#it's Nicolò Di Genova all over again

[immortalmuses]

Me, at the start of reading RWRB: Hell yeah, a main character who is BIPOC and from Texas and on a journey of self-discovery, clearly I will be adding them as a muse.

Also Me, halfway through RWRB: [sobbing] why do I love these stupid, emotionally repressed white boys with stiff upper lips and sad emo vibes, WHY?????

#this is why i can't have nice things #ooc #choosing violence | ooc #it's Nicolò Di Genova all over again

[nicolos]

Rate of Interest

The final day of festivities met Yusuf, somewhat unsurprisingly, with far more business than pleasure. One after the other Shamsaddin introduced him to various moneylenders and tradesmen and scribes and academics and politicians, including a handful from faraway countries there for the Ascension and the fair surrounding it.

Despite himself, Yusuf found himself hoping to catch the man with the arresting eyes and sharp tongue somewhere within the crowds, though between the press of the day and the dexterity with which Shamsaddin manoeuvred him from introduction to introduction, it seemed a hint unlikely. The unlikelihood only grew over the course of the morning, as the Doge’s parade came and went, a dazzling spectacle of ships so grand and well-decked they set even Yusuf’s—lavish, he would admit—sensibilities alight.

Even his uncle’s beleaguered secretary had to stop and watch that: stopping his diatribe on Signor Faccioli’s profligate habits to watch the procession with a rapt smile, before then announcing it was not so great as the year before.

“Shamsaddin,” he found himself asking, as they took towards the palace for the evening's celebrations, “how long do the pilgrims remain after the Ascension, customarily?”

Shamsaddin said, “Not long at all, thanking the Merciful. They will be here another week, but the city will be back to its ordinary state in no time.”

Yusuf considered that he had asked the wrong person.

It did not signify, in truth: he had allowed himself much of this week of festivities with a freedom he would not have with their end, and there could be no time spent waiting near the piazza or in the churches or palaces the guides would be taking pilgrims. The next day he was speaking to the customs officials from further west than he, and the day after that mediating and acting a signatory. That he was not looking forward to.

So he had all but forgotten about the handsome stranger he would never see again when Shamsaddin said, well into the evening, “Yusuf—there is the Consul of Genoa.”

It was a close thing that he did not twist his mouth like a child.

The Consul of Genoa was the reason Yusuf would be spending the next week mired in paperwork and struggling to make matters agreeable to all of the lesser merchants who depended upon his uncle’s—and now his—place in this city. He had never before been so given to dislike a man he had never met, but every tale from every man who had run into financial trouble or debts because of the Genoese traders in Venice had made him more and more irritated with his very mention.

“Introduce me,” he said, as befit his position. It would be better to come to know the man he would be spending much of the next week negotiating with. Even Shamsaddin looked unhappy with this, but he did, nonetheless, approaching a tall man draped in the bright red of his city, and clearing his throat.

“Consul di Genova.”

“Signor Al-Wahid,” the Consul said, turning around. He looked up, first at Shamsaddin, and then at Yusuf, his mouth opening just a hint with surprise.

Yusuf’s gut fell towards his feet. He clamped his mouth shut so he would not say something like you! It would, he thought, sound more accusatory than he intended it… and how could it not?

Shamsaddin raised a sharp brow, but said only, “This is Signor Al-Kaysani, the previous Signore’s nephew.”

“Nicolò of Genoa at your service,” he said, nodding politely. “I hope your uncle is well?”

“Yes,” Yusuf said. “Quite well.” He opened his mouth to say and yours, and then realised that was entirely nonsensical, and closed it.

“Signor Al-Kaysani will be acting as witness for the contracts with Signor Faccioli,” Shamsaddin informed him.

Nicolò said, “We will be working together often, then.”

Yusuf forced a smile.

When his uncle had decided that he would make a good replacement in Venice, he had been pleased—but that was before he realised the state of things in the city. Most of the men whose support he would wish to have had little hope in him—and yet he was one of the few who had the weight of their trade behind him enough to negotiate contracts with somebody like Signor Faccioli, and the well-esteemed Consul of Genoa.

“It seems we will,” he said.

Shamsaddin excused himself, clearly sighting somebody else he must speak to. Yusuf stayed in place, twisting the ring around his thumb.

Nicolò said, lightly, “You are a lot less cheerful today than when we first met.”

Don’t, Yusuf told himself. Just because you shared half an hour’s pleasant acquaintance before you discovered who he was does not mean you know him or can speak to him this way.

He opened his mouth and said, “I wonder why that might be.”

Nicolò frowned, and Yusuf found himself regretting it instantly. “Have I done something to offend you?”

The truth was, the man he had met a week ago could have done little that would offend Yusuf. They had met at the piazza on the first day of the fair. Shamsaddin had just given Yusuf a scolding for wearing the Venetian fashion, and Yusuf had responded with some quotation—which had, of course, missed its mark entirely.

“We are not in Milan,” he had said, “we are in Venice.”

Yusuf shook his head. “It is a—oh, nevermind. Look, somebody is calling you!”

And then somebody behind him had said, in Venetian, “They do not fast here on Saturdays.”

Yusuf’s conversation had been primarily in Arabic. Curiosity and a flush of pleasure that somebody had appreciated his joke had him speaking to the man, and they had spent the morning out of the way of the pilgrims and politicians that had flooded the city for the fair, speaking—primarily in riddles and quips. Work—or his uncle’s secretary—had eventually pulled Yusuf away, and it was only afterwards that he realised he knew nothing of the man, not his name nor where he was from… only that it was not Venice.

He had spent the rest of the week motivating himself with the flutter his stomach gave every time he considered once more running into whom he had begun to think of as his stranger.

And now—here he was.

“Of course not, Consul di Genova.”

Nicolò raised one acerbic brow. “Do you give so much credit to old rivalries?”

“You can hardly call a contract we will sign next week cause of an old rivalry,” Yusuf said, twisting his ring.

Nicolò propped his hands on his hips. He was dressed far better for the palace than he had the other day at the piazza—in brocade and a fur-lined cape. When he shifted his hands, his signet ring glinted. “I had not expected you to be so unhappy about an arrangement Signor Al-Wahid and your uncle have spent so long making possible.”

“Not that it exists, certainly, but you must admit the arrangement could be a fairer one.”

Nicolò’s lips pursed. “By my account, when the risk is considered to the bearers of the vessels, it is certainly fair.”

“Is that the rate of interest you call fair, Signor?” Yusuf asked, upset despite himself at Nicolò’s cavalier attitude, though it was precisely what he had expected to see in the Consul of Genoa when he finally met him. “Our merchants must sign away near all of the profits they may make at this rate.”

“We must be speaking of two different things,” he said. “I would not call a sale issued as such a meagre sum as—”

Yusuf named the sum, incredulous at it being named meagre, and Nicolò, abruptly, closed his mouth. His jaw worked furiously for a moment, before he said, stiffly, “It appears I have been misinformed.”

“Misinformed?” Yusuf asked, unimpressed.

Nicolò looked up, eyes sharp. “When I was last involved in the negotiation—when your uncle was still here—we were speaking in entirely different terms. It seems something has changed in between, and Signor Faccioli has neglected to inform me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe this. Pardon me, but this will save me a great deal of trouble.”

Yusuf narrowed his eyes. “Will it?” he asked.

Nicolò looked back at him, then stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I am not entirely ignorant to Signor Faccioli’s wrongdoings, though I did not believe they extended this far.”

“Is that so?”

Nicolò nodded, solemn. “I have heard complaints from some of the smaller merchants who ship to Genoa aboard his vessels of the rates he taxes. And there is the matter of loans to a handful of Venetian officers, who know better than to deal with him without me. They are nowhere near what you say, but I had every intention of looking into the matter once I had something supportable.”

It was almost too good to be true. He shook his head. “And this is supportable? Pardon me if I cannot be certain of your words, Nicolò. I have heard a great deal about your reputation in this city. And Signor Faccioli’s.”

He looked back at Yusuf, considering. “My pardons, Signor Al-Kaysani. I can only imagine the sort of trouble dealing with this as you have just arrived in the city must have been.”

Yusuf rubbed at his beard, hesitant in the face of the unexpected apology. “I—no. You did not know.”

Nicolò said, “And now I do, and will amend this at once.”

He sounded serious and genuine enough that Yusuf bit his tongue, told himself to stay alert, and promptly forgave him. “Everybody I have spoken to regarding the matter tells me that you are Faccioli’s man. His in-law, in fact.”

Nicolò hummed. “My niece’s husband is a man of God… which is why he does not speak to his father. Whom have you spoken to about me?”

“I did not know it was about you,” Yusuf said. He had been speaking of the Consul of Genoa, a figure entirely unlike the one Nicolò had—until minutes ago—cut. He bit his tongue, then said, honestly, “But a number of men. The opinion, I must say, was not a very satisfactory one.”

“I suppose I should not be offended, as it was not me, only my signet you spoke of.”

“Perhaps only a little,” Yusuf allowed, thinking back to the day they had met. Nicolò remembered, it seemed; his eyes flashed with good humour. “I do not intend to offend. The venial sin is common in all manners of men. And rings.”

Nicolò raised a brow. “As are mortal ones.”

For the first time since the morning, Yusuf smiled. “I must say, this is not how I expected it, but I... was hoping I would meet you again. I thought you a pilgrim.”

Nicolò’s answering smile was small, but pleased. “I did not think you a pilgrim, but—somebody I would not find again here, at least. I find I am glad I did… for more than one reason.”

Yusuf said, tentatively, “If you mean what you say…”

“I most certainly do.”

“Then…” he paused, looking over Nicolò’s shoulder, as Shamsaddin’s orange robes appeared in his line of sight. “I suspect I am about to be summoned away rather quickly, and I would rather not have to discuss this with my uncle’s secretary before I know more.” The last thing he wanted to do was get ahead of himself and disappoint him about something that had weighed upon them both for the entirety of Yusuf’s time here.

Nicolò’s mouth quirked. “Are you asking me for hiding places?”

Yusuf said, “Better. Can you talk as you dance, Consul di Genova?”

“Only if my partner is cheerful enough for it,” Nicolò said.

Yusuf raised a hand in offer.

#the old guard #tog fanfiction #kaysanova #joe x nicky #mine. #minefic #mineart

[raedear]

Maurice Ravel, Tzigane for violin and piano. https://youtu.be/m2XFjt1FrsI

“Yes, you’re the great Nicolò di Genova, of course you’re fucking note-perfect,” Joe said, frustration leaking from every word. “But you’re not— you’re not giving me any color to work with.”

“Am I not?” Nicky said, as woodenly as he felt inside.

'Yes, you’re the great Nicolò di Genova, of course you’re fucking note-perfect,' Joe said, frustration leaking from every word. 'But you’re not— you’re not giving me any colour to work with.'

'Am I not?' Nicky said, as woodenly as he felt inside.

'No,' Joe snapped back, scraping his bow across his strings with a discordant wail that made Nicky frown. His instrument deserved more respect than that. 'You're not, and you know it. Musicality isn't about just playing the notes--you're not sitting an exam, you're playing for crowd. I know that I don't have to tell you this, so why are you making me?'

'No one asked you to,' said Nicky, smarting at being scolded like a child--in a way he never had been as a child, his musicality had been praised his entire life. 'No one--'

'I'm supposed to be following you in this movement, how can I follow you if you're stepping from note to note like they're painted on the floor?' Joe asked, cutting over Nicky's argument mercilessly. 'Where's the push and pull? Where's the tension?'

'Maybe it only feels like my part is painted on the floor because I know it, and you don't.'

Nicky watched his words hit Joe; watched the way Joe's shoulders tensed first with the insult, then his forearms, then his hands around his instrument.

'It is the third rehearsal,' Joe said, very quietly, 'of a two hour repertoire, including six alternate pieces and four encore pieces. All because you refuse to play the same setlist two nights in a row.'

'If it's too much for--'

'It would be too much for anyone!' Joe cried, throwing his hands up, his grip on his violin and bow tight but careful. 'Anyone other than an automaton with no life outside of--'

Joe shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth, but the damage was done. With carefully steady hands, Nicky lifted his sheet music from the lid of the piano and closed it.

'I think that's enough for today,' he said, quiet, wooden, empty. 'Don't you?'

'Nicky,' Joe said, strained and pale in the face. 'Nicky-please--I'm sorry, I didn't mean--'

'Yes,' Nicky interrupted. It seemed neither of them would be able to finish a sentence today. 'Yes, you did. I'll see you tomorrow, Joe. Maybe I'll find some colour before then. It's not like I have anything better to do.'

Joe huffed a mirthless laugh, rubbing his eye with the back of the hand holding his bow.

'You'll always see the worst in me,' he said to Nicky's back as he walked away. 'Won't you?'

Nicky paused with his hand on the door handle. When he looked back over his shoulder at Joe, he was standing with his hip against the piano, and his shoulders were curved like something heavy was draped across them.

'You haven't shown me anything else,' Nicky said, very simply, and left before Joe could speak again.

on ao3 here

#musicians au #joenicky #immortal husbands #kaysanova #am I sorry? #not particularly.

[youssefguedira]

3, 5, 11, 14, 29? 👀👀👀

thank you!! <3 <3

3. what's your favourite fic that you've written?

complicated question. iron maiden joe has a special place in my heart on account of how long it took me to write and everything else, but there are parts of it i do wonder if i couldve done differently. i love hades au very much also i think the first fic has some of my best. for diabolik house of stone is my most beloved. also the entirety of angels in my time is really important to me. and if i ask you to stay makes me feel very [UNINTELLIGIBLE] so i don't have a particular favourite

5. what's a fic idea that you've had that you'll never write?

realistically it's unlikely to happen but i DID have a lil joenicky coffee shop au with a twist planned out in my head for a while based off a prompt post i saw on here. in which they've remained enemies / rivals / It's Complicated for a really long time, and after a few years of zero contact joe runs into nicky who has a coffee shop now. very silly. lot of fun tho. who knows it might happen some day now that i have free time again

11. do you have specific playlists for writing fics?

i do not! but most of my larger fics do have some kind of music attached to them even if the connection is just for me. iron maiden joe even has an actual playlist, though it needs editing and is a bit of a mess. so even if i didn't have the playlist for a fic there's usually a song i've linked it to in my head (in the case of one of my wips it's an entire album but that's a special case)

14. if you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which would you pick?

half of my writing process is Daydream About Character In Situation so i end up thinking about this a lot. iron maiden joe tho because there's some scenes that are really vivid in my brain, but this also applies to lotr au and other assorted fics, so who knows! in terms of diabolik one of my current wips i think would work really nicely

29. share a bit from a fic you'll never post or a scene that was cut from an already posted fic.

here have some zelda au (breath of the wild edition) because realistically. it's not getting posted any time in the near future but i HAVE written this part so

In one of the chairs, with her back to Nicolò, sits a woman. He cannot see her face, but the crown that rests upon her grey hair is enough of an indicator of her identity.

