useless, moves Copley more than he would have expected.

Copley only catches a glimpse of the smile Nicky only saves for Joe. "Of course, hayati." Copley can't miss the underlying gratitude.

Continue reading on AO3 ;)

#the old guard #fanfiction #tears on marble face #chapter three #Copley #Nicky #Joe #Andy #Nile

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fangirlshrewt97 · 4 years

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The Old Guard Fanfic - A Game of Strategy and Heart

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Joe & Nile, Joe/Nicky, Joe & Nicky & Nile

Characters: Nile Freeman, Joe|Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nicky|Nicolo Di Genova, Andy|Andromache the Scynthian

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Family Bonding, Soft, Family Bonding, Team as Family, Soft, Fluff, Brother-Sister Relationships, Chess history lesson, Attempt at Humor, Mild Language, Teasing, Teaching Joe gets to share and teach his favorite game to his newest sister!

Summary:

“I’m fine Joe.” she said, emphasizing the words to make sure they got through. Joe’s lips quirked up as he entered the room further, till he was leaning against the edge of the bed. “Sure?” “Well, I am contemplating experimenting with different ways to die just to test them out you know. Was thinking of writing a list I could work down.” Joe laughed. “If you want to be creative about it, I think there is a phone game called Dumb Ways to Die?” Nile huffed a laugh. “I’ll check it out.” “Hmm.” Joe said, crossing his arms. “Bored, are you?” “Out of my mind.” Nile admitted. Joe seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “Right. Come on, I think I have a cure for your boredom.”

Basically, while waiting at Copley's house for a mission, Nile gets bored, and Joe invites her to play his favorite game.

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786423

///

Nile was bored. There was really no other word to describe how she was feeling. A little restless, unable to sit still, a little distracted, unable to focus. But mostly bored. She had been with her new family for five months now, and they had settled into a pattern of sorts with her training, trying to integrate her better into the team. And she loved the lessons, both the fighting lessons and the more practical stuff.

But at the moment, Copley had said he had a mission in mind but he needed some more time to get a full debrief of the situation, so he had told them to stay close until he was done. The beds in his two guest rooms were luckily big enough to accommodate the four of them, and they had been crashing here for the past week.

A week where Andy had disappeared with or without Copley and turned back up around dinner time, never explaining what she did while away. A week with Joe and Nicky being obnoxiously cute in the ‘adorable, totally makes you believe true love is out there and as good as the books say it’ way, but also ‘so sweet you get a mouthful of cavities just watching them’.

Nile loved her new family, loved them dearly and embraced them as quickly as they embraced her. Even as the pain of leaving her real family behind became a dull ache rather than a sharp pain. Even as there was an undeniable missing Booker-shaped hole.

Andy was scary, and terrifying, but also smart, and brave, and beautiful, and kind. She was what Nile wanted to become, but she also saw the chips in Andy’s soul, the sadness weighing her down even as she passed each day with her held high.

Nicky was disconcerting, and cold, but also sweet, and honest, and big-hearted. He was always at her side when she woke from another nightmare, correcting her posture during her sword lessons and correcting her pronunciation during language lessons. He reminded her of her brother in the most unexpected of ways, making a bitter nostalgia rest on her tongue even as she sought the happiness that came from the small piece of familiarity.

Booker had been scared, and dying, drowning, but also perceptive, and sympathetic, loyal. Nile had argued for a lighter sentence because she had heard the sadness in his voice as he spoke of his family and been reminded of so many others who went to war and died there, even if their bodies came back to continue living. She had known him for three days, nothing at all for immortals who live centuries and millennia.

Joe was comforting, and warm, but also ruthless, and avenging, and protective. Joe had died at the hands of a man and decided to love that man for eternity. Nile did not understand Joe, couldn’t find a connection like with the others.

Andy and her still novel fear of dying, Nicky and his faith, Booker and his ‘youth’.

All of which brought her to her present conundrum. She was laying in her bed at Copley’s while Nicky was cooking downstairs and Andy had gone off to God only knew where. And she was bored because they had told her to enjoy two days without lessons. So here she was, laying on the bed with a tennis ball in her hands she was tossing up and down. (which had definitely not accidentally fallen on her face even once).

Just as she was contemplating getting up to search for a basketball or just go for a run, there was a knock at the door before it cracked open.

“Nile?” Joe asked, still standing at the door, unable to see her.

“Hey Joe. Come on in.” Nile said as she sat up in bed. The man entered the room, one of his bright smiles lighting up his face, and the room by extension. Nile automatically smiled back. “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing. I just realized we hadn’t seen you all day and thought to check up on you.”

Right. There may have been an incident or two of a panic attack she had had over being immortal and not adjusting fully to the situation. It was almost funny in hindsight, how much more panicked Andy had looked trying to calm her down than in a room with twenty guns pointed at her very mortal body. Since then, the three had been very sweet but unsubtle in their efforts to make sure she didn’t have another breakdown.

“I’m fine Joe.” she said, emphasizing the words to make sure they got through.

Joe’s lips quirked up as he entered the room further, till he was leaning against the edge of the bed.

“Sure?”

“Well, I am contemplating experimenting with different ways to die just to test them out you know. Was thinking of writing a list I could work down.”

Joe laughed. “If you want to be creative about it, I think there is a phone game called Dumb Ways to Die?”

Nile huffed a laugh. “I’ll check it out.”

“Hmm.” Joe said, crossing his arms. “Bored, are you?”

“Out of my mind.” Nile admitted.

Joe seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “Right. Come on, I think I have a cure for your boredom.”

He headed for the door, leaving behind a Nile who blinked at his retreating back before scrambling to follow him, leaving the tennis ball on the bedside drawer.

She followed him down the stairs, past the kitchen where Nicky waved at her as she passed and into the living room. Joe smiled at her.

“Wait here a minute, I’ll be right back.” he said cryptically before disappearing behind his and Nicky’s bedroom door.

Nile sat on the sofa, placing her hands under her thighs to resist the urge to fidget with them. As promised, Joe appeared a moment latter, carrying a square case under his arm. He came to sit on the opposite end of the couch, playing the case between them.

The case was made of solid wood, with a small silver-coloured latch on the side.

“This is just my travel set, I have beautiful sets in our safe houses, but this one is sturdy enough to withstand some wear.”

“It’s a chess set.” Nile remarked as Joe open the latch, turning it over to dump the pieces on the sofa.

He righted the board before holding up a white and black piece. “You’ve played, I hope?”

Nile nodded. “I’m not very good though.”

Joe smiled. “Good. That means there is a lot I can teach you. So, black or white?”

Nile debated for a second before grabbing the black pawn.

“Ok, I start then.” Joe said as he picked out the white pieces and arranged them on the board, Nile copying him with her own black pieces.

Once the board was set, Joe pulled out the pawn in front of his king two places.

Nile brought her corresponding pawn two places forward, placing it directly in front of Joe’s.

Joe moved his queen to the edge of the board, placing it on the same line as her pawn.

Nile thought for a moment before moving her king one step forward.

Joe smirked and cut her pawn. “Checkmate.”

“Wait, what?” Nile said. But Joe was right, there was no piece she could place in front of the king, and no where she could move him without being cut.

“This isn’t fair Joe.”

Joe laughed and reset his pieces before resetting Nile’s. “No it isn’t azizati, I have been playing this game for a very long time you know.”

“I’m not playing with you again.” Nile said.

Joe just continued to laugh. “Come, Chess is the greatest game humanity ever invented.”

“Games are mostly fun because of the possibility of winning Joe.” Nile argued.

Joe conceded with a bow of his head. “True. I will go easy on you. You can also be white this time.”

He turned the board so she had the white pieces. She squinted at him, but when he just kept smiling, she sighed and moved her pawn in front.

Joe smiled and mirrored her.

This time, she moved her horse out.

Joe was quiet as he moved his own horse out. He copied her moves for a couple more steps before changing the pattern. Ten minutes into the game, Nile had, with great difficulty managed to capture two of Joe’s pawns and one of his bishops. Joe had gotten three of her pawns, one of her horses, one of her bishops, and one of her rooks.

