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bostonbashers · 3 years

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Hear me out.. How do mercs behave around a person they have a huge crush on?! :D

AAAAAA this one is so cute, i’m in love!! 🤩❤️

Scout:

literally a fucking DORK around you. tries to impress you constantly with anything and everything he has, ranging from his skill set to his appearance to his personal belongings and much more.

always finds excuses to spend time with you and it can be the most asanine ones in existence. oh? you have free time tomorrow? let’s go take a run down the street. you miss your puppy that got lost when you were a kid? let’s go to the ends of the earth to find it.

made you borrow his jacket/shirt once because he accidentally spilled a drink all over your shirt. once he saw you in it, he nearly died and didn’t want it back. takes it back anyway due to his pride and though he seems outwardly okay with it, he secretly doesn’t wash the clothing for a long while.

his flirtatious behavior around other people goes down immensely. scout becomes strictly loyal to you once his crush grows stronger and can’t bear the thought of talking with someone else, even if you don’t like him back. it just doesn’t sit with him right.

Soldier:

soldier is much softer and kinder around you. he restrains himself from using any harsh words that could hurt your feelings and tries to slow down on your training.

shows you his pets!! one of his prized possessions that he won’t allow anyone else to touch, like ever. he trusts you to love and take care of them the same way he does.

everyone has to respect you. if they even give you a slight problem, he’ll get on their case about it and probably give them hell before they could even mutter out an apology. you deserve respect and he’s gonna make sure you get nothing less.

lots of supportive comments from him! even if it’s something small, he’ll grin at you proudly and yell out a, “good job, cupcake! you did great!” while giving you a strong pat in the back or an approving nod.

Pyro:

pyro is usually sweet and kind with a certain crowd and tries to do the best they can for others, but with their crush? it’s a whole different story. they’re absolutely head over heels for them.

like a lovesick puppy; they will follow you wherever they go with a skip in their step. like, i mean they’ll follow you everywhere. “no, pyro you can’t follow me to the bathroom-!” they don’t really listen but patiently wait outside anyway.

one of the many mercs who won’t hesitate to show affection and sees nothing wrong in it. runs up to them and holds their hand firmly with a happy hum, hugs them more than usual, and just straight up gives you all their attention.

Demoman:

oh boy, if tavish has a crush on you, he’ll show it when he’s absolutely wasted. demo will literally smother you with affection regardless of where you both are and literally latch onto you every second he gets a chance to.

lots of drunk ramblings; he’ll lay his head on your shoulder or lap while he mindlessly slurs about how amazing you are, what his favorite thing is about you, and so much more.

it’s pretty obvious at that point demo likes you so you admit your liking to him pretty quick and it’s funny how shocked he gets. “ya knew i liked ya?!” yes, demo, they did.

when he’s sober, he’s much more shy with it and controls his actions a lot more. apologizes for his behavior while drunk. tavish exhibits more gentleman behavior, from opening doors to making you a decent dinner and just basically ensuring your comfortability.

Heavy:

heavy is very mature and will accept his feelings pretty quick compared to the others. it’s a 50/50 chance with him; if they feel the same, that’s great! if they don’t, then.. he’d have no choice but to move on. that’s how life works.

once he does accept it, be expecting a lot of mother hen behavior; he literally watches your every move to make sure you’re safe and healthy. even if you are, he goes out of his way to give you things whenever he knows you’re around; a homemade meal, a blanket, probably some candy. your smile is already more than enough to make up for the little things he does for you.

no one will ever dare to hurt you around heavy (or just in general, really). he senses danger and issues pretty quickly, so it’s easy for him to detect any bad intentions. he’s like that scary bodyguard who looms behind you, glaring at anyone who radiates rancid vibes to scare them away.

Medic:

probably takes a while to accept or realize it cause he’s always so preoccupied in his lab, being busy and all. but once he does realize it, it’s sort of foreign to him at first, so of course, he goes to heavy to speak about his emotions. after being told it was a crush, he pays attention to you a lot more than usual, sometimes even without him noticing.

he gets all giddy when you’re around and although it’s not the jumpy, squealing giddy, it’s certainly one shown through happy greetings and continuous conversations that seem to be never ending. (you don’t mind though)

makes up random appointments and checkups for the smallest things just to see you and gets very, very excited whenever you decide to come to visit him without his knowledge. nearly drops everything just to attend to you.

he talks to archimedes so much about you that his precious pet basically knows who you are based off his owners reactions and automatically flies to you whenever you enter his lab. that bird is a lot smarter than you think. they get along with you pretty well and medic melts whenever he sees you talk to his birds like he does and play with them.

Sniper:

bless his heart, the poor man will literally faint around his crush. just the sight of them flusters him to his core, and don’t even get me started on their little habits and that godforsaken smile. [hes literally almost died when they grinned at him]

he’s already so reserved and quiet as he is, but around them, it’s even worse. he’s always so scared he’s gonna scare them away or say something stupid, but he eventually lets go of the fear and tries to muster up the courage to talk to you.

once he does, he spends a lot of his time with you, often inviting you out to drive around with him or just simply sit outside and enjoy the breeze. he talks a lot more than usual and though he doesn’t completely open up about his past just yet, he does indirectly hint that he trusts you more than anyone in his life.

lots of sleepless nights when he realizes he’s in love. he does everything to take you off his mind but all fails in the end and he’s kept wide awake thinking about what you two could be. from then on, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep his cool around you and silently begs you’ll confess one day or he’ll lose it.

Engineer:

sweetheart mode: activated. like it’s not a big switch up, since he’s naturally a gentleman but it’s noticeable enough. you’ll notice that your nicknames will start slowly forming to more romantic ones and how he blushes with a smile everytime it leaves his lips.

the other mercs can tell when dell has a crush; he blushes a lot more than usual and they catch him smiling more than once by himself. they realize it when you approach him and he automatically fixes himself to look presentable without a second breath. his voice also changes to a much happier and giddy tone, it’s so cute!

stares at you from a distance a lot or whenever you’re distracted with something. half of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing so but once he catches himself, he blushes and looks away, silently telling himself to quit it. often you’ll catch him staring at you, but you ignore it for his sake and laugh to yourself when he smiles back and waves shyly.

Spy:

takes a long while before he actually accepts the crush, seeing that he’s a very secretive and reserved person but once he does, you best believe you’ll be spoiled and loved by this man. lots of gentleman behavior!! opening doors, buying you gifts, giving you his coat, and all that fancy stuff.

teases you a lot more than he should; he enjoys your reactions. he’ll lean in close enough where your fingers brush slightly, tilt your chin up when he talks to you and makes intense eye contact while doing so. whenever he gets too close or the moment gets too tense, he backs away with a smirk and pretends as if nothing happens.

he listens to you and anything you have on your mind. his door is literally open for you 24/7 and even if you come knocking at 3 am, he’ll let you in and listen to what you have to say. you think he’s not listening cause he’s very unresponsive but when you’re finished and about to leave, he gives really good advice and tells you quietly that he’s there for you in an indirect way. depending how close he is to you, he’ll let out an experience or two about him to put you at comfort and as thanks for confiding in him. he then walks you back to your room with a simple nod and goodnight.

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heliads · 3 years

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Some Small Comfort

Based on this request: “reader is having a really bad day for no reason and Draco comforts her and one of the ways he does is kissing her forehead and wrapping his arms around her so she can bury herself into his chest”

masterlist

The wind is wild around you. It’s a cold, blustery day, and anyone in their right minds would have stayed firmly indoors, bodies turned instinctively towards a roaring fire in their common rooms. However, you are decidedly mad, and instead perch here in the creaking wooden stands, green and silver scarf wrapped around your neck as if the few feet of woven yarn will do anything to keep you warm.

It’s not like you’re alone, though. Hundreds of students are packed in around you, banners of emerald and sapphire being waved frantically through the air at opposite sides of the stands. It’s time for a Quidditch match, the semifinals of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. Your own beloved Slytherin is playing against Ravenclaw, who despite being stronger than the past couple of years is being steadily crushed by the swooping and soaring forms of seven green-cloaked players. Your cheers are ripped from your throat by the wind, joining the collective cacophony of the school as you all watch in awe.

“They’re going to win. No doubt about it.” You glance over your shoulder to see Pansy Parkinson. You and Pansy have not always been close friends, and the most you have in common with her is the house you share. She’s overly critical of the fact that you’ve been known to hang around with Potter, Weasley, and Granger. You’re a touch too haughty when you compare yourself with her. If you’re supposed to spend time with people who make you a better person, you’re not entirely sure you’ll find that same company with Pansy. That being said, there is a certain rush in being able to say what you want about whoever you want and share gloating laughs with another girl clad in viridian. It’s always a little more fun to pretend to be the villain, isn’t it?

You flash Pansy a grin. “As if there was a chance they wouldn’t. Slytherin is Ravenclaw but with muscle. It’s easy to see that those blue prats wouldn’t last ten minutes.” Pansy smirks at that. “Besides, it’s easy to cheer them on when you’ve got your star seeker boyfriend, don’t you? I hate to say it, but the two of you are cute together.” You feel your cheeks heat up as she says it, even as you know Pansy only speaks to get a rise out of you. “I’m glad you approve of our relationship. I would be utterly devastated if you didn’t.”

Pansy turns her attention back to the game. “Speaking of which, Malfoy would be utterly devastated if you don’t start paying attention. I think he’s about to win.” You tear your gaze away from your friend to stare excitedly back at the pitch. Sure enough, Draco has spun his broom into a deep dive, plunging farther and farther through the air until at last he snatches at something and rights himself, arm held triumphantly up. Even from this distance, you can see the victorious look on his face and the small golden sphere trapped in his hand, white wings beating uselessly against his palm.

Your shout of triumph is drowned out by Lee Jordan’s voice, which echoes across the Quidditch pitch. “And that’s it- Malfoy has caught the snitch- Slytherin has won. I hate to say it, but it was a good performance from Slytherin all around. We all know we’ll thrash you at the championships, though, you can count on that-” Lee’s hurried speech is cut off by the sound of Professor McGonagall chastising him for a certain lack of impartial commentating. You and the rest of the Slytherins rise up in boos against Lee, although you can’t stay angry for long. Draco has won, what more could you care about?

You rush down through the stands to the grounds below, feeling your heels fly across the packed earth. Draco’s already waiting for you outside of the locker rooms. His face, which you can tell he’s trying his hardest to keep neutral and unimpressed, breaks into a smile when he sees you. You run over to him and he picks you up, wrapping his arms around your waist. You beam up at him. “You were amazing, Draco. Honestly. That last catch was fantastic.” Draco shrugs as if it’s nothing, but you can tell that he’s secretly thrilled himself.

“It was fairly easy against Ravenclaw. Gryffindor’s next, though, in a couple of weeks. They’ll be the actual competition.” You scoff. “Gryffindor is nothing. You’ll handle them just fine, I promise.” Draco leans forward to kiss you. Even despite the bite of the wind, you can still feel a sudden burst of heat radiating through you. “Well, as long as I’ve got you I know I’ll be fine. I looked for you in the stands, you know.” You smile up at him. “I was there. Always am.”

The whole castle is in a buzz over the game. The Ravenclaw team has been training nonstop in preparation, but Slytherin still beat them easily. At this rate, the Hogwarts final will be a walk in the park. Draco still heads out to the pitch all the time, broom in hand and ready to practice, but you can tell by the ease in his shoulders that he’s ready to win.

Your footsteps echo through the stone corridors, joining the storm of chatter that bounds off of the arched hallways. You doubt Hogwarts has ever been quiet in its long history- too many students, too many spells, never enough time for silence to draw a breath. As you round a corner, though, you’re struck by a sudden lull in the hubbub that surrounds you. It’s brief, but just enough that you recognize a few voices. Hermione, Ron, and a few others.

You pause. You were intending to go back to your common room and finish up a few essays, but you’ve got no actual plans to fill your time. Why not go chat with your friends? You switch directions, crossing over the hallway to turn around a bend and rejoin the Gryffindors. You’re hidden from them by the stone corner of the wall, and you’re almost about to catch up to them when you hear more of their conversation. With a sinking feeling, you realize you know exactly what they’re talking about.