“Nicolò di Genova,” the woman says. “Please, sit. Let me see you.”

Nicolò obeys, crossing over to the closest of the armchairs and taking a seat. The woman turns to face him.

Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles. She’s old, and wears a fine cloak with intricate patterns embroidered on its sleeves, a small sapphire set within her crown. Her hands are folded on her lap. Her voice is soft, but commanding nonetheless.

“I assume from your expression that you do not recognise me,” the woman says.

“I’m sorry,” is all Nicolò can say to that.

“Don’t be. We were told to expect it, though I imagine you would not even if your memory were intact. My name is Layla al-Kaysani,” she continues, and something tugs at Nicolò’s memory, clouded as it is. “Queen of Hyrule, or what is left of it. I have been waiting for you for a very, very long time.”

#neon answers #non-un-topo #thank you siggy!! this was fun

[celia-bracali]

Fanfiction Recs - List:

"The Repair Shop AU Series" by sheafrotherdon!

Summary: He’s two weeks into his search when he sees the advertisement, small and unassuming, tucked away in the back of the local newspaper. “Andromache Restoration seeks furniture restoration specialist,”

- x - x -x -

"Finally Alive" by domini_moonbeam

Summary: Joe is the new immortal not Nile, and Nicky is the one sent to go find him.

- x - x -x -

"Boiling Over" by NamelesslyNightlock

Summary: One in which Nicky loses his temper.

- x - x -x -

"Salt" by Redchange15

Sumary: AU with what would happen in Nicky had been stuck in the Iron coffin and come out- and how the family *slowly* heals.

- x - x -x -

""To Sir, With Love" by Wind_Ryder

Summary: “So...do you have Aspergers or are you like, full blown autistic?” Nile asks a few months after she’d watched Nicky have a meltdown in the back of their escape van. Nicky shrugs. He doesn’t know what to call himself.

- x - x -x -

""The #ImmortalHusbands Conspiracy" by Amiril, phoenixacid

Summary: @kathryyn2ys Okay you know how most of the statues on buildings in New York are all the same lady?? Well. I have found her Renaissance counterpart. Behold: whoever this guy was. He c l e a r l y got around

- x - x -x -

""Canticum" by ishandahalf

Summary: The team is woken by a dream of a new immortal. He’s easy enough to track down - Nicolò di Genova, Italian, age 30 - but… he’s not exactly what they were expecting.

- x - x -x -

"View From The Peanut Gallery" by Claire

Summary: "Nah--" The bad guy grinned. "Not you two." He waved his gun in Joe and Nicky's direction. "Those two."

- x - x -x -

"shitebag if ye dinnae" by raedea

Summary: Nicky loves silly bets. Joe reaps the rewards.

- x - x -x -

"Dream On" by smilebackwards

Summary: The Yusuf & Nicolo slow burn soap opera as dream-watched by Andy & Quynh c. 12th century

- x - x -x -

"Kolkata Heat" by Kaerith

Summary: Nick was unarmed but the stranger wasn’t. He brandished a knife. Nick couldn’t stop himself from cussing as the door closed and locked behind the unfamiliar man. “The door!”

- x - x -x -

"Thalasso by Tarlan

Summary: When the old house standing next to his hotel, The Thalasso, is snapped up with plans to turn it into another hotel, Joe feels his livelihood threatened.

- x - x -x -

"It felt like i was alive again by BeesKnees

Summary: Joe loses his immortality. Nile finds a ritual based on sex and sacrifice to restore it!

- x - x -x -

"With this wind blowing, and this tide" by Morvith

Summary: Andy told Nile she leads a team with two other immortals, but there are four people waiting at the safe house.

- x - x -x -

"It's not technically body snatching if they weren't really dead in the first place!" By SiriusNebulae

Summary: The group has to break Joe out of the morgue again after he had to play dead. Started off cracky, but became fluff, found family, and Nile appreciation!

- x - x -x -

"Brother of My Heart" by AphroditesTummyRolls

Summary: Booker hovered halfway between Andy and the door, as if he didn’t know if he was supposed to be there. Joe watched him, his brother, standing there with that haunted look in his eye, and it lanced through him like a blade.

- x - x -x -

"After the After" by Mari_Marie

Summary: Nile glances at Nicky standing behind Joe, silent and still like he’s there but not there. She frowns. “Is he okay?”

“No,” Andy answers. “He’s seizing.”

- x - x -x -

"The Fine Line Between Romance and Embarrassment" by twoseas

Summary: Nile asks Joe and Nicky how they got together. She learns that Joe isn’t always as smooth as he seems and sometimes Nicky makes the dramatic speech. Andy just enjoys the ride.

- x - x -x -

"Missed You By a Few Minutes, a Few Centuries," by just_another_tinker

Nicolò di Genova was killed on one of the endless mornings of The Crusades, struck down by a scimitar. He woke again later that evening.

- x - x -x -

"the way the night knows itself with the moon" by linascribbles, mehm

Summary: After an overdue breakup, Joe takes all his worldly possessions and orders a cab to cross the city. Nicky is about to call it a night when he decides one last ride won't do him any harm. Destiny happens.

- x - x -x -

"Retrograde" by Pinkninja

Summary: Nicolò looks sheepish. "I killed you yesterday, and you awoke at the same time, the same place. But when I die, I wake at different times, different places. This bolt," he tosses it to Yusuf and it lands in the dirt by his knee, "it killed me yesterday, but I woke up many years from now. I lived several lifetimes in those places before returning here and pulling it from my neck."

- x - x -x -

"Three Men Walk Into a Bar" by noirred

Summary: Joe thinks Nicky is the most beautiful man in the world, and he can't imagine anyone ever feeling otherwise.

- x - x -x -

This Lifetime and the Next" by kirasometimes

Summary: Shortly after marrying the love of his life, Nicky dies and his husband disappears.

—or Nicky is newly immortal and Joe has no idea.

- x - x -x -

"Ghost Town" by Nanashi07

Summary: In the American West in 1875, Nicky finds himself in a situation suitable for a horror novel: an eerie town, rumors of a ghost, and townspeople who aren’t acting right. And worse: their strangeness seems to be contagious, and the immortals aren’t immune.

- x - x -x -

"Not Looking When I Messed Up" by FlirtyFroggy

Summary: Two (mostly) well-meaning deities with some time on their hands try a little experiment. Chaos ensues.

- x - x -x -

"Between a Waltz and a Tango" by Claire

Summary: When he woke up, Nicky di Genova was a tired, poor grad student. Now he's being told that he's the prince of a small country he's never heard of before. Add in the ridiculously attractive guy on the Genovian security team, and Nicky's life just got a whole lot more interesting.

(Note: This is a Princess Diaries AU)

- x - x -x -

"Recover what was lost" by Pinkninja

Summary: A Yusuf recovery fic, told from his perspective as he re-learns what was lost

- x - x -x -

"In The Heat Of The Moment" by Sixthlight

Summary: “Well, whatever you do, do not accept the Comte di Genova’s son,” Yusuf’s mother concluded. “I swear by God, Yusuf, just make a decent choice among your many eligible suitors and we can put this behind us.”

- x - x -x -

"Of Monsters and Miracles" by LaReineDuLune

Summary: Booker sucked in a large, deep breath, “When Merrick had you and Nicky. When Dr. Kozak was working on you, did they… did they take semen samples?”

- x - x -x -

"I know you hear their voices, I know they may seem real" by AgentDonegal

Summary: “Someone should tell a story,” she suggests eventually, “Isn’t that what you do around a fire? Tell stories?”

“What kind of story?” Booker says amiably, tossing a twig in the general vicinity of the flames.

Nile shouldn’t do it, not with how she gave herself the jitters earlier. Maybe that’s exactly why she says, immediately and unbidden, “A scary story.”

- x - x -x -

"War Games" by AirgiodSLV

Summary: “Speaking of keeping up,” Andy muses. “We need to start training you.”

Training, Nile discovers, involves what Andy calls ‘retrieval missions’ and what Nile calls ‘capture the flag’.

- x - x -x -

"The Headless Horsewoman of New York" by Wind_Ryder

Summary: Joseph really hates New York.

- x - x -x -

"you're a dream to me" by smilebackwards

Summary: The AU where Nicky was also captured at some point in history and then the team rescues him

- x - x -x -

"Never yet philosopher" by jessikas

Summary: "Is the way you look on the day you die for the first time, like, a template? Apart from aging, can we change? If you already have a scar or an injury, does that heal?"

- x - x -x -

"Unbelievable Sights" by jessikas

Summary: Nile's catching up on movies. Tonight: Aladdin (2019)

- x - x -x -

"The Favored Son(s)" by mutantleech

Summary: Crusade!Era Nicky and Joe are transported into the 21st century, and they meet their modern day counterparts.

- x - x -x -

"(You're my) Shooting Star" by LydeNicoKITE

Summary: “You're really a star,” Andy feels the need to say, to ask, just to see if the words taste real.

“I am. Nicky wouldn’t believe me at first.”

Nicky blushes furiously, but he’s quick to say: “Of course I didn’t. It thought it was a terrible pick-up line.”

- x - x -x -

"libero, libero (nel corpo e lo spirito)" by demonicneonfishy

Summary: Five hundred years ago, Yusuf was cast into the ocean. Now he's out, but nothing is as he remembers it anymore. Not even his family.

- x - x -x -

" we could be an ancient tale" by mellyflori

Summary: A reluctant hero, a dying queen, a desperate wife, a helpful guide, a magical spring, and one smartass shapeshifting weasel. These are the things fairy tales are made of.

- x - x -x -

"The Enemy Within" by superblackmarket

Summary: Shortly before the events of the film, Booker joins Joe and Nicky in Cairo, where he is taught several lessons and comes to a life-changing decision.

- x - x -x -

"Honk Honk Fall In Love" by Amuly

Summary: Enemies to Lovers slow run, wherein Nicolo and Yusuf are followed around for twenty years by a soulmate goose who isn't leaving until the two of them admit they're soulmates.

- x - x -x -

"hey, you (don't you think it's kind of cute?)

Summary: Joe finally turns to the right, shaking the rain from his hair purely to annoy Andy, when he immediately freezes. Staring back at him with a look of benevolent confusion is most definitely not Andromache. Not unless Andy has made some drastic and quite frankly miraculous changes very, very quickly to her appearance. Joe gapes at the stranger, watching in quiet horror as he raises a hand to wipe a stray drop of water from his cheek, where all Joe’s flapping had tossed it.

- x - x -x -

"It Takes An Age" by deanniker

Summary: Joe decided to forge his own path in 1102, and it takes the events at Merrick Pharmaceuticals to shake up the status quo.

- x - x -x -

"Walk Me Through the Fire" by Bedalk05

Summary: “I’m sorry. What?” Joe says, staring incredulously at the woman who knocked him over the head and kidnapped him.

“You can’t die. Neither can I. I’m bringing you to others like us.”

- x - x -x -

"Le Vite" by ScribeofArda

Summary: Nicky breathes out. “What did I miss?” he asks, staring out at the hills. “Why didn’t I see this coming?”

After everything, after finding Nile and losing Booker and Andy's new mortality, Joe is pissed off. Nicky is just tired.

- x - x -x -

"For the lovers and the broken-hearted" by grydo2life

Summary: The first time she sees it, they’re in Brazil. Joe cups a hand around the back of Nicky’s neck and tugs him in to press their foreheads together; Nicky curls his fingers loosely around Joe’s wrist and closes his eyes. Nile watches, wide-eyed, as color stains their skin.

 Or: a soulmate-identifying mark AU.

- x - x -x -

"Heart and Soul" by Captain_Lilja

Summary: Two tired grad students meet one night and fall hard for each other.

- x - x -x -

"Language Barrier" by twoseas

Summary: Yusuf expresses certain thoughts to Nicolo in Arabic. Sometimes he just needs to say them out loud and Nicolo can’t understand him anyway so where’s the harm?

Centuries later, Joe is still dealing with it.

- x - x -x -

"My heart green as weeds" by KatStratford

Summary: Joe has complaints, Nicky has a plan, and communication is important even after 900 years together.

- x - x -x -

"A Message from the Sea" by Wind_Ryder

In 1549, Nicolo di Genova is locked in an iron maiden and tossed out at sea. Fearing for Yusuf's well-being, Andromache and Quynh tell him that Nicolo is almost certainly dead for good after so long under water.

But eventually, Nicolo will re-emerge, and the decision to tell Yusuf the truth becomes entangled with the fact that Nicolo is no longer the man any of them knew.

- x - x -x -

#The Old Guard #tog #joe x nicky #nicolo di genova #the old guard #fic #tog fic #yusuf al-kaysani #joe | yusuf al kaysani/nicky | nicolò di genova #andy | andromache of scythia #booker | sebastian le livre #nile freeman #quynh the old guard #My list of Fanfic Recs #immortal family #immortal husbands #team as family

[roosterbox]

Fic Rec Friday 9/8/23

Title: He Does Not Know

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien & Joe | Yusuf & Nicky | Nicolò & Quynh | Noriko

Characters: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre

Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, lets be real the angst is very short lived, Temporary Amnesia, Canon Temporary Character Death, temporary insanity, Touch-Starved, gratuitous use of commas, Reunions, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Several Hugs Actually, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, kissing someone's hand can be so romantic actually, no beta we die like the old guard doesn't, shaving as the 6th love language, Nicky gets a makeover for the first time in 500 years, Team as Family, listen I just think they should get to cry

Summary: Water closes over the top of the metal coffin, and Nicolo prays to a God he no longer believes in for a quick and lasting death.

Or, Nicky is in the Iron Maiden. Through it all, he forgets everything including his own name, but somehow holds onto the knowledge that someone is coming for him.

———

Today’s theme, I suppose, is Canon Divergence. Either that or “Not being able to die would really really suck, actually.”

I love that we stay with Nicky throughout the story, from the horrific early parts, to the softness of the latter ones. We’re with him through it all, and we feel for him. His despair, and his longing (for Joe, or for salvation), but also his determination. Through it all, he persists. I adore that about him.

That isn’t to say that the others aren’t wonderful too, though they don’t show up until later. Joe is lovely as always, and I especially like seeing Quynh, who seems very cool. From what I understand, she isn’t really in the movie (not properly at least), so I like seeing how fic writers utilize her.