Nile did not pout because she was a grown woman, thank you very much. But it was a near thing. “This supposed to be you going easy on me?”

“You will not learn if you do not face struggle azizati.” Joe said gravely before cracking up.

“What does that mean?” Nile asked as she moved her remaining horse to cut another of Joe’s pawns.

“What?” Joe asked with a small furrow in his brow as he moved one of his pawns forward.

“The Arabic word. Azizati.” Nile said. She brought her horse to Joe’s last line.

“Oh, it’s just a term of affection. It translates to ‘my dear’ roughly. Do you not want me to use it?” Joe asked, looking at her.

Nile blushed before shaking her head. “No…no it’s fine. Was just curious.”

Joe shot her such a charming smile, Nile’s shoulders shook with a laugh. How could this 900+ year old man be so boyishly charming. It was annoying as hell.

“Tell me Nile, what do you know about chess?” Joe asked as he moved his remaining bishop to a square. “Check.”

“What do you mean?” Nile asked as she responded by blocking the way with a pawn.

“The history of the game. Its origins. The story of chess.” Joe elaborated. He moved his rook ahead. He looked at the game board and then at her, shit-eating grin in place. “Checkmate.”

Nile looked at the board, then at him. “Fuck off Joe.”

Joe burst out laughing, so loud and boisterous it brought Nicky to the room.

“What’s going on here?” Nicky asked as he looked at the scene they made with a look that was equal parts amused and fond.

“Your husband is a little shit.” Nile said.

Nicky joined into Joe’s laughter. “Ah, yes. Yes he is Nile.”

Joe made an amused sound of offense. “Nicolo, hayati, how can you injure me so?”

“I feel no regrets, amore, same as you not feeling an ounce of remorse for crushing our baby mercilessly.”

To add salt to the wound, he high-fived Nile. Joe pouted.

“Serves you right Joe.”

“Nile,” he did not quite whine, but…

Nicky took pity on him. “Nile, how about one more game?”

“Against you?” Nile asked, even as Joe sat up straighter and reminded her of a dog excitedly wagging his tail.

“No.” Nicky said firmly, before winking at her. “You and me against Joe.”

Joe’s mouth opened in shock, making Nile cackle. “You know what, that’s an acceptable deal. Let’s play Joe!”

“You’re cooking dinner! You can’t play!”

“Dinner is practically done, I kept a lasagna in the oven which should take at least another 25 minutes to cook. I am confident we can trounce you by then.”

Nile took great pleasure in arranging the pieces even as Joe continued to pout. Nicky merely grabbed a chair from the dining room and brought it to sit next to Nile.

The game was fun, Nicky pointing out all the possible moves she had open but letting her make the choice. Joe kept complaining the whole time, but it was good natured ribbing.

“You do realize hayati, your track record of winning at chess against me is not that great either?”

“Don’t listen to him Nile, let’s just try our best.”

In the end though, Joe managed to pull a win with the skin of his teeth, using a single rook and pawn-turned-Queen.

He was very obnoxious in his victory. Nile felt a small spike of vindication when she threw her King at him and it hit him between the eyes. Nicky snorted before getting up. “That was fun. I am going to check on dinner. Nile, do try not to destroy the pieces though, he is very fond of that board.”

Nile nodded before curling into the couch, leaning her body sideways with her feet tucked under her. She opened the board and returned the nearby pieces inside the case, and Joe joined her, doing the same. She leaned back as he finished arranging the pieces.

“I don’t know anything about it.” she said.

Joe looked at her, raising an eyebrow at the seeming non-sequitar.

“Chess. You asked me if I know its history. Before Nicky joined. I don’t know, I didn’t really play it all that much growing up. Chess was my dad’s game, so we didn’t play it that much when he wasn’t home.”

Joe smiled. “Chess is a beautiful game Nile, it has gone through so many changes, evolving with the time. So many meaning and symbolisms. Do you want to hear about it?”

Nile nodded, settling in more deeply into the couch.

“Chess evolved from a game played in Northern India tracing back almost 1500 years ago called Chaturanga,” Joe started. “There is a myth with a cruel king, but I can’t remember it right now. The game was brought from India to Arabia in the 6th century, and then to southern Europe by the expanding Islamic empire. In Europe, the church tried to ban chess multiple times, and the pieces evolved too, both their names and their moving capabilities.”

“Hold on, why would the Church ban chess?” Nile asked.

Joe shrugged. “The usual reasons, they felt like the people who would play it would develop ideas against the church or the Powers that Were.”

Nile’s mouth twisted in a frown on dissatisfaction.

“It wasn’t just the church, there was a time in the 9th century when chess was banned in some Islamic states too.”

Nile hummed. “So what were the changes to chess?”

“Well, this piece for example,” Joe said, holding up a rook, “is called an elephant in the Middle east and India even today. But Europeans did not fight wars with elephants, so the name was modified to what did exist there. It is the piece who’s name has changed the most. It can be called rook or tower.”

He pulled out a Queen. “In the original game, this piece was called Vizir, or minister, but then was changed to Queen.”

“How come?”

“Ah, a fun story.” Joe said, spinning the piece in his hands. “The Queen used to be one of the weakest pieces. They played chess in the Royal Court of Spain in the 15th century. Queen Isabella was offended. She asked her advisers if they thought her that feeble. Their response was to make her the most powerful piece in the game.”

“Badass Queen.” Nile said.

“Hmm.” Joe agreed.

He replaced the Queen with a Horse. “This piece is called a horse in Arabic and Persian, but some English countries call them knights.”

“Cool.” Nile said as she took the piece from his hand, running her finger over the horse head. “So you have been playing for how long now?”

“My father taught me.” Joe said, eyes going distant, probably recalling a long forgotten memory. “So, about 950 years?”

Nile hit him in the face with a pillow. “A cheater on top of being an ass!”

Joe laughed as he grabbed the pillow from her. “I surrender, I surrender.” he said as he held up his arms to cover his face, a wide smile splitting his face.

Nile relinquished the pillow to him. “I know there are chess competitions. Have you ever participated in one?”

If possible, Joe’s grin became even more shit-eating. Nile looked at him warily. “What?”

“I participated in the first ever world Chess competition in 1886.”

Nile’s jaw dropped. “You did not.”

“I did. Got third place too.” He sounded smug, but Nile laughed in his face, making him confused. “What?”

“You would have been playing the game for 700 years by that point and you still couldn’t defeat someone who had been playing for how long, 30-40 years?”

“Steinitz was 49.” Joe grumbled, making Nile laugh harder. This time he threw the pillow at her.

“You know what Joe, I changed my mind. Teach me this game. I’m sure I’ll be able to beat you after another 40 years.” Nile said, smile wolf-sharp.

Joe gave her the stink eye. “Arrogance will be your downfall Freeman.”

“We will see about that. Show me your moves!” Nile crowed.

The two set up the pieces again, Nile sitting back and watching as Joe walked her through different strategies to finish games quickly.

After five possible strategies though, Joe reset the games and proposed a rematch.

“Hold on, this is too much.” Nile said.

“I thought you wanted me to teach you how to play.” Joe said.

“I do, but this is a lot. It feels like, like,” Nile waved her hands, “there’s so many ways to start, I don’t know where to start.

Joe sighed. “Nile, I am going to give you the advice I remember my dad giving me. But bear in mind, it has been several centuries so I am going to paraphrase it ok?”

Nile nodded.

“Chess is first and foremost a game of adaptability, even more than one of strategy. Because to win, you need to be able to predict, or at least make a good guess about your opponent’s moves, and choose the option that maximizes the benefits for you, which minimizing them for your opponent. Each possible move represents a different game. A different universe in which you make a better move. By the second move, there are 72,084 possible games. By the third, 9 million. By the fourth there are more possible games of chess than there are atoms in the universe. Which means that that first move can be terrifying.”

“So how do you make the first move?”

“The first move is the furthest point from the end of the game, there's a virtually infinite sea of possibilities between you and the other side. But it also means that if you make a mistake, there's a nearly infinite amount of ways to fix it. So you should simply relax and play.” Joe finished.