Ron is speaking now. “-and that’s what I was talking about. Quidditch tryouts are going to be opening up next year, and a lot of the oldest members of the team will be leaving. I’d go out and practice, but the field’s swamped with everyone trying to do the same thing I am and learn broom skills before the summer.” Hermione clicks her tongue understandingly. “I have the same issue around exam season. All I want to do is go to the library in peace, and then it’s swarmed with all the kids doing their best not to fail.”

She hesitates a second. “Actually, remind me if you’ve got any brooms to spare. Y/N and I were talking about going over some Quidditch skills. Everyone around us plays the sport, and all flying lessons stopped after the first year. We were thinking it would do some good to have a refresher on the finer points of broomstick flying.” Ron laughs, muttering something about the finer points of broomstick flying, really, Hermione, you’re making it sound so dull under his breath. However, a new voice rings out beside them, and you realize that you recognize it. It’s Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He must still be anxious over the recent Slytherin victory and the upcoming crushing defeat awaiting the Gryffindors, because his voice is cold.

“The Slytherin? Why the hell would you want that?” It’s not just the fact that he didn’t say your name, or the way you can practically see him turning to Hermione in shock. It’s the disgust in his voice, the sheer revulsion in his voice at the thought of ever speaking to you. He says Slytherin in the same way you might say vermin or dementor, and it cuts you to the core. You’re remembering key facets of Oliver Wood now, the way he clings to the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry with as much fervor as he does to his broom. He would never see you as anything more than a snake, and to be honest, the same is likely true with Ron and Hermione. They’re not defending you right now, are they? No, they’re just continuing on with the conversation.

You feel sick to your stomach. You had considered them friends, people you could talk with and not regret a thing. Did they see you as anything more than the one average Slytherin, someone they would tolerate to your face and loathe behind your back? You turn away from them, shouldering your bag and walking hurriedly back down the hall so they can’t see you. You head straight down towards the Slytherin common rooms, but with every step you can feel your spirits sinking. One of the worst hurts is when a friend insults you, but this is worse. They don’t even think of you as a friend, and they would have no problems with tossing you aside.

Finally, you reach the seemingly innocuous stretch of stone wall that marks the entrance to the Slytherin common room. You stand before it, muttering the password under your breath. “Hemlock.” The wall slides away, revealing the long-awaited common room. Usually, your eye would be drawn to the intricately carved stone ceiling and columns, the tall bookcases of dark wood that house every manuscript you can think of, but not today. Even the roaring fire in its wrought iron gate seems cold, the emerald-cushioned chairs unappealing. You feel like you have a lump in your throat that seems to choke you if you even think of straying by the other students, and so you hurry on your way to your dorm. You’re not sure you want to be alone right now, but it’s better than having to force yourself to speak to anyone else.

However, it doesn’t look like you’ll get the opportunity to finally escape. A voice calls out to you as you cross the common room, and you groan inwardly as you realize it’s Draco. His tone is light, unburdened, but it hesitates with worry as he takes in your twisted face. He walks over to you, taking your hand in his. “Are you alright?” You try to tell him that you’re fine, cook up some lie that you’re just tired, but your tongue doesn’t seem to want to move. His eyes glance over the students clustered around the fire and chairs, unwanted ears that could hear your conversation, and an understanding seems to dawn on him.

Instead, he guides you over to the window seat on the far side of the common room, the one that holds the swirling waters of the lake behind it instead of a view of the grounds. He sits down, reaching out for you. He pulls you close, letting your head rest against his chest. Your legs stretch out over the window seat, and you watch as the shifting lights of the lake tint the air around you a comforting green. Draco’s voice is quiet when he finally speaks.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You sigh. “It’s nothing, just- Well, I was walking back here and I heard Ron, Hermione, and a couple of other Gryffindors talking. My name came up, and one of them seemed so disapproving, like he hated me just because of my house. I know we do the same thing to them, probably worse, but it still hurt in the moment.” You can feel him tensing underneath you, head tilting slightly in anger. You look up at him, shaking your head slightly. “Don’t do anything. I don’t even think they thought about it much. It’s not worth it to get a detention so close to the game.”

Draco presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re too nice to them. They don’t deserve to be around you, and if they can’t see that, then I pity them. You’re far better than any of them, and they know it. They’re probably scared.” You chuckle quietly. “Only you could turn an insult into a compliment. I’m not sure they’re scared of me, I’m not very threatening.” Draco runs his fingers absentmindedly over your arm, tracing invisible patterns into your skin. “Maybe you’re not looking hard enough. I think you could hex any one of them into the hospital wing if you tried.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “I think you just want me to hex them.” Draco smiles. “What’s wrong with that?” You roll your eyes, but you can already feel your mood lightening. “Thank you for listening.” Draco pulls you closer to him, nestling your head against his heart. “I’d do it any day you ask. You know that.” And you do.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter oneshot

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

the wind that remakes

It's been ten years since the princes of the Antarctic Empire vanished. But the king's still offering a hefty reward for their return, and Tommy thinks it's about time he and Tubbo tried for it. No matter what they have to do.

It's time to pull off the con of the century.

(fic masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(next chapter)

(chapter word count: 5,474)

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Chapter One: let the valleys awake (let them rattle and shake)

It starts like this: Tommy and Tubbo are looking for someone they could feasibly pass off as one of the Lost Princes of the Antarctic Empire, because the reward is a shit load of money and Tommy wants a piece of it. But they’re not having any luck, right up until they pass by a busker on the street corner and something in Tommy’s head just clicks, just says, yes, that one, he’s the one.

And, well. Tommy is a Big Man whose instincts are never wrong, so he nudges Tubbo and points. Tubbo’s nose scrunches up, but Tommy doesn’t give him time to object before he’s marching over, already preparing his dialogue. And as he gets closer, he’s more and more certain that he’s right about this; the guy has the right hair color, the right face structure, and he’s a performer to boot, and taken all together, it smells like a successful scam just waiting to be implemented.

The guy doesn’t look up when he comes over, so instead of talking to him, Tommy pulls out the rumpled picture that they’ve been using all day, one of the photos of Prince Wilbur that’s been circulating around the Empire for years now, in hopes that someone will see him and bring him home. Fat chance of that ever happening, of course, and King Philza must be a sucker for thinking it, but it makes his and Tubbo’s jobs easier, so he’s hardly going to complain about it. He holds the picture up, comparing the face of the prince to that of the street performer, and actually, the resemblance is kind of uncanny.

“Tubbo, my friend,” he says, “I think we’ve got him.”

Tubbo makes a noncommittal noise, but that finally gets the performer to look up from his guitar.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks, and Tommy grins.

“Actually, we’re about to help you,” he says, and he sounds very grand and impressive, if he does say so himself. Which makes it all the more annoying when the guy looks him up and down like he’s worth the dirt on his shoes.

“Really,” he says, and his voice is dripping with so much sarcasm, Tommy’s surprised that it doesn’t manifest physically somehow.

“Yes, really,” he says. He refuses to be put off. This is the guy, he just knows it, the guy who’s going to make them so fucking rich that they’ll be able to swim in gold, or whatever it is rich people do with their money. “You’re one of the Lost Princes of the Antarctic Empire.”

The guy blinks. “Pretty sure I’m not,” he says.

“Pretty sure you are,” he returns. “See, look, we’ve got a photo of you and everything.” He shows the guy the photo, and the guy narrows his eyes. “Or at least, we’ve got a photo of Prince Wilbur, but it could be you, too. That’s a kid in this picture. No telling what he looks like now. Could look like you.”

“We’re inviting you in on our scam,” Tubbo puts in. “If you couldn’t tell. You interested?”

“Wait,” the guy says. “Wait. You’re telling me that you want to pretend that I’m a fucking prince so that you can get the reward money off the king? Something I’m sure no one has ever tried to do before. You don’t know me at all, and you don’t know if I can act worth a damn, you just think I look like the prince did when he was fourteen. But just to be clear, that’s what you’re proposing?”

He looks at Tubbo. Tubbo looks at him.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Tubbo says. “If it makes you feel better about it, we’re really, really good con artists.”

“You’re infants, is what you are,” the guy says. “How old are you, five?”

“We’re sixteen, fuck off,” Tommy snaps. “Look, do you want in or not? Pretty sure living in a cushy palace has got to be better than whatever you’ve got going on here.”

“Hm, let’s see, do I want to upend my entire life to try to trick a grieving father into thinking that I’m one of his long lost sons? Which, incidentally, is a plan that will probably not work and get us all thrown in prison for fraud,” the guy says.

“We’re going to try very hard not to get thrown into prison for fraud,” Tubbo is quick to say, but the guy doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

“Sure, let’s go,” the guy says. “Not like I’ve got much else to do. You two have names?”

“This is Tubbo,” Tommy says. “I’m Tommy.”

The guy raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, like Prince Tommy,” he says. “It’s a common name, so shut up about it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” the guy says. “I mean, my name’s Will, so.”

He can’t stop himself from laughing, because that’s just too good. “Are you serious?” he demands, smiling widely. “You’re joking, your name is actually Will?”

Will shrugs. “It’s what I’ve always gone by, ever since I was a teenager. I can’t really remember any of my childhood, so who knows, maybe I actually am a prince.” He smiles in a way that makes it clear how much of a joke he thinks that is, and he stands and reaches for his guitar case. There’s not much money in it, despite the fact that from what Tommy heard of his playing, he’s pretty damn good.

Tubbo snorts.

And Tommy claps their newfound friend on the back.

“Will,” he says, “I think this is the beginning of an excellent partnership.” He grins broadly, the type of grin that always has Tubbo rolling his eyes and asking where the fire is, which is unfair, frankly. It’s not always a fire. Just sometimes, because arson can be fun, actually, and some people deserve to have their stuff burned down.

Will, to his delight and Tubbo’s obvious consternation, grins the same kind of grin right back at him.

-----

It starts like this: it is indeed the beginning of an excellent partnership.

Will fits in with them like he was born to the role, and Tommy will never admit how fast he’s gotten attached to the guy, but he is kind of very attached. Because Will is smart and funny, with a sense of wit that can have both him and Tubbo in stitches, and it’s also nice to have an adult around, a bit. Not that he and Tubbo need one; they’ve gotten along just fine without for years. But people don’t shoot them as many suspicious looks when they’re with Will, and it turns out that he’s a brilliant actor, too, charismatic and smooth and confident, and he has people eating right out of his hand while Tommy and Tubbo sneak around and pick their pockets. It’s a wonderful arrangement, and within a week or two, Tommy can barely remember what life was like without him there.

The main issue is travel.

It’s a long way from where they started to the Capitol, and they can’t always afford to travel in the protected caravans, the ones with hired guards against the mobs that swarm over the land at night. And they can’t always afford an inn to stay in, either, and that means spending several harrowing lengths of time cowering in a makeshift shelter, listening to zombies and skeletons and spiders just outside and praying that none of them find their hiding spot, because they’re all scrappy in a fight but they don’t have any real weapons on them. They hadn’t planned for this, really; he and Tubbo have never left the big cities before, and apparently, Will hasn’t either.

“We need a bodyguard,” he declares one day.

“Where are we supposed to get one of those?” Tubbo asks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “But we need one. I’m sick of mobs.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Will says. He’s setting up a busking spot, trying to get them a little more cash. Somehow, it never seems to be enough. “But I agree with Tubbo. Even if we can find someone to go with us, there’s payment to think about.”

“We don’t need payment,” he protests. “We’ve got a prince! A long lost prince! We’re about to be the richest men in the world! That’s payment, innit?”

Will rolls his eyes. Tubbo does too. They’ve been doing that lately, ganging up on him, which is terrible and unfair.

“Somehow, I don’t think that a good bodyguard will accept that kind of payment,” Tubbo says. “It’d basically be an IOU, right? That’s a terrible business practice.”

He scowls. Tubbo is right, of course, but he’s got his heart set on a bodyguard now. Someone who’s good at fighting—good at fighting mobs, specifically, because Tommy is a very good fighter, thank you very much, it’s just that the people he’s used to fighting are other street kids. For, like, food. Not monsters. Not things that can kill you in one blow, if you’re unlucky.

