#quynh tries something new!

[quynhorlose]

siblings versus the inevitable

doomed by the narrative (@thisisallthehattersfault) / the hunger games (suzanne collins) / grow as we go (@quynhorlose) / avatar: the last airbender / the tragic beauty of the final agni kai (sagesrain) / crimson rivers (@mayzarbewithyou) / your other half (jovana rikalo) / richard siken

#on siblings #on fate #on the inevitable #the hunger games #crimson rivers #richard siken #ah being doomed by the narrative #webs #web weaving #quynh tries something new!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SIXTEEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You wake up to a palace conquered.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: the last ba sing se arc chapter 😭😔😩 sorry if this wasn’t what you guys were hoping for but believe it or not this has been the plan from the start 😫

“Now, remember, Y/N,” Quynh said as you glared at the crystal you held in your palm. “Bending crystals is not entirely separate from bending normal rocks. The only difference is that crystals are slippery, slick-surfaced and unwilling to conform. Rocks, like the ones you’ve bent by accident, are malleable. They are agreeable to having their shapes changed. Stones can be bullied; crystals must be coaxed.”

“How am I supposed to coax an inanimate object?” you said, willing the crystal to change into something, anything. You were unsuccessful, though, as it stayed just out of your reach, stubbornly refusing to follow your directives.

“You must abide by the laws of this world,” she said. “Of which there are relatively few. But remember this, Y/N: it will always be more fitting for you to work with something than against it.”

You tried to implement her advice. Instead of envisioning a new crystal in your hand, you pictured each step that the current one would have to take to reach that next form. Then, without thinking of the final product, you bent the crystal to the form which immediately followed its current iteration, and then the form after that, continuing the pattern until you had turned the uncut gem into a glimmering, faceted diamond.

“I did it!” you said.

“Excellent job,” she said. “Do you see? Stones and rocks and dirt are the easy way out, the way which allows for taking shortcuts. With crystals and glass, you can never skip steps. You can speed up your moves until it seems like you are skipping steps, but you never actually can.”

“I do see,” you said. “No wonder most people avoid these more refined materials.”

“If you can become a master with even such delicate things, then nothing bar your own mental fortitude will stop you from true bending prowess,” Quynh said.

“Mental fortitude?” you said.

“Do you think of yourself as an Earthbender?” she said.

If you wanted Kuei to live, then there could only be one answer to this question. “No.”

“Then so it will be,” she said.

From that day onwards, you internalized it, internalized the thought that you could not bend anything but jewels and glass. Eventually, it became a truth of your existence, until your entire identity was built upon your Glassbending, until you could barely even be considered an Earthbender at all.

A week after Aang, Katara, Toph, and Sokka left, you awoke to the sound of screams in the hallway. You shot out of your bed, glancing out the window and affirming that it was still night; when you saw that it was, you wondered what could possibly be the cause of the commotion. It was only when you smelled burning did you realize that something terrible was happening.

Scattered through the kingdom as the army was, it had been impossible for you to consolidate a true force to defend the palace in time, and as most of the soldiers who typically served as your guards had been injured when Aang and his friends had stormed the palace, you had had no choice but to rely on the Dai Li for protection.

There was no doubting that the Dai Li were talented benders, of course, but their primary purpose was never to guard. They were meant to be stealthy enforcers, and entrusting them with the responsibility of protecting the palace had been foolish. A naive decision, based on Prince Zuko’s obsession with the Avatar, which you had so childishly thought meant you were safe from his attentions.

The acrid stench of smoke stung your nose and throat as you shoved on a pair of slippers, all the while cursing the luck which led to you only ever facing these kinds of threats in your nightclothes. The moon was high in the sky, watching you through your window as you rushed about the room, locking the door and then making your way towards your dressing room. If you could reach Quynh’s Den, then you could escape to Ba Sing Se, and from there…

No. If this was what you thought it was, then they would likely execute Kuei, so that they could take over the kingdom unchallenged. Escaping alone was not only the coward’s way, it was the route a fool would take; the best course of action was for you to meet with your brother and usher him to safety first. No matter what, the Earth King had to live. He had to survive. As long as he did, there was hope for the nation.

There was a knock on your door. You stopped moving immediately, waiting and listening, trying to discern who it might be.

“Princess, it’s us. The Dai Li,” said a gruff, masculine voice that you vaguely remembered to have heard before. Your shoulders sagged in relief. So they hadn’t been overwhelmed completely! There was still a chance. One ally was better than none, and for this agent to be knocking on your door so casually, he was likely not alone. Perhaps things were not as dire as they seemed from in your chambers. Relaxing, you ran over to unlock the door.

“Thank goodness,” you said. “I was so frightened that — that something had happened to you all. What’s the situation?”

“The situation?” the Dai Li agent said. Before you could move, he had Earthbent bindings around your wrists, forcing them behind your back. The rock cuffs were rough, digging into your skin and shredding it open, instead of smooth like they typically were, and he patted you on the shoulder when you yelped in surprise. “The situation is that you killed our Captain Chhay and threw our leader Long Feng into jail. Did you really think that you could still hold a claim to our loyalty after that?”

“I don’t understand,” you said. “You’re sworn to the Earth King!”

“We were,” another agent said, shoving you forwards. “And now, we’re not. The Earth King’s time is over, Princess Y/N, and so is yours.”

“You’re betraying the kingdom?” you said. “For what? For who?”

“The Fire Nation,” the agent who had cuffed you said. “They offered us something far more appealing than the short leash you wrapped around our necks — power. The power to run Ba Sing Se in the way we desire to. In the way it deserves to be.”

“The Fire Nation,” you breathed, stumbling as your head spun at the confirmation of your worst fears. The agent pushing on your back used a stone to prod at your spine for the brief slip. “They’re here?”

“That’s right,” the agent said. “And they’re most interested in meeting you. Aren’t you ever so flattered?”

“How could you do this?” you said instead of responding. “You’ve allied with the very nation trying to take over yours.”

“Didn’t you hear what we were saying? It’s more profitable for us to work with them than against them, and anyways, didn’t Long Feng warn you that you’d regret spurning him? This is that regret. Your final moments will be spent watching your kingdom crumble in the coup orchestrated by the man who once had nothing but your best interests in mind, and then you will be executed by the prince so that he can legitimize his claim on the throne,” he said with a shrug.

For some reason, though he had said so much, you could only focus on one particular detail: executed. The prince. Lee, or Prince Zuko, or whoever he was…he meant to execute you. He meant to kill you with his own hands. The person you had loved so much that you had allowed him entry to the palace was betraying you like this. He was going to execute you, and all for a throne, for the jurisdiction of a kingdom that would never accept him as their own.

You rounded the corner to a long hallway that housed the tapestries of your ancestors, the many faces which made up your bloodline. Your father’s likeness was there, hanging between your grandfather’s and Kuei’s, smiling down benevolently at his onlookers, his eyes sparkling even through the static image.

You had always loved staring at that tapestry in particular. Sometimes, looking up at it was enough for you to recall, dimly, memories of a man you had never met. Perhaps they were more aptly considered fantasies, ones of growing up while he was alive, sitting in his lap as he read you stories, wobbling after him as you learnt to walk and showing him the glass sculptures you made with your bending.

This time, too, you stared at him as you walked past, though the only thing you could think of was that you were going to face the same fate that he had. No matter that you had tried to escape it. No matter that you had run from the assassination attempts in Ba Sing Se. No matter that you had killed Captain Chhay in your chambers. No matter that you had exposed Long Feng’s treachery to Kuei. It was your destiny to be crossed. Just as your father had been murdered by someone who ought to have been loyal to him, you, too, would be destroyed by a person who you could not help but love.

Kuei was already in the throne room, kneeling on the ground, his head held down by the Dai Li agent who had replaced Chhay as the Captain. The new Captain grinned when he saw you, and then he jerked his head towards the spot beside Kuei.

The two agents escorting you pressed on your shoulders until you, too, knelt, though you did not bow your head, nor were you asked to. Subjugating a princess did not have the same gravitas as subjugating a king, after all.

“You,” you snarled when you saw who was positioned in front of the throne, in the same place that Long Feng used to always occupy. It was the same now. You could never stand up there with the rest of them. Regardless of who it was, you would always, always be below them.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “I — I know that you’re probably confused, but—”

“I’m not confused at all,” you said. “I know exactly who you are, Prince Zuko.”

His eyes widened, like he had not been expecting that, like he had expected a different reaction. “You do? How?”

“How does it matter? you said.

“Actually, I’d like to know, as well,” Kuei said from where his eyes were still trained on the carpet. “Are the two of you acquainted or something?”

“No,” you said.

“Yes,” Prince Zuko said at the same time.

“I don’t know you,” you said. “I knew a different person. A better one. He would never have done this to me.”

“You don’t understand,” Prince Zuko said. “I have to!”

“Says who?” you said.

“My father!” he said. “This is all I have left to do. I just have to hold the Earth Kingdom while my sister hunts down the Avatar, and then…and then I can go home.”

Your mind struggled to reconcile the two versions of him you were presented with. Was this the same boy you had argued about books with over tea? The same boy who had donned a mask and saved you from Captain Chhay’s attacks? The same boy who had always protected you without question? It could not be. That boy would never look down his nose at you the way Prince Zuko was now. That boy would never order your arrest the way Prince Zuko had. He would never make you kneel at his feet.

But he must’ve been the same person. There was only one reason you could say that with certainty: he was here, in the palace. He had found Quynh’s Door, which meant you loved him. That meant that Zuko and Lee and the Blue Spirit really were three aliases for one horrible, twisted being.

“Get on with it, then,” you said. “Kill me. Kill my brother.”

“Or don’t!” Kuei shrieked, shrinking away from the Captain’s touch.

“That’s your plan, isn’t it? You’re going to execute us so that nobody dares to dream of rebelling against the Fire Nation occupation. Without Kuei or his heir around, your coup will go uncontested. I know you know that already, so why are you procrastinating? You have us surrounded by Dai Li and Fire Nation soldiers alike, so get on with it,” you said.

You would get to see your parents. It was the only positive you could glean from the entire affair. If you were killed, then your mother, your father…you would get to see them.

“Do you want to do the honors yourself, your royal highness?” the Captain of the Dai Li said. You scowled. Your royal highness — he only ever should’ve called you that.

You had spent so long admiring the prince’s face that it was all but a habit at this point. Even now, you could not help yourself from slipping into it, gazing at him until your eyesight grew blurry from tears, your lip trembling from the strain of holding them back.

This was your fault. This was your fault. This was your fault. Your fault your fault your fault.

“You must think of me as a great fool,” you said. “To have fallen for your scheme so readily. I all but handed you the kingdom on a platter.”

“I don’t think that,” Prince Zuko said, swallowing, his expression softening for only a second before hardening immeasurably. “Look, can’t you just — just take her away? Put her in some jail cell or something! The king, too. We can deal with them later. For now, I don’t want to bother with them.”

“As you wish, sir,” the Captain said. “Do you want the Soldiers of Agni guarding her, or will it be alright if we use our own methods?”

“I don���t care,” Prince Zuko said. “Just as long as I don’t have to see her.”

Of course he didn’t. And why would he? He had never loved you. Everything had been a lie. He had been pretending. He just needed you to fall in love with him so that he could find Quynh’s Door. He just needed that foolproof method to enter the palace. Beyond that, what even were you to him? An irritation? A girl he despised? If you hadn’t told him that myth, would he ever have treated you as kindly as he had?

“We’ve been looking forward to this,” the Dai Li told you as you reached the royal crypt beneath the palace. “I don’t think the world’s ever hated a pair of royals as much as it hates the two of you.”

There was no point in fighting back, not when there were so many of them, so you could only shiver and squeeze your eyes shut as your back was pressed to Kuei’s. Stone rings encircled you two, tying you together to the point of near-asphyxiation.

“What are you doing?” Kuei wheezed. “What is the meaning of this?”

Please. Someone. Anyone. Father. Mother. Quynh. What is happening? Please help.

You were so cold, even though Kuei was so warm. You were freezing, in fact. You thought that you might die just from that.

Stone walls were erected around you, so close that it was as if you were standing in a coffin. There was the tiniest hole near the top to allow you to breathe, but other than that, there was nothing. You could not move even if you wanted to. You could barely see. For all intents and purposes, you had been buried alive.

“You wanted to be remembered as someone who loved his sister?” the Captain of the Dai Li said. “Let’s see how much you love her after this!”

“Let us go! I demand you let us go this instant!” Kuei screamed. “Hey! On my authority as the Earth King, I order you to free us! Free us, and you won’t be punished!”

“Good luck, Earth King,” another agent said. “I hope your meaningless title helps you in there.”

“No,” Kuei said. “No, get back here! Get back here, treasonous vermin!”

“Kuei,” you murmured once the Dai Li agents’ footsteps faded into the background and you were sure you were alone. “Calm down, brother. You are wasting your strength.”

“Calm down? What about this situation invites calm, sister? Do tell me!” he screeched.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “This is my fault. I know that, and I will do everything in my power to make it right.”

“Your fault? How can that be?” he said.

“I’m the one who let Prince Zuko into the palace,” you said, and then your silent tears turned into sniffles that grew into sobs. “Kuei, Kuei, it’s all my fault. Please hate me. Please abhor me, brother. It is my doing that has led to all of this.”

“How did you accomplish that?” he said, all annoyance vanished in favor of concern.

“Quynh’s Door,” you said. “Listen, I know you’ve never believed in her, but she’s real. She’s a spirit I’ve been visiting since my youth, and all of the stories about her are true, too.”

“But for him to have found Quynh’s Door means…” Kuei trailed off in horror.