Nile’s shoulders slumped as she considered the board, her fingers hovering over the pieces.

Finally, she moved her pawn ahead.

Joe smiled. “Chess is also a game of heart as much as of brain Nile. The way you play reveals a lot about you. You are so cautious about your pieces, you are more concerned about making sure your pieces don’t get cut than using them in the best possible way to finish the game quickly.”

Nile looked at him. “How do you play?”

Joe’s lips quirked. He moved his horse forward. “ My King is my most important piece, and I will do whatever it takes to protect him. And my Queen is his best protector, so she is the one I will use at every chance if safe.”

Nile felt like there was a deeper meaning that she wasn’t grasping right then, but she didn’t want to ask right then, so she moved her own horse out.

The game continued at a sedate pace, Joe letting her think as long as needed. In the end, Joe won, but Nile had managed to get him down to just his queen and his rook again, probably because he let her, but she would count it.

A slow clap startled the pair, who turned to see Andy leaning against the doorway watching them. “Good job Nile.”

“I didn’t win Andy.”

“On the contrary, you actually played through a game with him. I lost the patience for it many centuries ago.”

“Oh come now boss, I think you have played a grand total of three games straight through with me.” Joe teased.

Andy shrugged her devil-may-care shrug. “Nicky was calling for you.”

“Ah, Nile, azizati, would you mind putting the board away?”

“No problem.”

“Thank you sweet girl.” Joe said, kissing her on the top of the head before leaving. Nile heard him greet Nicky with a “Re del mio cuore!”

Nile squinted at the doorway. “Andy?”

The eldest immortal hummed as she also looked at the kitchen.

“What does Re mean in Italian?”

Andy smirked. “King.”

Fucking incurable romantic, chess cheating, asshole.

#the old guard #the old guard fanfic #tog #tog fanfic #my fic #my writing #nile freeman #nile freeman fanfic #nicky x joe #joe x nicky #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #andromache the scythian #yusuf al kaysani fanfic #let me know what you think!

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pherryt · 3 years

Text

First Lines of My Last 20 Fics

As tagged by @hopelessly-me to see if I have any patterns. *looks at list* Different ratings, different fandoms, different ships... yeah, I’m not seeing much pattern wise here! Lol let me know if you do :D

1 Taking Care - Rated E, Witcher, Geraskier

There were ups and downs with traveling with Geralt but after all these years, Jaskier liked to think they’d achieved a balance.

2 Finding Me (And You) Along the Way - Rated T, Marvel, Winterhawk

When Clint had retired, the expectation probably had been that he would have gone somewhere remote, quiet, in the middle of nowhere where no one would expect to find an ex-spy.

3 Square One - Rated M, old Guard/Marvel, Nicky/Joe/(Bucky)

“Joe," Nicky said, his voice choked.

4 Under the Surface - Rated T, Supernatural, Destiny (Dean/Cas/Benny)

Dean groaned.

5 Snowguard - Rated G, Old Guard, Nicky/Joe

"Yusuf, take a break and get warm with me," Nicky said.

6 What About Us? - Rated E, Marvel, Winterhawk (WIP)

Bucky had just settled into the tower, just settled into a routine – nightmares and all – when the hurricane better known as Tony Stark decreed that a Welcome to the Tower party was in order.

7 For Want of a Duck - Rated g, Marvel, Winterhawk

Bucky wasn’t sure how *this* had become his life.

8 an Intermission (or Two) - Rated G, Marvel/Old Guard

The world was going insane.

9 Clint's Big Secret - Rated G, Marvel, Winterhawk

“Seriously.” Bucky intoned flatly.

10 In the Spaces Between - Rated E, Marvel, Stucky

They’d gotten back to camp, and Bucky wanted to simultaneously glue himself to Stevie’s side and never let him out of his sight again, but also to find a spot to hide from everyone, including Steve (*especially* Steve) where he could curl up into a ball and let everything just wash over him.

11 Repercussions - Rated E, Marvel, Winterbirbs (Clint/Bucky/Sam)

Bucky paused in the doorway and let himself lean on it, gazing in wondering disbelief at his boyfriends as they slept.

12 Outside the World - Rated G, Marvel, Winterhawk

Bucky had seen the guy dressed all in purple, tall and lanky, several times that week.

13 Sticking Around... - Rated G, Marvel, pre Winterhawk

It had been a few weeks since Clint had come to stay at Phil’s and even when he didn’t avoid everyone, he still really didn’t talk much except one on one.

14 The Beckoning Stars and The Secrets They Hold - Rated T, Star Trek/Marvel, George(Thor)/Winona, eventually Mckirk (WIP)

George Kirk slid out from under the sheets, his feet hitting the slightly cool floor of his quarters.

15 Time and Time Again - Rated E, Marvel, Winterhawk

Something most people didn’t remember, was that there was a time when Clint wasn’t with SHIELD.

16 Winters Promise - Rated M, Old Guard/Marvel, Joe/Nicky/Bucky

It had been a freak snowstorm that caught Nicky and Joe unawares.

17 Hit the Spot - Rated G, Marvel, Winterhawk (WIP)

Clint enjoyed working in a coffee shop, don’t get him wrong - surrounded by the heavenly scent of absolute ambrosia, access to that sweet nectar at any time of day or night even if it wasn’t completely free (employee discount, hells yeah! At the rate he drank coffee, coffee shop job or no, he was saving *tons*!) and he generally was an easy-going person, loved talking to people – but customers were another species all their own.

18 All Is Not What It Seems - Rated T, Marvel/Elfquest, Winterhawk, Stony, Cutter/Leetah, Moonshade/Strongbow

In a little tree den, deep, deep in the Forgotten Forest, somewhere between the threat of Blue Mountain - and their new leader, Winnowill - and that of the superstitious humans beyond the waterfall, a little blonde haired Wolfrider - no more than a cub - woke, eyes wide and teary.

19 The First and Last Night - Rated E, Marvel, Stucky

"Buck," Steve said, looking away, his hand grasping his other arm.

20 Life Affirming - Rated T, Old Guard, Nicky/Joe

After Booker and Andy, after Merrick and Copley, after everything that had gone down - the betrayal, the captivity and torture, Andy’s loss of immortality - Nile couldn’t blame the others for being spooked.

TAGGING:

@ialwayscomewhenyoucall @jhoomwrites @feathers-and-cigarettes @shatteredhourglass @kangofu-cb @ltleflrt @sevdrag (Really, anyone who wants to and don’t feel like you have to)

#20 fics #first lines #thats a lot of fics #i am NOT seeing apattern #except i either have super short or overly convoluted openers #multi fandom #multi ship

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thekracken · 4 years

Text

so this ended up being way freaking long. it’s a 5.3k ficlet draft PART ONE that i guess i just want to post to hold myself responsible to finish it lmao so here’s part one of this monster :)

i want to write a fic that details joe’s hurt tbh. aside from andy, its shown he and booker are closest. we’re shown all these little moments of them sharing a glance, of sharing mannerisms, of teasing nicky and watching football together; in a bts cast thing, we’re shown booker ghosting along joe’s back as they move through the compound at the beginning- that they’re a team and its nicky-and-joe but its not a surprise to find booker and joe gravitating towards each other- and we’re shown that booker’s betrayal hurts. joe yells and insults and is angry at booker, showing more emotion than we’ve seen when he’s not professing his love for nicky. and then in the end, he’s the one who looks at booker when they’re in the restaurant debating, he’s the one who gives booker one last look before he follows his family away.

so i really just want to angst my heart out and detail joe trying to deal with this. when he’s around others he’s fine, because he has to be right? booker betrayed them and hurt them and he shouldn’t miss him, shouldn’t be sad about his absence, and so he’s not. whenever booker’s brought up, he lets his heartache come out as anger, because if he doesn’t talk about it he’s afraid the words will harden inside him and never leave- so he has to be angry, has to curse booker with every word because these emotions have to have somewhere to go, but he can’t entertain it for too long before tears prick his eyes and when he leaves, he makes sure it’s in a huff- makes sure it’s in anger and not heartbreak.