And then, like fate and providence are shining down on him, his eyes alight on a poster across the street. The poster advertises arena fighting. In this city. Fights daily.

He grabs Tubbo’s arm.

“That,” he says, pointing, “is where we find a bodyguard.”

Tubbo follows his gaze. “Maybe,” he says doubtfully, “but we’ll still need to pay them. How are we supposed to convince someone to come along? I bet they get paid more for fighting than we could ever offer them.”

“Tubbo,” he says, “we’re the greatest con artists in the world. We can think of something.”

Tubbo stares at him. And then grins.

Behind them, Will starts to play.

-----

It starts like this: Will manages to busk enough money to get them three tickets into the arena.

It hurts just a bit, spending their legitimately-earned cash on something like this. But five minutes after stepping through the gates, into the crush of people and the roar of the crowds, the scent of sweat and blood mingling with concessions and stale perfume, Tommy thinks that this might be one of the best things he’s ever gotten to do in his life.

Their seats aren’t great, but they can see alright. The day’s matches start with small fry, and those fights are so boring that he almost starts yawning, because these people are just bashing each other with swords. There’s no finesse to it, no real skill, and he really hopes that there are fighters here better than this, because if there aren’t, this has been a wasted trip. But slowly and surely, the fights get better, more engaging, more of a real show, and his interest returns.

And then, when they’ve been there for hours and the sun is starting to creep toward the horizon, they bring out the big guns.

The announcer calls out someone with the moniker of ‘The Blade,’ and the crowd goes wild. They, evidently, know who this is, and that fact alone is enough to put Tommy on the edge of his seat, because surely, this is who they want? The headliner, the number one, the main attraction? If the spectators like them this much, they must be good.

They step out into the arena, dust clouds puffing where their feet fall, and the crowd gets impossibly louder. It’s hard to make out details from this distance, but Tommy can see pink hair, tied back into a braid, and some kind of mask covering the upper part of their face. It looks a bit like a skull, like this person is actually wearing an actual skull on their face, and that is either extremely overkill or extremely badass, and Tommy can’t quite decide which.

And then, there’s the massive netherite sword they’re holding. Their namesake, Tommy assumes. It’s probably the biggest sword he’s ever seen, and this person is holding it like it weighs nothing at all.

Their opponent comes out, and even though they’re also armed to the teeth, they don’t look nearly as natural as the Blade does. They hold their axe out in front of them as if to ward off blows rather than make them, and they’ve got their shield lifted too high. The Blade, meanwhile, spins their sword—and how strong must they be, to wield such a huge weapon so naturally?—in casual circles, appearing for all the world like this is no more strenuous than a walk in the park.

The announcer shouts. The fight commences.

The Blade fights like it’s as natural as breathing, and Tommy can’t look away. Their style is a mixture of sheer brutality and uncanny grace, and it’s difficult to watch, sometimes, difficult to keep track of exactly what they’re doing; one moment, it will look as if their opponent is holding their own, and then the next, they will have that sword at that opponent’s throat. Or through it, sometimes. The Blade doesn’t seem to have any compunctions about killing.

Tommy loses track of how many matches they fight. Six, maybe, or seven. But they win all of them handily, and by the time the events are all over and people begin to file out of the arena, he’s practically shaking with excitement.

Tubbo beats him to the punch.

“So, it’s them, right?” he says. “We’re gonna try to get them?”

Tommy nods rapidly, unable to contain himself.

“We have to,” he says. “That was fucking—I don’t know what the hell that was, but it was fantastic!”

He glances over at Will, only to find that he’s still staring out into the arena, eyes slightly glazed. Tommy furrows his brow, waiting for him to say something, but when it becomes apparent that he’s not going to, he speaks up.

“Will? You agree?” he asks, and Will blinks, shudders a bit.

“Right,” he says, “yeah, no, sorry, I’m good. Yeah, if we’re actually going to do this, we should aim for the best.”

He still seems a bit out of it, a bit dazed, but he turns his head to meet Tommy’s eyes and smiles, and Tommy tucks his concerns away with the mental equivalent of a shrug. If Will says he’s good, that’s good enough for him.

“Alright,” he says, standing, cracking his knuckles dramatically. Tubbo rolls his eyes at the display, but he ignores him. “Let’s go get ourselves a Blade.”

-----

It starts like this: the key to sneaking in someplace is to look as though you belong there. That’s easier said than done, of course, especially for two ragged teens and a slightly less ragged young adult. But Tommy’s had a long time to figure things like this out, and so has Tubbo, and Will hasn’t done this very often but he always takes to acting out new roles as if he was born to them, so Tommy’s not particularly worried. They find a door marked for employees and slip in, and from there it’s just a matter of finding their way.

He’s got a story prepared in case they get stopped, something about being sent with a message, but no one gives them a second glance. He keeps his head held high, his stride purposeful but not too confident, and simple as that, he appears to be just like everyone else, age and clothing notwithstanding.

“Do they have rooms down here, do you think?” Tubbo mutters. “The fighters?”

“Maybe,” he replies. “Even if they don’t, I bet the Blade is still here. The fight didn’t end that long ago.”

There are a lot of rooms under the arena, a lot of hallways, a lot of space, and it’s a bit mazelike, really. Dark, too; they’ve got redstone-powered lighting, but it’s fritzy, the bulbs flickering and dim. The walls and floors are hard, dank stone, the kind that echoes loudly with every noise, and Tommy can’t help but wince when the sound of their passage bounces off of every surface.

“There’s lots of swords in there,” Tubbo says, peering into one of the rooms they pass. “Isn’t that the Blade’s?”

Tommy stops walking, stepping up next to Tubbo. The room is full of weapons and armor of all kinds, but sure enough, there’s a large sword sitting alone on a table, still flecked with dried blood. It’s even larger up close; Tommy’s not sure he could lift it without using two hands, much less fight with it, though it pains him to admit as much. The Blade is just that strong, apparently, though why he’d leave his prized weapon sitting here in a room of other weapons, out in the open where anyone could mess with it, Tommy has no idea. Unless the sword isn’t actually his, but that doesn’t make much sense, does it?

“Tommy, Tubbo,�� Will hisses, the sound sharp in the otherwise empty corridor, and Tommy looks over. Will is standing in front of an iron door a little ways down, a door with a barred window in it. He’s got his eyes fixed on whatever’s on the other side, his expression somewhere between shock and anger, and Tommy exchanges glances with Tubbo.

“What?” he asks, coming over.

“Have a look,” Will whispers, moving aside so that he and Tubbo can see.

He immediately understands what has Will upset.

“Oh gods,” Tubbo says. “They’re prisoners.”

There are cages in this room. Dozens of them, built with black iron, though only a few are occupied. Tommy recognizes most of the people in them, all people who fought in the arena earlier, the best fighters, the ones that gave a good showing, that were actually interesting to watch. They’re all in cages, most of them sitting or lying down, none of them moving all that much. It’s a stark contrast to before, when they were all movement, all aggression. Now, they seem—listless is the best word to describe it. Purposeless. Like all the fight’s been sucked right out of them.

A few of them are in chains, even inside their cages. The Blade is one of those, manacles wrapped around their wrists and ankles, and a collar around their neck. It’s sick, is what it is, like they’re some sort of animal.

“Shit,” Tubbo says. “I thought the hardest part was gonna be trying to convince them to come. Now we’ve got to do a prison break?”

“This isn’t right,” Will mutters. “This isn’t—they’re being forced to fight?”

“Only one way to find out,” Tommy says, and reaches out to push the door open. For a second, it doesn’t budge, and he wonders if it’s locked, because wouldn’t that just be perfect? But then, there is give, and it swings inward with a squeal of rusted hinges. Beside him, Tubbo steps back to look up and down the hallway, but no one appears to shout at them or kill them for trespassing, so Tommy squares his shoulders and strides into the room, trying to keep looking like he belongs.

It doesn’t matter much. Just like the employees they passed, none of the fighters—the prisoners—seem interested at all. So Tommy walks through the room unimpeded until he’s right next to the Blade’s cage. The Blade is sitting on the ground, leaning against the bars, head bowed. They don’t look up.

So Tommy clears his throat.

“Hello,” he says, and congratulates himself on an excellent beginning.

Slowly, the Blade’s head rises, and Tommy can see two things: one, that what he thought might have been a skull mask back in the arena is definitely an entire real skull, holy shit, and two, that the Blade is a young man, far younger than he would have thought him to be. Maybe even younger than Will, who estimates his own age to be around the ballpark of twenty-four or twenty-five.

“Hallo,” the Blade says after a moment. Tommy almost laughs out loud, because the word is said so awkwardly, and more than a bit bewildered, as if the Blade can’t fathom why someone would be talking to him. Which is a bit sad, actually, so Tommy’s going to choose to believe that he’s confused by the presence of a teenager and not by the fact that anyone is there at all. Because the second would just be downright depressing.

“You’re the Blade, right?” Tommy checks.

“That’s what they call me,” the Blade agrees. “And you are?”

“We want to hire you,” Tubbo jumps in. “Or at least, we did. We weren’t really expecting you to be locked up or anything. We might need a new plan. But we wanted you to come with us and be our bodyguard.”

It’s difficult to tell exactly what the Blade’s expression is doing, considering that most of the top half of his face is hidden by the animal skull—is it a pig? Tommy’s pretty sure that it’s a pig, or a boar, or maybe even a hoglin, considering its size—but his eyes are visible, and he glances between both of them slowly, skeptically. Tommy bristles.

“And just what do a couple of ragamuffins need a bodyguard for?” the Blade drawls. “You skip school too many times?” He pauses. “Who do children fight these days? Other children? I can fight you some orphans if you want, I guess. I’m pretty good at that.”

Tommy blinks, his mouth working silently for a second. He wants to be indignant at being addressed like a kid, like he’s not even worthy of consideration, but that is superseded by his sheer bewilderment at the way the Blade talks, like he’d just casually enjoy the chance to rough up some orphans. He looks at Tubbo, and sees the exact same question reflected in his best friend’s face: Just what kind of guy have we started talking to?

This isn’t like Will, where he could tell immediately that he would be right for the job and for their team overall. The smart thing to do would probably be to give up and look elsewhere for someone to hire. And yet, Tommy finds himself intrigued. This is a very strange man, obviously, and he’s never been able to resist poking at strange things.

“No, no orphans,” he says, muttering a quick, “What the fuck?” under his breath for good measure. “We just need protection on the road. From mobs and such. We will literally break you out of here if you come with us.”

The Blade tilts his head.

“You could try,” he says. “I can’t say I’m enthusiastic about the idea.”

“You can’t possibly want to stay in here,” Tubbo says incredulously. The Blade shrugs.

“No,” he agrees, “but there’s not much of anythin’ for me out there, either. Everything about this place sucks, but at least I get to fight people. I like doin’ that. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I got out.”

And that—forget earlier, that is so, so incredibly sad. In both the pathetic way and in the actual terrible way.

“There’ll be plenty of mobs to fight on the road,” he says, grasping at straws now. He’s got a few ideas for how they could successfully orchestrate a prison break, but in order for that to happen, the Blade needs to be willing to go. “Loads of ‘em. And besides, we’re bringing Prince Wilbur back to the king, and there’ll be a great big reward for it. You’ll be rich enough to do whatever you want after that.”

“Like fight orphans,” Tubbo adds helpfully.

“Yeah, like fighting orphans. So c’mon, what do you say?”

The Blade has gone very, very still.

“You’re doing what?” he says, his tone completely flat. A shiver runs down Tommy’s spine, because that is not a good tone. That is a tone that promises violence, that promises bloodshed, that promises death, and he’s not sure how he knows that, but he’s sure of it, sure as he knows his own name, that he has somehow just said something to make this man very, very dangerous.

“Uh, we’ve found Prince Wilbur?” he says. “And we’re bringing him back to the Capitol so we can get the reward money? And that’s why we need—”

“Prince Wilbur is dead. All of the princes of the Antarctic Empire are dead.”