“Yes,” you said. “I fell in love with him during the time I spent in Ba Sing Se. I am the world’s stupidest girl, and now the entire kingdom will pay for my error. You will pay for my error. It’s not fair. If anyone should be punished, it’s me.”

“There’s no point in assigning blame,” Kuei said. “We’re stuck here. They left us that hole so that we could breathe, but my guess is that it’s only to extend our suffering. They’ll wait until we’re weak and hungry and dehydrated, and then they’ll execute us.”

Was this the way things would end? Was there nothing left that you could do for your kingdom? Would you spend the rest of your life in this cage, leaving only at the moment you were to be executed by Prince Zuko?

“If only one of us was an Earthbender,” he groused. “Thanks a lot, mother! Father! Shan! What a load of good your bloodline did us!”

“What did you just say?” you said. He scoffed.

“What, religious piety wasn’t enough for you, so you’re taking up the filial sort now, too? Who cares if I’m being disrespectful? We’re going to die surrounded by our own element!” he said.

“Our own element…” you murmured. “Kuei. Stay very still.”

“There’s not much else I can do,” he said.

You remembered something Quynh had told you when you had first learnt to bend crystals. Stones can be bullied. Bullying was not in your nature, but what choice did you have? This was your own element. This was your birthright. You were not the princess of the Glass-and-Crystal Kingdom; you were Princess Y/N, of the Earth Kingdom.

Closing your eyes, you focused on the earthen walls around you, imploring them to recede, wheedling and cajoling them to back away so that you and Kuei could escape.

Nothing happened. You considered giving up, but if you gave up now, then it was as good as signing your own death order. Your own, and also Kuei’s. Taking a deep breath, you allowed only two sensations to wash over your body: the warmth of your brother’s back against yours, and the solidity of the ground under your feet.

You did not cajole or wheedle or implore anymore. There was no place for politeness or weakness. You had to command. You did not have to convince the stone — you had to demand it bow to your will.

There was the grating sound of rock-on-rock, and then the walls surrounding you and Kuei crumbled into nothingness. The stone restraints followed suit, and you heaved for breath, your muscles aching from the atypical exertion, though not unbearably.

“What just happened?” Kuei said. You slapped his arm.

“Keep it down. We have to escape,” you said.

“What just happened?” he repeated, though he was thankfully quieter this time.

“I’m an Earthbender,” you said casually, grabbing his hand and pulling him after you as you ran towards the exit of the crypt.

“You’re a what? Since when?” he said.

“Shh! Do you want to get caught or something?” you said. “And since birth, duh.”

“Forgive me for being confused,” he said sardonically. “It’s not as though you’ve appeared to be a nonbender for your entire life or anything! Oh, wait.”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously, that was a lie. I kept it a secret from everyone.”

“Right, I picked up on that,” he said. “What I’m asking you is why? Why would you hide that? It would’ve been the kingdom’s greatest joy to finally have an Earthbender of Shan’s line again! It — it would’ve been my greatest joy, to know you could protect yourself!”

“They would’ve killed you!” you snapped, though you immediately swore when you realized you had been too loud. Looking around to make sure no one had heard you, you sighed in relief and continued to run. “Listen, I learned I could bend when I was a young girl. Around that time, I heard your advisors saying that, if I was proven to be an Earthbender, they’d kill you and instate me as a ruler instead. I couldn’t let it happen like that, okay?”

“Huh?” he said.

“You can’t die,” you said. “As long as I am there, as long as I have a say, you won’t die. It was within my power to hide my bending, so that’s what I did.”

“Y/N…you gave up such a large piece of your identity for me?” he said.

“Yes,” you said. “I’d give up more, too. You’re the only one I have left, Kuei, or maybe it’s that you’re the only one I’ve ever had. Anyways, I learnt my own version of the art from Quynh, so I’ve really not given up as much as you think I have.”

He twisted his hand so that he was holding yours instead of the other way around, and then he squeezed tightly. You knew that what he really wanted was to embrace you, but there was no time for that. Still, turning your face away from his, you smiled slightly at the acknowledgement.

“Thank you, sister. Knowing this, I feel terrible for saying this, but — but I have to. We can’t escape,” he said.

“What? Why not?” you said.

“They locked Bosco away in my chambers,” he said. “The last I heard, the Fire Lord is going to — he’s going to — it’s so unthinkable, I can barely bring myself to say it, but he’s going to eat him!”

“Uh, sorry?” you said. “Fire Lord Ozai wants to eat Bosco?”

“Yes, and I can’t let that happen! Unless you agree to help me rescue Bosco, I won’t go,” he said.

You almost argued with him, but then you thought about what he was saying, really thought about it, and you found yourself agreeing with him, though for a different reason. It wasn’t that you were attached to Bosco; rather, you saw Fire Lord Ozai’s intentions for what they truly were.

Bosco was a creature made in Quynh’s image, and even if the people of Ba Sing Se resented him for how much money Kuei had wasted on his upkeep, it was undeniable what the symbolism would be if Fire Lord Ozai consumed him. It would represent the Fire Nation’s destruction of Quynh and Shan and everything they stood for, and even though it put you and your brother in more danger, you could not allow that.

“Alright,” you said. “We’ll get him first.”

“Seriously?” he said.

“We were heading to my chambers, anyways. It’s not that much of a detour,” you said, ducking behind a pillar as a pair of Dai Li agents walked past you. Hidden away in the shadows as you were, you escaped their notice, but it had been a close enough call that your heart did not stop racing for many minutes.

“Why your chambers? The window is too high. Even with your Earthbending, it’s a suicidal method of escape,” he said.

“We’re not escaping through the window,” you said, taking advantage of the relatively clear coast to dart through the hallway and round the corner into the wing of the palace where the royal rooms were located. “There’s a door to Quynh’s Den that’s usually present in my dressing room. From there, we can reach the city and then gather allies to help us retake the palace before too much damage is done.”

“Quynh’s Den — so that’s how you kept escaping!” he said.

“Er, yes, I thought you’d have put that together by now,” you said as you reached Kuei’s rooms. There were soldiers milling about in front of the polished wood doors, but that was not the route you chose to take. Instead, you placed your palm on the wall and gritted your teeth, straining until the earth parted in an archway large enough for you to enter.

Bosco was restrained in the center of the room, a gag forced in his mouth so that he posed no threat to his nonexistent keepers. When he noticed you and Kuei, his ears pricked up, and he nudged Kuei happily in greeting as you untied the gag. Kuei held his fingers to his lips, and to his credit, Bosco followed the directive and remained silent all of the way until you reached your dressing room.

Thankfully, the door was there. Kuei was the one to open it, the glow of the crystals reflecting on his glasses eerily, his eyes shining as he stared down the passage.

“I’ve seen this before,” he breathed. “Maybe in a dream, or maybe not. But I know I have.”

“Good, then you’ll know the way,” you said. “Let’s get moving before we’re caught.”

“Quynh’s Den,” Kuei murmured, stepping into the passageway. “I can’t believe it’s real. I can’t believe I’m finally going to see it.”

You grinned at him. Only he could find some positive in these dire circumstances, and though some might claim it to be immature, you admired him for it, admired his unflinching optimism and unwavering faith and unquenchable curiosity.

For all of these years, you had been unfair to him. Quynh was right — he wasn’t a bad king. He was a good king; his flaw was that he was also a premature one, but you had confidence that with time, he would become the person that the kingdom needed.

For the final time, you gazed out at your undisturbed room, which was as peaceful as it always was. Just in that instant, it didn’t feel like there was a coup, like you and Kuei were fleeing for your lives. Just in that instant, it instead felt like you were going to visit Lee and Mushi in the tea shop for the night, like you always used to.

Right before you were about to follow after your brother, a thought crossed your mind. Pausing and then drawing back, you frowned, unable to shake the dread clawing up your throat.

“Kuei,” you said. “They came for you earlier, right?”

“Hm? Yes, they did,” he said, pausing in the middle of the passage, stopping Bosco as well. “Why? What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“The servants,” you said.

“Huh?” he said.

“The servants, brother, what did they do to the servants?” you said insistently. The ones who had kept your bath filled. The ones who swept your floors. The ones who made your bed. The ones who cooked your meals and maintained your gardens…what about them? Not all of them stayed at the palace overnight, but some did. Enough did.

Kuei scowled. “They’ve all been tied up in the kitchens. I don’t know why.”

You knew why. Maybe not exactly, but there were only a few possibilities: they would either torture the servants for information about the kingdom, they’d send them to the Fire Nation as prisoners, or they’d kill them en masse.

There wasn’t even a decision to make. What was a princess without a kingdom to rule, without subjects to love her? As well, it was your fault that they were in this danger to begin with.

“I have to go save them,” you said.

“Eh?” he said. “I must’ve misheard you.”

“You didn’t,” you said. “You go ahead, Kuei. You’re the king, so you have to make it out of here. I’ll rescue the servants, and then I’ll come too, okay? No, don’t argue. You can’t change my mind.”

He knew better than to even try when you had made such a declaration, so he only sighed.

“Where should we meet?” he said. “In Quynh’s Den?”

“No,” you said. “There’s a place in the Lower Ring known as the Firelight Fountain. If I do not catch up with you before you leave, then go there and wait for me.”

Kuei swallowed and then nodded at you. “Alright. I will see you there.”

“Yes,” you said. “I wish you luck, brother.”

“And I, you.”

With that, you turned your backs on one another, the door slamming shut as you tore off towards the kitchens and he continued towards Quynh’s Den.

The closer you got to the kitchens, the more guards you barely avoided, but somehow, you managed, and then you were in the darkened kitchens themselves, where the servants had been detained. There were so many of them that you knew you would have to take multiple trips or risk discovery, so picking a section at random, you began to untie the ropes around them.

“It’s me, Princess Y/N,” you repeated as you worked. “I’ve come to save you. Do exactly as I say, and you will live. Make a sound, and you will die.”

It was the most exhausting work of your life, equally as tedious as it was thrilling. The palace employed nearly a thousand servants, but thankfully there was nowhere near that number in the kitchens. Still, you must’ve freed close to a hundred people, doing away with the ropes and then sneaking them back to your room and instructing them to use one of Quynh’s doors to escape back to Ba Sing Se.

Finally, you were down to the final ten people. One of the boys was younger than the rest — he must’ve been new, the poor thing, and you were gentler with him than the others, wiping away his tears and hushing him kindly, taking your time to undo the knots which had rubbed away the skin of his wrists.

It was a mistake. What time did you have for kindness? You should’ve known better, but it was a pattern. You would always be kind. It would always get you in trouble.

“Princess Y/N! Look out!” the boy said as soon as you had removed the cloth stuffed in his mouth. It was the only warning you got; your eyes widened at it, and without even thinking, you dug in your pocket and smashed a statue of a dragon against the ground, bending the fragments as you turned, using half of them to dispel the licking flames that barely missed singing your clothes and sending the other half into the necks and eyes of the intruders.

They were Fire Nation, not Dai Li, and judging by their fancy uniforms, they were none other than the Soldiers of Agni, the most elite Firebenders outside of the royal family. You had no idea how Prince Zuko had managed to get them into Ba Sing Se, but of course, that was how your fortune had been going as of late, so you did not question it.

“Run!” you urged the others, clasping the boy’s hand with your own and taking off, motioning for everyone to follow you. “To my chambers! It won’t be long before more of them come for us.”

“Princess Y/N, you — you killed those men?” one of the older servants, a woman who you thought did the laundry, said.

“If I had not, then they would’ve killed me,” you said, breaking another one of the statues you had brought with you, using the knife-like edges to slice the throats of the Dai Li agents that you knew were stationed around the corner. There was no sense in hiding, not anymore; now, the goal was to make it to your room as fast as possible. “This is just what we have to do.”

“I didn’t realize you were capable of it, your royal highness,” one of the cooks said. “Or that you were concerned about us all enough to come back.”

“By what decree is my life worth more than anyone else’s?” you said. “My strength is yours, as yours is mine. I could never leave my people behind, not when I had a way to save them.”

The servants had never cared much for you before, had likely never even seen you before, but in the process of saving their lives, you believed that you might’ve earned something resembling their respect, too.

“I know that my brother and I were never popular as rulers,” you said as you reached your chambers, the door locking behind you as you made your way to your dressing room. “But I promise that we will change things. I will change things. I will put an end to the hardships that you all have endured for far too long.”

“Thank you, Princess Y/N,” a maid said. “I — I’m really grateful to you, your royal highness.”

“It is my duty,” you said. “Do not hesitate any longer; go through the door and follow the passageway until you reach the bear spirit, Quynh. She will help you escape to Ba Sing Se.”

“Quynh is real?” the small boy said, pressing into your side and peering up at you.

“She is,” you said. “I know, it sounds like I’m making things up, but it’s truly the case. Not only is she real, but she’s our only chance at escaping, so we must make haste.”

The remaining servants filed into the passageway, and you exhaled as all but the boy faded from sight. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now. You had done it. You were safe.

There was a bang against the door. Another, and another. Fear shot through your veins as you realized that they were trying to break in. They had caught on to the fact that you were running to your room, though you had no idea what they thought they’d find when they smashed through.

“Come on,” you said, ushering the boy in and stepping in yourself, about to close the door behind you when there was a splintering sound, accompanied by the smell of smoke lacing the air. The Soldiers of Agni had arrived, and it was only a matter of seconds before they entered and found the door you had been using to escape.

Time passed differently in Quynh’s realm. Slower. You knew that. You had always known that, but until now you had not understood what it actually meant: you were doomed, and you had been from the start. They would find the door, and they would follow you, and they would catch you, and from there, they would kill you. That was how it was always meant to be. You had not saved anyone; you had only prolonged their misery.

It was your fault. It was your fault. It was your fault. With this mantra echoing in your head, you made a split-second decision. Crouching so that you were eye-level with the boy, you ruffled his hair.