one of the things nicky loves about joe the most, is that joe genuinely thinks this is fooling anyone. it’s not. they know his anger. they also know his sadness.

but joe can’t sleep. he doesn’t have an appetite. life moves on and he tries. there’s a lot to do here; andy’s mortal and that means reevaluating everything, nile’s here with them now and they have to get to know her; copley’s joined the team and they have to just trust he won’t betray them twice.

there’s a lot to do here but joe can’t stop thinking about booker. it haunts him; his mind, whenever he’s alone, immediately retreats to the past, fixating on all their reactions, trying to pinpoint the exact moment booker decided spending the rest of his life with them was worse than being kept in a cage. was his smile duller here? was his laugh forced there? did he hesitate when joe reached out to him then? or has the knowledge he has now twisted the memories into what he wants to know?

he hates that he can’t stop thinking about it. when, when, when. when did he lose booker? had he always felt this way? they all knew booker was struggling, but had he spent the last 200 years faking it, just waiting for the moment to leave them? was joe truly that blind to not have seen it or was there something that made booker break beyond repair?

joe’s not sure which is worse: that booker played them all, or that booker broke suddenly and violently, and no one noticed.

and amid his heartbreak, he is angry. he’s so angry. because how could booker do this? to them?

he wishes his anger was enough to make him hate booker, but it’s not. (and that just makes him angrier). he can’t eat without wondering if booker’s been eating. he can’t go out without seeing something that he knows booker would like and the desire to talk to him burns in his chest like physical heat. he can’t sleep without lying in bed wondering if booker truly thinks it’s worth it.

and when he’s curled around nicky, holding his love in his arms, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, nuzzling his face in the warm patch of skin on nicky’s neck, he has to blink back furious tears lest they mar nicky’s pale skin.

it’s not fair. this is supposed to be booker’s punishment, so why is joe the one not able to sleep, or eat, or live without the reminder that he’s missing a brother, that he’s been betrayed by someone he loves.

joe closes his eyes and tries to make his mind go blank, tries to focus on the warm weight of nicky in his arms, against his chest, but all he sees is a dark room, suddenly lit with lights shining in his eyes, with nicky so far away when bullets start burning into him. sees nicky on a table with blood staining his skin, sees keane put his gun in nicky’s mouth and pull the trigger. sees andy with a red wound that won’t heal. sees fucking booker taking a grenade to the chest before all hell breaks lose and he’s choking on gas.

at the time, one hundred years seemed fair, but it’s only been a handful of months and joe dreads thinking about how the next century will be. he doesn’t want to feel like this anymore, but he doesn’t want to move on without booker, is a little terrified of healing so soundly that when booker comes back, he won’t care.

the sun peaks over the horizon and nicky stirs in his arms, breathing deeply as he slowly wakes.

“good morning, nicolo,” joe says softly against nicky’s neck and feels nicky press harder against him. he hums and joe smiles against him.

“you’re up early,” nicky says in sleepy italian and joe just presses a kiss to the spot behind nicky’s ear. nicky turns his head and then slowly turns his body, rolling in joe’s arms until they’re face to face.

“your eyes look tired,” nicky says in a whisper, slipping into arabic and joe’s heart clenches.

“i am tired,” joe confides and nicky frowns, a little wrinkle forming between his brows and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of joe’s lips.

“then sleep, my love,” nicky says and raises his hand to card his fingers through joe’s hair and then cupping his face. “you’re safe here.” and joe knows he is, but curled against nicky’s chest, being held and cradled and promised security, his eyes drift closed of their own accord. nicky’s fingers scratch against his scalp and he whispers something as joe drifts into sleep.

and when joe wakes up hours later, warm in nicky’s arms, his husband smiles at him and presses a kiss to his temple and asks if he’s feeling better. and he’s not, because his heart is still broken, his family is still broken, booker is still broken, but for once, the words refuse to come to his lips and he doesn’t know how to explain all the emotions writhing around inside of him.

“you didn’t have to stay the whole time,” he says, half teasing because of course nicky would stay with him the whole time, he promised after all. nicky lets him avoid the question for now and smiles again, so softly it makes joe ache.

“you know i like watching you sleep,” he says and rolls his eyes but snuggles deeper into his pillow, hiding his face away.

“very riveting, im sure,” joe says and waits for nicky’s snark but it doesn’t come. he peeks one eye open and sees the intense look on his face, the muscle in his jaw jumping; his lips twitch like he has something to say but changes his mind. joe rolls his head, revealing both eyes and he frowns at the expression.

“i love you,” nicky says finally and joe frowns deeper at the tone.

he remembers once, in the late 90′s when a compromised mission ended with them separated by hundreds of miles. nicky had called the safe house they were holed up in and promised he’d be home soon and joe gripped the landline tight in his grip, pressed the receiver against his head as if that closeness would take him to nicky instantly. i love you, nicky had said, voice low and soft and promising that the distance between them means nothing.

he thought he’d been able to imagine nicky’s face, then, thought he’d seen every aspect of nicky so completely that the recreation of these emotions was second nature in his mind. but looking at nicky’s face now, he realizes he’d misunderstood then.

thats the tone nicky uses for near misses, when they’ve been separated and are finding their way back to each other.

his heart cracks in his chest. im right here, he wants to say. i’m here. he wants to grab nicky’s hand and put it to his chest, force him to feel the beating heart inside so he doesn’t look at joe with such sadness. he wants to say i’m sorry. i’m trying to come back from this.

instead he lets his lips twitch up into a halfhearted smile and says, “and i, you,” and his voice cracks and he tries to keep his breathing steady. nicky says nothing, but reaches and grabs joe and pulls him back into his chest.

—

and it continues like that. with the team just a little broken because they don’t know how to work like this, not really. with andy mortal and nile so new and booker leaving the gapping hole he tore through them, with nicky heartbroken and joe fluctuating between anger and loss so strongly he feels like he’s the epicenter of an earthquake.

and they try. they teach nile and bond with her, help her cope with her own loss. they learn new methods, come up with different plans, that will keep andy safe. joe tries his hardest to be normal for nicky, to ease his suffering and heartache, but he knows he’s unsuccessful and that is the worst of it. they tell nile stories and tiptoe around booker’s involvement because they don’t want to talk joyfully in front of the others but also don’t want to inadvertently turn her against him, not when he’s coming back. and it’s not what it was but it’s something, something joe’s desperately trying to cling to with both hands.

and then andy gets sick.

nile promises up and down it’s just a cold, that she’ll be fine, but it’s been so long since any of them got sick... does their immune system even accept today’s germs? what if andy’s immune system hasn’t truly worked since her first death and now she’s going to be killed by something no one can even see?

nicky scarcely leaves her side and joe is left to pace nervously down the hall until nile grabs him and forces him to sit at the table, shoved a warm mug in his hands and crosses her arms until he takes a sip.

“she’s going to be okay,” nile says and joe bites his lip.

“you can’t know that,” he whispers around the fear suffocating in his throat.

“joe,” nile says softly and then sighs. she reaches out for him and rests her hands on top of his. “her fevers already going down. she’s waking up to eat. this is just a cold, okay? i promise she’ll be okay.”

and maybe it’s the conviction in her voice, the way she seems to stare into his soul, but he believes her.

nile handles the lions share of the work during this time. she feeds them and ushers them to bed when she can; she watches over andy and gives her medicine when she needs it, recording her temperature down on a notepad so nicky can keep sane watching the numbers gradually lower.

joe can’t do anything but feel guilty. guilty because he should be helping nile, he should be at andy’s bedside helping nicky keep guard over her, he should be the one making sure nicky’s fed— but he can’t find the energy to do more than obsess over his own fears, cannot step foot in andy’s room lest he disturb whatever peace the universe has given and tips the scales irrevocably, cannot force nicky to eat when he himself can’t bare to stomach anything.

and even worse, he feels the weight of his lost family like physical pressure. quynh should be here, booker should be here. nile swears andy’s healing and joe believes her, but she’s mortal. anything could go wrong. she could choke on her meal, she could catch a flu she can’t beat, she could be hit by a car, they could train too hard one day and break her-

the world’s spinning, faster and faster. his breath can’t catch up to the speed he’s moving. there are hands on him and he flinches away and then nile’s face is in front of his. her hands are in his line of sight and he wants her to grab him, now that he can see her. he’s going to float away, catch a wind current and be gone forever.

and then nicky’s in front of him and joe’s eyes fill with panicked tears.