The way he says it shocks Tommy into silence, and he doesn’t know why. It’s hardly an outrageous thing to say; it’s the general consensus of the common folk, after all, that King Philza is clinging to false hope, that he is a decent man but also one to be pitied, for refusing to accept the loss of his sons. Hell, Tommy himself has never believed in the myths, in the stories that go something like, so-and-so saw one of the princes by the train tracks or so-and-so saw them on a cart crossing the border or shit like that. The princes were kids when the invasion happened and the Empire itself was almost lost; there’s probably no way that they survived being taken by the enemy, the invaders that crept out of the End.

But the way the Blade says it—

He’s so certain. Like there is absolutely no doubt in his mind. The princes are dead, and there’s not even room for argument, not room for so much as a rumor to the contrary. Tommy agrees with him, but even he can’t claim that level of surety.

“Uh,” Tubbo says. “I mean, obviously it’s a scam. We’re scamming the king. We don’t actually have the prince. But we’d still like a bodyguard.”

“No,” the Blade says, in that same voice, low and monotone and terrifying. “You should leave. I’ll have no part in this.”

“Oh come on,” Tommy says, regaining his voice. He doesn’t know what to do with the Blade’s convictions, but he knows how to talk his way out of a denial. “Look, why don’t you—where’s Will? Will?”

Will’s not standing at the cage with them. Somehow, he’s only just noticing this. He turns, and Will is lurking back by the door to the room, keeping to the shadows, shifting uneasily. Which, fine, he can do what he wants, except for right now, because the more adamantly the Blade turns them down, the more Tommy wants him to come along.

“Will,” he calls, and his voice reverberates through the room. A couple of the other prisoners lift their heads. “Come talk to this guy! Tell him he should come with us!”

Will approaches slowly, strangely hesitantly, stepping up on the other side of Tubbo.

“We are in the market for a bodyguard,” he says quietly. “We thought you fit the bill.” He pauses. “We can’t guarantee that any of this will work, of course, but I’m an excellent actor, and these two are literal children, but they’re not bad.”

“Aw, thanks,” Tubbo says.

“Watch who you’re calling a fucking child,” Tommy says.

“What?” the Blade says. “You’re—Wilbur?”

“Will,” Will corrects, “but yes, we’re passing me off as Prince Wilbur.”

“Passing you off,” the Blade repeats. Slowly, he rises to his feet for the first time, and wow, he’s tall.

“Kind of the definition of a scam,” Tommy says.

“A scam,” the Blade repeats again. “This is a scam.”

“We just told you this,” he says. “Are you a bit slow or what?”

“No, just tryin’ to understand,” the Blade says. “You’re tellin’ me right now that this is definitely a scam. And you are not actually Prince Wilbur of the Antarctic Empire.”

“That is what we’re telling you, yes,” Will says, and Tommy is glad that he does, because he’s pretty sure he’s lost the thread of the conversation. The Blade is a strange, strange man, and frankly, he’s not making any sense at all anymore.

“Okay,” the Blade says. “I’m in. Bust me out.”

Tommy blinks. And then blinks again.

“What, really?”

“Yeah, you’ve convinced me,” the Blade says.

“Literally how,” Tubbo states, but Tommy punches him on the arm to get him to shut up, because they don’t need him to think about it, don’t need him second-guessing his decision.

“Alright!” he whoops. “One jail break, coming right up!”

“Right,” the Blade says. “Who are you again?”

He’s already leaving the room. But he hears Tubbo say, “I’m Tubbo, and that’s Tommy,” and he hears the Blade’s strangled, “Heh?” in return, and that’s a bit weird, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. They’ve inducted a strange man into their little band, but that doesn’t matter much, as long as he’s as good with his sword against mobs as he is against people.

-----

It starts like this: a massive netherite sword, left unattended, works amazingly for cutting through iron.

A massive, enchanted netherite sword also works amazingly for setting things on fire.

It’s a mess after that, a blur and a rush of adrenaline, but they cut up all of the other cages and chains to give the other prisoners a chance to get out, and then they’re running, and the place is on fire behind them because for a labyrinth under an arena, there’s a surprising amount of wood around here. And there are people shouting at them, and a few people that try to attack, but the Blade mows them down and laughs, and there’s blood and lots of it, too, but in the moment it doesn’t seem to matter so much.

He’s got Tubbo by his side. Will at his back. The Blade close at hand. And in a way he can’t quite describe, it feels very right.

-----

It starts like this: Tommy doesn’t know where he comes from.

He sort of vaguely remembers things, sometimes. He thinks he had a family, once. If he strains himself, he can recall fuzzy impressions: someone holding him, safe and warm. Someone’s laugh. Someone singing. An overwhelming sense of being secure, of being protected, of being loved.

But if he strains himself, sometimes he remembers other things, too. Darkness, terror, screams. Fear and disorientation, and a voice, clear as day: “Take your brothers and go!”

He’s turned that piece of dialogue over and over in his mind so many times. It’s all he has, the only hint he has to go on. It’s a male voice, clearly an adult. He likes to think that it’s his father. Though maybe he shouldn’t hope for that; he doesn’t remember what happened, but he’s sure it was dangerous, and if that person was his father, he might be dead. Probably is, in fact. There’s a reason why he ended up in an orphanage, after all.

Those are his first clear memories, at that orphanage. They estimated him at about five or six, and he’s pretty sure they were right, so he really should have at least a few memories from before. But he doesn’t, and the woman who looked after him the most told him that he probably went through what she called a trau-ma-tic event. Because trau-ma-tic events, she said, sounding out the syllables just like that to make sure he understood, could sometimes make you forget things. And sometimes the memories come back, but sometimes they don’t.

She was always kind to him. They all were, at that orphanage. And then that orphanage got shut down and he got shipped off and never saw any of them again, because kindness is no way to run a business. Kindness doesn’t get you many places.

It was orphanage after orphanage after that. They always looked for excuses to get rid of him. He was a problem child, the particular kind that always gets pegged before their mouths even open. He’s never understood it. Something about the look in his eyes, maybe. Not that it matters; he got put in the same orphanage as Tubbo at twelve, and they ran away together and didn’t look back.

No point in crying over dropped diamonds. No point in longing for something he can’t have. Can’t remember.

But sometimes, he lets himself wonder what his life would be like, if he’d gotten to keep that first family he’s certain that he had. He wonders what they were like. His maybe-father. The brothers that he thinks might have been his. He wonders, and he wonders if it’s possible to miss people that he never really knew.

But none of that matters in the long run, not really. Because he’s got his Tubbo, who’s better than any brother he could possibly ask for. And now he’s got Will, who’s funny and charming and just as irritating as he always suspected an older brother would be, and he’s got the Blade, who’s strange and sarcastic and so skilled that it’s scary, honestly, and they’re on their way to scam a king, and there’s nowhere to go but up from here.

He looks around him, at his friends and he thinks, Yeah. Yeah, this is good.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #technoblade #dsmp fic #/rp #chapter warnings for implied dehumanization and implied slavery in a gladiator-like context #cat writes fic #long post #anastasia au #the wind that remakes #it's time!!!! it's here!!!! anastasia au!!!!#i hope you all like it #i'm excited to finally start sharing it with you

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waiting4inspiration · 3 years

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Darkness before Dawn XVII: Dawn

Summary: Geralt returns to you and admits that he does love you. But when the dawn comes after a long dark time for you, you realize that it seems you can’t have the man you love and your family’s kingdom at the same time.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of murder, mentions of hauntings, itty bitty smut, strong language, magical themes, it’s a bit longer than what I normally write

Word Count: 3,805

Darkness before Dawn Masterlist II The Witcher Masterlist

No portal opened for Geralt. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. Eventually, he decided to figure out where the hell he is and make the journey back to Eronia and he didn’t care how long that would take. All he cares about is finding out if he managed to save you and if he broke the curse.

It will take almost a week on horseback to get back to Eronia, Geralt figures out. A week to find out if he failed or succeeded. But, he thought, if he hadn’t heard from Ida in some way it could only mean that something’s happening in the castle. They must be occupied with something else. Something bad most likely. Geralt only hopes that it doesn’t have to do with you.

There are only so many times where he has failed at a job. And though he knows that he can’t save everyone, there’s still a tinge of guilt and disappointment when that happens. And when it comes to someone whom he has grown close to, someone he’s grown fond of, maybe even come to have love.

Yes, he’ll admit it. He’s fallen in love with you.

His affections go deeper than they can ever go with Yennefer and he’ll admit that to Jaskier, Ida, your father. He’ll admit that to you. If he ever sees you again.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he’s traveling back to you. It gives him time to think things through. There’s no doubt that things are complicated. You’re the heir to a throne and he’s a Witcher. There’s a good chance Dominic won’t approve of the match and, as Uza said, his sterile nature will prevent you from producing an heir and your father’s line will end. Not to mention what people will say.

Witchers aren’t normally seen in good light and no relationship can change that. People will talk bad about him - not that he’s used to it - and about you. That’s something he can’t bear to think of. It’s something you don’t deserve. Not after everything you’ve been through now.

He barely gets his thoughts together when the castle appears in the distance. A week has passed and he hasn’t thought of what he will, or should, do.

Getting into the city, Geralt sees that things are different than before he left. There seems to be an almost somber atmosphere. People walk around silently, some with sorrow on their faces as they filter out of the temple. Others walk in with flowers in their hands. Geralt knows these are the signs of death from someone in the royal family, especially when he notes the missing flag from the castle.

His mind goes what he hoped for a week won’t be true and it urges him to speed towards the castle.

People marvel at his appearance and he hears them saying “There goes the Witcher.” “No doubt he’s here to receive his payment.” Geralt doesn’t pay attention to their words. He just has to know if his suspicions are true or not.

The guards don’t even stop him from entering the castle. They just stare at him as he passes, pushing the door open so he can walk into the throne room. “It is what she wants and I am instructing you to see it carried out,” Dominic orders a man walking beside him as they cross the hall.

Upon seeing Geralt, Dominic stops in his tracks and turns to face the Witcher that walks towards him. The man takes this as his time to leave and he does so quickly with a quick bow of his head to the King.

“Geralt of Rivia. I did not think you would return.” Dominic almost sounds disappointed, something that confuses Geralt for a moment as he comes to stand in front of the King. “No doubt you have come to collect the coin I promised you.”

“No,” Geralt quickly says causing Dominic to frown. “I’ve come to see if (Y/n)- the Princess is alright.”

Dominic nods his head, his bottom jaw tensing as he turns his gaze across the room. “She’s in the gardens.” Those words make a wave of relief wash over Geralt and he breathes out a silent sigh as Dominic raises his hand to point him in the right direction. “You’re free to see her, if you wish,” he states, giving the Witcher a reassuring nod.

Geralt turns after nodding thanks in return. You’re alive and that’s all that he needed to know. Hearing that you’re out of your room only means that you’re doing well. Well enough to move around. When he sees you, he can’t stop the smile growing on his face.

You’re painting, standing by yourself, seemingly stronger than ever. And laughing at the scene in front of you. Jaskier is in a pose with his lute, pretending to serenade Charlotte and making jokes that are the cause of your laughter and your sister’s. You’re in a better state than he thought you would be.

Jaskier catches Geralt standing in the distance and drops his foot off the bench as he smiles brightly. “Geralt! It’s about time you returned!” Your head snaps over your shoulder at those words and you slowly place your paintbrush down. “I want to hear every detail about how you saved the Princess of Eronia from the claws of death.”

“Jaskier,” Charlotte hisses, grabbing his arm before he can walk towards Geralt and pulls him back. “You can interrogate him later. Give him time with (Y/n), hm?” she suggests, nodding to you as you slowly start to walk forward.

Seeing how invested you and Geralt are in each other, not really paying attention to anything else around you, Jaskier chuckles as he turns to walk away with Charlotte.

Geralt walks forward, intending on meeting you halfway. His stare never leaves your face and he can’t stop himself from standing close to you. So close, all he has to do is lean down to close the space between you two so he can kiss you. “You came back,” you whisper, making him smile.

“I needed to know if you were alright,” he says in a low voice, his hand reaching out to take yours resting at your side so he can entwine his fingers with yours.

You chuckle, drop your gaze to his hand and bite your lower lip. “I’m sorry we didn’t open a portal-”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters,” he whispers and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of having him so close to you again.