“Listen, dear boy,” you said. “When you reach Quynh’s Den, I want you to tell Quynh to close this door, alright?”

“Why won’t you tell her?” he said, the smell of smoke intensifying even as you spoke.

“I’m not going,” you said. This was your atonement. This was the only thing you could do for your country, your people, your brother. This was the way you right the wrongs you had inadvertently wrought.

“What? What do you mean?” he said.

“There isn’t much time,” you said. “After you tell Quynh that, go to the Firelight Fountain in the Lower Ring and tell King Kuei to find the Avatar. Make sure he knows the message is from me…and that he knows I love him.”

“I won’t go unless I know you’re safe, princess,” the boy said obstinately, tugging on your sleeve. “Let’s go together and you can tell your brother these things yourself.”

You held the boy’s face in your hands and leaned forwards, kissing his forehead before straightening.

“Thank you for your concern, but when did I say that I was not escaping at all? I have another route,” you said.

“What other route?” he said.

Turning, you exited the passageway, looking over your shoulder at him and mustering as bright of a smile as you could, praying it was convincing enough.

“I’ll leave through the window,” you said. He was too young to know what that meant, and you did not give him the chance to think about it, slamming the door shut before he could respond and then reentering your chambers proper, right as the Soldiers of Agni broke through.

“Princess Y/N,” one of them said.

“Yes,” you said. “I would give you a proper welcome, a good one, but seeing as you have broken into my palace, I am not so inclined to. I swear I am a better host to those who are better guests.”

“Where is the Earth King? What about the rest of the servants?” another Soldier said.

“I don’t know,” you said, lying with an effortless ease, like you were swallowing honey and oil, using it to coat your every word with a smooth reliability. “Where indeed? You should’ve been keeping a closer eye on the gates.”

They moved in perfect formation, every step according to some unheard rhythm, their advancement a musical dance as they encroached upon you. You matched them like the partner to their sum total, backing away, closer and closer to your dresser of glass sculptures.

“We’re not supposed to harm you too terribly unless we’re absolutely forced to,” a Soldier said. “So how about you surrender and make things nice and easy?”

“Who would command you to not hurt your enemy?” you said.

“For some reason, Prince Zuko says it’s imperative that you remain uninjured,” he said. “Princess Azula told us to follow his orders while she chases the Avatar, so we’ll do as he commands for the time being.”

“Interesting,” you said, lip curling with distaste at the thought of Prince Zuko. “Unfortunately, I have no such holdbacks.”

The glass sculptures broke into thousands of little daggers, flying at the Soldiers of Agni faster than they could react. Thus began your final stand, the last thing you could do for the Earth Kingdom.

Glancing to the side, you saw that the door in your dressing room had not yet vanished. All you had to do was survive until it did. After that, it didn’t matter, but until that point, you could not die.

The Soldiers of Agni moved as one, creating a wall of fire to melt the glass, though a few made it past and gouged into them anyways. You were not deterred by the liquified state of your weapons; purposefully slowing your rapid breathing, you made a wave of burning, glowing glass surge towards them, scorching wherever it spattered, searing through armor and fabric and flesh alike.

Still, the door had not disappeared. The Soldiers of Agni sent coordinated bursts of fire at you, and this time you pulled the wave towards you. It rose up just in time, absorbing the heat of the fire meant for you, and then you condensed it before shooting it back towards them.

It was a push and pull, but they had the advantage. Better training. Better weapons. Their fire blazed at a higher temperature than any you had ever encountered, and eventually, your glass could not handle it, melting beyond the point of control, dripping through the floors and steaming into the air.

You were backed into a corner, but when you looked over at your dressing room, you could not help but smirk. The door was gone. Kuei was safe. Though you had been rendered defenseless, you had done your job. The Earth King would live.

Yet, defenseless though you were, there was a resolve brewing deep within you, too. Even if you could not win, you did not want the Soldiers of Agni to attain victory, either. You did not want them to succeed, to think that they had gotten one over you. If the only path forward was for you to die, then you wanted them to die, too.

“What will you do now, princess?” a Soldier said. You reached out with your bending and shattered the window, using the glass to cut away at their already-damaged flesh, holding your hands in front of you as they retaliated. Some used Firebending; others simply kicked the glass back, like they found amusement in your feeble struggles.

At Captain Chhay’s hands. At their hands. At Prince Zuko’s hands. No, none of these were ways that you were willing to suffer defeat. It would be on your own terms. Maybe you had run out of glass, but there was something else you had come to comprehend over the course of the night: the entire palace was a weapon, and you were the only one left who could wield it.

“The only thing I can do,” you said. “I am the Glass Princess, am I not? So, I will shatter, and you will be caught in the aftermath.”

You knew even as you slapped your palms against the walls that you would not survive this. If by some miracle the impact did not kill you immediately, then you would surely sustain such terrible injuries that you would not survive without treatment — treatment which would not be forthcoming, because no one knew where you were. No one knew what you were doing. In your final moments, now that everything had been said and done, you were alone.

Would your father and mother be proud of you? Would Quynh and Shan? You hoped Quynh would not grieve for very long. Even if she did not know how it had happened, you hoped she would see that it had been the only way, that you had been afraid, but notwithstanding, had done it bravely.

Because what was your life in comparison to Kuei’s? To the lives of your people? It was so little. It was the smallest price to pay. And, if you could take out all of the Soldiers of Agni in one fell swoop, then it was no loss at all.

You did not bully the stones of the palace. You did not need to; this palace, which had been built by your ancestor and upon Quynh’s Den, was your home, your birthright, and so the magic imbued in its construction jumped alive at the chance to help you. You only needed to think one thing for it to oblige, the room shaking and rumbling with a sound like mourning as the entire wing you were in collapsed — on you, yes, but also on the Soldiers of Agni, in an implosion that was not so different from embossing a window after all.

Palace, I command you to fall.

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart @blacky-rose @shizko @marsbars09 @happyplaidpersonfestival @catborglar @camilleverreault @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @lovialy @heart4hees @stefnarda @ioonatv @vvicaddiction @yukihatesreoyo @yodayyy @ellzbellz18

#zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla #reader insert #canon au #the glass princess #m1ckeyb3rry writes

[the73rdpostscript]

After his prayers, Joe settles in the blue armchair they moved to face the window. From here he can soak in this feeling of peace for a time.

The light in the room changes slowly as the morning goes on, bathing him in warmer and warmer rays as the window lets the sun's trajectory continue uninterrupted. The old panes are clear after a thorough wash the weekend before. Outside, a bug is darting around the pot of tomato plants that Nicky put out.

Joe could work on the sketch he began last night. He could go wake Nicky and they could walk to buy fruit from the new stall their neighbor built.

He could make breakfast for himself and his beloved with the food they've bought.

Or he could sit here, embracing the ease of a morning where there is nothing to do but allow himself to be.

In front of him, the morning light continues its path across the room, and memories trickle in with every change in exposure.

There. The light creeps over the arm of the sofa, and it is the same light that rippled over the bedsheets during one of the many summers they were stuck inside - hiding from a heatwave so intense that they could not even make love to distract themselves from the misery.

There. The sun is glowing on the distant hills, and it is the morning sun slowly illuminating the side of a young girl – sobbing in front of him as he tries to keep her patient and happy while Nicky brought her mother from across the way. He had been so tired and she had been so desperate. He had sat with her as she continued working herself up more and more, until she opened her eyes enough to spot Nicky walking over the ridge with her mother. The sun had finally breached the hill to their left and hilghlighted her in a bright almost-white glow as her face broke into relief and joy – following her as she sprinted off for the comfort of her mother’s arms. Nicky had met his eyes, squinting into the sun and smiling with almost as much as relief as the child. An imperfect happiness in the glow of the new day.

There. The light is making shapes on their carpet and it is the light shining in mosque at Konye, where he said his morning prayers for the first time in years. The room had been as familiar as all these places become – allowing him the space of silence and reflection he had not realized he needed so badly. That community was nothing particularly special in the span of his life, but the feeling of the moment – the utter contentment and the immediate notion of such peace after so long spent in tangles: that is something he can draw up without issues, etched in his memory through the distinct light exposure.

There. The light is spreading over the couch cushion. It is the same light that flooded their room in Naples, where he drew Nicolo for an entire day – letting the light traverse their space as it willed. It was an activity they had done many times before and one they would do many times again.

There. The light is flooding through the square glass window panes. It is the morning light shining through the window of their kitchen at the safehouse in Valencia. Andy was usually up with him, letting him try new recipes as he strove to show his blossoming love for Nicolo with new and invigorating breakfasts. Nicolo would come in from errands to find them debating a dish or a pastry with too much focus to notice his entrance. And so Joe's exercise in love for Nicolo became an exercise in building his relationship with Andromache – something which he holds closely in the new age where his sister never allows herself to linger or savor things the same ways she used to.

There. That is the light shining down on Quynh in morning practice, giving her a temporary disadvantage in her competition with Nicolo. Andromache had laughed in the background, and nudged Yusuf with her shoulder, “Shall we bet on it?”

There is the light as the sun continuously refused to disappear the morning after they lost Quynh. The sun shining on the cursed fucking island as it rarely did before – illuminating Andy’s wretched expression as they tried to coax her into letting them wash her.

“Yusuf,” the voice of his beloved drags Joe into the present with such immediacy that he feels something twist in his stomach. So much time. So much life and death and loss.

He turns his head to face Nicky, who is slumped in the doorway with a sleepy expression.

Joe tries to smile.

With the slightest frown, Nicky walks over and bends to kiss him before crouching down beside the chair. There, Nicky folds his arms on the top of Joe’s legs and rests his chin on them with a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Joe says – running his hand through Nicky’s hair with wonder. (There is their bedroom in Malta – the sun kissing Nicky’s face as he sleeps. There is the morning they discussed the future together, confessing their mutual bafflement at the idea of eternity – their anxieties. There is the morning Nicky told him he would forgive himself for the atrocities he had repented and worked to correct if only Joe would forgive himself for the loss of an innocent life under their care. There is the morning they laid in bed and did nothing for several hours – touching and feeling at their leisure.)

“Where are you?” Nicky asks, turning his head to kiss Joe’s wrist.

With a small and genuine smile, Joe assures him, “I have remembered some very lovely mornings with you.”

Nicky returns his smile and raises his eyebrows – waiting patiently for the memories to be shared.

“Let’s walk to the stall and I’ll tell you.”

#yusuf al kaysani #the old guard #fic #mine #just pouring some love into this tag

[youssefguedira]

dear followers today i offer you another iron maiden joe prequel snippet. tomorrow? who knows.

warning for mentions of alcohol and smoking {brief}

It's past midnight, which means Nicky has the pool to himself: no sane person would go for a swim at half past two in the morning, especially not on a Sunday - Monday, now, he supposes. To be fair, he's not swimming, just sitting on the pool's edge with his jeans rolled up, feet in the water. It's quiet, apart from the gentle lapping of the water against the sides and the occasional sounds of activity from the motel behind them - not the nicest, but the best they could find on short notice. The pool is lit from within, glowing blue against the darkness. They couldn't risk going to any of their usual places, not when they don't know exactly what Booker told Merrick. 

Nicky sighs. Lifts the cigarette in his hand to his lips and takes a long drag, closes his eyes as he exhales. He's exhausted, but he can't go to sleep yet. He's got a clear line of sight to their room's door here, can hear anything that could signal something's wrong. He'll stay up all night if he has to, because if he dreams he'll dream of the lab, or of Yusuf, and neither of those are things he wants right now. 

(Well. That's not entirely true. Because as much as he hates the dreams, as shaken as they leave him every time, he does look forward to them in some twisted way. They're the only way he gets to see Yusuf anymore, after all.) 

He's startled by the sound of footsteps on the concrete behind him, but relaxes once he recognises them. He doesn't turn around, but he does stub out his cigarette - the health effects have never been a problem for him, but he knows all about second hand smoking and the damage it can do. He'll have to quit, most likely. He should have done it a long time ago. 

"Thought I'd find you out here. Can't sleep?" Andy asks behind him. He hums, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the few stars left, the rest hidden by light pollution. Andy settles herself beside him, rolling up her own jeans and dipping her toes in the water, wincing when it jolts her wound. "Fuck." 

"How's it feeling?" he asks, careful not to let himself think too much about what it signifies.

"Hurts," Andy says. "Raided the minibar, though." Something clinks beside her - two bottles, both already open. She hands one to Nicky. "How are you feeling?" 

It's a question he's not sure he's ready to answer. Tired, certainly. Angry. Hurt. Missing Yusuf so much it sits in his chest like a stone, but that's not new. 

"I don't know," he says instead of any of that, which is largely the truth. "Sebastien?" 

"Hasn't moved. But he got something to eat, I think." 

Guilt claws at him - he should have reached out, should have noticed something before it got this bad. But he'd been too wrapped up in his own grief to see, and now they're paying for it, and-

"You're thinking too much," Andy says. "I can hear you." She takes a long sip from her bottle. 

"You'll probably have to be careful with that now," Nicky tells her, lightly teasing, and Andy elbows him. But she's smiling, at least, so it's all just as well. 

"You should get some sleep, Nico," she says then, gentle, as if he's the one with a bullet hole in his side.

He shakes his head. "Don't think I can tonight. But you should go, you're healing." 

Andy shrugs. "I tried, but it hurt, and I didn't want to wake Quynh." 

"How is she?" 

"You tell me," Andy responds. "You were both in there." 

Truly, Nicky doesn't want to think about it that long. Not now, when Nile is still so shaken and they still need to do something about Booker, not when Andy is mortal now and he's still not sure what that means for them. When they're all safe, when they've figured out what to do next, he'll think about it. 