The soft, loving scenes between the group (but especially Nicky and Joe) after his rescue are so beautifully tender. A perfect counterpoint to the terrible things that came before. Nicky’s situation in this kind of reminds me of something Captain Jack Harkness went through in Torchwood. In that, Jack was buried alive (hard to bury him dead when he can’t die), and had to deal with resurrecting and then dying via suffocation over and over again. With something like that in mind, I don’t think immortality would be all it’s cracked up to be by some people, you know?

But everything works out in the end. Even if it takes him several hundred years, Joe will always find Nicky. And I will have my sweet, sweet fluffy goodness, lol.

This is a lovely fic, well worth reading.

———

Next Week: Steddie time again! I know you love ‘em!

Next week’s fic kiiiiinda matches the Canon Divergence theme (which I totally did not plan by the way!). In it, we go on the adventure of a lifetime with Eddie, and his evolving relationship with Steve. From sometime in season 2 (I think? Having never watched the show, it can be hard to tell), through season 3, and into season 4. It’s quite beautiful to see how things shift between them over the course of the fic. But for that, you’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t you?

Until next time…

#fic rec Friday #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #the old guard #writer: bookish_changeling #canon divergence #Nicky really goes through it #but everything works out #in the end #the immortal husbands are really quite beautiful together #you know?

[brightly-painted-canvas]

TOG fandom - How to address others in Italian (a little help for fellow writers)

Another one of these posts in quick succession because a thing I’ve noticed in many, many fanfiction is the incorrect use of titles and honorifics in Nicky’s Italian lines. Which... I get it, it’s super-uper difficult to get and also Google is the worst of all to translate the right use and nuance (my suggestion is to always prefer Reverso Context when translating entire phrases, it’s based on examples and it’s more accurate in general). So!

Let’s start with family (famiglia, with a gl, different to the Spanish word).

Papà = dad (please, please, PLEASE USE THE ACCENT. Just like Nicolo ≠ Nicolò, remember that Papa = Pope. And Nicky’s dad - or Nicky as a dad - is not a Pope). Variants! They are mostly regionals, but you can also use: papi, babbo, pa’. Father = padre, so if Nicky has to refer to an austere father figure or someone else’s father? Use padre and the honorific form (we will get to that). Mamma = mom. Variants! Mami, mammà, ma’. Mother = madre. Figlio/a = son/daughter. Sorella = sister. Older sister = sorella maggiore or sorellona (like ‘big sis’), younger sister = sorella minore or sorellina (’lil sis’). Fratello = brother. Older brother = fratello maggiore or fratellone (’big bro’), younger brother = fratello minore or fratellino (’lil bro’). Nonno/a = grandad/grandma. Also: nonnino/nonnina, it’s cute. Zio/a = uncle/aunt. Cute: zietto/zietta. Cugino/a = cousin. Younger cousins could also be called: cuginetto/cuginetta. Nipote = nephew/niece and grandson/granddaughter. Younger ones: nipotino/nipotina. Suocero/a = father-in-law/mother-in-law. Cognato/a = brother-in-law/sister-in-law. Genero = son-in-law. Nuora = daughter-in-law. ... and I’m stopping here, but if you have questions on other particular words just DM me :D

How to address loved ones.

Amico/a = friend. Someone who’s always very friendly and nice to hang up with = amicone/a. The BFF from when you were young kids = amichetto/a. Ragazzo/a = boyfriend/girlfriend. ‘Chi è? Il tuo ragazzo?’ = ‘Who’s that? Your boyfriend?’. Variants (also regionals): ragazzino/a, moroso/a, tipo/a. Fidanzato/a = fiancée. Could also be used as boy/girlfriend, but it’s mostly for couples about to get married. However, nonne all over Italy at Christmas would always ask their nephews/nieces ‘ce l’hai il/la fidanzatino/a?’ which basically is ‘have you found yourself a boy/girlfriend?’. Marito/moglie = husband/wife.

How to address royalty/nobility (to the person who asked about this specifically some time ago: took me some time, but here it is).

Sua/Vostra altezza reale/imperiale = His/Her/Your royal/imperial highness Sua/Vostra maestà reale = His/Her/Your royal majesty Re/Regina = King/Queen Imperatore/Imperatrice = Emperor/Empress Principe/Principessa = Prince/Princess Duca/Duchessa = Duke/Duchess Conte/Contessa = Count/Countess Signore/Signora = Lord/Lady (’mio Signore’ = my Lord)

The clergy (a relevant topic for Nicolò).

Prete = priest. Also: don (mostly used before the name to address the priest, like ‘Don Nicolò’)(yeah I know it reminds you of mafia names, that’s where they get it from... it’s basically a substitute of ‘signore’, frequently used in the South). You can also call the priest padre (father) ‘Padre Nicolò’. Padre superiore = father superior, frate = friar, monaco = monk, eremita = hermit, abate = abbott. To address a friar: fra and the name, like ‘Fra Giacomo’. Suora = nun. To address the nun: suor and the name, like ‘Suor Cristina’. Also: sorella, madre superiora = mother superior (’Madre Teresa’), badessa = abbess. Vescovo = bishop. ‘Sua Eccellenza’ = His Excellency. Arcivescovo = archbishop. ‘Sua Grazia’ = His Grace. Cardinale = cardinal. ‘Sua Eminenza’ = His Eminence. Papa = Pope. POPE. P-O-P-E as in the old holy guy dressed in white living in Vaticano. First rule of Italian, folks: we don’t have as many accents as the French, but when we do THEY MUST BE USED. Also: Santo Padre = Holy Father. ‘Sua Santità’ = His Holiness. I had to translate half ‘Wikihow - come rivolgersi al clero cattolico’ LOL

There should probably be a whole chapter about politics too, but you get the drift: use Reverso, check the examples and write me (or any other Italian user in the TOG fandom) a DM if you’re in doubt.

And we arrive straight to the honorific form. This is hard, I know... English doesn’t really have this form, but it’s extremely important to know it and know the differences to write/talk good Italian.

The basic rule is that when we speak to someone who’s above us in hierarchy (a client, a professor, an older colleague, ecc.) or a stranger, we use ‘lei’. Dare del lei means not referring to the person with the singular form of ‘you’ = tu, but use the female third person singular. Let’s proceed with an example: if you’re writing Nicky as a professor, he’s gonna be called ‘prof Di Genova’ by his Italian students. They wouldn’t say ‘prof, non interrogarmi’ to him, but they would use the ‘lei’ form: ‘prof, non mi interroghi’ (don’t test/question me, professor). This form is basically the most frequently translated by Google. This is why the most frequent mistake in fanfiction is Nicky asking ‘scusi?’ (sorry, in the ’lei’ form) to Joe or Andy or Booker instead of ‘scusa?’. As much as I think Nicky is a very polite guy and he definitely would use the ‘lei’ form with strangers, he knows his family (and his husband!) well enough to use the ‘you’. As a rule, always check if the translated Italian you are using is in the honorific form and, if it shouldn’t be in your fic (as in: Nicky is talking to someone he knows, like Nile or Joe or his family), change it to the ‘you’ form. NB! Nice nuance in fanfiction: Nicky using the ‘lei’ form with Copley or even Merrick (sometimes using the honorific form with asshole strangers adds a very sassy flavour) and Nicky using the ‘lei’ form with Joe if you’re writing a first meeting AU (in a polite/formal environment). It’s cute because there’s frequently a moment during a first meeting conversation where people ask each other: ‘possiamo darci del tu?’ (can we use the ‘you’ form?) and I think it’d work well with them.

You think this is it? THINK AGAIN! We also have an even more reverential form, to use with very veeery important people (nobility, extremely high-up people and the such) which is dare del voi. Voi = you (second person plural). The ‘vostra’ you saw above in the royalty part comes from this. Example: if Nicky is a prince or a king, a counselor should address him with the ‘voi’ form. ‘Vostra maestà, vogliate scusarmi: ho dimenticato di aggiornarvi su questo argomento’ (Your Majesty, please excuse me: I’ve forgotten to give you updates on this topic).

A bit complicated, I know, but I hope I’ve helped. Remember you can DM me anytime if you have questions. If you think I’ve forgotten something, please add a comment so that I can reply! :D

Here are the links to my previous ‘Italian language for fellow writers’ posts:

Terms of endearment

Swear words

Writing ‘good’

#translation #the old guard #tog fanfic #tog fandom #kaysanova #joe and nicky #nicolò di genova #writing #italian 101 #Italian language

[monicashipsnickyjoe]

Joe has been waiting in this coffee shop line for no less than ten minutes, but he doesn’t mind because he’s spent that long looking at the man in front of him. The line of those shoulders and the curve of that long neck reminds Joe of someone he can’t place. Still, he’s almost positive that he knows this man. A memory, somewhere, sits in the back of his mind, itchy.

When the man turns, chin to shoulder, and gifts Joe his profile, the sight of a prominent nose is enough.

“Nicolò!”

It’s been years, but Joe would never forget his childhood friend. As neighbors who went to different schools, they were inseparable in the evenings. For summers, they were practically attached at the hip.

Nicky has grown since then, filling out his lean frame. Lanky limbs are now solid mass. And those shoulders. Shoulders that tense up as Joe watches, until Nicky looks like a rubber band pulled too tightly, ready to snap.

Sighing, he half-turns toward Joe, though his gaze remains elsewhere. “Did you want a selfie together? Or an autograph?”

Joe frowns. He’s heard from his mother that Nicky is doing well for himself - she’s seen him on television. But Joe doesn’t watch television. Maybe he’s been afraid to. Maybe he wants the past ten years back, to stand once more under that tree in Nicky’s backyard where they said goodbye, and actually kiss him this time.

Joe said Nicky’s name on reflex. Perhaps he should have let the past live in the past.

“No,” Joe says. “Sorry.”

Joe ducks his head, but he still feels the moment Nicky sets his eyes on him. He hears the soft intake of breath. He watches Nicky’s shoes as those feet twist further until Nicky is entirely facing him.

“Yusuf?”

Joe tries for a smile. “It’s me.” He looks up and finds himself in a blue-green ocean. Nicky’s face does not so much as twitch, but those eyes always give him away. “Hello, Nicky.”

Nicky steps toward him. “Joe, I -”

“It’s okay,” Joe says.

“No, I -”

“You don’t have to -”

A stranger’s voice calls out, from further down the line. “Is that Nicolò di Genova?”

Nicky’s mouth snaps closed. His back straightens.

“It is!” says someone else. In a matter of moments, Nicky is swarmed with fans. He’s patient with them, taking pictures and signing autographs, but Joe can see the tense line of his body and the tightness in his smile.

Ahead of Nicky, the line has dwindled. The cashier calls out for the next customer, but Nicky is buried in fans. Joe steps around the crowd and takes Nicky’s place. He has no idea what Nicky is drinking but he guesses a coffee and orders another for himself.

Drinks in hand, Joe turns to find fresh faces surrounding Nicky, and decides to step in. “Okay! Alright! Thank you all, but Mr. di Genova must be moving on now. He’s on a tight schedule, you know.” He passes the coffee to Nicky, then places his free hand on the small of Nicky’s back. “Please excuse us.” Cutting through the crowd, he leads Nicky toward the exit and around the building toward the back parking lot.

Once they are out of sight, Nicky slumps against the wall. “Thank you.”

“It was my fault for calling you out.” Joe hums. “You must be very famous.”

“You haven’t seen the show?”

Joe doesn’t want to hurt him, but he doesn’t want to lie, either. “No.” Even thinking of Nicky, of what could of been, has been so painful. How could Joe bear to see him? To know how beautiful he’s become? To know all that he’s missing?

“Good,” Nicky says, kicking off the wall. “It’s terrible.”

Startled, Joe laughs.

Nicky looks at him again, and his eyes sparkle in the same mischievous kind of way they used to before he suggested something that always got them both in trouble.

“Joe,” Nicky says. “If I asked you to take a ride with me, would you?”

Joe wonders, even with ten years separating their last day together and today, how Nicky could ever think the answer might be no. “Nicky, I’d follow you anywhere.”

Nicky dips his head, and his lips curl up into a gentle, easy smile. Softly, he says, “I missed you.”

Joe forgets how to breathe.

“Come on.” Nicky walks past him and into the parking lot. Without a word, Joe follows. Ten years wasted. Ten years too long.

Nicky stops at the side of a red Ferrari. Joe finds his breath again just to laugh. For such an unassuming man - even now he wears jeans and a t-shirt - he would have the flashiest car in the lot.

Joe has learned long ago to never place presumptions on Nicolò di Genova.

“You don’t like it?” Nicky asks. He’s still smiling, there’s no hurt in it.

“It’s perfect, Nicky.” Just like you.

Joe opens the passenger side door and slides inside, as Nicky does the same behind the wheel. Nicky turns the key and the Ferrari roars to life. That look of mischief returns to Nicky’s face.

Joe’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

Without another word, Nicky touches the gas pedal and they jolt forward. He veers around the corner, then onto the road, the highway, and out to the country. He drives fast, but danger never registers for Joe. Nicky’s eyes do not  leave the road. His hands stay fixed on the wheel at ten and two.

Only when he drives to the edge of an orchard, on the side of a tall, grassy hill, and stops, does Nicky lower his hands. With the car in park, he turns off the ignition and gets out. Joe follows, walking behind him to the edge of the treeline. They’re fruit-bearing trees, not unlike the one in Nicky’s backyard all those years ago. The one they climbed. And fell from. The one they used as protection for water balloon fights, and home base for games of tag. The one Joe leaned on when he told Nicky his family was moving. The one Nicky hid his face against when Joe walked away for the last time.

“Nicolò.” Joe wants to fix it. They tried to stay in touch for a while. But days turned to weeks turned to months, and before long, Joe’s best friend and secret crush was someone he hadn’t talked to in years. He had no idea how to bridge that gap then.

But now, with Nicky right here.

“Nicky, I -”

In the shadow of a tree, Nicky cups Joe’s face in his hands and kisses him quiet. It’s soft and sweet and world shattering. Joe grabs at Nicky’s wide shoulders and holds on for dear life, else he might fling straight into the sun.

When it’s over, Nicky presses his forehead to Joe’s.

Joe’s hands shake. His breath is uneven.

“Ten years,” Nicky says, closing his eyes. “Every day for ten years, I regretted not doing that.”

One hand still clawing at Nicky’s shoulder, Joe lifts his other to brush the line of Nicky’s jaw and bury his fingertips into the short hairs at the back of Nicky’s neck.