“yusuf,” nicky says, ancient arabic filling joe’s ears. “my heart, you’re okay. please breathe for me.”

he can’t. he wants to; more than anything he wants to obey nicky’s plea, but he can’t. his hands fist on his thighs and nicky grabs his hand and thrusts it at his own chest, holding joe’s fist over his heart. joe feels like his world gets brighter at the touch. his breaths become even more ragged and then he feels a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back and nile’s voice joins nicky’s calming one. he feels better, feeling nicky’s firm grip around his wrist, his chest under his now-open palm, feeling nile’s hands tight on his shoulders, pressing hard into his back. he takes in one shuddery breath, and then another, and then another. he hears them praise him and he swallows, before collapsing forward into nicky’s chest. he feels his husband’s arms wrap around him and nile shifts, pressing her body against his side so nicky can rub at his back.

“you back with us?” nile asks and joe nods, too tired to lift his face from the warmth of nicky’s chest.

“good,” nicky says and joe feels a kiss pressed to the top of his head. there seems to be a silent conversation happening above him, because he feels nicky hum and shift, and then nile’s moving away from him. nicky moves them and suddenly he’s in his arms, cradled to his chest.

“come on, beloved,” nicky says, still in arabic. the language anchors joe like he couldn’t have anticipated. “lets take a nap.”

joe doesn’t say anything, but he nuzzles his head in nicky’s neck and lets himself be carried to bed.

joe wakes hours later, curled around nicky. he sighs softly and nuzzles his face against nicky’s neck. nicky squeezes their intertwined fingers and shifts his head, giving joe better access to his neck and shoulder. joe takes advantage and places soft kisses along the exposed line of him.

“you have good timing,” nicky says softly and joe hums in question. nicky glances over his shoulder. “nile’s making lunch.”

suddenly joe can smell it and his stomach gives a quiet grumble. the guilt from earlier comes creeping back over him and he squeezes nicky tighter, just for a moment, before letting go.

they make their way to the kitchen quietly, joe ghosting along behind nicky. nicky calls out a greeting as he leads joe to a chair and nile turns away from the stove and smiles at them. her eyes rake over joe and then flicker to nicky, who joins her at the counter and reaches for some plates.

“grazie, nile,” nicky murmurs softly and joe watches as she bumps shoulders with him.

“benvenute,” she replies back and joe can see from nicky’s profile, how he smiles at her. guilt crushes his chest once more; this should be enough.

nile and nicky come to the table and nicky sets joe’s plate in front of him before he sits down. they don’t speak; nicky seems to know somethings on the tip of joe’s tongue and nile is content to wait him out. he’s struck, suddenly, realizing this is what they’ll be like in fifty years, if they’re lucky, and his leg starts bouncing under the table.

“i think i need to see him,” joe says, breaking the silence.

they move in unison, he can feel their gaze on him and he looks up, first to nile and then to nicky. nile’s face is carefully blank and she has one eyebrow raised; her eyes fall to nicky as joe’s does.

nicky’s eyes are pinched and his lips press into a sad line.

“i know,” is all he says.

“i’m-“ joe starts but nicky cuts him off with a slight shake of his head.

“i would feel better, knowing how he is,” nicky says slowly and his tilts his head just slightly and gives joe a small smile.

joe feels something in his chest loosen and he looks over at nile who nods with wide earnest eyes.

“give me a few days,” she says, “i’ll track him down with copley.”

he knew they wouldn’t deny him this, but their easy open acceptance washes over him like a wave.

“thank you,” he says and then looks at nicky and he hopes his husband can see the love joe himself is drowning in.

—

andy’s better the next day and nile insists she take it easy around the house. she showers and dresses in fresh clothes and joe’s heart soars at how well she looks. he picks up his sketchbook for the first time all week and scribbles down rough draft after rough draft; he can go back and add the specific details later, but he has to capture the moments as they happen: nicky bumping andy’s feet off the coffee table, andy leaned against the kitchen counters laughing at something nile said, andy reclining on the couch with her feet in nicky’s lap.

nile and nicky have left to go to the grocery and andy was supposed to be taking a nap, so joe focuses on shading the sketch of nicky and andy on the couch. he’s so absorbed in his work he doesn’t notice andy emerge from her room and startles when she sits beside him.

“you should be sleeping,” he chides with a laugh and she rolls her eyes.

“don’t you start,” she huffs with a smile. “between nile and nicky, i’m surprised i wasn’t swaddled and strapped down.”

joe laughs and shifts to face her. “oh i think he considered it.”

andy’s laugh joins him and he wallows in it.

“it scared me,” joe confesses once silence falls gently between them and andy reaches out, rests a hand on his knee and squeezes.

“i know,” she says. he reaches out and rests his hand over hers. it seems so much smaller, he doesn’t remember her being this small.

“i need to see booker,” he says, even softer than his first confession. he’s not sure why the words feel like they must exist secretly; like he can only mention him as a whisper or a shout.

“i know,” andy says again and reaches out with her other hand, cupping the back of joe’s neck with a firm grip.

“you know no one’s upset with you for that,” she says it like a fact but her eyebrows stay raised until joe nods in answer. she pulls him in and bumps their foreheads together before letting him go. he stays angled toward her, though, and swallows hard.

“it wasn’t- it wasn’t right that he wasn’t here. i... i want to bring him back.” joe feels andy take a deep breath.

“that’s not a light decision,” andy warns and joe exhales through his nose.

“what do you think?” he asks and her brows slide into a furrow as she thinks.

“i think,” she says slowly, “that i miss you. and if bringing booker back early is what you need to come back to me, then that’s what you need to do.”

his throat closes at that and he looks away from her, unable to meet her eyes. he hadn’t realized how much his own turmoil was hurting them.

“i’m sorry,” he says, looking back her and her face twists in sorrow but her mouth pulls up into a sad smile.

“oh, joe,” she says. “you know not to apologize for that.” she bumps against his shoulder and jostles him; he forces out a weak laugh at that and andy stretches her arm along the back of the couch, resting against his shoulders.

“do the others know?” andy asks, almost hesitantly, like she didn’t want to upset him further and joe is struck sick with how much he’s going to miss her.

“they know i want to speak with him,” he says and andy huffs a breath through her nose.

“sounds like family meeting then,” she says and stands. “i’ll start the coffee.”

---

“coffee?” nile says upon coming home. “its seven o’clock.”

nicky frowns beside her and his eyes scan the room, seeing andy standing in the kitchen, already nursing a cup, with joe at the table, his back to the door. nicky looks down at nile and presses his lips into a thin line.

“it’s a family meeting,” he says and walks into the kitchen without another word, leaving nile to follow.

—

“did something happen?” nile asks hesitantly after everyone’s seated at the table with a cup of coffee in front of them. her eyes look over at andy and joe’s shoulders tense as he leans forward.

“no, no, it’s...” he hesitates and nicky’s foot nudges against his under the table. joe takes strength in that, even as he knows what he’s about to ask of him.

“i think we need to renegotiate the terms of book’s exile.” he’s watching nicky as he says it, and sees the way his husband stiffens, folding his arms over his chest.

“oh,” nile says, voice high in surprise and in the corner of his eye, sees her look around the table before reaching for her mug and taking a deep swallow.

they talk long into the night, shifting through the house like fog across a field. it’s an even tempered conversation; nicky stays frustratingly quiet as joe makes his argument and the rest tentatively discuss booker’s exile, until finally, they’re back at the kitchen table and the sky is starting to turn a light dusty grey.

“i can’t work with him,” nicky says eventually, soft but firm. beside him, andy nods.

“it’s a little soon for that,” she agrees and joe himself nods.

“i don’t think he should be back,” he says and looks at nile, then andy, before back to nicky. “but i don’t know if he should stay gone.”