"I miss him," Andy says unexpectedly, and Nicky knows exactly who she's talking about - who else could it be? "When Nile dreamed of him, the other night - Book stopped talking about them. I guess I thought-" 

"I know," Nicky says. Nile's description of her dream is still running on a loop in his mind. 

Andy sighs, and in that moment she looks so, so tired. "I always thought I'd see him again, you know. Maybe it was foolish of me, but. I always hoped, I guess.”

“Yeah,” is all Nicky says, a lump in his throat, because, well. What else does he say? He takes a long sip from the bottle in his hand. Five hundred years, he’d told Nile, pretending like he doesn’t know exactly how long it’s been down to the day. Over half of his life. 

Andy doesn’t say anything else, winces when she shifts her weight.

“Want me to take another look at it?” he offers.

She shakes her head. “Tomorrow, maybe.”

There’s not much more to be said, after that. Nicky holds out his arm in a wordless offer, and Andy leans into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. She doesn’t fall asleep, but it’s a near thing. Nicky’s so tired his bones feel heavy, but he doesn’t fall asleep either.

It’s not exactly peaceful, not after everything that’s happened today, but. It’s good to have her with him. 

#neon writes #iron maiden joe #this one heavily inspired by il nilo nel naviglio by mahmood so. you know #resto qui butto un'altra notte cerco il nilo nel naviglio. dove vado se non ci sei tu piu #qui vicino. se non c'e piu il nilo. you know #cielo di cobalto

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Fandom + Joan for the meta ask game!

JOAN!!!! ❤❤❤ thank you for asking! I love talking about her.

For the sake of not conflicting timelines or universes, I stuck with my oc canon where Booker doesn't betray the Guard and things happen normally up until the point where Merrick's men ruin everything and kidnap Joe and Nicky. None of that shit happens. Just some weird new team dynamics forming since they've got TWO new immortals hanging out with them. (I also feel the need to share this ask about Copley for info on that situation and my oc canon.)

Put this whole thing under a read more because it got LONG.

What do you think the fandom for your character would be like? Are they a fan favorite, a love to hate villain, derided for whatever reason, or something else?

Honestly I don't know! I think Joan is a pretty harmless character, she's just chilling and doing her own thing, so she wouldn't be hated. The Old Guard fandom is pretty good about loving all the characters, so she's gonna be fine. I think she'll be especially loved by the people who like characters who just want to do their own thing without getting dragged into plot shenanigans lmao. Hopefully Joan would be to the aroace fans what Nicky and Joe and Andy and Quynh are to the gay fans - the rep they're looking for in action movies. But more critically, because this fandom gives unequal attention to the women vs the guys, I think Joan would unfortunately fall into a similar category as Niles, which is often "the side character who's there to be the best friend supporting the main ship/the newbie to the experienced older ones" if not ignored completely. But for the ones who don't do this, I think she'd be the cool character who just does her own thing, who has a journey of her own that's fun to analyze and talk about! And a long, kinda sad history that would have a lot of potential for fics!

What feelings does your character most often instill in their fans? Affection? A desire to protect? Open lust? A love/hate dynamic? Why do you think their fans feel this way?

Definitely a desire to protect! Girl has been on her own FOREVER! she has anxiety! But also I can see people wanting to be her lmao she lives on her own, pretty securely I might add, she's got a cat, she's best friends with the crows, she's living that Ursula from Kiki's Delivery Service life. Joan's just a normal person, living her life, she just has had a long time to figure out what she wants her life to look like and make it happen, and I can see fans finding wish fulfillment in her.

By contrast, what would their haters dislike about your character? Is it a petty complaint? A mischaracterization of the character or their intentions? Are they just a woman in a largely male-centric series?

I can see common complaints being that she's "boring". Which honestly is fair. She's meant to be boring - or at least have a boring life. She's not an action hero, she's not a warrior, she's a civilian. She wants a normal life, or as normal a life as she can have.

Joan also has issues with how she deals with her frustration over the whole "I wasn't alone but I thought I was" situation. She tries really hard not to take it out on the old guard, but sometimes it slips out without her meaning to even though she knows it wasn't anyone's fault and it was just shitty luck. When it does slip out, it ends up directed at Andy as the leader of the group. I can see some fans having issues with that, since people have similar issues with how Booker felt alone in his grief despite having his friends.

What controversies/drama would your character incite in fandom?

She's pretty low-drama, but since fandoms can be pretty casually or not so casually aphobic, her being aroace could be an issue. I feel like the old guard fandom is better than other fandoms, but I haven't seen all corners of the fandom and ngl I don't want to.

Joan's attitude towards her immortality and how she lives her life is in conflict with Andy's attitude, and that causes some conflict between them, so I can see the fandom getting into discourse over their respective philosophies. But since the movie takes the philosophy that nihilism isn't the answer, or at least that trying to make things better isn't meaningless, I can't see this being a huge controversial topic. maybe in smaller corners of the fandom.

What fan-material would exist for your character in fandom?

There'd probably be angsty artwork of her being alone and feeling lonely lmao. I can see a lot of fics analyzing her loneliness and anxiety through the centuries. Fics that explore how she navigated the centuries alone, as well as lots of fics where she almost meets the guard but just misses them, or aus where she did find them. Fics where she and the guard are just hanging out and being a found family together. I can see some angsty aus where she ends up captured before canon and Nile dreams of her and they're like "Wait there's another one of us out there BEING TORTURED???" and they go save her.

Is your character the subject of ‘imagines’ or ‘x reader’ style blogs?

Well, I haven't seen many imagines for The Old Guard in the first place, but since Joan's aroace, I sure hope not!

Are there any tropes fandom would put upon your character, for better or for worse?

"Hates romance." She hates it in regards to herself, but otherwise she just doesn't care about it. (You react with digust at the idea of dating your friend one time and you get labelled for life...)

I think people would also try to make her a woobie but like, even though she has had a rough time of it she's not miserable. She's learned to live her life as it comes, and yeah, she's lonely, she has her traumas, but she's still enjoying her life.

People might also assign her as a character who simply has the worst luck or the worst timing and. Honestly I think that would be kinda funny so I don't mind it.

What would be the ‘incorrect but wildly popular’ interpretation of your character in fandom?

The fandom would try and make Joan and Andy have conflict all the time and that's simply not true. Their philosophies clash. They have some beef, but that's mostly to do with their own issues and how it connects to the other. They themselves actually get along and respect each other a lot. They do have some conflict, but they still get along outside of that.

also I feel like people would make Joan a little "too anxious"? She does have anxiety but I feel like they would overdo it somehow, I don't know.

What corners of fandom would consider your character blorbo material?

I feel like The Old Guard fandom blorbo-fies all of the characters pretty well. But I really hope that the aroace members of the fandom would like her and make her their blorbo! Like that's the dream for me.

oc meta ask list!

#thank you again for asking! #love her #my ocs #joan #ask #goldheartedchaoticdisaster

[non-un-topo]

💔👀🦅🎶🎢🥺 !!!

Apple, thank you love! <333

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

Oh boy, well I did a number with Dahlia back in the day. Haven't written angst quite like that in a while and I still feel the urge to write a happy kid fic as an apology. My brother spits blood. hurt in a different way, with all the Booker & Nicky brotherly feelings.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Ohhh okie. I have greatly missed writing weird mysterious horror-themed fics but I get shy, so I've tried not to pull my punches this time and just have fun. I can tell you that it will take place in Iceland, in the early 17th century and will address a significant point in the lives of the guard---rather, who is left of it. It will be Nicky's pov (for reasons I cannot yet say other than it having something to do with centrality and steadfastness in the group dynamic---okay I just explained it lol), and I'm hoping to put more horror elements into this one too (Nicky + horror is my special tea). For this fic I'm really exploring liminal space, daylight horror (w the midnight sun), renewal, the sense of being adrift and the urge to keep everything and everyone together. So, uhh. Angst. I'll say one more thing just because: There is an inciting incident that occurs before the plot begins. It's what ends up convincing them to take a break from their search for Quynh and settle on solid ground. It's also why I'm writing it in Nicky's pov and why he has this pervasive sense of losing his footing, or being sent adrift. 👀👀

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

I outline like a beast. Usually I prefer to have the entire plot from start to finish outlined in bullet points before I start properly writing.

For my current wip I have three different documents and then the fic itself. Are the three documents comprehensible? Do they make sense? Are they more than just random philosophical thoughts and ideas and scattered research notes? Nah. But they get more organized with each new document lol. Sometimes, though, when the writing bug hits I just write a whole oneshot without planning too much.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I do!! I have very specific songs for very specific moods. Sometimes soundtracks, sometimes opera or classical music, sometimes like... weird medieval music. For my current wip I've been listening to three main songs that encapsulate the whole vibe of the fic: Your Bones by OMAM, Familiar by Agnes Obel, and Caesar by The Oh Hellos.

I tend to listen to the same artists over and over, or sort of atmospheric instrumental stuff. I found this yesterday and it's really gotten me in the writing spirit!

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Honestly, Dying of the Light was a pretty insane experience, both in terms of writing and just its plot. I had thousands of words written, then scrapped almost all of it and re-wrote almost the whole thing in one sitting. I was up at 4am when I wrote the goat scene and I think I finished around 6. All its wild trippy moments come from the fact that I was literally losing my mind a bit at the time lol. Bad life circumstances, but it ended up being one of the fics I'm most proud of.

But in terms of plot only, I think Tangerine and Roc was kind of wild. It has a lot going on thematically and plot-wise, and has a longer word count.

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

I don't have a knack for fluff, but I think I might have a soft spot for that sort of casual, close and familiar family dynamic? Like I hadn't realized how many moments I'd written in which one of the queer quartet members is doing another one's hair until I read them all back lol.

Casual intimacy and platonic touches really get me in my feels. Specifically Andy's affection for any of the other characters (back of the neck touch my beloved). Dancing makes me feel insane, I love it and need to write more of it. Same with platonic cuddles. I definitely have a soft spot for pals sitting around a fire and drinking/dancing/laughing. Makes me feel alive <3 Like: Yes, that's family.

#ty apple beloved <333 #ask game #sage writes #maybe i spoiled too much about my wip but it's okie. nothing's really a spoiler

[eyes-onthehorizon]

so booker, uh, goes through a phase after quynh shows up. he's working hard to become sober and needs something, anything, to fill the void.

so he takes up health challenges. one by one. he has at least 10 packets of every SuperFood from the last five years on hand. his cooking becomes Soups of Varying Edibility and Texture.

he takes up a different sport every month. he learns new stretches and that he absolutely hates american football. (this man has died. so many times. but it was walking around with several concussions that he found truly morbid)(he'd shown up at the safe house where the guard were currently hanging out. they were not pleased to see him and less pleased when he started babbling)(why did it take so long to heal??!)

he only tries juice cleanses once.

and whatever nile may say about him being such a typical white boy, he doesn't even bother reaching for the paleo.

it takes a while for him to mellow out but he gets there in the end.

next stop, therapy.

#the old guard #fic

[masterwcrk]

@valiantsword, 

moved from here because of being forced into beta editor.

    there are two certainties whenever clary comes back into their lives.  first, arthur remembers what heartbreak feels like.  that, in turn, reminds him why he closes himself off to the world around him.  centuries have turned his emotional skin to leather and being reminded that thorns can still wedge beneath is enough to bring him to his knees. the second, of course, is a conversation with nicky on all the reasons why this time arthur should take that leap to put his heart on a silver platter.  to this, arthur will most definitely deny he understands a damn thing the knight is talking about.

           i lost the capacity to love centuries ago, arthur always winks and pats nicky on the chest.

     every time she’s gone arthur lists all the reasons, to himself, why he should’ve said something.  most prominent among them is to finally know one way or another.  that way he could celebrate or move on, depending on the reaction.

     it takes a second too long to turn the knob once his hand lands on it.  it takes a few extra seconds beyond that to push the door open, both thrilled and dreading the face ready to greet him on the other side.

     clary is more beautiful every single fucking time.  it always boggles arthur’s mind that he could fall even deeper and more hopelessly in love but he does.  her radiance make him stop to watch the way she moves around him once the deadbolt is shut once again.  he takes in the way the lights glint off her hair and the feel of her very presence upon his skin, eliciting gooseflesh until a tingle shudders down his spine.

     the reaction is so visceral it brings a few unexpected tears to his eyes.  maybe one day he’l be brave enough.

                 one day.

     her voice brings a tired smile to his lips.  it’s easy to forget the tears when he looks up.  the immortal can’t help but reach out to gently cup clary’s cheek; allowing himself one physical reminder that she’s really here.

     “ well, “ his touch lingers but eventually arthur forces himself to pull back.  one, so he doesn’t make it awkward and two, so he can untie sheaths and holsters.  no matter how old he gets, the way the damned things press against his hips never gets easier.  “ as planned as it could.  we had to improvise a little because there were more bodies on the inside than we were lead to believe. “

     speaking allows him to get a handle on his emotions.  “ how’s it going with the journals? “

the way he touches her holds a reverence she's only ever felt traces of before, & she tries not to let her thoughts linger on it. each page of these journals are so meticulous, outlining each of her lifetimes as many remember them. the earliest entries are from Andromache's memories, then the rest are Nicky, or Joe. the one sole entry she knows belongs to Quynh without having to see the original handwriting had hurt as if the loss had happened recently & not so many lifetimes ago. but there are no entries from Arthur, not that she has noticed. she doesn't remember any of them ever being in his handwriting, & now that she's on the final book, it seems strange to her that the member of the guard she gravitates to the most would have had such a reserved presence from this process.

she's... trying not to linger on that, either.

' here, let me. ' guns are something new. she remembers her way around pistols to some degree, but even those had only been in the last two lifetimes. it takes her a moment to shoo his hands away, but eventually she manages to ease the mess of sheathes, holsters, & hardware inside of them off of him & set them aside to be cleaned later.