“Yusuf,” Nicky says, a plea in his voice. “I have thought of you so many times. Please. Tell me I was not alone.”

A warmth rushes through Joe’s body, starting from deep in his chest. For a moment he thinks he has never been this happy before in his whole life, but then he realizes he is mistaken. It’s just been ten years.

“We said goodbye ten years ago,” Joe says, “But my heart has never strayed from your side.”

Nicky’s eyes snap open. How can he possibly be surprised?

“Kiss me again, Nicky,” Joe says. “We have ten years to make up for.”

And Nicky wastes no more time.

#i wrote something nickyjoe #nicky x joe #joe x nicky #joenicky #kaysonova #childhood friends au #famous actor nicky #au #i could perhaps be talked into writing more of this but i'm not sure yet #friends to lovers

[alkaysani-archived]

You had an assigned seat next to them at a wedding for a mutual friend. + andromaquynh

oooh thank you for the patience on this kayla! this also has some joenicky in it, i hope you don’t mind!! you can also find it on ao3 here

the setup

“Nicolò, I am so happy for you.” And Quynh was, to the point that she couldn’t stop grinning that her face hurt so much. And her lovely Nicolò smiles at her, and leans into her arms, pressing close and she squeezes him tight, burying her face into his shoulder. “The ceremony was so beautiful! I can’t wait for the reception—” she starts, and Nicolò pulls away then with a smile, then a slight grimace.

 “I’m sorry again for the mix-up. I know I said you’d be with my Nona, but then my aunt showed up, with my uncle, and—” Nicolò rushes out, and Quynh just snorts and squeezes him.

 “It’s one table over, and it’s going to give me a chance to get to know Yusuf’s friends,” she says, just as said man wiggles his way in between the both of them, an arm on each of their shoulders.

 “Oh you’re going to love them, Quynh. They’re almost as terrifying as you,” Yusuf tells her, with a small kiss on her forehead that makes her feel warm. He glances at Nicolò and finds her best friend staring at his newly minted husband with the softest look in his light eyes, a small, crooked smile on his face.

A look of utter adoration. She couldn’t be happier for him. Quynh puffs up her chest and tugs down her suit jacket with a proud smirk at being called terrifying, nodding.

 “Maybe I’ll meet my match,” she says with a grin, making a soft noise when her ring catches on her shirt, missing the sly wink Yusuf gives his husband, before looking down at her hands, and reaching over to help. “Here, don’t tug,” Yusuf says softly, and Quynh drops her other hand to let the man do his thing. In the four years she’s known Yusuf, she’s learned the two most important things that she can learn about the man:

 One, he loves Nicolò with everything that he has, and has loved him since they started competing for study space at the library in their last year of college, that more than once have ended with Quynh making her way to campus to pull them apart. It reminded her of all the times she’d have to pull Nicolò by the back of the shirt when they were so much younger, away from any fight that he was willing to get into. Except that time, he didn’t end up dating them, or eventually marry them.

 And two, Yusuf makes everything he touches, better. That included his art, his writing, the people that he helps through his voluntary outreach, Nicolò’s life as a whole, especially his relationship with his family, Quynh’s appreciation for her job as the lead art curator at the university museum, and now delicate chiffon shirt, that her ring is most definitely stuck on. How did she even manage that? Yusuf takes his time, making sure not to tug and ruin her shirt, and Quynh waits, impatiently, because that’s who she is, and Nicolò moves to wrap an arm around her shoulders, squeezing.

 “Keep still, Quynh.” “No. I can just pull it, and if the shirt is ruined, take it off.” She definitely can. Quynh has a cropped, black tank underneath that’d still look great with her dark red suit.

 Nicolò makes a soft noise the same time as Yusuf lets out a soft “Yes,” and puts up the ring, smiling at her then. Her shirt looks completely unharmed. “No need to for a wardrobe change, though I still think you’d kill it,” he says, giving her the ring, that she slips through her finger with practiced ease.

 “Yusuf, do not encourage her.”

 “She’s not gonna be with Nona anymore, beloved,” Yusuf says with a wave of a hand. “I’m sure her new table companions would appreciate it,” he says, and Quynh squints at him then. What did he mean by that?

 “Either way, Quynh looks lovely. And her shirt is fine, so there’s no need to change,” he says, taking her hand then and pulling her along. “Come on, we need to get to the venue now. I’m sure they’re all waiting for us.”

 ***

 Quynh gets to the table at the reception hall first.

 The rest aren’t there yet. According to Yusuf, they couldn’t make it to the ceremony, and are looking to celebrate thoroughly when they all get there.

 “Have you met them before?” Quynh asked Nicolò softly, just before he left her, and Nicolò just gave her a smile, and a nod.

 “Remember those few years after college when Yusuf was away? When he was still volunteering overseas?” he asked, and Quynh nodded, remembering the two years after their graduation that Yusuf had left. “These are the friends he made from that. So, I’ve only ever met them when I was on video calls with Yusuf, and then when they’re on with Yusuf now. They’re still doing the same thing, even after Yusuf came home.”

 Came home to Nicolò, to build a life with him. When Yusuf had first left, Quynh had been angry, because how dare did Yusuf leave Nicolò to do this? To do good work, yes, but she was home to see how sad Nicolò had been, even though he himself was doing his own good work back home. He had missed Yusuf something terrible, and was never angry at the man. “He misses me just as much, for we love each other just the same,” Nicolò would always say to her when she’d get too upset. Still, it didn’t stop her from reaching out to Yusuf once or twice, asking him to consider coming home. And all he ever said was that he was working on it. And he did, and now he keeps his voluntary outreach at most, at a national level.

 “They’re good people then,” Quynh said, after a beat, and Nicolò smiles, nodding. “I think you’d get along with them, you know. You have something in common,” he replied, and Quynh blinks, tilting her head, just as they got to her seat. He smiled, and kissed her forehead.

 “They told him to come home to me, then helped him do it.”

 Yeah, that’s definitely going to be a plus on Quynh’s book.

 She’s fiddling with her ring and turned on her seat, conversing with one of Nicolò’s aunts when she hears the chairs on her table move behind her. Particularly, she feels the chair beside her move, and so she turns. And finds a tall woman pulling out the seat, in a sleek white suit, her dark hair stark against it. Quynh stares up at her and her breath hitches.

 Fuck, this woman is gorgeous.

 “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” the woman says to her, and Quynh blinks, wondering if she had said her words aloud, her face heating up, a smile creeping across her lips.

 “Smooth, boss,” she hears, and she glances at a tall blond man looking at the woman with a shake of his head, slipping into his own seat with a snort, a black man sitting beside him, then, flashing Quynh a bright, gleaming smile.

 “Her name is Andromache, and she’s got no filter,” the man says, reaching over the table to shake her hand. “Lykon,” he says, nodding.

 “Quynh,” she says softly, taking his hand into a firm shake. The first man smiles at her then, taking off his sunglasses. “Booker,” he says simply, and Quynh gives him a soft nod, before turning back to the woman, standing up now.

 “Andromache?” she says, voice soft, and the woman smiles, tilting her head.

 “You can call me Andy,” she says, extending her hand to her, and Quynh smiles then, taking her hand, and shaking it.

 “Quynh,” she says softly, and smiles when Andy starts to seat, and she does the same, facing her completely now.

 “You’re Nicky’s best friend,” Andy says, and she feels her back straightening at the fact that she knows that. “Joe tells me you’re scary,” she says, and Quynh tilts her head before leaning over, raising an eyebrow.

 “Only when I have to be,” she says, and Andy smirks, then laughing.

 “Oh, I love a challenge.”

 Damn. Quynh joked about finding her match, but this definitely feels like she has. Andromache feels different, already. She commands the room, but more importantly, she tugs something in Quynh.

 Probably her loins.

 Andy smiles at her then and winks at her, and Quynh feels like she’s going to melt into a puddle.

 Most definitely her loins.

 “Ugh, I can’t believe Nile wins the bet,” Booker groans, after a moment and Quynh turns to her then, Lykon laughing and already taking out what looks like a 100 Euros. Quynh raises an eyebrow.

 “What bet?” “The bet that Andy was going to make a move on you the moment she saw you in person. Joe’s been hyping you up since we met!” Lykon exclaims, and Andy shakes her head then, rolling her eyes.

 “That’s why Nile’s taking over for me, because she’s smarter than the two of you combined,” she says, before looking back at Quynh. “Nile’s going to be here in an hour or so. She’s finishing a call with her mom and brother,” she says with a smile, and she sounds soft-hearted at the whole idea. Quynh feels like she’ll like this Nile too.

 However, that’s when it hits her what they had just revealed. This has been a setup. She then looks over to where Yusuf was, currently holding two of his nephews in his arms, dancing around with them, while Nicolò rocks their baby sister in his own arms gently, conversing with their mother, Yusuf’s cousin.

 “That little shit,” Quynh says with pure affection in her voice, and when she looks back at Andy, she’s grinning, extending her hand gently to her.

 “This was a setup!” she gasps, and Andy just smiles at her still.

 “You interested?” she asks, bluntly, and honestly? Quynh adores it.

 She takes Andy’s hand then and nods, squeezing it, letting herself be tugged forward, standing with her then.

 “I most definitely am,” she says, and Andy smiles, before nodding to Lykon and Booker, who both stand to flank them. Lykon snorts, putting up a fist for Booker to bump, Andy and Quynh looking at the two of them now.

 “The al Kaysani-di Genova setup, complete,” Lykon says, and Booker nods, as they bump fist.

 “One for the books.”

 Andy snorts, and shakes her head, but Quynh can see that she is fond, and happy as she turns back to her.

 “Good,” Andy says with a soft smile. “I can’t wait to get started, but first, introduce us to your best friend?” she says, grinning. “They’ve no idea we’re here yet,”she reveals, and Quynh grins, then she’s moving back to go the other direction. Lykon and Booker make a soft confused noise, but they still follow, and Andy looks at her then.

 “Where are we going?”

 “We’re just going to go around. Go from behind, scare the crap out of them,” she says, and they all cheer in glee at the idea, but all Quynh can see then is Andy’s beautiful smile as she throws her head back in laughter.

 “You’re something else, Quynh,” she says, and Quynh laughs when Andy starts to take off her heeled boots, just as Quynh’s start to take off hers.

 “Seems like you are too, Andromache,” Quynh says, smiling at how easy her name rolls off her tongue. She squeezes her hand, before letting go, taking her shoes and leaving it at the hallway, before re-entering the banquet hall through the other door, Andromache right behind her.

 “Booker, Lykon, flank,” Andy says.

 “Got it boss,” Quynh hears, and she sees Lykon and Booker moving forward, still hidden and honestly, she’s impressed.

 Quynh looks back at Andy then, and smiles.

“Our first mission together?” she says, and Andy smiles, iridescent and beautiful even in the low light.

 “The first of many, Quynh,” Andy says simply, nodding.

 “We’re just getting started.”

#the old guard fic #userkayla #usercacau #moonlightandromache #usertriz #userhegel #userlyde #userbooker #andromaquynh #joenicky #immortal wives #immortal husbands #L writes things #filled prompt #hope you like it kayla! #quynh #andromache the scythian #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #sebastien le livre #lykon

[qqueenofhades]

Everytime I read "Nicolo di Genova" my brain glitches and I read "Nicolo do Genovia" instead so /whispers/ Kaysanova Princess Diaries AU?

...yes. Did someone say Gay Champagne Romcom? Because that is my Brand.

Nicolò is an Italian-American graduate student living in New York City with his widowed Italian mother and working on an engineering degree at NYU. He was thinking about joining the priesthood for a few years and recently dropped out of seminary and is feeling that Millennial Crisis that all of us know about. He has gone on a few Tinder/Grindr dates, but it’s hard enough to meet someone in this city even when you’re not a gay ex-priest engineering student living in his mother’s rent-controlled apartment in Morningside Heights because have you seen the property prices in New York. Plus WHENEVER he brings a nice boy home, HEY PRESTO there’s his mom waiting eagerly up in the front room, “NICOLÒ WHO IS THIS HANDSOME YOUNG MAN, DOES HE HAVE GOOD PARENTS, IS HE A CATHOLIC NICOLÒ” and of course that instantly kills any kind of romantic mood. Nicolò is like “let’s just go over to yours PLEASE.” But he tends not to see his dates again anyway, and it’s equally depressing, and it’s nice that his mom isn’t homophobic or anything, but he’d like to just meet someone without his mother instantly planning the Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding, and yes he knows this is a nice problem to have but STILL

Anyway, then of course the Dead Dad Circus rolls into town, and Nicolò learns that he’s not actually the son of a nice hardworking Italian immigrant, but of His Serene Highness Prince Domenico Grimaldi of Genovia, who wouldn’t you know it, has recently died too young from cancer and left no legitimate heir except the result of his rebellious teen fling with a cocktail waitress in Capri – which would be, you guessed it, Nicolò. While Nicolò is still processing the horrifying mental image of his mother being a cocktail waitress in Capri and having to look up Genovia on a map, the rest of the royal machine is kicking into overdrive. This involves a very awkward meeting in a very fancy Manhattan hotel with Nicolò’s magnificent but rather out-of-touch royal grandmother, Her Serene Highness The Queen Mother Maria Elisabetta Henrietta Julia Victoria Mignonette Grimaldi of Genovia. She’s basically Julie Andrews because obviously. She informs Nicolò of his Solemn Duty to return to Genovia and become Prince Nicolò and eventually be prepared to take the throne and submit to a fascinating life of minor European royal family ribbon-cutting duties. Oh, and getting married and producing more heirs to the throne, on pain of breaking a thousand-year-old bloodline, though she doesn’t say this out loud. Her loyal right-hand man, driver, and general bodyguard/fixer/man about town, Sebastien le Livre aka Booker, gives Nicolò various sympathetic looks but does not interrupt.

Nicolò obviously freaks out and runs off to call up his best friend at NYU, Andy. Andy is some indeterminate degree of years older than him, in some indeterminable stage of her Classics PhD, and sometimes says weird things like how badly the Library of Alexandria had already been defunded by the Roman emperors before it finally burned, like she was there and holds a personal grudge about it. She is a cranky vodka-drinking lesbian who rides a motorcycle, gets them into periodic scrapes, and understands his shit dating life. She deeply empathizes with all his “I’m not going to run away and leave my life in New York to become part of some creakingly antique regressive imperial monarchic system of racist and homophobic oppression, NO SIR!” Fight the power, Nicolò. Fuck those guys.