“where would he stay?” nile asks, voice low and joe opens his mouth, then hesitates.

“he could stay nearby? in the same city?” andy suggests and joe watches as the muscle in nicky’s jaw twitches.

“nicolo, if this is too soon-” joe says in rushed italian and nicky shakes his head.

“no, no, it’s-” he starts in italian and then stops, switching to english for nile’s benefit. “i just need time.”

joe nods, prepared to put the matter at rest, but nicky shifts, his lips parting just slightly as he takes a breath.

“but if i don’t have to be near him, it’s... it’s okay.”

nicky’s still tense; the lines of his body hard and closed off, but that doesn’t stop nile from moving closer to him, providing silent support. joe aches to take him in his arms, to apologize in any way that matters for feeling like he does, but before he can take a breath, andy’s exhaling.

“we’ve been at this for too long,” andy says, running a hand through her hair. “we don’t even know where he is yet. nothing has to be decided right now.” she’s looking around the group, but her eyes linger on nicky for just a moment longer.

“we’ll have a better discussion after we sleep,” she says, voice brooking no argument.

as one, they all seem to relax at andy’s words and start to move towards their own rooms. andy brushes her hand along joe’s shoulders and she sees her grab at nicky’s wrist before letting it fall and turning to give nile a pat on the back, physical reminders that she supports them all. his heart thumps heavy in his chest and he turns away, forcing down the ache suddenly creeping up his spine.

joe hates disagreeing with nicky; he hates the way he goes quiet and his silence weighs heavy, hates the way his voice stays soft in disappointment. nicky follows him quietly back to their room and shuts the door without a word. they climb into bed and joe lays on his side stiffly. there’ve been many nights where disagreements were only paused because of droopy eyes and while they rarely slept apart, they don’t always lay curled around each other. joe doesn’t know what to expect and tries to steady himself as nicky quietly pulls the blinds and climbs into bed after him. joe’s heart thunders in his ears and he tries to keep his breathing slow and even as he watches nicky settle on the other side of the bed-- and then nicky rolls, presses against his back against joe’s chest and joe let’s out a soft exhale. he immediately wraps his arms around nicky’s chest and pulls him even closer.

“i’m afraid,” joe confesses into nicky’s hair after sleep evades them. nicky’s fingers spasm over joe’s hand.

“of what, mi amore,” he asks, voice just as quiet as joe’s.

joe hesitates and nicky runs a finger over the back of his hand in silent encouragement and joe takes in a shaky breath. “of being whole without him.”

midday comes and with it, the acceptance to no longer be confound to their rooms. there’s faint sounds coming from the kitchen, gentle rustling of glass and then the sound of the faucet squeaking to life. joe listens as the sounds of footsteps softly move through the old house, the floor settling just enough that joe knows they moved into the living room and then the faint click as the front door opens and shuts.

he thinks it’s andy; the tread and pace familiar in a way that nile’s isn’t just yet and joe is torn between wanting to stay holding nicky and getting up to move so the restless energy surrounding his heart will stop choking him.

“we should get up,” nicky says like he knows what joe was thinking. after so many lifetimes together, they do know what the other’s thinking. there aren’t secrets that can be kept between them- not that they have ever wanted to keep secrets from the other. when they were young and new, joe would test if nicky truly was a mind reader. he’d bait his love with friendly teases, blushing confessions, wild questions, all formed in his mind to see if nicky would react.

(and nicky would, but only because he was so in tune with joe’s body language. when joe thought his teasing jokes, he got a mischievous glint in his eye that had nicky smiling to match it, when he thought his blushing confessions he stared at nicky so intensely nicky could scarcely meet joe’s eyes out of embarrassment to be the subject of such affection, and when he would ask his questions, his shoulders loosened, he’d breathe easier and nicky longed to know what was running through his head.)

i love you so much, joe thinks, trying again because he wants the simplicity of before. when he dreamt of women warriors and loved nicky and that was all he needed to know.

“come on,” nicky says, stretching to his feet and giving joe a small, barely-there smile that melts him. “let’s get something to eat.”

when joe stands, nicky grabs his hand and leads him out to the kitchen.

“how’d everyone sleep?” nile asks as she enters the kitchen not long after he and nicky enter. she moves to the fridge and grabs some orange juice and pours herself a glassful before downing it and refilling. joe watches her with eyebrows up in amused concern and nicky from the stove.

“about as well as you did,” nicky says and nile raises an eyebrow in acknowledgment before turning to put the juice away again. she walks over to the stove and peeks around nicky’s shoulder.

“omelets?” she asks and nicky shifts so she can stand more easily beside him.

“frittatas,” he corrects and joe tries not to flinch at knowing why nicky needs this comfort food. nile makes a hum of encouragement and looks around.

“need any help?”

despite his guilt, joe feels a smile as love blossoms in his chest as nile follows nicky’s instructions. he hears the soft click of the front door opening again and soon andy’s standing in the kitchen doorway, watching the scene unfold as nile and nicky talk in choppy italian. joe looks over at her and she gives him a tired smile as she moves to sit at the table beside him.

they don’t talk, content to let nicky and nile fill the kitchen with sound.

they fall silent when they sit for lunch and the room only grows more and more somber as lunch finished; it’s only after joe’s putting the last dish on the drying rack that andy let out that familiar sigh that preludes a talk.

“i know none of you slept, but does anyone have any more to say?” andy asks, looking around the table.

“booker needs to be here,” nicky says after a long moment. “as angry, and hurt, as i am... joe’s right. i don’t want to heal without him.”

joe’s heart thumps hard in his chest, his hands ache to reach out and grab him.

“i got his address,” nile says softly and clears her throat. “he’s in paris.”

paris. of course he’s in paris. anger flashes through joe and dissolves as quickly as it comes; booker always avoided france, if a mission called for their presence in the country, they always made sure it was quickly wrapped up because booker refused to even sleep there. joe always understood. these old cities remain stubbornly resistant to change as centuries pass and he hated the look booker got in his eyes when they’d walk down the worn streets. he’s not surprised booker would return there to enhance his suffering.

beside him, he hears andy exhale hard out of her nose and nicky’s hands tighten around his crossed arms.

“that’s only a few hours away,” andy says.

suddenly, joe’s nervous. his mouth goes dry and he licks at his lips.

“i can be back before the evening,” he says, almost distantly, and nile nudges his foot under the table.

“do you want us to go with you?” she asks and he tries to give her a thankful smile.

“no, no i think it’ll be better if i go alone.”

andy and nicky scrutinize him and he tries to make himself look more confident than he feels. he’s certain he didn’t fool any of them.

“it’ll be okay,” he says, reassuring them as much as himself.

joe drives and his mind drifts. nicky had been reluctant to let him go alone and joe flexes his hand on the steering wheel, feeling the phantom press of nicky’s lips against his knuckles. he feels a bundle of nerves in his stomach grow and writhe inside him and he grits his teeth.

this will be fine. this will be good.

he repeats the mantra as he drives. he repeats it as he navigates the busy streets of paris. he repeats it as he lifts his hand to knock on the old wooden door to the address nile gave him.

this will be fine. this will be good.

#whats that quote thats like ''friendship is far more tragic than love. it lasts longer.''#bc thats joe and booker #this fic could also be titled: kinning with ncky- making sure joe knows he's loved #*ficish #the old guard #this is a story of redemption and family and love!!!!!#i promise i will clean this up and post it to ao3 but for now have this draft #me: i want to write a joe and booker fic #also me: *doesnt mention booker in 5 thousand words*

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stevethehairington · 4 years

Note

Bc I’m basic: TOG for the ask game ❤️

ooh this will be a fun one, thank you poppy dear 💕

1. The first character I fell in love with: oh definitely joe. he is the sun and i am but a simple flower seeking the brightest light

2. The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: hm i suppose copley would be a fitting answer here. the movie copley is for sure so much more than the comics copley, and like gina said in an interview i believe, chiwetel really brought so much to this character, and his portrayal made me really love copley and find him and his background and motivations so fascinating!