' so what I'm hearing is that something can still surprise you, even after all this time, ' the redhead teases. ' less exciting than your day, I assure you. ' there's only so many times she can read accounts of how they had found her just after she had fallen into some sort of commitment or another. each time, crossing paths after she had been married off or had already started some sort of family that kept her from traveling with them. what makes it worse are the notes that the only lifetime that hadn't happened, she hadn't crossed paths with them at all - that journal had been from her own memories, a lifetime later.

' it's... hard, ' Clary admits carefully, taking the moment to move out of his space & busy herself with making drinks for the both of them. ' I've never had the agency the rest of you have enjoyed. reading these really drives home how different my experience has been. ' & her age. that had been another change - each lifetime, finding her older, & older. something feels pivotal about this lifetime, though. in her experience, that's... not always good. the last time she had had this feeling had been before she had set aside her role as oracle & ended several lifetimes of prophecy. this time, the end might be a little more definite.

she's going to have to tell him eventually. maybe. there's a part of her that knows that will only bring more pain, & that's what keeps her from speaking the words. ' will the others be back tonight, or is it just the two of us? '

#valiantsword #☆ ❛ not meant to be alone ❜ || verse. ( au. — the old guard ) #☆ ❛ and the words came pouring out ❜ || interactions #let's try this bastard again #I am so sorry #q.

[kbirbpods]

Look below the cut for kbirb's @purimgifts 2024 letter (a little late, I'm sorry, it's been so hectic these past few days)

For reference, check out my "dear podficcer" letter from ITPE, which goes into more detail, as I know we want to keep these short and sweet! (It doesn't look short because bullet points but trust me... I tend to be wordier)

Hi! I'm kbirb on ao3 or Kaje to the wider internet/many of my IRL friends. I'm a nonbinary creator - typically podfics & graphics, though I do occasionally spill words onto a page and call it writing. I started podding in August 2022.

I think it's easiest to put it this way:

Triggers/Squicks/No-Thank-Yous:

Rape/non-con/dub con - with the caveat of rape recovery and abuse recovery being something I do enjoy in stories

Incest - I understand that to some portions of the fandom, clone shipping is called clonecest, but I do ship clones (with some caveats)

Underage/power dynamics - as a teacher, it's a major no from me

On-screen suicide/suicidal ideation - aka, if a character is recovering from suicidal ideation? That's fine. A character commits the act or seriously considers it? No thank you. It's easier to just say a blanket no to it

Cockroaches - idk I just hate them so much

Yes Please Times 1,000:

Slice of life

Modern AUs

Fluff in general

Hurt/comfort

Soulmate AUs (my faves)

Period piece AUs (especially regency era, oh my)

No Order 66

Crackfic

My favorite ships (applicable to this exchange, so focused on Jewish characters/women/Jewish women):

I tried to pick from all the fandoms I listed but I like a lot of gen fic in some of them. Especially ones like OFMD where there's not that many women in the first place, so I like fics that focus on women being power houses.

Star Wars [most of my SW ships are M/M so this is a little limited]: Ahsoka / any woman ever (well not ever but you get it), Kanin/Hera, Jyn/Cassian, Bail/Breha/Fox, Bly/Ayla

Ted Lasso: Keeley/Roy, Keeley/Roy/Jamie, Rebecca & Keeley, Rebecca & Ted

Batfam/DCU/Young Justice: Harley/Ivy, Kate Kane/any woman ever (again, not ever, but you get it), Jason/Kori/Roy, Artemis/Wally, Barbara/Dinah, Barbara/Kara, Barbara/Dick, Selina/Bruce, Selina/Harley/Ivy

The Locked Tomb: Gideon/Harrow, the fucked up polycule that created Gideon

The Adventure Zone: Lup/Lucretia, Lup/Lucretia/Barry, Aubrey/Dani

The Old Guard: Quynh/Andy

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Willow/Tara, Buffy/Spike, Buffy & Willow, Buffy & Tara

Six of Crows: Inej/Kaz, Inej/Nina, Nina/Mattias

The Good Place: Eleanor/Chidi, Eleanor/Tahani

My favorite canonically Jewish characters from my listed fandoms (tragically there is only a few due to the fantasy world element of many of my fandoms):

Harley Quinn (DC)

Kate Kane (DC)

[some versions of] Bruce Wayne (DC)

[some versions of] Barry Allen (DC)

Agnus McDonald (TAZ)

Willow Rosenburg (BtVS)

Also Roy Kent, my favorite character in all of media, is played by a Jewish actor.

I really like fics that portray Bruce as Jewish, due to Kate (his cousin) being Jewish, and especially ones that branch into exploring Judaism for the entirety of the Batfam. For example, I recently did a podfic of one for ITPE that was different Hanukkah stories!

Further, I love love love any fics surrounding trans women or really any fics that bring a new focus to a character that we haven't seen before!

Trans Clones!! My favorite thing ever in the SW universe. I have several of my own nonbinary/trans woman clone OCs. If you wish to make any characters trans, the only clone/clone ship I do not ship is Cody/Rex because they feel like siblings to me. My favorite clone/clone ships that could be made trans are: Rex/Bacara, Wooley/Longshot, Waxer/Boil, Hevy/Fives/Echo, Fox/Fives/Echo. My favorite clone/jedi ships that can be made trans are: trans!Bly/Ayla, Cody/Obi-Wan, Fox/Quinlan, Hevy/Jon Antilles, Fox/Jon Antilles, Fox/Quinlan/Jon Antilles

If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to reach out to me in an anonymous ask... or reach out to my best friend, FLOWERPARRISH, on discord if you know zir/on here and ze won't tell me who you are. Ze knows me very very well & might even be better to ask if you don't want to spoil a podfic or anything!!

#purimgifts #dear creator #dear podficcer #dear author #dear writer #purim #purim gifts #purim exchange #kbirb #okay wordier than i wanted but i am incapable of talking only a little #it's my fatal flaw #sorry not sorry???????

[dollypardonne]

how much can you know about yourself if you've never been in a fight? ( for whoever u feel like using!! )

it was undeniable that quynh mai's age implied a lack of experience, and minghao wouldn't be wrong to make the assumption. where she stood in the matter being discussed, there were no physical fights to be accounted for. "i've been in fights!" against illnesses, debates, societal struggles. still, she tries to avoid any kind of fight whatever chance she gets. "and," she pauses but she could barely hear herself think amid the slew of lies by way of omission. "not to be too philosophical but we aren't meant to know ourselves fully either way. and for good reason! faith in yourself would be meaningless if you've fully realised everything that needs to be. don't you think it'll just make life feel kinda stale?" and so she parrots back her talking points without properly internalising them, though her words come from the heart. make it up as you go. that's always been her style.

"i think i like that i learn something new about myself everyday."

#voiceover: quynh mai #para: quynh mai #prompts: quynh mai #ok well i promise im not just throwing all the youngins at you #give me more chances LOL #also linked her tag for your convenience #im too lazy to fix all of my muse profiles rn ahaaa #minghs

[quynhorlose]

Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Literacy // “the hairpin turn” @quynhorlose // “The Elektra Complex” @filmnoirsbian // Beth Cavener // “Best Friend’s Brother” @mayzarbewithyou // Cain and Abel, Keith Vaughan + Andrew Kozma “Song of the Insensible” @brotherism // @mayzarbewithyou // “My Name Is Memory” Ann Brashares // “Cain and Abel” Adolf von Hildebrand // @mayzarbewithyou

#web weaving #quynh tries something new! #hi zar sorry for the gratuitous amount of tags #you’re simply too Good #anyway #brotherhood #cain and abel #biblical imagery #if that is not your cup of tea i don’t blame u #also!! an unofficial name reveal for the vroom vroom fic #also known as the bike fic #👀

[whimper-soldier]

OK but imagine a Crazy Rich Asian type story for the Immortal Husbands.

Nicky is a professor at NYU (Medieval History anyone? Religious Studies? Take your pick) And he meets and immediately falls head over pommel for Joe, another professor (Languages? Art History?) .

They date, Nicky introduces Joe to his mom, a Italian immigrant who took Nicky with her when she came to the States when he was only four. I like to imagine she has a restaurant in Little Italy and saved money for Nicky to attend college. She teaches Joe how to cook Nicky's favorite foods, risotto with an absurd amount of cheese even thought Nicky is lactose intolerant, and while it is a very sweet little interlude, it does force Nicky to question why exactly Joe has yet to introduce him to his parents.

He has been introduced via FaceTime to Joe's sister Fatima and her fiance, but Joe is very evasive and Nicky doesn't want to pry. But it's been two years and Nicky loves Joe and when he invites Nicky to come home to Tunis to meet his family for his sister's wedding, it seems like it is all coming together.

Except the pilot of their flight knows Joe's family and the stewardesses are all giving him honeymoon eyes and while that's not exactly a new development, there is something in their knowing looks to him that sets his Poor Person Sense tingling. Nicky knows money when he sees it and while he knew Joe was better off then him, he didn't quite realize how much better off until he is shown to the valet.

But Fatima and her fiance seem nice, down to earth and kind. They show him around a market and haggle in a blend of Arabic and a pidgin language used down at the docks which sounds like someone took Abrabic and English and put it in a blender. The food is wonderful and Nicky feels a bit better about the trip. He even gets to go see his best friend from undergrad, Quynh.

Her and her Wife Andy are staying in Tunis for Andy's graduate work. She finds it almost fate that Sweet Nicky from college managed to snag the biggest catch this side of the Mediterranean.

I'm torn on exactly how the party would go. On one hand, it would be funny for Nicky to walk in with his white boy clothes and realize everyone is wearing outfits which cost the equivalent to an entire paycheck, on the other hand Quynh wouldn't let that happen so let's imagine he walks in and Joe has to excuse himself from a Saudi prince to kiss his boyfriend wearing the hell out of a suit.

Nicky, the man who thought that his and Joe's rumba was the hight of luxury, is awed by Joe's house. It is full of beautiful golden spires and sun warmed tiles and pocketed with small gardens with blooming flowers and handpainted murals and rich tileworks along the walls. The walls hold masterpieces and the library has original works from the Arab world's greatest poets. There are small western inspired sitting rooms and a kitchen which puts his mom's restaurant to shame.

I imagine Joe's mom as being a hard working, well respected woman who was pushed by her parents to marry Joe's father instead of following her father into his business. Maryam loves her son fiercely and hopes that one day he would do what she never could and compile both her family and her husband's family business. No matter that the only thing Joe has seemed interested in during the last few years has been some Italian tart.

The story is more interesting if Joe is characterized by the women in his life, so let's say that he is the favorite of his grandmother who took over the shares of her husband's business after he died and seems set on leaving them to Joe. This is perfect for his mother but not for Joe who is torn between love and duty. He tries to pull his mother away from that idea for years, and even went to school in the states instead of Cambrage like her and Joe's father.

Basically, all of this culminates in Joe's mother needing someone to blame and in walks Nicky. It becomes pretty clear that Joe's mother sees Nicky as a small set back she will be able to rectify to set her son up for the life she always dreamed for him.

Needless to say the party is mostly a disaster. Nicky makes a few faux pas, shaking with the wrong hand or calling someone by the wrong name, and by the end of the night he is exhausted and wondering about how exactly he can fit into this world. The biggest mistake was asking Joe's mother about her engagement ring. As Maryam so coldly put it, it had been passed down from the first wife to her daughter in law for almost four hundred years, and wouldn't be a shame to put a stop to that?

The original movie didn't really touch on it, but Joe, for his part, has to code switch. He has to wear the right clothes and talk with the right people in the right way and every conversation reminds him how fake the world of his parents feels. Nicky sees Joe being so boisterous and in his element that Nicky feels clumsy by comparison. What use is he if not even as arm candy? He can't imagine Joe seeing him as the lifeline, tugging him back to shore. It is only when he and Nicky crash onto their hotel room bed that he feels like himself again, mostly because Nicky pokes at his dimpled cheek and asks if he is rich enough to raid the hotel mini bar.

There is a reason this is not a full story on my AO3 and bout a third of those reasons are I don't know a lot of the middle bits but do have an idea of where we would end.

Nicky never learned why his mother left Italy, she said it was for better chances for him, but Maryam has done a bit of digging. Nicky's mother was married, nasty fellow, beat her until she'd had enough and turned state's evidence agasint him. She left to make sure Nicky's father could never hurt him. Mother's love, moving to a country where they spoke a different language and where she knew none of the customs, but, as Maryam so keenly points out, Nicky's father was involved with some shady characters, and she just worries that if they did get married, might Nicky's family become an issue to Joe? Did Nicky really want to sabotage Joe's whole family? This would be the metaphorical climax, where Nicky has decided to leave, not just for himself but also for Joe, and Joe is able to put aside the image he was trying so hard to keep to notice what exactly it is he is loosing.

We would get a faceoff between Nicky and Maryam, and I love the idea of it being over a chess board. It worked better in the film, but chess is a universal game of strategy, symbol for intelligence and wisdom for almost as long as it has been a game. Maryam is a woman in a world dominated by men, any power she has is mostly through her husband or father, so she has a strong opening gambit. Nicky is calm. He avoids the center of the board, utilizes his pawns far more than Maryam, and somewhere in the middlegame, Maryam sees the King Hunt being set up for her. But here is the important bit, Nicky won't take it. Nicky will have her in check, his knight a single move away. And then instead he moves his king one space forward to be taken by an enemy rook. Because Nicky didn't need to win, he just proved he was more than enough simply by showing her what he didn't do.