Of course, however, Julie Andrews Grandmother Maria prevails and Nicolò is forced to take Prince Lessons, which he hates but tries to be a good sport about, because, well, he’s Nicolò and he’s a good person. He is then whisked off on a private plane to Genovia, because they want to see him in situ before they make a final decision on accepting him as their prince. There of course we have the high-life palaces and parks and snooty clueless aristocrats who look at Nicolò like he’s a prize racehorse and have absolutely zero clue, none, nada, about the real world. Just as Nicolò is about to firmly decide that this is a complete crock of shit and he’s going back to NYU, he meets….

Prince Yusuf “call me Joe” al-Kaysani.

Joe is a minor member of one of the Middle Eastern royal families, some fictional tiny Gulf kingdom that is super SUPER oil rich. He has a title and a lot of money but doesn’t have a clearly defined role in the family, other than that he’s been ordered not to embarrass it. Nicky does not know this when they first meet, but obviously it’s not possible to be an out gay prince in a conservative Arabian-peninsula Islamic kingdom, and therefore the fixers have arranged for Joe to be publicly dating a daughter of the Malaysian sultan, Quynh. (We are making her Malaysian in this instance so she can also be Muslim and hence an appropriate match for Joe.) Except Princess Quynh is also hella lesbian and is getting the same thing out of the fake dating with Joe that he is, i.e. throwing people off the scent of their real selves. They spend their time together in private eating popcorn, commiserating about their lives and crazy royal families and the press invading their privacy, watching romcoms, and Judging the Straights. They’re actually best friends and text each other all the time, so at the royal function where Joe runs into the stiff and nervous and clearly overcompensating New Guy who’s evidently the New Prince of Genovia, and oh my god Q he’s the Most stuck up person I’ve EVER MET, Quynh is the first to hear ALL about it. She immediately suspects that Joe doth protest too much.

Meanwhile, Nicky meets Nile Freeman, another young American (from Chicago, obvs) who is working at some important EU institution currently headquartered in Genovia. They also hit it off and Nile tells Nicky about the things she wants to do to help change the world and why she’s here, and he is moved by her kindness and altruism and remembers that that was what he wanted too, and why he joined the priesthood in the first place. He opens up to her about the shock of learning the truth about his now-dead dad and the crazy whirlwind he’s been sucked into and how he doesn’t know what to do, and their friendship is beautiful and we love it.

Meanwhile, of course, Nicky and Joe keep running into each other and getting on each other’s nerves, Nicky is thisclose to calling up Booker and ordering him to deport Joe because why is he always here (Booker, of course, will eventually become a secret ally in helping them see each other, but that is not quite yet). There is some Shenanigan where they end up both getting into trouble, Grandmother Julie Andrews is not amused, and finally they are forced to sit next to each other for a whole state dinner and Be Polite, because Genovia is trying to forge better relations with Joe’s kingdom. (Genovia is tiny, ancient, and broke, Joe’s kingdom has obviously a ton of money, there are old historical ties between them, some Genovians traveled to the kingdom in the past, Genovia’s trying to improve its human rights record and take in more refugees, etc. Nile is also helping with this last). So Nicky and Joe get ordered to fake a highly convincing bromance and pretend they’ve been best buddies all along (think Red White and Royal Blue) and that means they have to actually learn about each other and spend time together and ugh, he’s a spoiled rich playboy brat, and ugh, he’s a clueless American who thinks he’s better than us, and…

Oh no.

Yes, of course they fall in love, they deny it as hard as they can, Nile and Quynh and Booker are all increasingly exasperated by their attempts to pretend they’re not, and finally they kiss and make love and admit their feelings and that they want to be together. Then of course they get outed by some scheming evil cabinet minister (Merrick) who doesn’t want Nicky to become king and disapproves of him dating (gasp) a MUSLIM WHO IS ALSO A MAN, and there’s a huge scandal and a ton of drama and the usual Romcom Breakup Angst as they decide whether they can still see each other. Andy flies out to Genovia to comfort Nicky, Booker has a Word With The Queen, and Joe hides in his room until Quynh (along with Nile, who she’s met and hit it off with) appears to tell him that he has to be brave, she’ll help.

Anyway, etc etc., Drama, “I love him no matter what, if you don’t accept him you don’t accept me and your STUPID BLOODLINE CAN CHOKE” speeches from Nicky, Julie Andrews sees the light, they decide that Nicky and Joe can keep seeing each other, and it’s all rather sweet. There’s a lot of public relations to be managed and whether Joe’s family is going to disown him and what this will mean for the whole international relations thing, but… one thing at a time.

Nicky agrees to become Prince of Genovia as long as he can be with Joe, Joe decides that hey, he likes Nile too and there’s plenty of meaningful work to be had here and the three of them can join forces to do good things and he’s going to stay, and the Genovian public obviously comes around and loves them. Nobody can find Princess Quynh. It’s rumored she ran off to America with a cranky vodka-drinking PhD student of indeterminate age and was last seen on the back of a motorcycle heading west.

Everyone lives happily and gayly ever after.

The End.

#the old guard fanfiction #joe x nicky #kaysanova #anonymous #ask

[lesbianlotties]

Andy and Quynh One Shots - #101

Chapters: 101/101 Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020), The Old Guard (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Andy | Andromache the Scythian/Quynh | Noriko Characters: Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Quynh | Noriko, Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre Additional Tags: Immortal Wives Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Immortality, One Shot Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Tumblr Prompt, Originally Posted on Tumblr, just... A LOT of Andy and Quynh, it's what they deserve, it's what we deserve Words: 63518

"Just you and me." "Until the end."

Three thousand years of love, and more. All the little moments of joy, pain, adoration, and yearning. Andy and Quynh, all through history, all over the world, always in love.

Chapter 101: I'm here, at the beginning of the end, the end of infinity with you (teasing Andy for being old)

At first, Andy didn’t even think twice about it. She could be in the middle of a training session with Quynh and after landing a particularly good punch, Quynh smirked and said, “You’re getting too old, my heart” or “Age has made you slow, Andromache.” It was fine. In fact, it was good, and meant to be affectionate. She had been saying things like that in every language known to man for almost as long as the two of them had known each other. Which, really, was an eternity in itself. It was a little detail that Andy was glad to experience again after such a long separation. Their love was something capable of always growing and never changing at its core. However, little changes were unavoidable. And now that their family was bigger, it was just a matter of time before some harmless, affectionate teasing would get out of hand.

The three of them were sitting on the couch watching a movie and almost as soon as it ended Andy was out of her seat and stretching.

“Where are you going?” Quynh wondered with a slight pout.

Nile added, “We can still watch another!”

Andy scoffed, “I’m exhausted, I’m going to bed.” Without waiting for further approval she started walking toward the room she shared with Quynh.

Quynh, who wasn’t exactly happy to lose the shoulder she was comfortably leaning against during the movies. “I get it, you’re too old for this,” she called after her lover’s retreating figure. Andy shook her head fondly, and smiled because the others couldn’t see her. But there was just something about how loudly Nile laughed at that joke that just sparked a hint of worry in the older woman’s mind. She tried to ignore it, as long as she could.

--

A few days later, after a couple of minutes of lying awake in bed, Andy turned to her side and happily devoted herself to trailing feather-light kisses on Quynh’s bare shoulders to get her to wake up. Her fingertips were starting to dance in secret patterns on the soft skin of the other woman’s back, when Andy’s ministrations were interrupted by Quynh, who quickly moved so she could capture Andy’s lips with her own and give her a real good morning kiss. Though, after pulling back, she went back to lying on her stomach and said, “I know you’re old, my heart, but do you have to wake up this early?”

“Excuse me?” Andy laughed, not at the joke, precisely. But there was just something too sweet about the sight of Quynh, unable to hold back a smile, even if trying to hide her face in the pillow, but stubbornly keeping her eyes closed.

“Let me sleep!” Quynh mumbled against her pillow, and she had to bravely accept a kiss on the cheek, but she was finally granted extra time to sleep.

Still wearing a content smile on her face, Andy walked to the kitchen. She was half-way through her first cup of coffee, which she almost dropped, when Nile walked into the kitchen and without even looking Andy in the eyes said, “My grandma used to wake up before everyone else too.”

--

Soon enough, their teasing became a constant in their lives.

“I don’t get it,” Nile complained, dropping her head in a book written in Russian and groaning loudly. 

“It’s not that difficult!” Andy insisted, in perfect Russian.

Nile, assuming what she’d just said, protested, “You only say that because you’re older than the entire language.”

“That’s complicated,” Andy grumbled, still in Russian.

“No, she’s right, darling, you’re that old,” Quynh blurted out in matching Russian, with a few struggles, from her place reading a different book a few feet away on the couch.

After Nile burst out laughing, Andy looked at her with a frown, “Oh so that you understand?!”

--

Even during moments that could have been emotionally difficult, Andy was caught off guard by the ruthlessness of the women around her.

“We can’t do it, it’s too risky,” Andy insisted, about a new sketchy mission offered to them that the youngest member of the family was determined to take, “Listen, Nile…”

“What? I’ll get it when I’m older… than civilization?” Nile crossed her arms defensively, as if that could hide the hint of a smile showing in her lips.

Quynh absolutely failed to stifle a laugh. And when she received a pointed look from her wife, she returned the expression in kind and said, “Was that not the point of whatever you were about to say?”

“We are not taking this job,” Andy stated through clenched teeth, right before learning a valuable piece of information about the mission that they would, in the end, take and successfully complete.

--

“Nile!” Andy yelled, kicking open the door of their latest safe house and storming into the living room. “Nile!”

“What did she do now, and why didn’t she include me?” Quynh walked out of the kitchen with a proud grin already in place.

“Our fake identities just arrived,” Andy grumbled. “Take a look.”

Quynh hummed as she took in her hands the handful of passports Andy passed her. She glanced at them, but found nothing out of the ordinary. “What's the problem, my love? You look frighteninly pretty, as always.”

Although she was still frowning profusely, during a second, a smile broke out on Andy’s face. But then, “She did it on purpose! Look at my age!”

This time, Quynh bit her lip to hold back her smile. After taking a closer look at the passport, she looked up with a small smirk and a playfully raised eyebrow, “Fifty?”

“Fifty!” Andy exclaimed, outraged. “I’ve never been fifty! Fucking fifty! How does she dare-”

“Andromache!” Quynh was openly laughing then. “You are thousands of years old!” When her lover attempted to turn away from her in a rage, Quynh dropped the passports and quickly wrapped her arms around Andy’s waist and hugged her close. “Come on, it’s not a big deal! You don’t look a day over forty eight.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Andy scoffed, but when she turned around to kiss Quynh, there was a small smile on her face.

--

“Quynh! Please tell this crazy old woman to give me back my phone!” Nile stormed into the safe house.

She was quickly followed by Andy saying “We have rules about social media, Nile! To keep us safe.”

Quynh strolled into the living room with a smile on her face that everyone else might have assumed was patient or gentle, but Andy knew it was the kind of smile that brought trouble for her specifically. “Nile, you have to understand,” Quynh said slowly, “She’s too old for this kind of thing.”

As she finished talking, Quynh reached out to take Nile’s phone, Andy quickly blocked her attempt and laughed, “Are you serious?” It started an impressive duel where they fought for the cellphone, with Quynh coming out as the winner for being just slightly quicker, something she would probably remind Andy of for years.

“It’s just a different generation,” Quynh continued to laugh, tossing the phone over to the younger woman a second before Andy threw her arms around her.

“You’re literally older than everyone else in our family combined!” Andy protested as the two of them playfully wrestled in the middle of the living room.

“And you are twice as old as me!” Quynh replied, followed by a yelp of surprise as the love of her life lifted her up from the floor.

The two of them only stopped fighting when they noticed a flash coming from the camera of Nile’s phone. “Hm, you’re both right,” Nile smirked, quickly sending the hilarious picture to their family’s groupchat, “The two of you are ancient.”

Nile walked away from them, leaving behind two women wearing shocked expressions, though Andy was delighted, and Quynh appeared deeply betrayed. “Hey!” Quynh tried to protest, but she was happily interrupted by a kiss from Andy, who a moment later started tickling her, just to start their loving battle all over again.

#✨THE END✨ #probably not the end but let me pretend lmao #technically officially done with the old guard prompts! a year later! it was way too much fun!! i love the immortal wives so so much!!! #HAPPY TOG ANNIVERSARY!!!!! #i still can't believe you guys requested a hundred of these 🥺❤ i love you all so much #the old guard #andromaquynh #andy x quynh #immortal wives #andromache the scythian #quynh #andy and quynh #my fic #prompts

[raedear]

nicky for the character ask :)

NICOLÒ DI GENOVA MY BELOVED

- my favourite thing about Nicky is how IMMEDIATELY and matteroffactly he made sure Nile knew that Joe specifically was the love of his immortal life. it makes me laugh so much, the little point like look, him over there with the curls, not the sad French idiot no, him with the dimples you can't miss him hello Yusuf my love

- how people heard "he thinks you're a mouse, Nicky", somehow missed the dripping sarcasm of that line, and now we can't have nice things about Nicky.

- favourite line: 'As is yours.'

- brOTP: Nicky+Andy besties 5eva

- OTP: my dudes do I even need to answer this one? Has there even been an OTP more OTP than LITERAL CANON IMMORTAL SOULMATES JOE AND NICKY HELLO

- nOTP: I probably don't even need to say but for the new followers among you: if I never see anything Booker/Nicky again it'll be too soon. Keep that away from me.

- random headcanon: Nicky buys two of everything he likes because he knows Joe also likes the things he likes and eventually the things he likes will become Joe's, so it's best just to buy two hoodies in advance and prepare to share. you can tell which ones are Nicky's most though because he wears holes in the wrists keeping his fingers warm

- unpopular opinion: Nicky is not a soft uwu angel, he is in fact a (redeemed!) arsehole who BY HIS OWN ADMISSION hated people like Joe and had to unlearn that shit. it is a vital part of his characterisation and you do him a disservice in the extreme leaving it out. you also do both of them a disservice by having Joe be the super special exception to Nicky's hatred that makes him see the light and stop. this is not an unpopular opinion in my particular circles but take one look at the ao3 tag and it becomes v obvious who disagrees.

- all this and heaven too by Florence + the machine

- favourite picture of them

#ask me anything my dudes

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #42

Prompt number: 6 - “That was impressive”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: joe x nicky, fluff

Credit: Based off this post by @silly-old-guard-aus

AN: Will come back to this. Just wanted to get this prompt done. Super choppy, will probably edit but I’m tired. My sleepy brain says it’s good enough.

They’re in Vegas for their decennial award ceremony. If the others had any say in it, they would be on the other half of the world, sipping cocktails out of coconuts and sunbathing on the crystal-clear beaches. They’re not the host this year though, Joe is, so they’re in Vegas.