“Kurst killed my mother and there was nothing I could do to stop him.” Geralt drops your hand and cups your face in his hands.

Geralt doesn’t feel sorrow for your mother’s death. Not after what she offered him to do. Your mother was a horrid person and she got what was coming to her, he thinks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

You nod lightly, bring your arms up to wrap around his neck. “I’m glad you came back,” you whisper before he leans forward to press his lips to yours.

Knowing that Jaskier and Charlotte might be watching, you use magic to grow a wall of shrubs to block their view and to give you and Geralt some privacy as he deepens the kiss. This is why you came back, why you decided not to stay in the spirit realm. You could never replicate this kiss, this moment. Nothing will ever compare to this, or the next time he’ll kiss you. Being in his arms, under his touch is worth more than a thousand lifetimes.

You hope it lasts. Knowing Witcher’s nature, they’ll move on to the next job as soon as their current one is done. You hope that Geralt doesn’t do this. You want him to stay in Eronia. With you. You will fight anyone who opposes it because you don’t think you’ll love as you love Geralt.

If he stays, not sure what he will do. Perhaps he can become your bodyguard. But what a scandal it would be for a Princess to have her lover as her bodyguard. You’re sure you can find a way around this mess once you are queen. Or perhaps, even before then. Surely you can talk to your father about it and hope he will listen to you.

But, Geralt has other ideas. It’s in your kiss that all that thinking he has done over the week that he finds his answer to what he wants to do. And he pulls back, keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he breathes out a deep sigh. “We need to talk.”

You were afraid he would say that. Still, you know that it has to be done. You’ve learned that almost everything can be solved if you just discuss it. Since you’ve gotten your strength back, you’ve continued learning how to be a Queen and how to rule a kingdom. You’ve learned a lot, but learning about politics will never be as fun as learning new magic spells and conjuring things from thin air.

“Come with me,” you whisper, leading him out of the gardens and back into the castle.

He follows as close behind you as he can while avoiding stares from others. He knows the path you’re leading him through goes to your chambers because he’s walked it many times before. And it will always feel great knowing that it’s just you and him, that no one can suddenly disturb you two when you close the door behind you.

He watches you as you walk towards him, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your gaze on your folded hands. He knows that you have a feeling about what he wants to talk about when you don’t look up at him after a while. “We knew this was going to happen-”

“Why does it?” you cut him off, lifting your gaze up to him as letting your hand unfold from each other. “Why can’t you stay?”

Geralt shakes his head, his jaw tensing as he turns his head to look away from you. “You know why.” He knows you’re not stupid. You know why he can’t stay.

You take a small step forward, reach out to turn his face back to you, make his gaze lock with yours as you rest your hand on his chest. “Tell me anyway,” you challenge, wondering if you can use your skills of persuasion and debate on him to try and get him to stay. But you also have a feeling that his stubbornness will prevail.

“If I stay, it could ruin your family’s name.”

That doesn’t sound like his words. It makes you frown and take a small step back, pulling away from him as you stare with a slightly open mouth. “What did my mother say to you?” you ask, feeling that she must have something to do with this. Of all people, you didn’t think that Geralt would care about reputation. Why else would he have kissed you in the first place if he wanted to protect what people think of you and your family? No, reputation was your mother’s thing and you know how her words could ensnare someone’s mind and make them doubt...everything. She must have gotten to Geralt.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does because you need to know that she was wrong. Whatever she said to you was wrong and it shouldn’t affect you because she’s dead and I’ve made sure that her body will be burnt to destroy her spirit because I know how powerful her words can be, Geralt,” you ramble, stepping farther and farther away from him as you shake your head in disbelief.

You thought that with your mother now dead, you wouldn’t have to worry about her affecting your life anymore. You can’t believe that this is happening. Everything seemed to be going well and now she’s trying to take the one thing you want so much away from you. You see her in your dreams, laughing and mocking you, saying that you can’t even get rid of her now that she is dead. She tells you that she will never leave you. And in fear, you’ve ordered that her body be burned instead of buried because you know that fire kills the spirit too. Even though your curse is lifted and you shouldn’t be able to see ghosts anymore, the fear will never leave you.

Geralt, seeing you retreating from him, takes a step forward and reaches out to take your hand. “Do you love me?” you ask, stepping out of his reach again as his head snaps you to you.

“I do love you,” he whispers, and his heart almost beats again within the long silence between slow beats. He’s had a week to think about, spend a few nights thinking about it and he doesn’t feel like he’s lying when he says it.

You take a step closer, drop the concerned look on your face and reach up to touch the side of his face. Your fingers touch the bottom of the scar on his temple as you gaze into his golden eyes. “I would fight for us because I love you too. I would fight for people to accept you more than I would fight for them to accept me, someone with magic prowess, being on the throne because I love you too.”

Word has gotten out about Charlotte’s parentage and how you are next in line for the throne of Eronia now but also that you have taken after your mage Aunt. Long story short, many Kings and queens and Sorcerers aren’t sure whether it is a good idea or not. They’re afraid you could become too powerful as a ruler and a mage.

Geralt smiles down at you, his head leaning into your touch as he steps closer to you to rest his hand on your hips. Your words won’t change his mind, but he won’t tell you that. It’s best to make you believe you have won this fight.

He touches his nose to yours, touches your lips with his lightly as his hands run up your sides. You breathe out a shaky sigh, your body trembling at his touch as his hands stop at the laces on the back of your dress. Then, as he pulls on laces, he presses his lips to yours in a kiss that makes your eyes fall shut.

You feel your dress become loose around your shoulders as he starts to walk backward towards your bed. At the foot of your bed, he turns around so your back faces the bed. His hands travel up your arms so he can take your face in his hands. His kiss grows deeper, your hands drop to start unbuckling his armor. It’s a lot to go through, but it’s not long before you get to the shirt he wears underneath the armor that now lies on the floor with his iron sword.

Geralt moves the hair away from your neck as he breaks the kiss, tilts his head to kiss along your jaw and then down your neck as you let your dress fall to the ground. Then, he runs his fingers down your naked arms making goosebumps appear and a sigh falls from your lips. He lowers you to the bed, hovering above you as his lips return to yours.

Your hands fall on his back, pull his shirt up out from being tucked in his pants. And when you touch his skin and trace his scars, he groans against your lips and settles between your legs when he nudges at them with his knee.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, only to sit up to pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the side. Instead of kissing your lips again, he drops his head in the bend of your neck and kisses down your body. You drop your head against the bed, stare up at the ceiling with your heart hammering in your chest as Geralt’s lips move down the valley between your breasts. “Geralt,” you mutter, your fingers weaving through his hair as you press your body against his.

You run your hands over his broad shoulders and down his back when he comes back up to kiss your neck, his hand grabbing the back of your thigh and making your leg bend next to him. Pushing his trousers pasted his hips, he moans against your skin. You feel his hardness poking against your thigh and it makes you shake in excitement.

“I’ll always love you,” Geralt whispers in your ear, making your heart swell and a smile grows on your face. As his lips return to yours, he rolls his hips against yours and slowly pushes his cock into you, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head.

And with the sun starting to set outside, the golden light filtering into the room makes the moment between you and Geralt all the more special to you.

Geralt watches the sun dawn, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your head on his shoulder. You’re fast asleep, your naked body pressing against his and the sheet covering your lower body as well as his. He’s glad that no one was looking for you last night because it would have ruined the moment. The moment that he won’t forget and he’s sure you won’t either. It was tender and passionate at the same time. And when you let the moment take you over, you let everything go and it turned out to be the best night he’s had in a long time.

Turning his head down to you, he takes in a deep breath and slowly leans down to gently kiss the top of your head. As you moan and shift in your spot, Geralt takes that chance to pull his arm out from under you and shift to the edge of the bed. He stares at his armor and clothes lying in a pile on the ground for a moment before looking back at you.

He wishes he didn’t have to do this, but it’s what he decided to do. He wishes he could stay with you, but he has other things to do. He can’t stay in Eronia.

Slowly and silently, he stands from the bed and starts to put his clothes back on. He leaves his armor off, not wanting to risk waking you up with the cluttering noise. Then he’ll have to explain everything and he can’t see you heartbroken.

Before he leaves your room with his armor in hand, he looks back at you one last time, glad to see that peaceful look on your face as you breathe shallow breaths. He’s glad he’ll have this image in his mind on his travels.

He doesn’t even think of collecting his fee from the King. He doesn’t care about that anymore. It’s best if he gets out of Eronia and put it behind him. Most of the castle is still asleep, so it surprises him to see Ida standing beside Roach when he comes to the stables. “I knew you’d be here,” she says, gently petting Roach’s neck as she smiles at Geralt. “Which is why I must ask; Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” he grumbles, walking past her and placing his armor on a post so he can get his saddle.

Ida turns around to face him, folds her hands in front of her and steps forward. “And you don’t want to say goodbye to her?” she asks, earning a hard glare from him and she raises her hands in defeat. “Alright, I won’t nag. I’m just saying that things could go a lot smoother if you were honest to her and told her the truth.” Geralt looks away from her as he places the saddle on Roach’s back and starts buckling and tightening the straps. “You know, there is a legend that Witchers only truly love one person in their life,” she mentions, taking a small step towards him when he freezes at her words. “You don’t want to lose something like that if it’s true, do you, Geralt?”

He sighs, drops his head for a moment before he looks at Ida. “No, I don’t,” he murmurs, pulling the last strap tight and then turning around to pick up his armor again.

Nodding her head, Ida glances down at her hand as she conjures a small, white flower which she hands to the Witcher. “I hope that this will help you find what you’re looking for,” she softly says, her words making Geralt’s eyes snap up from the flower to look at her in surprise. “And you do deserve this too.” She hands him a bulging pouch of coins. His payment.

Geralt takes both items even though he’s hesitant about the pouch. Still, you can’t buy food without money. “Look after her, Ida,” he grunts as he put the pouch and the flower in a satchel before taking the reins on Roach to lead her out.

He knows he didn’t have to tell her that. He knows that you’ll be in good hands without him.

A knock on the door makes your jolt awake with a skip in your heartbeat and before you can tell whoever it is to wait, the door swings open. You grip the sheets close to your body and quickly look down next to you where you expert Geralt to be. And your heart falls in your stomach when you don’t see him.

“Gods, I knew you had a fun night,” Charlotte playfully teases when she sees the state you’re in but you don’t pay attention to her words.

Your eyes start to search the room, only to find Geralt’s things gone along with him. It’s like he wasn’t even there. Your head drops and you bite your lower lip when you feel tears starting to surface. Charlotte notices your sadness. “What happened?” she softly whispers, sitting down next to you and places a hand on your covered knee.

Shaking your head, you look up at her with a forced smile on your face. “He left,” you say, your voice breaking as a sob breaks through your throat. Your hand shoots to your mouth as Charlotte pulls you in for a strong hug.

“And he didn’t say goodbye?” she asks, gently stroking your back as you lean against her shoulder, sobbing.

You don’t answer. You don’t say that he did or that he didn’t say goodbye because you guess that last night was his way of doing just that and you didn’t even realize it.

Permanent Tags- @cassindeansass @simsadventures @fandomfic-galore @belovedcherry @a-mess-of-fandoms @what-just-happened-bro @geekandbooknerd @lonewolf471 @rainbowkisses31 @moonie-flower101 @p8tn0lish @rinkashirikitateku @readsalot73 @louisolos @petlaufeyson @bangtan-serendipity @aworldwideapart @mythicalbullshit @ateliefloresdaprimavera @xbuckxnastyx @madithemagicalfangirl @ivarthebloodyking @shannygoatgruff @a--1--1--3 @nerdypinupcrystal @mblaqgi @tephi101 @coconutqueen21 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @babypink224221 @writers-whirlwind

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#geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #the witcher geralt #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #Geralt #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x princess reader #the witcher #the witcher x read #witcher fanfiction #Witcher #darkness before dawn

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uniarycode · 3 years

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Takari Week 2021, Day 1 - Sibling Shenanigans.

Things have gotten too bad, Taichi and Yamato need an intervention. And if they pay close attention, they might learn something important.