Maryam wouldn't allow an outsider to Mary her son, not because she disliked Nicky, no she actually found him quite intelligent, but because Joe marrying Nicky would be detrimental to the future she imagined for him. The drama comes when Joe and his mother argue, and we get the *it's not my dream, mom, it's yours!* moment and Maryam understands she will lose her son either way and must decide which choice comes with the least number of casualties. Maryam is very good at chess, and moves her pieces accordingly.

Joe misses the plane, that's the important bit, Nicky is flying away and no amount of yelling can bring him back until he gets a polite call from his mother reminding them that their company employs a rather nice private jet and wouldn't you know it, it is taxiing on the runway waiting for him. His mother may not approve but she understands and shows her support in the way she can. Maybe Andy is the pilot, idk.

Nicky has to see his mom, we get one of those big Italian hugs and Nicky and his mother talk in the back of her kitchen, sitting on buckets of pickles, softly back and forth in muttered Italian because it hurt Nicky to say it in Engish.

The bell over the door rings, which is strange because they both know the dinner crowd locked up after they left, then comes the little ding of the front counter bell and when they both walk out armed with an old baguette and a roll of frozen sausage, they see a soaking wet Joe looking forlornly at the back-most booth where Joe and Nicky sat and rolled silverware when the restaurant was especially busy.

Joe is quiet, uncharacteristically, and then he asks for a minute, sliding into his side of the booth and smiling softly when Nicky does the same. Nicky's mother goes to pop a bottle of the good wine, used both for weddings or funerals.

Joe explained how hard it was, feeling himself slipping away as he pretended to be whoever his parent's needed him to be, and Nicky explains that he won't be the reason Joe is forced away from his family. Joe just smiles, quietly opening a ring box to show his mother's engagement ring between the red velvet cushions. Maryam played chess very well indeed and while she might not have picked those particular moves for her son, she is a pragmatist and some losses are acceptable to have her win the game. She loves her son, and for that she will take these casualties.

Nicky says yes. There will have to be discussions about his father and Joe's companies, and the tension between his grandmother and Maryam, but for now they are in love and sitting at their booth sipping a truly wonderful bottle of wine and so they toast, heads bend together, bodies curved like parentheses, enclosing the other, celebrating.

#the old guard #immortal husbands #joe x nicky

[lovelikedestiny]

It’s actually quite simple.

At least if you’re an extrovert and extremely good at talking to people and making them like you - which Nicky is definitely not.

He is one of those people who writes down when their neighbors do their laundry, so he won’t run into another person in the washroom and not make a fool out of himself by being the awkward thing he is.

He has to overcome himself every time he has to go grocery shopping and each social interaction he didn’t plan in his daily routine freaks him out.

He writes down what he wants to say when he has to make a phone call and needs a lot of emotional and mental preparation beforehand.

He gets nervous when people look at him and gets anxious when he has to be spontaneous.

All in all Nicky is not able to click instantly with strangers like Nile with her gleeful smile or Andy with her confident demeanor or Quynh with her enthusiastic way of doing things or even Booker who seems to attract several eyes with his scruffy looks and hunched shoulders.

The thing is, Nicky wants to greet his new neighbor because it is only polite and he knows the feeling of not being welcomed. A good first impression is always important - something Nicky can nearly never manage - so he decides to approach the smiling man with the head of curls, the laughing eyes and the groomed beard.

The closer he gets to Beaming Smile as Nicky has decided to call him due to his smile that competes with the warmth of the sun, the more anxious his heart starts to beat. His new neighbor is standing now at the tables where the residents of the building complex set up some snacks and fills a bit of Nicky’s self-baked bread on his paper plate.

There are enough people at this gathering of neighbors in a kind of party-barbeque-brunch that Nicky has to wriggle through the talking guests without starting a not planned conversation and he is relieved when he finally reaches the other end of the tables with the food. Just a few metres away from that hot Beaming Smile.

Alright, Nicky, he tries to motivate himself and grabs a free plate to hold on to something at which he can fumble. Smile, introduce yourself, shake hands with him and express your pleasure to have met him to welcome him in your neighborhood.

After two calming breaths, a hard swallow through which Nicky has the feeling to seem like a retching cat and another five seconds to think about the things he wants to say exactly, Nicky slowly joins Beaming Smile who is obviously enjoying Nicky’s focaccia.

His plan fails at step one when Nicky smiles at his new neighbor, reaches out his hand and says with as much confidence as he can muster: “Nice to Nicky. I’m meet.”

Shortly after his brain shuts down completely in a sudden rush of panic and everything is happening in horrible slow motion while a sorrowful voice in his head wails in despair because why can’t just one thing work out as he has imagined it to?

His face grows incredibly hot, Nicky is pretty sure that he looks like a ripe tomato and his new, unfairly attractive neighbor blinks in confusion and Nicky realizes to his horror that he is still holding Beaming Smile’s hand in a sweaty, frantic grip.

“What-” His new neighbors starts, but Nicky decides that he will straight up die from embarrassment when he stays a little longer in the overwhelming presence of Beaming Smile who has not even stopped smiling although the corners of his mouth show a slight edge of irritation.

“Welcome in the neighborhood,” Nicky presses out, sounding noticeably strangled, which lets the terrible feeling in his guts just grow. Then he frees his hand, closes it to a fist and holds it against his chest, skin burning through shame, and all but dives back into the small crowd, hoping to disappear into the ground or get struck by lightning.

There is no way that he can stay any longer at this party after this first meeting went terribly wrong, so Nicky sprints up the stairs and hides in his apartment, already scanning his groceries to check if he can survive a week without having to go outside.

Why does everything always have to end in a catastrophe whenever Nicky chooses to step outside of his comfort zone? Any type of embarrassment in his life has burned itself into Nicky’s mind and will hunt him forever because he is unable to forget the exact situation and feelings he had in that very moment.

The disastrous introduction to his hot neighbor is no exception and doesn’t let Nicky sleep soundly even after days have passed.

“I can never ever face him again for as long as I live,” Nicky tells his best friend Nile over the phone shortly after he had reported to her the fateful event at the party, and covers his eyes with one hand.

The memory of his stupid welcome alone drives the heat in his cheeks and he tries to ignore the awful feeling sitting in his stomach. “Every time he sees me, he will think of the day I made a fool of myself and how I nearly jumped like a lunatic into the next bush. Maybe I should just move away.”

“You’re getting pessimistic again,” Nile accuses him but her voice is soft because she knows the fears and doubts gnawing at Nicky and is aware how hard it is for him to approach others. “I’m so proud of you that you talked to him but maybe you should do exactly that again.”

Nicky walks upset in front of his stove back and forth. “WHAT? You want me to talk to him again after I screwed up so badly the first time? I can’t do that, Nile! I will die!”

“And if you can do it, Nicky! Listen, you’re a sweet, kind guy and have a lot to offer. You might as well get the name and phone number of Beaming Smile.”

“Shhhh!” Nicky hisses in his phone although he lives completely alone. “Not so loud! I told you this name in private!” He stirs a little in his pot and sighs. “What do I have to offer? He is likeable and funny and always in a good mood and yesterday he made Mrs. Murray laugh and she never laughs, Nile!”

Nile chuckles. “How do you know that when you avoid him?”

“It may be possible that I hid behind one of the plants in the hallway”, Nicky confesses and smiles contrite as Nile bursts into loud laughter.

“Nicky!”

“What? It was either behind the plant or in the laundry room and there was already someone in it,” he defends himself half heartedly and gestures with his spoon.

“You’re not supposed to sell yourself short, Nicky. Hiding behind a plant is not an option.” Nile has the tone that tells Nicky she is going to enforce whatever she is going to say. “Everyone makes mistakes, okay? Last week I told the cashier in the shop after his ‘Have a nice day,’ ‘No, thanks,’ because I thought he would offer me the receipt.”

The very idea causes Nicky to groan. “Oh god, stop, Nile. I remember the exact dates on which that happened to me.”

“That’s not the point, Nicky. Things like that happen to all of us and instead of holding onto them you should show what you have in store.” Nile pauses long enough for Nicky to fill a bowl with his soup. “You’re so fucking kind that it’s almost disgusting and you care for people without expecting something in return. You love to cook and bake and fuck, the meals you prepare are to die for! Your shoulders are from another world, your eyes are the dream of every fucking artist and your ass? Hot damn, even I’m jealous sometimes!”

Nicky doesn’t try to reply because he knows that Nile has not finished her motivation talk and puts a spoon full in his mouth.

“So, you’re going to talk to Beaming Smile again, blow his mind and who knows, maybe you’ll get his number!”

“You’re alarmingly convincing.” Regardless of Nile’s ability to brighten his day no matter the circumstances, she helps him tremendously in his everyday life by cheering on his progress and suggests things that go beyond his comfort zone but she never pushes him and accepts his characteristics unconditionally. Their friendship means everything to Nicky.

“You can thank me later,” Nile brushes off and Nicky writes Chocolate-blueberry-muffins for Nile on a Post-It before she says: “Just bring some of the Chocolate-blueberry-muffins with you the next time you visit me.”

“You got it,” Nicky says warmly and eats another spoonful.

“So, you’re doing what now, regarding Beaming Smile?”

“I show him my ass?” Nicky asks grinning and laughs as Nile chokes while gasping and then wheezes.

In fact, Nicky has no say in the Beaming Smile-matter and his planned try to start another conversation because on Wednesday afternoon he meets him in the laundry room and freezes in the door frame like a deer in headlights, the laundry basket with his hoodies on his hip.

“Oh, hey,” Beaming Smile says and sends one of the same kind immediately in Nicky’s direction when he spots him and it is scary how sexy these two words sound out of his mouth, in addition to his basecap that he wears backwards and the tank top and shorts giving him a casual look and letting Nicky’s own mouth go dry.

Of course, he has noted down the laundry days of all his neighbors except Beaming Smile.

“Hello,” he gives back and curses himself for sounding so quiet and tormented, which certainly won’t make up for his first, destroyed impression.

In order to prevent falling even more in disgrace by fleeing abruptly, Nicky forces himself to go to one of the free washing machines and cram his hoodies into it. He’s painfully aware of Beaming Smile’s presence and nearly tips over his detergents when he sees out of the corner of his eye how he is watching him.

A bit more relaxed as Nicky finally starts his usual program and no further embarrassments have happened, he straightens up and snatches his basket to leave because his brain has been searching panically for a possibility to begin a short conversation since he entered the room and has found none.

“You’re Nicky, right?” Beaming Smile stops him and when Nicky turns around after closing his eyes to brace himself his new neighbor is holding out his hand with a grin that lets a slightly crooked tooth flash behind his lower lip which shouldn’t be as attractive as Nicky thinks it is. “I think we weren’t fully introduced yet. I’m meet. Nice to Joe.” Followed by a wink.

Nicky’s hand is halfway to Joe’s hand when understands the words and stiffens while praying to God or someone else that he won’t blush again.

Another problem is, he has no idea how to deal with it and is just one leap away from apologizing and stumbling out of the room.

Is Joe making a joke? Or is he making fun of Nicky’s failed attempt to start chatting? Is he supposed to respond somehow? Is Joe expecting something from him? What would be an appropriate reaction?

Luckily, Joe takes the floor again before Nicky can get tangled up further in his inner monologue of doom.

“I’m sorry if this was stupid,” Joe says, bashfully scratching his neck whereas Nicky tries hard not to stare at his biceps. “I thought you would feel better through something like that but in hindsight it didn’t sound as funny as it was supposed to.”

He wanted you to feel better! A part of Nicky’s self screams in his mind. He took notice of you and apparently didn’t think you’re crazy!

Blow his mind, he hears Nile’s voice say.

Be brave.

Nicky scratches together all the self-confidence he can muster and croaks: “When I get your number I would definitely feel better.” It is the best decision he has ever made.

The answer is a beaming smile.

Eight years later on the invitations is written:

We’re Nicky to announce our Joe.

Lovely greetings

Happy & Wedding

Only their closest friends get the inside joke.

#the old guard #tog fanfic #ficlet #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #joe x nicky #social anxiety!Nicky #new neighbor!Joe #fluff #AU

[even-after-a-millennia]

ceremony after ceremony, century after century

For Andromaquynh Secret Santa 2021, here is my gift for @salzundhonig! I hope you like it and have a happy holidays and a good new year!

Summary: 5+1 fic of five bonding ceremonies between Andy and Quynh before the iron maiden, one afterward. 

You can read it on my ao3 account here or down below!

The moment that Andromache set eyes on the woman in the desert, she knew that she would be important to her.  Not just because of the dreams they shared that showed that they could both come back from death, but because something in the slope of her sunburnt cheek and the crease in her brow made it impossible to look away. 

Andromache kept looking, throughout the years.  She couldn’t stop herself and she didn’t want to.

It turned out that Quynh didn’t want her to either.  She drew her eye constantly with small smiles meant only for her or a muttered phrase in a language that only they spoke together.

They had traveled together for two hundred and forty-seven years before Andromache’s feelings finally broke from her chest.  It wasn’t a particularly special moment, just Quynh preparing a fire as Andromache skinned their meal, but something about how they hadn’t even needed to talk about who would do what task struck Andromache so acutely she couldn’t stop herself from speaking.

“Quynh,” she called as her companion gathered wood for their fire.

The dark-haired woman didn’t turn at first, hoisting another stick into her arms.  “What is it?”

“Quynh,” Andromache said again and something in her voice must have given away the emotions ready to burst from her.

Turning, Quynh made eye contact with her and whatever she saw made her jaw and the sticks drop. 

Of course she could tell, she knew Andy better than anybody.  Quynh could tell when Andromache was tired before Andromache did.  Could see when she pretended to like a food Quynh had cooked, even as she tried to like it.  It was no wonder that now that Andromache was finally letting her feelings show, Quynh would know the emotion pouring out of Andromache was love.  

Quynh’s eyes widened with something akin to awe.  She took a step, then another, before she was rushing into Andromache’s waiting arms.