Joe knows he wins them over a little bit when they walk into their room. Correction, suite. It’s a two-story villa that has a 24-hour personal butler, a gaming area, a private pool that overlooks the Strip and so much more. He had to reserve the room four years ago just to ensure that they would be able to stay at this place for the week.

Joe’s the first one in the living room as the host. It doesn’t take long for him to set everything up and once he sends the ready text, it only takes another five minutes for them to all come down and join him. Once they’re all settled, Joe begins.  

“Lady and Gentlemen, welcome to the 53rd decennial celebration of our existence! As your host for tonight, I would like to thank each and every one of you for joining me in the wonderful city of Las Vegas.”

“This wasn’t our choice,” Booker points out. Unhelpfully, in Joe’s humble opinion.

Using his decades of experience, Joe ignores him and continues. “To remind you all, we have our six main categories: Best Death, Weirdest Sleeping Spot, Most Outlandish Bet Won, Best Disguise, and Best Excuse for Suddenly Being Not Dead. This year, I have also decided to include Most Embarrassing Technological Mistake, Biggest Explosion and my personal favorite, Dumbest Way to Die.”

The three guests whoop and cheer from the couch.

“We are going to start with a new category tonight: Most Embarrassing Technological Mistake. Most Embarrassing Technological Mistake covers any issues related to technology. For our first nominee, we have Nicolò Di Genova, who had unknowingly been connected to the living room bluetooth speaker when he decided to watch pornography.”

Nicky jumps up off the couch, completely outraged. “It was an ad! For laundry detergent!”

Joe nods, his smile full of fake sympathy and waves for him to sit down. “Do not be ashamed Nicolò, we all know how awful it is to have a partner that doesn’t properly satisfy you.”

“Joe!”

Joe barely contains the grin that wants to make an appearance at his indignant husband. Meanwhile, Andy and Booker don’t even bother hiding their snickers.

“Our next nominee is Sebastien Le Livre, who had unknowingly been texting a young teenager from Wisconsin under the pretense that she was Andy.”

Joe has to dodge a napkin ball that is lobbed at him. Being a host is dangerous work. “Low blow, Joe,” Booker says and Joe shrugs. He isn’t the one who texts teenaged girls.  

“Next, we have Andromache the Scythian. Now, there were many events to choose from and it truly was a difficult process to narrow it down to one. But the mistake that was ultimately chosen for this award show was when Andromache handed over a library card to a very confused cashier. When the cashier had asked if it was the right card, our dear Andromache had snapped back that there was two hundred dollars on it.”

“I thought it was the debit card!” Oh Andy. The library card wasn’t even the right color.

“Finally, we have Yusuf Al Kaysani, who accidentally ordered fifty gallons of lubricant online for pick-up and received the most judgmental stares from those CVS employees.”

Booker bursts out laughing as he remembers that awful, awful night. “Their faces! They had to help you put it in the trunk because there was so much.”

Joe doesn’t scowl. He doesn’t. If his middle finger goes up as he scratches his eye, then that’s purely a coincidence.

“Now that we have our nominees, it’s time to announce the winner.” Joe pulls the first envelope out of his jacket pocket. “And the winner for Most Embarrassing Technological Mistake is…” he flips open the card that was inside and wow, he didn’t expect that one. “Sebastien Le Livre! Congratulations Sebastien, please come up here to claim your reward.”

Joe tosses the card and envelope to the side to pick up the first prize. He hands it to Booker, “For people who cannot be trusted with technology.”

Booker holds the prize up, a puzzled expression on his face. “This is a rock.”

“It is,” Joe agrees. “Anybody you want to thank?”

Booker looks at the black rock in his hand, looks back up at them and shrugs. “I guess I want to thank Dianna? This wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

Joe gently pats Booker on the back, “Thank you, Sebastien. Please go take a seat.”

“That was impressive,” Andy admits when Booker is back in his seat and takes another sip of her drink. “Did you pull a muscle trying to smile?”

“Fuck you,” he responds, stealing her drink. He’s smiling into the glass though, doing a lousy attempt of dodging out of the way as Andy reaches over to ruffle his gelled back hair. “Alright! Alright! The next category is going to be announced and I want to beat you again.”

Andy rolls her eyes, giving him one last pat before sitting back into her spot, ready for whatever Joe was going to throw at them next.

Part 2

#joe x nicky #the old guard #booker #andromache the scythian #fictober20 #hc

[victimhood]

Nicolò Di Genova: “Football is my faith, San Siro is my church”

The Guardian, 22 May 2028

“I have no regrets, not even the World Cup.” Inter Milan captain Nicolò Di Genova has announced his retirement from club football. He will play on with the national squad for the 2028 Euros this summer, where his country plays host, his swan song before the final bow.

The man and the mystery started out as a 7 year old with the youth side of Genoa Cricket and Football Club, the oldest football team in Italy. He played with his hometown club for 10 years, making nearly 30 appearances for the under-17s before moving on to the Primavera side, where he established himself as a regular starter at the center of defence. Before the age of 18, he was named to the first team bench, and after only 3 starting appearances, he was snapped up by Inter Milan for €30 million.

A crowded roster meant that he was loaned out to get playing time, and he made his way to England, for the Wolverhampton Wolves under the prophetic Nuno Espírito Santo. The Wolves were a well-regarded team of underdogs, and during his spell, the team reached the semifinals of the FA Cup and achieved a 7th place finish, sneaking into the Europa League under special circumstances.

He was recalled to Inter Milan from the 2019-2020 season onwards, a season of unusual circumstances when the COVID-19 pandemic spiraled in Italy, leading to the declaration of a total lockdown in early March 2020 that delayed the season end until August of the same year. The pandemic also meant that the 2020 Euros were postponed to the following year. Where the early buzz was that this player might be Chiellini’s heir in the lineage of great Italian defenders, it was the summer of 2021 that he sealed his place as the heir apparent.

Against a host of superstars old and new, in a tournament star-studded with the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo, Kylian Mbappé, and Erling Haaland, one man rose to brutalize them all. Fearless, reckless, and with a single-minded focus on preventing a goal at all costs, Di Genova was the insatiable black hole to these superstars, swallowing all their light and shine, with no regard to the entertainment value of TV audiences worldwide. Quickly building a reputation as a fearsome menace and a bully, his playing style did not make for attractive viewing, at times defying the stereotype of the measured Italian defender with his English-style grit as if in homage to the origins of his boyhood club.

Then again, the best central defenders make the most natural candidates for captaincy, and this is where Di Genova’s reputation acquired some polish. After a league-winning 2020-2021 season beset with financial problems, in which the majority of Inter players went unpaid for months, the older players and bigger names were sold to keep the club liquid. Di Genova found himself in the fortuitous position of going from substitute captain to a permanent one, at the tender age of 24. Blessed with a chiseled face like a Roman statue, emanating a raw, unbridled masculinity and sporting a fresh haircut that signaled the beginning of the post-vaccine era, his popularity began to surge on account of being the subject of viral memes.

Adversity sometimes breeds success, and in the midst of Inter Milan’s financial turmoil, together with Yusuf Al Kaysani and Dominik Brunczvik, he formed the steadfast backbone of Antonio Conte’s old-school catenaccio-flavored 3-5-2. Discipline, organization and solidity were key values, leading to a consecutive scudetto win even as the club had to undergo financial restructuring. His partnership with Yusuf Al Kaysani in particular withstood the onslaught of uncertainty that plagued the club for years, and a revolving door of managers who flip flopped between a back three and back four lineup. At Inter, they were the new “silk and steel” in the tradition of Claudio Gentile and Gaetano Scirea, with Di Genova providing the mettle and Al Kaysani the flair.

Though he is not a one club man, his near decade of service at Inter Milan have made him the bastion of loyalty, earning the undying adulation of all Interisti. Other clubs have tried to come knocking, and yet those efforts to lure him away never amounted to much. His devotion to the club is such that even rival fans cite him as a player with old-school values they truly respect, in a world where money speaks loudest.

For all his loyalty to his club, there is one other that takes precedence—the national team. Sometimes seeming like he stepped off from a different era into the modern game, Di Genova radiates the energy of a classic man-of-the-people footballer for whom a call-up to the national team is the highest honor. Putting in solid performances in the 2022 World Cup, Italy made it to the finals with the fewest goals conceded, only to lose the trophy to Germany in a penalty shootout. By Euro 2024, he was named captain of the Azzurri, and he took his team to an inspired victory over Belgium. As for the 2026 World Cup, despite the controversy of the final, it was his ability to stop important goals that brought the Azzurri there, and he has a winner’s medal to prove his worth despite being unable to lift the trophy.

A fiercely private individual, he keeps his personal life strictly out of the public eye. This hard boundary only serves to further the enigma and mystique, such that he is spoken of with the kind of mythos usually reserved for the ancient gods. He started out as a brute and a bully, the burden of captaincy taming his wilder impulses, with years of dependability to burnish his credibility. He now has the unassailable reputation of a great military general, a charismatic leader able to command authority over a field of jostling, overinflated egos.

Never one to shy from an ugly victory when the circumstances call for it, he provided the grit and backbone to Andy Skifska’s glitzy, fast-attacking team. Trusted by Skifska to lock the deadbolt across goal, he finally achieved the coveted Champions League in the 2026-2027 season, with a garnish of the Club World Cup in 2028.

He retires as someone who has taken his team to victory in every major tournament, the faithful servant of club and country. Within Italy, he is an undisputed national hero with a permanent spot in the pantheon of calcio greats. To his legions of adoring fans, he remains a former heartthrob, or absolute beast, depending on who you ask, and a role model and cautionary tale at the same time.

It is difficult to get any quotes from the man himself, but when asked about his retirement plans at the final league match of the season, he coyly replies, “I am going to take a long holiday, and then, we will see.”

(taken from Chapter 103 of The Beautiful Game)

#the old guard #football!AU #nicolo di genova #tog: the beautiful game #tog fc #tog fanfic #THIS IS A FAKE ARTICLE #it looks a bit too real lmao #or maybe i am overthinking #but this is just fanfic!!! fanfic!

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

So last week was a particularly tough one for me, one of the rubbish things about getting older is that everyone I used to rely on now has their own lives. I’m no longer the practice baby because they all have their own so when life hits like a ton of bricks, I’m usually just left to crawl through it alone but this time I had help here. I could log in and there’d be a beautiful piece of artwork, a mind blowing gif, some incredible writing or a fun ask game going on and long story short it all just helped so much that I wanted to give something back, even if it pales in comparison its the thought that counts right? Anyway this little sort of AU idea has been floating around my head for a while so I decided to try to write it out as an ode to all the lovely blogs, just for being their wonderful selves. @yusufnicolo @ssungods @marwankenzari @nicolodigenovas @noenoaholi @aliceblakeart @ahkaraii @fereldenturnip @hachinana87 @luminarai @mannadraws @tiups @monicashipsnickyjoe @nico-di-genova @nilefreemans @quyhns @fantasticbeastsandheretofindthem @leanconnoli @pirateladyoftherbbc @spearmintthief @starsisbig @stuart-littles-gay-attorney Thank you so much and sorry in advance.

I’ve Been Dreaming Of You My Whole Life.

A Joe/Nicky tale.

When Yusuf was finally born there was no wailing, no snuffling, no hiccuping sobs, just silence. His mother wasn’t surprised, it had been a long and arduous labour and she was too numb to be sad or disappointed yet. No one tried to save little Yusuf, he was born in a different time, no one yet knew how or that it was even possible. Although a short time later when baby Yusuf not only started to breathe, but scream as healthily as any other baby, all on his own, they were all delighted by their miracle. No one questioned it, just grateful for their beautiful bundle of joy, especially when their first born turned out to be their only child.

Little Nicolò was a surprise, born as the third child to parents thought too old to have another, his elder siblings taking care of him when he would become too fussy and restless. Ten year old, Lucia would take her baby brother on long walks to entertain him, fashioning a sling to carry him on her back when his little legs grew tired of walking. Thirteen year old, Ermo on his way back from town, caught up to his younger siblings on the road leading back to their home. Nico was tiring of being carried, kicking and whining, but the sun was starting to set and not wanting to stop so close to home, Ermo agreed to hold Nicolò steady while he was released from his sling. Disaster struck, however, when the teen was distracted by their neighbours daughter waving enthusiastically and shouting his name, Ermo turned his back on his siblings to return her attentions and Nicolò fell from the sling hitting the ground with a dull thud. An impassioned argument started between the two siblings until they realised with horror that for the first time in his life Nicolò was completely silent and frighteningly still. Ermo sprinted home to fetch their parents but by the time the family arrived back to where the accident had happened, Nicolò was up and wandering around, babbling to his sobbing sister. Their father checked Nicolò over and they went home, not thinking too much of it, just happy that the littlest member was unharmed but the two older siblings learned to be much more careful with their baby brother.

Yusuf had always dreamed of three people, always the same three people, until one day he started to dream of a little boy as well. Unfortunately for Yusuf he didn’t have any real friends, other children were always mean to him even though he was always kind, he didn’t understand why but he didn’t mind much. Instead he kept the people from his dreams close to him, taking them into his heart, they became his friends, hoping one day the weapon wielding ladies and their battle ready companion would come and rescue him from his ordinary and lonely life. The dreams of the boy with the sky coloured eyes and the wild mop of hair started just as life became simultaneously better and worse for Yusuf, better for his new friend, worse in the way he was treated, although the other children’s scorn at a growing boy having imaginary friends did have one advantage in that, in his attempt to explain how he saw the world, Yusuf became a highly adept artist.

The dreams were interpreted differently by Nicolò, when he saw a tiny baby or a little boy with a head full of tiny ringlets, kind eyes and a dazzling smile mixed with images of three adults, always together, smiling even in battle; Nicolò thought them a calling. Visions of a numinous little boy mistaken for the Messiah and, depending on how old Nicolò was, either disciples or those known as the Three Wise Men. His family encouraged this hypothesis when he told them of the dreams, especially after a few years of the same recurring characters, even if the dreams themselves sometimes differed, no one questioned the theory that there were bigger plans for their Nico. The dreams fuelled his belief, strengthening it all throughout his life, thinking he’d been chosen for a purpose, especially as his morals wavered over a choice between leaving the priesthood or joining Ermo in going to battle. Nicolò wasn’t sure he was as brave as the three friends he saw every night but by his late teens he was sure his visions were guiding him in the right direction so he set off with his big brother.