Nah, who we kidding.

Written as part of @takariweek

In some ways, Yamato was Taichi’s closest friend. They had gone through hell and back together, forming an unbreakable bond.

That said, they had different tastes in music, TV, and basically anything. Taichi preferred to watch sports and anime, Yamato preferred dramas and cooking shows. Taichi flourished in the company of others, Yamato demurred in the presence of anyone he wasn’t familiar with.

But one pastime they could both agree on was a good old fashion round of Smash. Whenever it was just the two of them, they generally sat down, fired up the N64, and just let their preferred characters bash one out.

As they were doing until a few seconds ago when an unsightly banner obscured their view of the television. “intervention” was proudly displayed, with one ‘i’ dotted with the crest of courage and the other with the crest of friendship. The phrase was repeated in Japanese, just underneath, in case the translation caused them to miss the point.

Either end of the banner was affixed to a small wooden tripod, being gently lowered to the ground by a devious sibling.

“What’s going on?” Yamato grumbled, still mashing buttons on the control in hopes of gaining an edge. “And when did you even have time to make that?”

Hikari ignored the protestation “We’re here because we’re your family and we care about you. We hoped that time would heal this wound, but time is no longer on our side. You two will be going to college soon, and we need to break through to you before too late.”

“What are you talking about?” Taichi asked. “We were in the middle of something.”

“Smash can wait, we can’t keep putting this off.” She took a deep breath. “This may be hard to hear, but please understand, it needs to be said: You are atrocious when talking to girls.”

“What?”

“Look Taichi, you’ve already near exhausted all your high school options, if something doesn’t change, you’re going to end up alone and unloved, filling your apartment with pets for some form of companionship.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” he asked. She solemnly shook her head ‘No’ in response.

“Can I go?” Yamato cut in. “I have a girlfriend, if you remember. We’ve been dating for years now.”

“Yes, and she still calls me to rant about it after every date.” Takeru cut. “I can only clean up your messes for so long Yamato, you have to learn how to do it yourself. Or better yet, don’t make messes in the first place.”

“Ouch.” Taichi said, casting a sideways glance at his co-captive.

“You aren’t any better Taichi,” Hikari shot, “You had seven people and eight Digimon wingmaning you on a simple phone call, and you still managed to mess it up.”

This time it was Yamato who glanced at Taichi.

“Now.” Takeru said “The first thing you need to learn is observation. If you pay attention to someone and signal that you notice when something changes. This shows you care enough about the other person to actually look at them and remember what they looked like yesterday.”

He cleared his throat, “For example, if say, your girlfriend decides to style her hair differently, you should maybe compliment the style change, instead of being oblivious. Wouldn’t you say, Yamato?”

“It was one time.” Yamato grumbled.

“Perhaps a practical demonstration would be better.” Hikari said. “Oh, Takeru, Honey, sorry I’m late, the train was delayed.”

“Don’t worry about it Babe, I’m just glad you’re here. Hey is that a new ring?”

“Why yes, thank you for noticing,” she said, bringing her hands up and giving the ring a twirl. “my BFF got it for me as an end-of-middle school present.”

“Ahh, I could tell it was someone close to you, that’s your birthstone on top right?”

“Yep.”

Takeru turned back towards his unwillingly captive audience. “See how I not only noticed the ring, remarked upon it, but also showed I remember her birth date.”

Taichi looked across at Yamato, “Do you know any of the birthstones?” A shrug was the only answer.

“You may think observation is only for what you can see, but it’s deeper than that. Any piece of information falls under observation, and if you like a girl, you will do your best to remember anything you learn about her.” Hikari said.

“Observation is really important, right Hikari?” Takeru asked.

“Very, but knowing everything can’t help if you don’t know how to use it. Which brings us to lesson two.”

“Is this whole thing just a ploy for your sister to practice being a teacher?” Yamato muttered.

“Tact!” Hikari and Takeru declared in unison.

“Tact is pretty tricky. You mostly define it by what not to do. Like not being a dumbass.” Takeru said.

“True, tact can be hard to see when done well. It’s basically about avoiding the obvious traps. For example, when calling a girl whose Maine coon died recently, you should maybe try and avoid mentions about that dead cat, unless she needs to vent. Isn’t that right, Taichi?”

“That was one time.” He protested.

“Right, right, a demonstration?” Takeru asked, pulling a magazine out from behind his back, and pretending to flip through the pages.

“Oh Honey, there you are.” Hikari said looking him up and down. She paused for a few seconds, then pulled lightly on his arm. “Say, I hear there’s a Harry Potter-themed escape room running these days, how about we go there on our next date.”

Takeru put the magazine down “Oh, what’s that? Thanks Babe.” he asked.

Hikari turned back towards the couch. “Notice how I observed the story about his favorite basketball star being caught in a scandal, and deflected toward other interests, instead of stepping on that land mine.”

“How would we even think to notice that?” Yamato grumbled.

“With observation of course.” Takeru replied. “Notice everything, even the things that aren’t being conveyed directly.”

“Being perfect might work for you Takeru, but some of us are human.” Taichi said.

“Oh, I’m hardly the only guy with a girlfriend. You just have to put some effort in.” Takeru said, “Which is as good a segue as any to topic three: Compliments.”

“I know how to give a compliment.” Taichi said.

“Do you?” Hikari asked. “So if you were at the beach with say Sora, or Mimi, or Meiko, you would be able to properly compliment their swimsuits?”

“One time!” Yamato and Taichi yelled together.

“And yet three failures. Pretty poor performance when you think about it.” Takeru said.

“Compliments can be tricky; they require you to combine the previous two skills. You need to observe someone so the compliment makes sense, but you also need tact. Something that’s a compliment to one person may be a touchy subject to another.” Hikari explained.

“Especially when it comes to appearance and body parts,” Takeru said, “and you don’t want to get too accustomed to your compliments either, keep them fresh and exciting.”

“It’s amazing isn’t it Taichi?” Yamato asked.

“So many words and I don’t think they said anything.” He agreed.

“Perhaps the demonstration then.” Takeru said, turning to his partner. “Hikari, I saw you reading to some of the elementary students today, boy am I lucky to have such a kind girlfriend.”

“Don’t mention it. I enjoy it, and I like to think they did too. Say, can you open this jar for me? It should be easy for a strong man like you.” Hikari said.

Takeru mimed grabbing and opening a jar. “Anything for you Babe, say, is that a new shirt, you look positively radiant today.”

Hikari raised her hand to cover her giggle, “I’m so glad I have such a funny boyfriend. You know this is the school uniform, I’ve been wearing it for almost three years now.”

“Huh, you’re right. I guess I never noticed, every time I look at you I can’t help but be overwhelmed by those pools of milky hazel, whenever I see them, my troubles float away and I feel like I have the strength of a thousand men. I could spend hours just staring into those wells of pure emotion.”

“I, uh, uhh, I like your eyes too?”

Takeru let out a large laugh and the pair turned back to the couch to find it no longer occupied.

“That’s no good. They’ll never learn like this.” Takeru admonished

Hikari raised her hands again, twirling the promise ring on her finger. “Do you think they noticed?” she asked.

“Them? No way.” Takeru replied, “but that’s what makes it fun. See how long it takes before they catch on.”

“What if someone else tells them we’re dating first?”

Takeru shrugged, “Just say we already told them, they just weren’t paying enough attention.”

#Digimon #takari week #takari #takeru takashi #hikari yagami #digimon tri

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sleepingsagittarius · 3 years

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Worst Venus signs in men in your opinion? In terms of cheating and other nice stuff

I would like to first say that this is my personal opinion and experiences with men of these venus signs. This is in no particular order so please don't get mad at me thanks.

1. LEO VENUS: I fucking hate Leo Venus men with a passion. These fuckers are the attention whores of the zodiac. If you like a Leo venus but they don't like you the same way they will still flirt and make it seem like they like you when really they’re just looking for an ego boost and a dick rub. Will continue flirting with you when they’re in a relationship too.

2. Cancer Venus: Clingier than a wet t-shirt. I dont vibe with these men tbh. They like to pretend they can flirt but they can go from being sweet and loving to straight up being whiney and clingy. They some how always trigger me in wanting to hurt their feelings cause they’re so soft and annoying.

3. Virgo Venus: I hate them so much but am so attracted to them (probably cause a lot of virgo placements in synastry go into my 8th house). Biggest perfectionist but with other people so they dont have to deal with their own imperfections.

4. Aquarius Venus: The kind of guy who isn't even half as smart as he pretends to be but still thinks he is Jesus. Absolutely the worst at flirting. Will make you question EVERYTHING about your connection because they'll be so interested in you and then all of a sudden you’re being ghosted. And if by some miracle you confront them the response is always “that wasn’t my intention” and gaslight the shit out of you.

5. Capricorn venus: I don't have much experience with these men but the ones i do are better friends than partners cause a lot of them have the “I date to marry” mentality and personally, if someone has this mentality its a straight red flag for me and I can tell you straight up we would not get a long in a romantic connection. In terms of cheating, they’re most likely to cheat on you with someone hotter, younger, and dumber.

6. Pisces Venus: The type of men that will never get over their ex/old crush and project that onto their partners, trying to mold them into the fantasy of their ex. Will use their guitar skills and poems to get you hooked and then gaslight you when you confront them about still being in contact with their ex and somehow they end up being the victim.

7. Sagittarius Venus: HIMBOS. So lovable but yet so fucking dumb.

8. Aries Venus: Selfish lovers. Will be watching themselves flexing in the mirror while having sex with you and only care about themselves finishing. Jackhammer dicks. If an Aries venus starts a fight with you they probably horny but couldn't actually say it cause they have the communication skills of a needy toddler.

9. Libra Venus: Again another placement that I dont have much experience with but the only thing I can say about them is that they’re usually extremely attractive. Very much no thoughts, head empty but at least they’re pretty energy.

10. Taurus Venus: Definitely the least likely to cheat because they’re so loyal but also are too lazy to find someone else so they just call themselves loyal. Even though they are dull as rocks they love paying for things, for you but now that I think about it its just another way for them to control you cause they are possessive as fuck. Can be similar to Aries in the way of seeing people as possessions and not actual human beings with feelings and thoughts.

11. Gemini Venus: Will love everyone else but you. Straight up inconsistent but overall fun to hangout with and talk to. Slutty motherfuckers which kinda turns me on.

12. Scorpio Venus: SEXIEST AND KINKIEST MEN THAT WILL FUCK YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL AND BACK. These men are so fun and best to have playful, sexual banter with. They have a way with their words that just know how to make me feel so hot and bothered in a good way. If I am going to say anything bad about this venus sign I will say they will most likely cheat on you when they really want to destroy a relationship so they can't go back (but that doesn't always work cause they love resurrecting from the dead just to haunt your ass).

#asks #venus sign #this is mostly a roast tbh

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tossawary · 3 years

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Chapter 28: “A Growing Family” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

The fact that Shen Qingqiu is waiting for them, just outside of Yue Qingyuan’s office, really doesn’t help the dread that Shang Qinghua is feeling here.

A stocky young woman is standing attentively beside the seated Peak Lord. This is that Fu Qiang character, one of Binghe’s favorite shijies on Qing Jing Peak, here to whisk Peerless Cucumber away for a one-to-one chat on the other transmigrator’s potential relationship to the House of Rejuvenation. Or maybe to give the kid a tutoring session on recovering memories from trauma or something! Shang Qinghua doesn’t know exactly, not having been invited to sit in.

“Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu greets coolly.

“Greetings, Shen-Shixiong,” Shang Qinghua returns, feeling sweaty already, but also weirdly giddy. He’s tempted to wink, but he’s pretty sure that would get him killed. “How are you? You look very well! Aha, how did those ‘other engagements’ go the other day? Meet with anyone? Have a good time?”

Over the top of his elegant fan, Shen Qingqiu immediately gives him a look that could probably kill a lesser man - or maybe a greater one, like someone who has more dignity and shame and whatever than Shang Qinghua does. Shang Qinghua doesn’t flinch. He assumes that the meeting with Yue Qingyuan went well! Which is great! Super great! If it had gone badly, he’s pretty sure that Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t even be setting foot on Qiong Ding Peak now - or at least would have been projecting “I’ll kill to get out of here and I’m mentally picking all my victims” hard enough to send all the Qiong Ding Peak disciples and cultivators off like panicked chickens.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Shen Qingqiu says, downright frosty now. “Shang-Shidi must have been paying too much attention to nonsense gossip again.”