Together, they toppled.

The air in Andromache’s lungs rushed out of her from both the weight of Quynh landing on her and the feel of Quynh’s body pressed against her own.  They had slept closely before, they had even bathed in the same river simultaneously, but now Quynh knew and she still pressed close to Andromache’s front.

Quynh’s hands came up to cup Andromache’s cheeks and she began to kiss Andromache’s forehead, her closed eyes, her chin, her neck.  It was only when her lips lingered on her jaw that Andromache was able to tilt her head and make it so that their lips met.

“Quynh, I’m yours,” she murmured against her lips.  

Quynh pressed their lips together in another press before pulling back far enough they could look at one another comfortably.

“You are mine.  And I am yours,” she said.

“For the rest of time,” Andromache breathed, “I bind myself to you.”

Quynh went up on her knees and pushed off her hands so that she could untie her hair.  It cascaded around her, waves of black framing her face.  She took the tie and one of Andromache’s hands.

“I bind myself to you, Andromache,” she said, clasping their hands and wrapping the tie around them.

Andromache sat up to help her knot it, then looked across their secured hands at the woman who owned her heart.

She felt the joy in her chest stretch her face into a smile so wide that it hurt, but Quynh returned it with as much glee.  They began to laugh, then couldn’t stop.  They lay there together on the ground, bound hands between them, as they sank into the feeling of love they finally realized was requited.

_____________________________________

“My love,” Quynh said on a hot summer day.  She, Andromache, and Lykon were enjoying the shade of a tree as the air shimmered around them with heat.  “It has been far too long since we have last wedded one another.”

“When was the last time?” Lykon asked.

They thought a moment.

“Eighty-some years ago?” Andromache finally said.

Quynh nodded.

“And the first time?” their brother asked.

Quynh smiled.  “Much earlier than that.”

Andromache scoffed.  “A frantic bonding in the dirt.”

Lykon waved his hands, a smile overtaking his face.  “I don’t need to know the details.  I hear enough already.”

Andromache swatted his shoulder, causing him to laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  I know that is not what you meant.  Why were you frantic?”

Looking over at Quynh, Andromache smiled.  “I had loved her since I had first spoken to her.  It took centuries for me to say anything, though I’m sure I showed it in other ways.  To be able to look at the person that holds your heart and be able to see that they are giving you theirs is a heady thing.”

Quynh nodded.  “It was much the same for me.  The way she looked at me that day…  It was the first time I had seen it.  Tangible love.  Right there before my eyes.  And it was for me.”  She smiled at Andromache.  “I can’t help how overjoyed I was.”

“And you shouldn’t.  It should be celebrated,” Lykon said.  “May I help with the ceremony?”

“We would be honored,” Andromache said.

This time, it was Lykon who tied a strip of leather around both Andromache and Quynh’s hands.  

“May the years bless you so that you will always have someone to walk with throughout this long life we have been given.  May you always find solace in each other, even in the darkest of days.”

Quynh squeezed Andromache’s fingers.  Andromache nodded at her.  They had already seen so many wars, so many deaths.  Friends, family.  But they had each other throughout it all.

“And may you always be overjoyed at your love and never take it for granted.  It is a gift, as is our ability to live to know one another.  May that blessing never fade.”

Andromache wasn’t sure who pulled in who, but they sealed Lykon’s vows with a kiss.

Lykon let out a joyous whoop in celebration, making the two women break the kiss because they were smiling too hard.

________________________________________

They were holding each others’ hands so tightly that their healing couldn’t help the pain, but Andromache couldn’t let go.  They watched as some of the villagers they had saved at great personal cost closed Lykon’s tomb.

The noise Quynh made as it was sealed and her legs went out from under her would haunt Andromache for centuries to come.  She went to the ground with her, knelt in the dirt that now housed their brother.  

Quynh sobbed and Andromache could feel tears coursing down her own cheeks.

Hand shaking, she raised their entwined hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to the back of Quynh’s hand.  Quynh’s sobs doubled, and she pulled their hands into her chest.

Then she ducked her head and pressed her lips to Andromache’s hand.  Her lips were wet with tears and her shoulders shook, but Andromache paid those details no mind.

It was a reminder and a promise.  No matter how long or short they lived, they had each other.  They would spend those uncertain years together, wearing the loss they went through as one.

Lykon’s tomb blurred in front of Andromache’s eyes and she let herself weep for the loss she had and would go through.

And throughout it all, they never let go.

_______________________________________________

“Yusuf, Nicolò, you should go ahead.  We’ll meet up with you at nightfall,” Andromache said.

They frowned at her.  

“May I ask why?” Nicolò asked, polite to a fault.

Quynh and Andromache exchanged a look before Quynh shrugged.

Andromache turned back to the men.  “We wish to perform a bonding ceremony today.  It has been a few centuries since the last one, and I want to remind this woman she’s mine.”

Quynh rolled her eyes.  “As you are mine, my heart.”

“Obviously,” Andromache said with a smile thrown Quynh’s way.  “So, we do need-”

“Can we help?” Yusuf asked.

Andromache blinked.  “What?”

“Can we help with the ceremony?” he asked.

A memory, bright and painful as Lykon and his loss, flashed across Andromache’s mind.  She reached out a hand and Quynh’s was already waiting to take hers.

“We would be honored,” Quynh said, her voice hoarse.

Neither Yusuf nor Nicolò commented on their reactions, but they went about finding the piece of ribbon that would bind them with a seriousness that made Andromache smile.  In the end, they bought a red ribbon from a merchant’s stall and delivered it back to the two women anxiously.

They finally relaxed when Quynh nodded and said, “It’s perfect.”

Yusuf wound the ribbon around their hands and tied it.  Nicolò said, his voice taking on a tone Andromache hadn’t heard before, “The red in this ribbon is significant.  It shows the love between you, tying you together, unable to be broken.  It symbolizes the blood you would spill for one another, fighting and dying side by side.  It is the loss that you have shared, that you have helped one another through.”

Andromache gripped Quynh’s hand tighter.  The past and present blurred for a moment, and Nicolò’s voice broke her out of the memory.

“But red also symbolizes courage.  It takes courage to walk through this uncertain immortality with the one you love at your side.  It takes courage to do the right thing, fight the battles worth fighting, even if they could be your last.  You and your love are courageous, the thing that epics should be written about, even if your story will never touch the annals of history.  We are blessed to be privy to it,” Nicolò concluded.

Yusuf nodded beside him, tears in his eyes.  “We are,” he seconded, his voice hoarse.

“You may now seal your bond,” Nicolò intoned.

Andromache stroked Quynh’s cheek and she leaned into the touch.  

They leaned forward as one and their lips brushed, then met again and again.  When they broke apart, Yusuf and Nicolò had both left, leaving them to celebrate alone.  Which they did, enthusiastically.

__________________________________________

“You know, my love,” Andromache said, her voice raw from lack of water, “we haven’t wedded yet this century.”

Quynh lolled her head against the wall until she was looking at Andromache.  “We should rectify that once we are safe.”

“No,” Andromache said, something curdling in her gut.  If she had to put a name to it, it would be fear.  “Now.”

Quynh raised an eyebrow.  “I think you will have to fight the wall to be able to clasp my hand,” she said, shaking the chains that bound them at the wrist.

“Gladly,” Andromache said.

They shifted and grimaced until they were facing each other, their fingertips brushing.

“This is the hand that knows my body better than another else throughout time,” Andromache said, stroking what she could of Quynh’s hand.  “The hand that has held countless weapons as you fought beside me and cups at my fire as we ate together.  This hand has held mine for millennia, and will not ever let me go.”

Quynh leaned down and kissed the palm of Andromache’s hand.

“Just you and me,” she said, looking at Andromache with that same look of wonder and joy that had graced her face when they had realized they loved one another.

Andromache leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Quynh’s cracked lips.

“Until the end,” she murmured against them.

She pulled back and Quynh opened her mouth to say her vows, but the door swung open and a man holding a wooden cross walked through.

And then-

Then-

Their hands stretched across the space between them, ever-expanding as they are pulled apart.  Blood dripped from Andromache’s wrists as she pulled on her chains.  Screams spilled from both their mouths, names ripped from their chests as the agony of what was happening set in.

The coffin closed.

The door slammed.

And all there was left were the echoes.

________________________________________

Andy woke to the feeling of fingers running slowly through her hair.  She hummed and stretched a bit, still unused to the ache that lingered in her muscles these days.  

“Good morning, Andromache,” Quynh murmured.

“Mornin’ my love,” Andy replied sleepily.  It was harder to be instantly awake since losing her immortality, but she didn’t mind.  These sleepy mornings with the woman who had held her heart from the moment they had met to the bottom of the ocean to back into her arms meant the world to Andy.

“I thought it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” Andy finally said.

Quynh chuckled.  “I think bad luck has done enough to us these long centuries.  It knows to stay away on such a special day, lest it be rendered limb from limb.”

Andy smiled.  Ever since breaking out of the coffin that had held her, Quynh’d had a sharpness to her, a rage that lingered just below the surface.  Andy couldn’t fault her for it and in reality, she sometimes relished it.  The fact that Quynh was different once more, as she had changed many times throughout the long time they had known and loved one another.  And yet still, she had found her way back to Andy.  They had fought, yes, but they had talked as well.

They had gotten here, together.

“However, you will not be seeing my outfit until the ceremony, my heart,” Quynh said.

Andy sighed.  “I’ll have to bear it.”

Quynh laughed, and it was the best sound in the world.

They lay there together, limbs entwined and Quynh’s fingers still in Andy’s hair.

“It was kind of Nile to arrange everything for us,” Quynh finally said.  “Bonding ceremonies have changed since I was gone.”

Andy hummed in affirmation, almost lulled back to sleep by Quynh’s ministrations.

“They, as with most things, have gotten more complicated with time,” Quynh mused.

Andy pulled herself closer to Quynh, until her face was resting on the crook of her neck.

“Complicated doesn’t mean bad,” she said, thinking of the complexities of time, suffering, and loss they have gone through.  All of it led to this moment.

“That is true,” Quynh said, bending to kiss Andy’s temple.

Andy lifted her head enough that their lips could meet.

There was a knock at the door and Andy groaned as she face-planted her wife’s chest.

“Guys, can I come in?” Nile’s voice called.

“Come in, Nile.  Andromache is just being a drama queen,” Quynh said.  

Andy smiled at the fondness in Quynh’s tone.  Quynh and Nile had bonded quickly once they had met and weren’t defensive around each other.  Nile understood Quynh’s pain more than anyone.  With the dreams, she had lived through it with Quynh, for however brief a time.  In turn, Quynh had seen Nile’s journey into immortality and had decided along the way she was going to make sure that the world treated Nile kinder than it had treated Quynh.

It had scared Nile the first time that Quynh had gone on a rampage for her, but once the bodies had fallen and they made eye contact, Nile had just nodded.  She saw it all, and accepted that part of her new sister too.

Andy felt reassured that Nile would have Quynh’s back, once Andy no longer could.

The door opened and Andy forced herself to relinquish her wife to look at Nile.  She was still wearing her bonnet, but was otherwise dressed.  Looking closer, Andy saw that Nile looked truly frazzled.

“What is it, little river?” Quynh asked, sitting up.

“I just got a call from the bakery I got your cake from and the driver had an accident on the way here.  There won’t be a cake,” she said, twisting her hands together.

“Is the driver alright?” Andy asked.

“Fine, the truck was more damaged than he was.  But guys, the cake-”

“Nile, my little river,” Quynh said, smiling.  “Come sit.  Let me tell you about some of our other ceremonies and maybe you will feel better afterward.”

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom, anyway,” Andy said, sliding out of bed reluctantly.  “So you can have a pre-warmed spot.”

“I really should-” Nile said, pointing behind her.

Andy none-to-gently pushed her towards the bed.

She had lied.  She didn’t need to use the bathroom.  She needed to find Nicky.

Through many, many years of experience, she knocked and waited to hear a bid to come in before she entered Joe and Nicky’s room.

“Good morning, Andy,” Nicky said, already sitting up and reading a book as his husband slept beside him.

“Morning.  I need your help,” she said, cutting to the chase.

“Anything,” he said, dislodging Joe’s arm from around his waist to get up.

“Nile wants there to be a cake at the wedding but there was an accident on the way from the bakery.  It’s important to her, though.  How soon can you whip something up?” Andy asked.

The corner of Nicky’s mouth twitched.  “I can have something together before the ceremony.  We still have a few hours.”

“Great.  Thank you, Nicky,” she said, clasping him on the shoulder.

They left the room together to go to the kitchen.  Andy grabbed two cups of coffee as Nicky started opening cupboards and pulling out equipment.

She left him to it and went back to her and Quynh’s room.

“They showed us the ribbon, and it was so important to them, we could see it.  And the thing was, it didn’t matter what color it was, no matter what Nicky said later.  The effort and the care they took were far more important to us than the actual ribbon itself,” Quynh was saying as Andy came into the room.  “It is the same with all you are doing, Nile.  We appreciate it all, but overall, the love that motivates you to coordinate all this is what I will take away from the experience.”

Nile nodded, a small smile on her face.

“I will also take away how beautiful you will look later,” Andy said, handing over Quynh’s cup.

“You don’t even know what I’ll be wearing, Andromache,” Quynh said, rolling her eyes.

Andy smirked.  “Preferably nothing, but I’m sure your wedding outfit will look good as well.”

“That’s my queue to go,” Nile said with a laugh.

“Nile,” Andy said before she could get too far.  “Nicky’s on cake duty, alright?  You don’t have to do this all yourself.”

Nile nodded, smiling.  “Thanks, Andy.”

“You should go too,” Quynh said after sipping her coffee.  “I need to start getting ready and I can’t have you distracting me.”