Once word of invaders reached Yusuf’s people he suddenly became less enamoured with the idea of people who fought so easily. Images of the blue eyed boy, slowly becoming a man, were always fewer than those of the three unlikely best friends but he now woke in a cold sweat whenever he saw them. Their laughter once joyful, now seemed taunting rather than comforting. Yusuf began to wonder whether he’d known of the invasion all his life and had never heeded the warning. He offered to take night watch, learning how to fight in the day, readying himself to defend his home until bone deep exhaustion took over and he didn’t dream, just slept. He repeated this behaviour until the battle came, although he almost missed it, running into the fray in time to see sky blue eyes, that he knew better than he knew his own, staring back in disbelief.

Nicolò’s shock was quickly taken over by anger, deep rooted fear that maybe what he’d been seeing for as long as he could remember wasn’t what he thought after all, that he’d blindly walked into this life. The trust he’d put into his assumed visions shattering as he stared back into the face of the young man he should hate but knew all too well, leaving deep betrayal and visions of the horrors he’d seen since he started his journey bubbling in his mind's eye, fuelling his rage like a lightning storm, death, destruction and his big brother’s broken body and lifeless eyes causing a red mist. Nicolò was unseeing with it, could barely breathe and trembling with the need to do something.

Yusuf couldn’t quite believe his eyes, rubbing at them trying to clear what he presumed was a sleep deprived haze, those distinctive features, the azure eyes staring back, it just seemed impossible, especially when they mirrored such recognition. Surely such a kind and brilliant person couldn’t be a part of this, couldn’t be a part of the death and destruction of the reputation that preceded the invaders, eyes so beautifully blue that crinkled just so when he smiled, couldn’t hate so deeply that he would join such an unjust cause. It had to be a hallucination or maybe he was still asleep and dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d dreamed of battles, only those dreams were usually filled with laughter whereas now all he could hear was the clangs of metal and the rage of men.

Nicolò charged forward not really sure what he was doing, what he really wanted to do was run away, far away, all the way back home. He didn’t know why he was running into the mess that surrounded him, he certainly didn’t realise he was holding his sword until it was sticking in the boy he’d been dreaming of for as long as he could remember, who seemed equally shocked to have instinctively reached for his own weapon slicing blindly but precisely. The choking and lack of breath wasn’t as scary as Nico had assumed it would be. The rage he’d felt not moments ago draining from him in an instant was replaced by a deep disappointment that he’d never get to find out what the dreams meant or who the boy now in front of him was. It was a little late to ask even if they had the capacity to do so and as he sunk to the ground watching the light fade from the familiar brown eyes and from around his vision he wondered if they’d meet again, wherever it was they were going now.

Waking alone in a field full of bodies but the one you died with felt bizarre to Yusuf, he still wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming but he was quite sure his imagination wasn’t good enough to conjure the sights and smells that surrounded him, his only comfort being that there seemed to be more dead invaders than those of his people. He realised that he now had a choice, he could go home and wait for the next battle or he could leave in the hopes of catching up to the blue eyed boy, in the hopes of getting some answers. Maybe he knew that they dreamed of each other, maybe he dreamed of the three friends too and maybe he knew why they dreamed of each other. Although right now a more pressing question seemed to be why did you just stab me? but somehow Yusuf instinctively knew that he’d not really meant it, or maybe that was wishful thinking. As he checked himself for the wound he realised it was missing, he wondered again if he was just dreaming but decided either way he was going after his friend. Yusuf chuckled to himself as he realised that he still classed his murderer as his friend, maybe there was something wrong with him like the others had always said after all.

It was three days after the battle and Nicolò had never felt so alone, his brother and his battalion dead, the person he dreamed of was too. He wondered if this was his punishment for questioning his purpose, being left to roam the world alone, maybe he’d get home and find his mother and sister gone too. Nicolò just wanted to sleep but he couldn’t, images taking over his mind, the resonating metal, the taste of blood, tiny matted ringlets on a lifeless body that usually exuded vivacity, he was almost certain he’d only stopped being ill because his body had nothing left to give. At this point he really didn’t care, he would either finally get some rest or his body would give up altogether but the footsteps coming towards him had him instinctively on his feet, weapon in hand and he was reminded that he came from a long line of warriors, it’d take more than a little brooding to change who he was, who he came from, they were all a part of him whether he liked it or not.

Yusuf shuffled to a stop, three days he’d walked and now here he was with a blade sticking out of his chest, he supposed by now he shouldn’t be surprised but surprise was one of the emotions reflected back at him in the sleep deprived, manic blue eyes of the one person he was determined to find, though Yusuf’s slowly staling brain wondered if this one was real, maybe the other three were too. Consciousness flickered as he fell to his knees, concern, confusion and, going by the little crinkle in his dark eyebrows, annoyance pouring out of the blue, washing over Yusuf along with the warmth of the campfire that had led him in the right direction, the yellow light causing some of the flecks to appear green adding an ethereal aura to the one person he simultaneously knew and didn’t, who he fervently he hoped he’d wake again to see.

Present Day

“I thought you said you’d killed each other many times” Nile asked

“Oh, we did! Not always on purpose, of course,” Joe laughed

“We didn’t speak the same language, communication was difficult to start with,” Nicky elaborated, turning back to the stove.

“It sounds like there’s a story behind that!” Nile exclaimed, excitedly banging her hands on the kitchen table.

“Oh there is,” Andy sniggered, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Please, no,” Nicky whined, refusing to look at the group.

“Tell Nile what the first thing you learned to say was,” Andy tittered, Nile turning her full attention to Nicky’s back. Joe reached out to hold Nicky’s hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth as Nicky mumbles inaudibly.

“What was that?” Nile asked giddily.

“I’ve been dreaming of you my whole life,” Joe and Nicky repeat in unison, Nicky turned to look at Joe, a soft smile crinkling his eyes.

Neither man notices Nile’s revering gaze or Andy silently gaining her attention and them both sneaking out the kitchen leaving the lovers to their reminiscing.

#this took a week and i still hate it #i’m sorry in advance #i’m so so sorry #i hope i’m doing this tag thing properly #usercacau #userbones #userlyde #userseph #thekingslover #noenoaholi #togsource #and all the others #i’m probably forgetting someone #i’m sorry #the old guard #tog #immortal family #immortal husbands #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #yusuf x nicolo #joe x nicky #nicolo x yusuf #nicky x joe #kaysanova #andromache of scythia #andy #nile freeman #nile

[even-after-a-millennia]

For Family

I wrote my first Old Guard fic!  I was inspired by @bestillmyslashyheart​‘s fic “under the sea” found here as well as @under-jailbreak​‘s post here.  

You can keep reading it below or read it on ao3 here.

The man arrived in the middle of the night.  Sebastien startled awake when he heard the front door open, still fresh from the battlefield where any noise could mean death.  He took a moment to take stock of his surroundings.  He was alone in the room where before, he and the two women had been sleeping.  The two other women who were also immortal.

Just like him.

He collapsed back into bed, hand over his eyes as reality hit him once more.  He had died.  He had felt life leave him.  Then suddenly, inexplicably, he was taking a gulping heave of air in, suddenly alive again.  He had seen two women in between death and life.

Less than two weeks later, they found him, drinking every bit of alcohol he could find and lying in a gutter.  The women, Andy and Quynh, took him back to their dwelling to sleep it off.  The answers he got when he was sober again made him wish for more to drink.

He couldn’t die.

“What of my family?” he asked immediately.

The look on Quynh’s face was enough, but Andy answered, “No.  Only you.”

He had stopped asking questions after that.

Sebastien now listened to the voices in the hall.

“Thank you for coming, I know how you hate to stop searching.” Quynh’s measured tone was affectionate as it was cautious.

“I dreamed there was a new one,” an accented voice replied.  Italian, Sebastien guessed.

Sebastien got out of bed and walked to the doorway.  There were three people in the hall, Andy and Quynh and the newcomer.  The man immediately noticed Sebastien and nodded to him.

“Nico, this is Sebastien le Livre.  Sebastien, this is Nicolò di Genova.  He is one of us,” Andy said.

“Hello,” Sebastien said, nodding back to the man.

It was odd.  The man, Nicolò, had kind but hollow eyes.  He looked like he didn’t eat enough, cheeks thin as the rest of him.  And he seemed curled into himself, like the act of standing tall was beyond him.  But he looked at the two women with affection in his gaze even as it seemed to hurt to do so.

Sebastien didn’t know what to make of him.

Nicolò asked Andy and Quynh something in rapid fire Italian and they responded just as quickly, making it hard for Sebastien to follow.  He caught random words “dream” and something that sounded like a name, but it was so quick, he couldn’t be sure.

Turning back to Sebastien, Nicolò smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  “I am sorry to disturb your sleep.  Please, don’t stay up on my account.”

Sebastien nodded and took his words as a dismissal.  He went back to bed but it took a long while for him to be able to get back to sleep, hearing the murmur of voices in the kitchen without being able to make out the words.  Finally, his eyes slipped closed and stayed there, falling into an uneasy sleep.

It was like when he died.  He saw someone else.  A man with curly hair and a smile that split his face and brightened his eyes.  He saw Nicolò, but he looked different, happier and full of life.  Full of love.  Then they were in chains, then dying by noose, by fire.  Finally, the man was torn away from Nicolò, who was screaming, eyes filled with tears, spilling unobserved down his face.  

“Yusuf!” Nicolò screamed again and again, thrashing against the chains holding him back, blood dripping from his wrists.  Sebastien heard something crack, but the man paid the pain no mind, only fought harder.

Sebastien started twitching in his sleep as he saw the man, Yusuf, being dragged to a waiting iron maiden.

“Nicolò, Nicolò, I love you!  My love!  Nicolò!” Yusuf shouted.  It wasn’t in English or French, not even Italian, but in the dream, Sebastien somehow understood him.

The iron maiden closed.  The men both still screamed each other’s names. Yusuf’s cries resounded in his cage. 

Then Yusuf was on a boat, beating against the metal around him.

Then he wasn’t on the boat anymore.  Water was everywhere, saturating his clothes, closing around him, invading his lungs.

He died.

And died.

And died.

Sebastien awoke with a gasp and a shudder before leaning over the cot he had been sleeping on and vomiting onto the floor.  He was surprised to find his sick made up of food and not water, still so immersed in the dream.

There was a clatter from the next room over, then the other immortals rushed into the room.  Andy took one look at Sebastien and the mess on the floor and left again.  Quynh followed.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastien said, gasping.  “Horrible dream.”

Andy came back in with a cloth and started wiping up the mess.

“You saw Yusuf, didn’t you,” Nicolò said and it was a statement, not a question.  Andy glanced at Nicolò, then Sebastien, then quietly left the room.

Sebastien stared at him, then nodded.  “He was with you…  You both died so many times.  Then…” he broke off, haunted by the screams still echoing in his head.

Nicolò nodded.  “He was taken from me.  I’ve been looking ever since.”

“When was that?” Sebastien asked, unable to be more specific.

“1614.”

“Over two hundred years?!  He’s been down there for - oh God,” Sebastien said, ready to vomit again.  The only thing that stopped him was the broken look in Nicolò’s eyes.  Sebastien feared losing his family, but Nicolo looked like he already had. 

“Please, is there anything you can tell me from the dream?  You saw him, yes, but what was around him?  Try to remember,” Nicolò encouraged gently.

Sebastien took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  “The coffin was covered in rust.  The chains as well.  It was dark and cold and -” he broke off shuddering.

Nicolò’s head drooped.  Sebastien felt horrible that he didn’t know more, that he couldn’t help more.

“Let’s get you some tea,” Nicolò said, standing.

Quynh already had the tea steeping when they arrived in the kitchen.  She poured for everyone and Andy put a splash of alcohol in Sebastien’s mug.  He silently saluted her before raising it to his lips and drinking.

“He saw Yusuf,” Quynh said, and again, it wasn’t a question.

Nicolò nodded, then let out a breath, putting his head in his hands.

“At the very least,” he said, his voice muffled as he spoke towards the floor, “we know he is still alive.”

Andy nodded.  “For now, that is enough.”

__________________________________________

The dreams became depressingly normal to Sebastien.  He had the small consolation in knowing that his constantly drowning companion could also see what he saw.  Andy and Quynh and Nicolò.  Sunshine and wine and good things in life.  Sebastien tried to push them down whatever strange connection was between him and Yusuf.  But mostly, he tried to send the moments he spent with Nicolò, as he knew those would be what Yusuf would cling to the most.  Nicolò quietly laughing at something Andy had said.  Nicolò sleeping.  Nicolò sparring with Quynh.

Nicolò hated to be away from the search, but agreed to stay a fortnight to help acclimate Sebastien to his new existence.  He also seemed to hope that Sebastien’s dreams would give him a new clue as to search for his love next.  No matter how minute, Sebastien tried to share every detail he remembered.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

Sebastien gasped awake the day before Nicolò had planned to leave and immediately sprang out of bed.  Andy and Quynh startled awake across the room, but he paid them no mind.

“Where is Nicolò?” he asked, looking around.  He burst out of the bedroom and found Nicolò at the dining table, whittling.  At Sebastien’s sudden entrance, he stopped and stared at him with wide eyes.

“What is it?  Is it Yusuf?  Does he live?” Nicolò asked, standing.

Sebastien couldn’t keep the huge, manic smile off his face as he crossed to Nicolò and clasped his hands.  “Nicolò, I felt him breathe.”

Nicolò looked at him blankly.

“I felt him breathe air,” Sebastien said.

Nicolò blinked.  Once.  Twice.  Then his eyes widened as the significance hit him.

“He is out?” he asked.

“I felt the moment his head broke the surface.  I felt his first free breath.  He is out of that cage.  He is free,” Sebastien said, unable to stop his eyes from tearing up.

“Santa Maria, Madre di Dio,” Nicolò whispered, his own eyes welling with tears.

They collapsed into each other.  It didn’t matter they had known each other a short while.  It didn’t matter that Sebastien had only known the pain of Yusuf’s plight for a fraction of the time Nicolò had been tortured with it.  They both shook with relief and tears until more arms wrapped around them and they both turned to Andy and Quynh, who had worry etched into their faces.

“He is out, he is free,” Nicolò sobbed and Quynh gave a cry before embracing Nicolò herself.  Andy inhaled sharply like she had been the one to finally breathe freely after centuries and wrapped her arms around the two of them, her hand cupping the back of Nicolò’s head.  They broke apart, all smiling tearily.

Sebastien grabbed glasses and a bottle of wine from the kitchen, filling them.

“A toast,” he said, handing them around.  “To Yusuf’s freedom!”

They all raised their glasses, then drank deeply.

____________________________________________

One would think that once Yusuf was out of the coffin, the dreams would get easier.  One would be wrong.