“Ah, of course! Of course! My mistake, Shen-Shixiong! Please forgive me!”

Shang Qinghua looks to his fellow transmigrator next, to reintroduce them, only to find Shen Yuan making a very strange expression. Shen Yuan is looking between Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu kind of like he’s never seen them before. His mouth is even a little open and everything. It takes the kid a few seconds to realize that he has two Peak Lords staring at him and to swallow the strange expression.

AN: Shen Yuan knows that 1) SQQ came to meet SQH personally immediately after their mission was over, 2) SQH stayed in bed the following day for a LONG time, and 3) SQH had a hickey on his neck.

So when Shang Qinghua makes a reference to the meeting that SQQ had with Yue Qingyuan, almost flirtatiously asking if Shen Qingqiu “met with anyone” and “had a good time”, Shen Yuan is going to draw his own conclusions.

Namely, that Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu might be sleeping together.

After all, Shen Yuan doesn’t know about the YQY and SQQ backstory! Shen Yuan only knows that Shang Qinghua is weirdly friendly with PIDW’s most famous scum villain and that Shen Qingqiu apparently likes SQH enough not to be an asshole to Luo Binghe. Shang Qinghua kind of talks like they’re friend, so what if they’re... more than friends?!

Meanwhile, Shang Qinghua cannot fathom anyone EVER considering that he and SHEN QINGQIU might be lovers. It’s not an idea that he is in a position to have because what the fuck?!

I was tickled pink when I realized that things were in position to have the disciples think that Shangjiu is a thing. I was already planning on having them notice Shang Qinghua’s brand-new-relationship good mood. Shen Yuan may not notice when people are in love with HIM, but he did still read a twenty-million-word stallion web-novel, so he’s totally prepared to assume that secret affairs are happening for OTHER PEOPLE.

His fellow transmigrator hastily performs the appropriate greeting. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t reply beyond inclining his head, instead sweeping his eyes over Shen Yuan, who stands hilariously still like he’s facing down a predator, except for how the kid squints back a little at the Lord of Qing Jing Peak. Ha! That’s pretty fearless coming from someone still so unnerved by the man who would have Proud Immortal Demon Way’s most famous scum villain.

“Fu Qiang,” Shen Qingqiu says finally. “I have instructed Assistant Ma to set aside a private room for your discussion. You may take Disciple Shen there now.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

The other disciple gestures for Shen Yuan to follow and the other transmigrator hastily takes her up on that. As the disciples disappear, Shen Qingqiu rises and, without a word, leads Shang Qinghua into Yue Qingyuan’s office.

AN: It’s tempting to try and make Shen Qingqiu and Shen Yuan actually develop more of a relationship than “passing acquaintance”, but the thing is that I can’t see either of them really going for it without being forced or without a very serious push. They’re both so prickly.

Yue Qingyuan greets him in a friendly manner, like he’s genuinely pleased to see Shang Qinghua and happy to help. Shang Qinghua greets the man in the same way. It’s nice! It also kind of feels like they’re both pretending the past few months of awkwardness, resentment, and avoidance never happened.

AN: It felt a little more true to life and to the characters to have Shang Qinghua and Yue Qingyuan just... move forward instead of getting into their issues with each other and what apologies may be due.

It’s kind of like a mutual: “What if we didn’t talk about it?”

And they’re both like, “Oh, thank fuck.”

I think that if they both brew on it a bit more, they may eventually decide to try to assuage their respective anger or guilt by saying something, but right now they’re feeling raw and/or embarrassed, and don’t want to accidentally get into it again. So they’ll talk about work! They always have work to talk about! Work is more important than personal matters, so they’re just going to pretend everything is fine!

It’s not just the System who won’t let the Immortal Alliance Conference not happen! But, ahhh, Shang Qinghua can still dream of them actually managing to convince Zhao Hua Temple Sect and everyone else to call the whole thing off. He can dream!

Yue Qingyuan has this pained expression that says, “You’re not wrong, but I wish you were.” This guy knows what Shang Qinghua is talking about!

Shen Qingqiu has this expression that says something like, “I can only critique the accuracy of your assessment on the grounds that you may be giving our fellow cultivators too much credit in terms of common sense and cooperation. This annoys me immensely.”

“You have put a great deal of thought into this,” Yue Qingyuan says finally. “You received this news… when exactly… again?”

“Ah, yesterday morning?” Shang Qinghua answers.

“While in bed with a demon lord,” he doesn’t elaborate. Nope! Not elaborating!

“I know it’s not- I’ll try to get more information, but everyone is still in the planning stages, and it’s not easy getting any information!” Shang Qinghua says defensively. “But, even with that, I thought, ‘Ah, my shixiongs will probably want to know right away!’ Someone will need to tell Zhao Hua to take precautions, at least?”

Yue Qingyuan visibly regathers himself and says, “It is better to know these things as soon as possible. Thank you, Qinghua, for this forewarning.”

“He’s very good at knowing these things,” Shen Qingqiu agrees, but the man’s gaze is like a very sharp pin and Shang Qinghua is but a lowly insect under it. “When might you be expected to know more about this?”

“Ah, I’ll have to get in contact with… ah, some people I know.”

AN: Of course YQY and SQQ want to know more about where SQH is getting this information, but for all they know he might just have gotten a tip-off from one of his merchant contacts or someone in the black market. This has been brewing for a while between these demon lords and the cultivation sects. It’s really bad news, but it’s also not really that surprising.

According to the Airplane Extras, when MBJ and SQH meet, Airplane offhandedly mentions that Mobei-Jun’s clan and Huan Hua Palace Sect have a serious grudge from a conflict at a previous Immortal Alliance Conference. In PINTWILF, this conference is why the IACs got cancelled and had to be recently “revived”. The coming IAC is the 3rd since this revival.

Shang Qinghua has proven himself reliable enough by this point that YQY and SQQ will let him keep his informants close to his chest. Between SQH’s years of improved services (helped by actually getting his personal disciples to help him) and SQH’s interference in their personal issues, they do actually trust him.

So, yeah, they think he’s a squirmy little rat man.

But he’s THEIR squirmy little rat man who has come through in times of need. Also, SQQ, for all his glaring, might stab YQY if he started giving SQH a hard time about this. Sometimes a shidi just wants you to back the fuck off, YQY! Let him have his secrets! Even though SQQ absolutely wants to know SQH’s secrets and is on the verge of dying of curiosity.

I am VERY MUCH looking forward to them finding out that Shang Qinghua has a demon prince for a boyfriend. That’s going to be fun.

“I have also been… considering the advantages of lessons and between Peaks to encourage both cooperation and… survival skills,” Shen Qingqiu says next. “Rarely does one become a master of all disciplines - the Twelve Peaks allow for many of our sect to become specialists, masters of one art - but it seems unwise not to be learned in the basics of as many life-saving arts as one is able.”

“A diversity of learning can be very beneficial,” Yue Qingyuan agrees immediately.

“My disciple, Fu Qiang, has become a very adept medic over the years, though this was in the hopes of avoiding visiting Qian Cao Peak. The head disciples of An Ding, as I understand it, have sought to take special lessons from Qian Cao and Xian Shu to improve themselves."

“Ah, that explains how Hongpeng spied on Peerless Cucumber back when the little bro was still in Mu Qingfang’s clutches,” Shang Qinghua thinks. “And, ah, Shen Bro, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Wenjiao goes to Xian Shu Peak mostly to moon over pretty girls, especially my little sister-in-law.”

"There is also the example of Qi-Shimei’s most frustrating disciple, who must be routinely dragged away from Bai Zhan, but who has also apparently helped to improve her fellow Xian Shu disciples’ martial abilities.”

"Ah, that's one of putting Qi Qingqi letting Luo Fanli and Liu Mingyan fight each other in order to hopefully wear them both out," Shang Qinghua thinks.

“Even if demons should not attack, though only a limited number of our disciples will be attending the Immortal Alliance Conference, it would nevertheless be beneficial to ensure that all disciples across the sect are well-equipped to keep themselves alive until the specialists arrive,” Shen Qingqiu finishes. “Shang-Shidi, as one of the most well-connected leading members of our sect, the organization of such an initiative would be best left in your hands.”

AN: Okay, so I know that this is kind of a weird thing to be coming from Shen Qingqiu, but he’s grown a bit over the course of this fic! AND he’s totally coming at it from the perspective of: “I don’t have to cooperate or get along with anyone beyond what I’m doing now.”

So SQQ is like, “My disciples are stupid. We should have more field medics.”

And he’s like, “Some people’s disciples can’t fight for shit and we should make sure they know more self-defense.”

And he’s like, “Liu Qingge’s disciples are animals. Someone at least teach them how to protect other disciples and how to not bleed to death, because he won’t. That man doesn’t teach them anything.”

And he’s like, “Shang Qinghua, you do that. I don’t want to.”

Peerless Cucumber’s conversation with Shen Qingqiu’s disciple is long over, but apparently his fellow transmigrator didn’t just leave afterwards. Yue Qingyuan’s youngest assistant intercepts to politely point Shang Qinghua towards their waiting room. Shen Yuan is asleep in a chair, with one of his cultivation manuals open in his lap. Judging by his pose, Shang Qinghua is going to guess that the kid was trying some kind of meditation and ended up taking a nap by accident.

It happens to the best of them sometimes! Or at least to Shang Qinghua!

“Ah, I told you not to wait on me. Come on, bro, I don’t want to have to carry you back,” Shang Qinghua says, while jostling the kid awake. “You’re too big for that. My nephew is too big for that these days. Just because it would be nostalgic for me and just because I can doesn’t mean that I want to be carrying you around like a sack of vegetables.”

AN: If Shang Qinghua can haul Mobei-Jun around, then he could pick up Shen Yuan no problem. Also, this is the bit where I was like, “Wow, I have very much made SQH into SY’s dad here.”

Even SVSSS SQH gives me Uncle Vibes, to be honest. The man wants to pop into Bingqiu’s life, ask some nosy questions, be treated to a free meal (who doesn’t), tell some bad jokes, offer some terrible advice, complain about his workload, and then flounce off again with his boyfriend. SVSSS SQH seems to like being useful and appreciated and part of the group, but in a way where he’s not directly attached to anyone, you know? Give SVSSS SQH the benefits, but none of the responsibilities!

Shang Qinghua is kind of sick of this roundabout conversation and decides to bring out the big guns: a move taught to him by his extremely powerful sister-in-law, who has effortlessly defeated their resident War God. He knows the effectiveness of this technique personally, because Luo Jiahui has used it to defeat him many times. He puts on the best concerned face he has.

“Yuan,” he says seriously, looking the kid directly in the eye. “I’m not making jokes here about not skipping out on cultivating. It’s not always going to be fun - a lot of the time, it’s going to be pretty embarrassing and a little painful. Bro, I was an adult stuck in a teenage body, regularly getting my ass handed to me by actual teenagers. That was awful. But I really need you to keep doing it, even if you don’t become the next War God ready to challenge the protagonist, because I don’t want you to die. This shitty world isn’t safe. And if you want to be involved in these missions, then I need you to be able to carry yourself, or we’re both going to get trampled by some OP monster wandering out of an advanced chapter early instead of fixing anything here.”

Shen Yuan is having difficulty meeting his eyes. He keeps trying to force himself to look at Shang Qinghua and then looking away again automatically.

Shang Qinghua employs another of his sister-in-law’s immensely powerful techniques: he reaches out and puts a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I will tell you stuff when I have stuff to tell you and when I can tell it to you. You’ve been super helpful, I’m going to need your help in the future, but I need you to be a little patient right now too.”

Shen Yuan nods. “...Fine.”

AN: Shang Qinghua: “I can’t believe that I’m tricking this person into thinking I’m a good person by being nice to them and looking after them and doing good things. I have learned this behavior for TRICKING PURPOSES only and have NOT accidentally adopted yet another kid.”