Andy sighed.  “Fine, I’ll go bug Joe.”

“But first…”  Quynh put down her cup and motioned for Andy to do the same.  Then she pulled her in with her hands at the back of her neck and Andy went willingly.  They kissed, caress after caress.

When they finally broke apart, Quynh whispered, “I will see you at the ceremony, my Andromache.”

Andy kissed the tip of her nose.  “Soon.”

Then she went to wake Joe.  Bothered Nicky in the kitchen as she got food.  Avoided her wife at her wife’s insistence.  Helped Nile with some decorations until Joe shooed her away to get ready.

Her suit jacket had a cape that fell from the shoulders to her knees.  When she had seen it while helping Andy online shop for the wedding, Nile had said, “Oh my God, Andy, yes,” which had sealed Andy’s opinion on it.

The jacket and pants were white, but she wore a red button down beneath it as a nod both to Quynh and the ribbon that Nicky and Joe had gotten them many years ago.  It was unbuttoned down to her cleavage, and looking in the mirror, Andy had to admit that Nile had good taste.

Nile came in with a smile, looking fantastic in a colorful dress that came to just below her knees, and started tearing up when she saw Andy in her outfit.

“You look awesome,” she said, clasping her hands with Andy’s.

“Thanks, Nile.”  Andy gave Nile’s hands a squeeze.

“We’re ready when you are, Andy,” she said with a smile.

Andy nodded.  “Let’s go.”

Nile had helped them pick out the song that would play when everyone walked to where the ceremony would take place.  It was called “Heavenly Day” by Patty Griffin and the moment that Andy and Quynh had heard it, they had nodded and said, “That’s the one.”

Joe and Nicky walked out first, taking their places on either side of where Nile, who would be speaking this time, would be standing.  Andy got Joe and Quynh got Nicky as a best man this time.  They traded back and forth over the years.

Nile was next.  She took her place in the center and rubbed her hands on the skirt of her dress.

“Got no cloud up above me bringing me tears,”  were the lyrics as Andy took her place.  

Then Quynh stepped out from where she had been hiding so that Andy wouldn’t see her until this moment, and Andy felt as bowled over with her love for Quynh as the day Quynh had tackled her into the dirt.

Her dress was long and sleek, white with red roses embroidered onto the one shoulder and down a diagonal, gold and green slashes for color intermixed with the flowers.  The one sleeve was long, but Andy’s gaze was drawn to the bare skin of her exposed shoulder.

She looked like a goddess and Andy was ready to worship her for the rest of her life.

“Only I’m glad to be here with you on this heavenly, heavenly, heavenly, heavenly dayyyyy.  All the troubles gone away.  For a while, anyway.  For a while, anyway.”

And then Quynh was before her and they reached to one another in the same moment.  Andy saw the same awe in Quynh’s eyes as a millennia ago.  Andy was feeling awed as well, that they could be here again, promising the rest of their lives to one another, however long that be.

Quynh had tears in her eyes, but she smiled at Andy through them.

“Hello, my love,” she said, her voice slightly choked.

“You’re so beautiful,” Andy murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to Quynh’s lips.

She heard Joe sob behind her as she pulled away.  He always cried at their bonding ceremonies, but when Andy turned to Nile, she saw a tear going down Nile’s cheek as well, even as she smiled.

“I was supposed to say to join hands, but you have taken care of that, so I’ll jump ahead,” she said.

Andy chuckled.

Nile pulled out the ribbon and oh, she was sneaky, because it matched the red of Andy’s shirt and the green and gold accents of Quynh’s dress perfectly.  She tied it around their clasped hands, then pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper from her pocket.

“These are the hands of your best friend, that are holding yours at your bonding as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow, and forever.  These are the hands that will work alongside yours as together you go into your future.  These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years.”

Quynh squeezed Andy’s hands there, and Andy looked over to see tears streaming down Quynh’s face.  She realized her own face was wet as well and shrugged helplessly.

How was she supposed to keep in her feelings, when they were so vast?

“These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief temporarily comes to you. These are the hands that will countless times wipe the tears from your eyes, tears of sorrow and tears of joy,” Nile continued.  “These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it, support and encourage you, and comfort you through difficult times.”

Nile swallowed.  More tears came to her eyes, but still, she read on from her prepared speech.  “And lastly, these are the hands that even when wrinkled and aged will still be reaching for yours, still giving you the same unspoken love and understanding with just a touch.”

Nicky was crying quietly too now, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Nile tucked her paper away and pulled out some tissues, passing them around.  Quynh let out a small laugh and took it with her free hand, blotting her eyes.

“Okay,” Nile said, clearing her throat.  “By the power given to me by the Internet, I now pronounce you to be bonded.  You may kiss your wife!”

It was wet from tears and hard to kiss from how hard they were smiling, but Andy didn’t mind.

Everything was perfect anyways.

#andromaquynhsecretsanta2021 #andromaquynh #andromache the scythian #andy #quynh #the old guard #the old guard fanfic #fanfic #my fic

[youssefguedira]

some more fencing au thoughts bc i was fencing last night and therefore had more thoughts:

joe and nicky, because they fence sabre and foil respectively, do (jokingly) argue about the merits of foil vs sabre. every time a new fencer decides to try sabre nicky sighs dramatically and complains about losing all the foil fencers to the dark side (sabre). and vice versa for joe. they have a whole thing going on. it actually gets worse once they've gotten together. they unite to bully booker, however, who is an épéeist and a french grip user

thought about backstory stuff for some people. joe was a very energetic child so when he was 10 his parents signed him up to a local fencing group just to give him something to do with all the energy and he loved it. when he was 11 his coach let him try sabre and he has never looked back once. he fenced competitively in college/university (a little bit in high school) but didn't take it any further than that and now just does it for fun. he's a translator for his day job (subject to change if i decide to) and an artist when he has time

he's a very experimental fencer he just likes to Mess Around and see what happens. he's difficult to beat partially because it's difficult to tell what he'll do next. he uses balestras and flunges a lot bc he thinks they're neat (esp. balestras bc they ARE neat. but kinda hard). because he's a sabreur he's Fast

nicky was the opposite, very understated, started fencing when he was 8-9. his parents took it incredibly seriously and he started to do the same. he trained with a whole lot of different coaches (one of them being andy, who tried to encourage him to Chill Out) and was training for the olympics with the italian national team when he either got a fairly bad knee injury or developed some kind of chronic joint issue. idk yet. but either way that coincided with a bunch of other stuff w/ his family and he left italy and stopped fencing for a while while he recovered. andy bullied him into joining her group the second she found out he'd moved to the uk (and was an instrumental part in helping him work through his injury + complicated feelings about fencing after it. eventually he realised he is just allowed to have fun with it)

nicky is a less experimental fencer but because he's been trained by so many coaches he knows a lot of different styles and he uses almost all of them. he's the sort of person who will pull out a weird move you knew was possible in theory but have never seen a person actually do before. he's very strategic + precise. he also uses an italian grip (nile teases him about it (for being an old man and using a grip that is technically legal but definitely not common) and joe is just surprised because he's never seen one before)

andy is a foilist and was an olympic / world championship fencer, #1 in the world for a little while. she met quynh at said olympics/world championships and they had a whole enemies to lovers thing despite fencing entirely different weapons (foil vs sabre). she retired from international competition after she and quynh got married, largely because she got tired of it. she and quynh formed the old guard because despite retiring from competition she still gets antsy when she doesn't fence. she's a terrifying coach but also a very good one

i haven't worked out a lot of quynh's backstory yet but she's a sabreur and she's very good.

nile picked up fencing in college (/ the military but idk if that's a thing in the american military) and competed at that level in foil. she and jay and dizzy were on the foil team together. andy may have also helped coach her for a while before moving to the uk, and when nile moved for work andy immediately got her to join the old guard

nile's style is. very american. she's also picked up a lot of tricks from andy (weird stuff that nobody does anymore) and nicky (overly complicated forms) who are the two other foilists in the group. she also fences joe in sabre for fun and practice sometimes. they are, in this au as in all of my others, best friends.

merrick is my least favourite kind of fencer who learned it at private school and thinks everyone else is beneath him. he is, unfortunately, a foilist, which makes me (a foilist) annoyed on principle but this is just so the final showdown can be andy or nile vs merrick. his style is very old fashioned british. and he uses a french grip unfortunately

#neon has thoughts #the old guard #fencing au #anyway yeah uh. i offer you this #merrick is vaguely inspired by a few fencers i have unfortunately met before #andy is also vaguely inspired by a (very intimidating) coach i met once #the foil vs sabre argument is something i joke about with the sabreurs i know #the french grip épéeist thing is just me being me #long post #more thoughts bc i wasn't done actually: i think it takes a long time for nicky to relax when it comes to fencing #he loves it but his parents were also very strict about it so he took it incredibly seriously #when andy met him he was in his late teens-early 20s and very tense + very stoic. she coached him for a year or two #as part of a small group with some one on one bits. he was very good but wasn't very good at taking losses well #(his parents really wanted him to be the best and weren't very good at hiding their disappointment when he wasnt. so he internalised that) #she did give him some advice (largely telling him to just calm down a bit) #after he got injured/diagnosed with whatever he couldn't fence for a while and that was a pretty big thing for him. he struggled with it #for a long time. + especially after leaving italy he had some difficulty with thinking about fencing at all (lot of complicated feelings #about how much pressure his parents put on him and whether he really wants to keep fencing) #andy helped him get back to where he was especially with his injury. it was largely one on one. for a while he was doing just seated #to practice bladework and eventually got back into footwork. she also helped him realise that actually he can #separate his feelings about his parents from his feelings about fencing on its own and by the time andy finally persuades him to fence with #other people i.e join the old guard he's almost 30 and doing a lot better than he was #he ends up doing the same thing for joe that andy did for him when joe gets injured during the au

[thecostoflies]

Okay, now that I’ve had some moments to screech over the screenplay and read it over twice...

I have some thoughts™️ about Andy/Booker. A lot of thoughts, even. So, for the 0.0000001% of people who wanted a detailed exploration of the good and the bad of their relationship bordering on a ship manifesto, here it is.

In fact, I’ve always had some thoughts about Andy/Booker, because even though it was always a rarepair ship (and I’m actually glad about that, at some level, because maybe if it had been canon, it might have taken some of the wind out of the sails of Andy/Quynh and Booker/Nile both of which I ship), I got the strongest of vibes from them in the film—the intensity of how they look at each other, both when Andy is trying to wake him up in Goussainville, and when he realises that she’s not healing, is off the charts.

I had even more thoughts after that one interview where Matthias suggested that Andy and Booker had hooked up back in the day, and oh boy oh boy do I have thoughts after reading that screenplay.

First of all, let’s look at the facts of what’s in the screenplay:

The first we see of them together is Booker playfully teasing Andy with his motorcycle and her having brought him an expensive and thoughtful gift after vacation. That part is in the final film (though the specific book she gives him changes), but the second half of the scene isn’t—when Booker can’t help but ask if she’s met anyone special and, “both truthful and kind,” she replies that she hasn’t and asks him if he has met anyone.

The “truthful and kind” could refer to her entire reply, but I kind of think that the “truthful” refers to the first part—no, she hasn’t met anyone that she would consider special—while the “kind” part is that she goes ahead and asks him if he’s met someone, even though both of them already know that that’s, as he says, “unlikely”.

Then, the screenplay implies that Nicky and Joe are sharing one room in the hotel in Marrakech and Booker and Andy are sharing another.

When they talk in Goussainville about how they might not live forever, “an intense moment” passes between Booker & Andy according to the script—something which I think makes a lot of sense given their convo right after Booker betrays Andy.

The desperation when Andy is trying to wake him up in Goussainville is just as strong in the script as it is in the film.

In the script, it takes Nile literally one day of interacting with Booker and Andy to ask him if he’s in love with her. Think about that for a second—whatever vibes they have going on are so strong that in less than a day, in the middle of coming to terms with her immortality, Nile is still like....”you’re definitely into her, no?”

He doesn’t answer the question, of course, which—well, his lack of answer kind of answers the question. There’s no doubt in my mind that the way the original script was written, Booker is in love with Andy.

The question, to me, is more how she feels about him. And...I don’t know.

There’s a lot of water under that bridge, clearly. And she trusts him, more than anything—right before he betrays her, she says “You and me, Book. Now and always.”

They may not be together in a romantic sense, but she has clearly come to think of him as a partner—he’s the one she calls when she finds Nile and jokes about how she has potential, he’s the one she trusts to have her back, now and always. (That might be different if Quynh were around, but...)

The scene, the betrayal scene. This was the scene that first made me think they had had a history together, honestly. They are both gutted about what happened and it seems like a horrible misunderstanding where he was doing what he thought she wanted, while she is devastated that he somehow misunderstood what she wanted so badly.

This is even clearer in the script, where there are a couple of lines that are missing from the final film—Booker’s desperate attempts to confirm that she had wanted to have “real lives” as mortals, and her admission that “maybe I did”. But not like this, of course—he’s tried so hard to do what she wanted, and yet he’s missed the mark.

Booker then keeps trying to apologise to Andy (more than in the movie) and is described as “miserable” while she’s not healing.

She, of course, is the one who’s sent to tell him about his sentence; she’s the one who—as the script puts it, “needs a second” to collect herself before she can break the bad news, and then there’s the “have a little faith, Book” line that closes their on-screen relationship.

#the old guard #long post #the old guard meta #the old guard netflix #andromache of scythia #Andromache the Scythian #andy the old guard #andy the scythian #booker #sebastien le livre #booker / sebastien le livre #sebastien le livre / booker #andy x booker #andy/booker #andy & booker #meta #tog script #tog screenplay #the old guard script #the old guard screenplay #ship manifesto #andybooker