3. The character everyone else loves that I don’t: i honestly dont think i have an answer for this one?? bc i love all of the guard?? and i feel like no one (that i’ve seen at least) loves like merrick or keane or dr kozak so... yeah lol

4. The character I love that everyone else hates: same answer as above for this one too tbh.

5. The character I used to love but don’t any longer: none tbh lol

6. The character I would totally smooch: is all of them a valid answer bc like yeahhh, all of them deserve a smooch and my bi ass cannot simply just pick one of these beauties to smooch

7. The character I’d want to be like: well there’s aspects of all of them that i really like, but i think overall i’d want to be like joe most. he 100% just seems like the kind of person that can light up a whole room and is just so friendly and warm and radiates a safeness and acertain kind of vulnerability and yet still is so strong and will do what needs to be done ro protect those he loves. i also just love how intellectually minded he is, and how he’s so open with his feelings too. so yeah, i would definitely say i’d most want to be joe. (plus like, who wouldn’t want to wrap nicky up in cuddles every night, i mean come on!!)

8. The character I’d slap: merrick 100%. i mean he desreves way worse than a slap, but.

9. A pairing that I love: if it isn’t obvious, joe and nicky is my favorite pairing in this fandom, closely followed by andy and quynh.

10. A pairing that I despise: i wouldn’t say i despise any pairings... there are some that i’m like eh, probably wouldn’t read or i don’t personally see it/like it, but it’s whatever and i’m not bugged by occasonally seeing it pop up bc other people like it. to each their own, right! OH WAIT- i take that back, i despise any pairing that includes merrick or keane, which THANKFULLY i have not personally seen, but i’ve heard of like one or two fics like that existing and i am Not Here For That.

#asks #wandering-scholar-lad #the old guard

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sierrabinondo · 6 years

Text

summer tour days 10 + 11, post-tour thoughts

wow it literally took me over a month to get this entry up, sorry haha. santino roasted me for this several weeks ago and it still took me this long. i’ve been chronically bummed out for what seems like a month now, so it was hard to muster up the will to write. period, actually. it’s been really hard for me to write music lately i literally have to push myself and i find no joy in the things i love anymore!

anyways, here’s the last 2-3 days of our tour!

day 10 - philadelphia

sunlight peered in through the glass sliding door behind me as i woke up around 8:00 am in a living room with 8 other people, packed tightly across deflated sleeping bags and worn-in couches. i felt tired, but i was up already. i knew that if i didn’t get up and shower now, i was going to be waiting for five other people to shower before me.

everyone took a few hours to get ready before we decided to head out to breakfast together, including jorge. we had a lovely lil family breakfast at this nice cafe about 10 minutes from jorge’s house. it was a small spot overlooking the valley that had an expansive coffee and espresso drink menu. i got a cappuccino that had some FUN art in it and a Very Disappointing Eggs Benedict. I was a dumbass and asked for the florentine benedict with lox added, instead of asking for the lox benedict with spinach added, which would have cost me significantly less hahaha.

look at how small this bullshit is

sitting at a table with my bandmates and julie, we agreed that despite how long we had been on the road that we felt like we could keep going. i could tell everyone felt drained, but content. it’s like we all knew we were enjoying the last moments of freedom away from our boring lives back home and were cherishing each other’s company.

after paying our checks we said our goodbyes to jorge and piled into the van. we had a much shorter drive due to staying in state college, but still hit some traffic approaching philly. not a surprise. it was also weird arriving philly from the west and not coming over the ben franklin bridge, haha. as we drove towards south street we admired the sight of the chinese lantern festival, which we sadly wouldn’t have time for. as opposed to missing DGD’s tour, i was sure i’d live vicariously through photos of it from my friend’s back home and didn’t feel too bad.

i completely forgot that south street is one of the busiest streets in philly and is mere minutes away from TLA. i realized i had been here before and felt my blood pressure rise realizing parking would be impossible. however, behind the venue we found a shoddy dirt parking lot. skeptical of whether or not this was a good idea, we approached the lot attendant and asked if it was okay to park, explaining that we needed a clear space behind us for opening the trunk to get gear out. the attendant obliged to our request, or so we thought.

i’m not gonna lie, i had NEVER heard of the tusk before we played there and it was actually a cool spot. the staff were cool and it was much more spacious than the pictures led me to believe. loading in up a couple flights of stairs was just the worst part. we played with our friends in copley woods which was great, and played with another philly local old city revival. another touring band also hopped on last minute. our set was purely okay??? we all agreed it wasn’t my best set but whatever i had fun and people still dug us so that was fine. jaime and santino had to be like lined up behind one another with their amps and then joe got one whole side to himself hahaha.

photo credit: julie yi photography

i’m going a little out of order; i’m pretty positive this actually happened before our set. but out of nowhere i’m in the upper level of the venue by the stage and merch when julie texts the tour group chat BUGGING saying “HELP COME DOWNSTAIRS WE’RE GETTING KICKED OUT OF THE LOT”. so both bands run downstairs to scope out the situation, anticipating hell in the form of trying to find a new parking spot by south street in philly. what happened was, the lot attendant parked a vehicle behind ours, and when confronted about his promise that he made, he threatened to kick us out of the lot. however, jaime somehow magically de-escalated the situation somehow so the attendant agreed to move the car and everything was fine hahaha.

the night was wonderful because santino’s dad came out and we hung out with some real cool people, the only downer was we had to stay later than anticipated because the promoter added that fifth band/touring band on the end, AND, the touring band were the only people who listened to the promoter and played a long set. yeah, the promoter wanted us all to play for 45 minutes but all of us were like, fuck that. but this band ACTUALLY had that much material so they played FOR AN HOUR. ALL of us stayed and we watched them, but we were so fucking tired and we just wanted to go home. we stayed because we understood the importance of supporting other bands, and these people were out here all the way from denver, colorado. but we were so done. and on this night we were staying at my house in brick so we were only an hour and forty five minutes away from a comfortable sleep. AND, my boyfriend was going to be coming over late too so i was just dying to get home.

after loading out, a taco bell trip and a relatively short drive, we made it to my house around 1:00 am. and jeremiah still waited up and drove over for me uuugh :’)

day 11 - wallingford, ct

god, waking up to my boyfriend and fresh homemade breakfast by my parents was so, so good after being away for so long. it felt pretty strange to be home, and so briefly, but it was so good. we sadly couldn’t stick around for long after eating breakfast, as we had our van drop-off scheduled for 1:00 PM before our last show of tour in connecticut.

we have shindle drive us up to jaime’s house for one last drive in the van. it’s always sad when you’re in the van for the last day and you know your grand adventure is soon coming to an end. it rained as we drove up parkway north and shindle weaved in and out of shitty new jersey traffic. i definitely did not miss the parkway while i was gone.

shindle wanted to run home quickly to shower and change at home (understandably), so not soon after we unload all of his belongings he takes off. it sucked so badly unloading the van in the rain but what could you do. we started plotting where we were going to get a bite to eat after jaime, julie and i dropped off the van.

i look around at my bandmates and i go, “okay, who has the key?”

everyone stares blankly at each other.

joe goes, “uhhh, i think shindle gave it back to santino?”

santino looks back at us and goes “... i don’t have it.”

we tear apart our bags and turn our pockets inside out. search the interior of the van hoping it was left in the dash or on the floor by accident.

the drop off time for the van is 1:00 PM. it’s 12:15 PM.

and we realize that, shindle still has the key.

shindle’s phone died from the fifteen times i called him. he had left his phone on silent and didn’t look at it while he was driving back to little falls (who would). i had to call bandago and add another day to our rental. it sucked so badly. i was so frustrated that i started crying and jaime’s mom had to console me hahaha. i had to come to terms with the fact that there was literally nothing i could do. we weren’t going to get the key back until we saw shindle later. so i took a deep breath, put myself back together and we just left for the show anyways.

photo credit: julie yi photography

we arrived to wallingford, CT around like, 5:30, maybe 5:50 PM. i felt my throat acting up again. in fact, it started to feel shitty a day prior but i was praying that i could still pull off a good set later that night. julie walked with me from the venue to get throat coat from CVS and hot water from mcdonalds. i couldn’t really go on voice rest; i had to just drink a lot of fluids, warm up as well as i could and hope for the best. cherry street is a small venue/dive kinda place, but i actually really liked it. anthony told me a lot of people have complained about the sound there but we actually had a really easy time. but there were two people doing sound, one was scotty the venue’s regular and then there was a guy named will who ran the board for our set. will was great. scotty was just really nice too haha.