For three nights afterward, Sebastien was subjected to the agony of Yusuf getting to shore from wherever he had been.  He would swim and fight exhaustion, eventually giving in and attempting to float for a while, only to fall asleep and wake to another lungful of water.  How horrible, Sebastien thought, to die over and over for centuries then finally be free, only to die again.  Not truly free from the ocean’s torment.

The fourth night, Sebastien felt sand under Yusuf’s feet.  He saw cliffs overlooking a beach.

Finally, on the fifth night, he saw the name of the town Yusuf had washed up to.

The best and worst part: he was already in France.

They all left together.  Nicolò pushed them to travel quickly, though it wasn’t as if any of them wished to dawdle.  Andy and Quynh had a tightness around their eyes as they moved across France.  Sebastien tried to stay calm, but he had a hard time when everyone else was so on edge.  

Sebastien dreamed Yusuf had managed to find a kind farmwife that let him trade work for food and shelter.  He saw the town name and it seemed like Yusuf was focusing on it, trying to push it down their connection.  In turn, Sebastien tried to tell him they were coming, Nicolò was coming.

They arrived late at night to the town Sebastien had seen.  They pushed their horses forward one more time, until they found a farmhouse that matched what Sebastien had seen in his dreams.  There was a barn a ways away, across a small field.

There was a fire burning just outside it.  There, a single man sat.  As the horses cantered closer, he rose and his face was illuminated by the fire.

Nicolò made a noise that Sebastien had never heard from a human and greatly hoped he would never hear again.  It was joy and love and agony all in a single exclamation.  He pulled up his horse as he got closer, leapt from the saddle, and sprinted across the distance between him and Yusuf with his arms outstretched.  Yusuf grinned and ran towards him as well, his arms also open.  The impact of their bodies reconnecting after two centuries was loud enough for Sebastien to hear it as he slowed his horse.  

“Nicolò, amore mio, habibi, I knew you’d find me,” Yusuf said, holding his love tight to him.

Nicolò didn’t seem to be able to speak yet.  By the way his shoulders were shaking, he seemed to be quite overcome with emotion.  Yusuf continued to speak to him, switching from one language to the next, most that Sebastien didn’t know, but the words were not for him anyway.

Nicolò eventually pulled away enough to look at Yusuf’s face, then rested his forehead against Yusuf’s.  “I love you,” he said simply but profoundly.  “I’m sorry I didn’t say it then.”

Sebastien flashed to the moment Yusuf was being dragged away, screaming his love to Nicolò, Nicolò screaming Yusuf’s name back.

“Oh, habibi,” Yusuf said.  He pulled Nicolò in once more.  “You may not have said the words then, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t hear them.  They are engraved into my heart, my very soul.  I was never without them.”

“Romantic as ever,” Andy said, smiling as if the tears on her face weren’t shining in the light of the fire.

Yusuf pulled away from Nicolò, but kept hold of his hand.  “Andromache,” he said, smiling.  It was a different smile than the one he gave Nicolò, but just as warm.

They embraced, Andy hiding her face in the crook on his shoulder for a moment.  

“Mmm, it is good to see you.  You look good,” he said, moving away to look at her.

She smirked.  “You look alright.”

He laughed and Nicolò had a small smile on his face from the sound.

“Quynh,” Yusuf said, holding out his arms.  She melted into his embrace, rocking side to side as they held each other.  They both laughed softly.

She leaned back to cup his cheek.  “It is good to see you.”

“And you,” Yusuf said, smiling hugely.

He turned to Sebastien, who had just been observing the tender moment.  When their eyes met, Sebastien had a hard time holding his gaze.  He knew this man’s torment, he had felt it, but he didn’t actually know him.

“You must be Sebastien,” Yusuf said, holding out a hand.  “Thank you for the dreams.  They gave me strength.”

Sebastien stepped forward and they clasped elbows.  “It is a pleasure to meet you face to face,” he said truthfully.

Yusuf nodded and stepped back, meeting Nicolò’s chest with his back and settling into the man’s space.  Nicolò settled his hands around Yusuf’s waist and put his chin on his shoulder.  He turned his face and ran his nose up his love’s neck, eyes closing.  Yusuf put his hands over Nicolò and relaxed.

In fact, the whole group had the least amount of tension amongst them since Sebastien had met them.

But standing with them all, Nicolò and Yusuf wrapped up in each other, Andy and Quynh holding hands and leaning against one another, he was suddenly, vividly reminded that while these people were eternal, everyone else in his life was not.  

He felt the sudden need to get to his family.

Even surrounded by his fellow immortals, he felt alone.

_____________________________________

The loneliness remained.

If anything, it got worse.

One by one, his family died.  His wife.  His sons, Jean-Pierre last of all.  Everyone who loved him from before was gone.  He stayed by their sides through each loss, seeing Andy and the others sparingly throughout the years, hating to be away from his family during the time they had left.

Only he and his fellow immortals remained.

Nicolò and Yusuf spent a hundred years after reuniting travelling across Europe, eventually staying in Malta for a few decades.  Andy, Quynh, and Sebastien did what they could to help humanity from the shadows.

After Jean-Pierre died, Sebastien changed his name.  That man had died with his family.

He went by Booker now.

Nicolò and Yusuf joined them after a hundred years and it was a pleasure to get to know the two of them.  Nicolò was a changed man with Yusuf by his side.  While he had never been hugely emotive, he had a different air about him.  Existing didn’t weigh him down anymore.

Booker only wished he could say the same.

They all went to Cuba, then to the United States.  They worked together to fight for what they believed in.  They became closer, a family.  Andy, Quynh, Nicky, Joe, and Booker against the world.

In 2018, Andy and Quynh decided to travel alone for a while, like Nicky and Joe had so many years ago.  Joe and Nicky offered to let Booker stay with them in the meantime, but he declined.  He went back to France.  He drank.  He walked the streets where he had existed as a different man.  He drank some more.

Then he picked up the phone and contacted James Copley.

He liked Copley.  The job they had worked for him had gone well and the man seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.

The man who picked up the phone didn’t sound like the same man he had met a few years ago, but he agreed to meet Booker.

They talked.  About life and death and losing those they loved.  How tired they were.  How they wished they could do more.

“What if I could help?” Booker asked.

“What do you mean?” Copley replied, not understanding.

Booker sighed, then slashed across his palm, barely grunting at the pain it caused.  He held out his palm and watched as Copley saw the skin reform.

“How-?” Copley said, reeling.

“I don’t know.  If I did, I would be able to stop it.  But you might know someone who could find out,” Booker replied.  He tried not to let his desperation show.  He just wanted it to end.

“The others…” Copley said, putting it together.  “Your team-”

“Their existence remains between the two of us, or there will be no accord between us,” Booker said insistently.

Copley nodded.  “I swear it.”

“Good.”

Booker paused and sighed.  “Before I turn myself over to you, could I make a request?”

“Anything.”

“I need one more mission.  Can you find me one?” Booker asked.

“With how the world is today?” Copley asked derisively.  “It won’t be a problem.”

“Merci,” Booker said, raising his glass to salute Copley, who did the same.  Together, they drank.

_____________________________________

It was so good to be with his family again.  There were hugs and laughter and bets placed as Nicky gave Andy a piece of baklava.  Booker let himself revel in the happiness these people brought him, knowing soon enough, he would be leaving them.

Andy was skeptical of Copley, insisting they didn’t do repeats, but finally agreed to listen to him.

He told them of the hostage situation.  The girls who were taken.  Gave them maps and numbers.

Andy couldn’t say no after that.

As they walked away, Booker looked back and saluted Copley, who nodded to him before looking around and waving the other direction, towards where Nicky and Joe had been watching over them.  

They used a helicopter to approach.  Quynh, Joe, and Nicky all had their swords next to their guns.  Andy’s ax was strapped to her back.  Booker had no such antiquated weapon, just prepared explosives as they travelled.  It only emphasized the age difference between them.

They existed for so long before me, he thought.  They can do so again when I am gone.

The mission went along without incident.  Nicky took out the perimeter guards and then they slowly made their way through the compound.  They paused before a door with a pile of shoes next to it.  Joe looked down at it and Booker could see the anguish and anger in his eyes.  Booker looked around and saw the resolve in all his family’s stances.

He blew the door and as one, they burst through where it used to be and immediately moved to take out the guards while putting themselves between the remaining men and the girls huddled in the corner.

Then there were no more guards, just blood and bodies.

They moved the girls to the rendezvous point Copley had set up.  There, they saw the ecstatic reunion of families and their children.

Soon, that will be me and my boys, Booker allowed himself to think.  He felt a deep ache at the thought, but pushed it back.  This was not the time for thoughts such as those.  This was time to spend with the family he had left.

They crashed at a safe house together, drinking and talking until the sun came up.  Laughter rang out many times, affection laced in the tone of all present.

Finally, Booker cleared his throat.  “I think I will go back to France for a while,” he said.  “I wish to go home.”

The others nodded.  

“Do you want us to accompany you?” Nicky asked.

Booker smiled.  “No, thank you.  This is something I will do alone.”

“Well,” Joe said, rising with arms open, “we wish you well until we see you next, brother.”

Booker had to squeeze his eyes closed in the crook of Joe’s neck to reign in his emotions.

Quynh was next.  “Stay well, Booker.”

“You as well, Quynh.”

Andy’s hands cupped his face and he worked to control his expression, lest she sense something wrong.  “We will be here when you are ready, Book.  Come back whenever.”

“Thank you, Andy.”

Nicky was last.  They clasped elbows then pulled each other into an embrace.  Of all his immortal family, Booker realized, he would miss Nicolò the most.

“À la prochaine,” Nicky murmured and Booker could do nothing but nod.

And then he left.

______________________________________

He had been the object of Merrick’s “experimentation” for three weeks when he had a dream.  A soldier, a woman, the red of her blood as her neck bled, her friend’s wide eyes and bloody hands as she tried to keep her alive.

He awoke with a gasp.

“No. No no no,” he muttered, thrashing against the restraints on his chest, wrists, and ankles.  

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, he just woke up like this!”

“Well, sedate him!”

And then there was darkness.

He woke to pain and his own screaming.  When he eventually succumbed and died again, he saw Andy.  He saw her and the new woman, Nile, fight.  Saw Andy’s eyes light up when Nile landed a punch.

When he awoke, he had to admit, anyone who could actually hit Andromache the Scythian had a lot of potential.

The next time he died, he saw the others.  They were eating, telling Nile about their different lives.  It was a balm to see his family again, but it did nothing to release the piercing ache in his chest.

Every time he died on that accursed table, he hoped it would be the last time.

Instead, he dreamed.

He saw his family’s anger.  Why were they angry?  He saw Copley.  What was Copley doing with the others?  Finally, he saw the building he had gone to when he turned himself in and he understood long before he heard the gunshots that pulled him awake.

His family was coming for him.

Andy was the first one through the door.  She incapacitated the doctor who had been torturing Booker before he could say anything.  The others poured in, even Nile.

“Booker!” Nicky exclaimed, looking at him.

“No!  No, you cannot be here!” Booker said frantically.  “They cannot know of you!”

“Too bad, we weren’t going to just leave you here, as they did that to you,” the new woman, Nile, said, gesturing to his body.

Taking a moment to look at himself, he could see why there was so much concern in their faces.  He was covered in dried blood.

“You all shouldn’t have come,” he said sadly.

“What are you talking about?” Joe said, pushing forward and starting to undo the clasps of the binding.  “Of course we would come for you.  They were torturing you, Booker.”

“No, Joe, leave them,” Booker insisted.

Joe stopped and stepped back.

“Booker…” Andy said, considering him in concern.

He forced himself to smile.  “I’m sorry.  This wasn’t a mission that required a rescue.”

“What are you saying, Booker?” Quynh asked.

He saw the moment Andy understood.  She closed her eyes and shook her head.  “No.” 

Booker shrugged as much as he could in the restraints.  “Merrick might know how to end this.  I had to try.”

“You signed up for this?!” Joe exclaimed, gesturing to Booker’s body.

He laughed without any mirth.  “To be fair, I didn’t anticipate how ruthless Merrick would be to get results.”

“This is insanity,” Quynh said softly, stepping forward and resting a hand on his ankle.  “Booker, a final death is not worth this.”

“I just…” he started and that weight he carried around with him overwhelmed him.  The memories of holding his family members’ hands as they died, their angry words asking why, why can’t you save me, we could be together forever, don’t you love me, the hatred he kept inside at the fact he could do nothing, not even comfort them as they left him rose with a vengeance until he couldn’t draw breath.

“I just want to be with them again,” he choked out.

He stared at the ceiling.  He couldn’t bear to look at their faces.

“Could you give us a minute?” Nicky asked the group.  They must have agreed because Booker heard them move away.  His eyes didn’t waver from the ceiling, even as they blurred with tears.

“Booker, look at me, s'il vous plaît,” Nicky murmured.

Booker couldn’t.

“Sebastien.  Please.”

At his old name, Booker moved his head.  Nicky was looking at him, his eyebrows slightly pulled down, which meant he was extremely concerned.

“I am sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t see how much you were suffering.”

“Nicky…” Booker said, unable to handle an apology right now.

“No, please.  Hear me.  When I lost Yusuf, it felt like each breath was an effort.  Existing was just something I continued to do in order to one day see him again.  Yes, I had Andy and Quynh and eventually you, but I felt… heavy.  Existence had a weight to it.”

Booker couldn’t help nodding.

“I know it isn’t a fair comparison,” Nicky continued.  “I got Yusuf back.  Your family is lost to you until you pass on.  But Booker,” he said, clasping one of Booker’s hands in both of his, “know this: we will always be here for you.  We will take the weight as much as we can.  And we will stay here with you until you get to the point that it doesn’t hurt as much to exist.”

“That may take forever,” Booker warned him.

The corners of Nicky’s mouth curled up and his eyes crinkled.  “Luckily, we have time.”

Nicky’s hand hovered over one of Booker’s restraints.  He raised an eyebrow.

Booker looked across the room.  Joe, Andy, Quynh, and Nile were waiting for them, concern, anguish, and love written all over their faces as they looked over at the two of them.

He closed his eyes and pictured his old family.  He tried to remember the good moments, not the bitter ones.  Remember their faces.  Their love.

I’m sorry, ma famille, he thought, it is not yet our time.

Opening his eyes, looked up at Nicky.

“Let’s go, then.”

#sebastian le livre #booker #joe x nicky #nicky x joe #immortal husbands #crugayders #andy #andromache the scythian #andy x quynh #quynh #nile freeman #the old guard #fanfic