our friends migrant played the show as well as the band visitations. it was really great to see the guys in migrant again; we’ve been playing shows with them since 2016. we both played our first-ever studio at webster show together opening for sianvar before AEG shut all of webster down. because it was such a memorable night and they’re such a great band, we’ve kept in touch since then. visitations were also really awesome; i tried to watch as much as i could in between warm ups. i feel bad that i have to disappear to warm up while bands i’ve never gigged with before play, but i have to.

well it turns out, it was pointless anyways!

yeah, wasn’t fond of the set i played at all. and the sound wasn’t bad either. it was just me. i was really upset. this was our chance to win over people in a state we could easily travel up to and play whenever, and it felt so embarrassing to be up on stage and watch these people hear me blow it haha. its like nails on a chalkboard for me when i hear my mistakes. even if i know what i’m doing sometimes i just blow it anyways. chris knew i was upset too because he just patted me on the shoulder as i slumped off stage like “it’s okay just go do your cool-downs” HAHAHA. but apparently i did something right because scott, *the* sound guy everyone knows at cherry street, bought me a shot LMAO. and some other people from CT chatted us up too, and they bought our merch (and also bought me more drinks). maybe we did do something right for these people to still approach us and have nice things to say. but i still felt like they were being way too nice to me. i still feel like people lie to me. all of the time.

it was so awesome to watch destination dimension play to their hometown, as we were all surrounded by friends of theirs who were shouting the words to future cougar with us. it was so much fun to watch them play. and it was really nice of them to wear our t-shirts on stage haha. i didn’t wear mine but i bought the gray one which i loveee and is so comfy. we didn’t get to hang long after the show ended with them which sucked sooo badly because almost everyone had work the next day. i had the next day off but not everyone was so lucky. we loved touring with destination dimension so so much. it was nice to tour with a band in the same genre. we had such a happy time and we couldn’t wait for the next time we’d all get to see each other.

photo credit: julie yi photography

it’s always so weird, the last day of tour. in the middle of tour, it feels like you’re living in this dreamscape where calendar days barely exist and your only job is to show up, play and then do it all over again the next day. that night, it felt like it all barely even happened. all of tour was already becoming a faint memory. i’d look back at photos and only barely remember what it was like to feel that joy again. and i dreaded how distant every adventure we shared together was about to become.

epilogue

my alarm went off at 9:00 am. i hear sounds of jaime’s dad walking around the kitchen and in minutes time julie wakes up next to me. i lay there for a bit before texting jaime, “you up?” he comes downstairs, i throw my shoes on and my hair up in a ponytail and we go drop off the van.

it feels like tour is over but i’m still with my friends so i feel okay. julie and i grab our belongings from jaime’s house, say goodbye and return for our drive home together. we talk about tour and how fast it flew by. i’m sort of in a rush to get home in time for E3, so julie is kind to oblige and we get her stuff out of my car expediently when we pull up to her house.

i say goodbye to julie and joel, get back into my car and instantly feel my face muscles sink. the rest of the day just sucked.

i’m driving myself home feeling sleepy and don’t even realize it. i run a stop sign and nearly get t-boned by some poor person who didn’t just spend 11 days on 4-5 hours of sleep.

i finally arrive at jeremiah’s apartment in asbury and go to pick up the coffee i bought for my boyfriend, only to realize the ENTIRE cup spilled out everywhere all over the seat.

jeremiah meets me downstairs to help me bring my bags up. there’s just so, so much shit. a heavy bag of clothes, souvenirs, non-perishable food i never ate. i’m happy to see him; i’m happy for a little bit. we place an order for delivery at our favorite taco place, and i’m joking about post-tour depression as i walk out the door to go buy beer downtown real quick. already drinking at 1:30 pm! post-tour depression, is it a thing? probably not. there’s probably nothing wrong with me.

i check my work email and the dread floods in, full force. i did promise that i’d work from home, and i did, but there weren’t a lot of time sensitive matters. i took care of some youtube community engagement, checked stats on videos uploaded while i was gone, checked the socials throughout the day.

i’m home in time for the next E3 conference but i’m not even paying attention. my work laptop sits in front of me, screen glaring back at me as i’m not even using it. i’m on the couch looking out the window and seconds later tears are pouring down my face. seemingly, with no rhyme or reason.

well the crying thing happens like every 3-5 days lmao

but it just, didn’t stop. at one point i turn to jeremiah sobbing hysterically and he just holds me. like a broken record all i could say was “i hate that i have to go back to work tomorrow, i loathe that tour is over and this is just it, no more for the year. i have to wait until next year to go out again.”

and to be transparent, this is sort of the melancholy that has sat with me ever since that day. i wake up five days a week and drive the longest hour and five minutes of my life to work, and back home again in an hour and twenty, sometimes thirty, sometimes forty.

for my entire adulthood (let’s say like going back to age 18), i’ve dreaded my mid-20s. because my parents would warn me “you need a full-time job by the time you turn 26. you’re going to have to worry about health insurance. we’re going to turn over your bills to you.” so since then, my entire experience of living has been haunted by this death clock ticking down to year 26 of my life. so at 18, i said that by age 22 i needed to be somewhere with my music or i needed to give it up. completely.

hah.

the first few years of my 20′s i coasted. my band broke up so there went my shot at playing shows until i found something new. without delving into too much detail- for three years i dated someone and because i wasn’t happy i lost a lot of time. i finally recorded music again towards the end of that relationship. when i left that person at age 22 it felt like an entire world opened up to me. an enormous weight was lifted off my shoulders and i was free. i was starting over, in the best way possible. and then mere weeks after, something serendipitous happened- a friend i met because of that relationship approached me, offering to fill-in for drums for me so that i could play shows.

i was now 23. we were way past the cut-off date for me to be pursuing music seriously. but i couldn’t say no. and now here we are.

i stayed at my dead-end, incredibly far-from-home job for too long and now i’m finding difficulty finding something closer to home. i almost had a job a few times but i got scared of losing the ability to tour due to the nature of each company, so i idiotically turned those opportunities down. it seems like, to get signed to a label, you have to be both churning out digital content AND actively touring. if we could get a booking agent and/or signed to a great label i would quit my job immediately and work at a coffee shop. i just can’t swing an intense touring schedule if i get a serious full-time job in marketing. i just want to see how far i can take this band. yet, i may be screwing my future after the band if i don’t settle for a better job than just starbucks. but i don’t want to settle, at all. i’ve been panicking about this for a year now and recently my stress has become paramount, ruining every other day for me. when i sit down to practice and feel like i’ve barely accomplished anything in that practice session, i break down. because i feel like i’m running out of time. always. i have a finite amount of time and i’m running out.

so if you haven’t seen me lately, that’s probably why. i feel guilty for going out and spending time with friends because i feel like it’s time i could be spending on music. and i work day in and day out on my singing, guitar playing, writing, learning new tools for my craft, maybe i’ll go to kickboxing or the gym so that i stay in shape... and that’s it. and it’s crushing me. managing the band takes the fun out of everything too. i’ve become such an irritable person. i hate it. i feel like i’m not myself anymore. but i don’t think the problem is music. i don’t hate music- i hate this pressure to have every facet of my life fit perfectly together. i hate not having the freedom to only worry about music. being in a serious/active band is time-consuming. i realize i can’t have it all- the stable job with money and benefits and the life of a musician- but the pressures i’ve faced my entire life to settle for security have been making me lose my mind.

i hope that something good happens next year. i hope that something good happens sooner than that. i’m pretty sure this is how i wrapped the last tour journal too. but this has been my entire life- praying that things will just work out and that something good will happen. a year from now when i look back, i hope that i can regret any worry i’ve ever had. but if i find myself looking back in regret, no longer able to tour/pursue music seriously, i’m just grateful it all happened.

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