Shang Qinghua can’t answer the question right now! Leave a message!

He’s too busy replaying all the times he’s seen his nephew and his fellow transmigrator interact. Binghe did ask after Shen Yuan every time that he and Shang Qinghua talked, while the other transmigrator was on Qian Cao and after he came to An Ding, but… Shang Qinghua just thought his nephew was being polite and curious? Peerless Cucumber stands out! Binghe didn’t act too weirdly about it!

Luo Binghe is supposed to be a stallion protagonist with 600 wives!

Although… Shang Qinghua’s nephew has never really shown any interest in that kind of thing. Which Shang Qinghua has been pretty glad about! He doesn’t want to have 600 nieces-in-law! He also doesn’t want that for his nephew!

The protagonist of Proud Immortal Demon Way ’s harem was basically a snake pit of drama and desperation and decaying fantasies. For everyone who could read between the lines of empty papapa to see Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s tragic story of resentment and revenge, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say the tyrannical, broken protagonist was like a black hole, dragging everyone else into orbit around this man who couldn’t really love anyone! You can take a blackened protagonist out of the Eternal Abyss, but you can’t take that abyss out of the blackened protagonist, right?

The original Luo Binghe didn’t take wives because he was in love. He took wives because he could! Because they were beautiful or powerful or useful! Because he pitied them! Because he liked being their savior! Because he didn't want anyone else to have them! Because he liked being an object of envy and desire and love! Because it was expected of him, as the man all the readers wanted to be, who was supposed to have everything a man could ever want!

“...Ah, there are… some implications there,” Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky realizes, remembering just how half-hearted most of that harem bullshit was. “Maybe a bent man wrote a kind of bent protagonist by accident? Who knows?”

“Da-Ge?” Fanli says. “Da-Ge, didn’t you know?”

AN: I’ve said this before, but there’s a meta argument to be made in regards to Luo Binghe and obligatory heterosexuality.

Also, from what I remember, Airplane didn’t actually seem to care too much about Luo Binghe being interested in Shen Yuan. In the Airplane Extras, Airplane says that in the original version of PIDW that he never got to write, Luo Binghe actually ended up totally alone at the end of the story. He was apparently planning a pretty downer ending for Luo Binghe. But Luo Binghe ended up getting a huge harem instead because that’s what the readers wanted!

So, my impression is, that when SVSSS Airplane first realizes that LBH is into men (and into SQQ specifically), he does a little bit of self-reflection and also reflection on PIDW, then just goes, “Huh. That makes... sense.”

“Though, aha, I can’t remember Shen-Shixiong ever really not being kind of angry at me and I’m not dead yet. I had to talk really fast sometimes, but I lived! Now go away.”

When Shang Qinghua looks up, all of his disciples are staring at him. They all look surprised, except for Shen Yuan, who looks embarrassed. Shang Qinghua would guess that someone cracked a dirty joke, but that doesn’t seem right.

"What?"

“...Shifu, how long have you known Shen-Shibo?” Chen Xuan asks.

“Since we were disciples? Ah, I think he hated me at first sight.”

“But you’re close now?” Lin Wenjiao blurts out.

“Closer, ” Shang Qinghua agrees warily. “Aha, don’t think that any of you can ask me for favors to do with Shen Qingqiu or Qing Jing Peak too! That’s not happening! Disciple Luo, Shen, get out of here before you give my disciples any more weird ideas.”

AN: Okay, so what happened is that as soon as Luo Fanli and Shang Qinghua left the room, Shen Yuan was like, “...Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu are... very close? Are they...?”

And SQH’s disciples are like, “Holy shit, are you asking if SQH and SQQ are romantically involved?!” And SQH’s disciples laugh in SY’s face because that’s RIDICULOUS. Which makes SY really embarrassed and defensive! SQH’s disciples ask why he would EVER think a thing like that.

SY provides the evidence. It’s a reasonable conclusion!

And then SQH’s disciples are like, “...Holy shit?!”

And then SY is like, “Wait, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

But it’s too late. SQH’s disciples are already putting all the evidence together and there is SO MUCH EVIDENCE of something going on there.

I know I refer to this ship as “Shangjiu”, but that’s mostly just to specify which Shen Qingqiu and I doubt that anyone in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect dares to call SQQ “Jiu” besides YQY. They’d probably actually end up calling it something along the lines of “The Premise” like original Star Trek: The Original Series Kirk/Spock shippers. (See Fanlore or something for more info on that.)

Again, SQH cannot... CONCEIVE of them conceiving this idea.

By the time that Mobei-Jun shows up at his Leisure House, Shang Qinghua is a little on the edge! Honestly, he’s kind of off the edge, dangling from a very thin branch just underneath the cliff’s edge, and that thin branch is making some very concerning noises! Sure, at least the demon lord isn’t late, but Shang Qinghua is suddenly reminded of just how intimidating Mobei-Jun looks! Also, he’s cleaned up his house and knows his sister-in-law knows he’s kind of a slob sometimes, but he’s so sure that she’s still going to judge his cleaning job! What if she blames Mobei-Jun for it? (She’d be right to blame him a little! The man can be kind of lazy and messy sometimes too!)

A cool hand at Shang Qinghua’s hip prevents him from walking around in circles, repositioning disobedient cushions and offending tables. Shang Qinghua looks up at Mobei-Jun, who moves his hand to where Shang Qinghua’s neck meets shoulder.

“Stop it,” Mobei-Jun says.

AN: It’s really funny thinking about how all of Mobei-Jun’s gentle and affectionate behaviors towards SQH are totally learned. This does not come naturally to the man. If SQH was having a panic attack, Mobei-Jun’s first (panicked) instinct would be to bark at him to stop it.

“It’s just… Jiahui is… it didn’t have to be this way for us? I would have just helped her get to safety and left her to live her life without me, but she didn’t let that happen, even though her family wasn’t any good either, so why would she want another one?” Shang Qinghua tries to explain. “She chose me? She looked out for me. She helped me understand a lot of things. Even though she probably could have picked anyone else. I don’t really know where I’d be right now if she didn’t? Ah, probably… not talking to or trusting anyone ever? You remember what things used to be like.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never really liked any of the sisters I’ve had before very much,” Shang Qinghua admits. “Ah, but they didn’t like me either, so it worked. Anyway! It’s… important to me that things work out now because…”

“I don’t want to choose,” Shang Qinghua doesn’t say.

He clears his throat instead.

“Qinghua.”

Shang Qinghua forces himself to look up from his hands on Mobei-Jun’s collar.

“I am glad that you were not without someone to trust,” Mobei-Jun says, though it sounds like it takes effort. “Your sister has nothing to fear from me.”

Mobei-Jun has already made this promise, but it’s good to hear it again.

“Thank you, my king. I’ll, ah- I should go get her now.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is jealous. He is very, VERY jealous.

BUT Mobei-Jun can also see some parallels here. Luo Jiahui is to Shang Qinghua in many ways what Shang Qinghua is to him. Mobei-Jun understands the importance of this relationship and of this person. He understands that Jiahui and SQH’s relationship is not romantic, of course, and understands her to be the “head of the family”, so he has to force himself not to act on his jealousy.

I think that a part of Mobei-Jun might see jealousy as something very negative? Thinking about what I said about Mobei-Jun’s hang-ups surrounding consent and possessiveness possibly originating with his father being a wife-stealer, Mobei-Jun can’t act on his jealousy for the same reasons that he needs Shang Qinghua to make the first explicit moves. He wants Shang Qinghua to choose him and to choose him of his own free will.

So, he’s jealous when he hears about how LJH chose SQH and SQH chose LJH, but he can’t act on it because 1) he loves SQH and 2) he’s (possibly unconsciously) terrified of becoming his father and creating resentment that will ripple out into his family potentially for generations.

It’s so, so weird to see his human sister-in-law sitting across from a demon lord. Luo Jiahui is not a tall woman and her cultivation is very good these days, but she’s not a warrior. Seeing the height and width differences side-by-side make them really obvious! Mobei-Jun is at least twice Shang Qinghua’s sister-in-law’s size! He has to be easily twice her weight!

When Luo Jiahui puts food in front of Mobei-Jun, Shang Qinghua gets huge “I dare you to not eat my food” messages! It took a really long time before Mobei-Jun seemed to accept that Shang Qinghua really wouldn’t take every available opportunity to hand him poison. Thankfully, however, Mobei-Jun has eaten Luo Jiahui’s food before! Shang Qinghua has shared his sister-in-law's food with the demon lord! Shang Qinghua also communicated beforehand that Mobei-Jun has to eat the food. No matter what!

So, Mobei-Jun eats the food and Shang Qinghua breathes a sigh of relief. Mobei-Jun even goes so far as to tell Luo Jiahui that she’s a good cook (above and beyond social interaction! Also delivered kind of awkwardly!), which his sister-in-law accepts with thanks (and also maybe just a little bit as her rightful due).

Luo Jiahui already knows the basics of Mobei-Jun: that he’s an ice demon, the son of the Northern Demon King, and he’s going to be the next Northern Demon King. She already knows that he’s a warrior and that his time is mostly spent tending to his duties, usually on his father’s behalf. She even knows that demon families can be kind of violently competitive and that Mobei-Jun’s family is no exception.

So, when she finally decides to speak seriously, she says, “My brother is very important to me. I have told him that if he is happy, then I’m happy for him. He has told me that you are very important to him.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is going to hold that revelation close to his chest for WEEKS. Shang Qinghua said that Mobei-Jun is very important to him!

Juggling the tension of this scene was weird.

Because, like, Mobei-Jun is not a kind or a gentle or a good person. He’s disdainful of humanity. It’s kind of a mindfuck for him to be having a meal with a strange human who is not of the things he has been raised to respect.

Meanwhile, Luo Jiahui is fucking terrified of Mobei-Jun, dislikes him, and doesn’t want to like him. He’s a stranger who could destroy her family. He looks kind of monstrous. He acts strangely.

But they HAVE TO BE CIVIL to each other for Shang Qinghua’s sake.

So they are.

Mobei-Jun tries not to make any scary moves around the soft human.

Luo Jiahui tries to act like MBJ is a normal person and to be polite.

They are both very out of their depth.

“...Shang Qinghua saved my life,” Mobei-Jun says, which is the first time he’s spoken without someone else speaking to him first. “Many times, he has done this.”

Luo Jiahui sets down her teacup, listening expectantly.

“Even when I did not trust him, and he did not trust me, Qinghua has always provided shelter and safety,” Mobei-Jun says slowly, solemnly. “Medicine, when I have been injured. Direction, when I have been lost. Company and loyalty. This is rare.”

“Yes,” Luo Jiahui agrees.

“The trust I have put in him has never been betrayed.”

Shang Qinghua kind of feels like he’s overheating here - like maybe his heart is melting! Mobei-Jun as a character has always prized loyalty above all! “I had no fucking clue,” he thinks. “Honestly, how the FUCK did I have no fucking clue?! Hindsight is incredible!”

“I would not betray him,” Mobei-Jun says, looking to Shang Qinghua directly. “My life has been his since the day we met.”

Shang Qinghua tries not to melt even more. Mobei-Jun is supposed to be an ice demon! What the hell is this?! It’s unfair! It’s embarrassing! It’s too much!

“...Good,” Luo Jiahui says, determinedly. “I’m happy to hear that. My hard-working brother needs someone to appreciate and cherish him.”

“Yes.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is like, “Humans use words. I need to use words. I need to be direct about this because humans are bad at understanding things.”

And Luo Jiahui is like, “Oh my, you are very intense. Okay.”

Mobei-Jun nods. “I did not think a human would ever care for a demon child.”

Luo Jiahui frowns a little. “Oh?”

“I admire this,” Mobei-Jun amends, frowning back. “I do not know how humans are raised. It is good that your child has never had to doubt his safety here.”

“...Of course.”

“It is clear that your child is loved beyond his bloodline.”

“Of course,” Luo Jiahui insists, with an offended note in her voice. “When I found Binghe in that river, I didn’t know he was part demon, but I would have taken him in anyway! Whoever the parent is, whatever the parent has done, it’s never the baby’s fault. Even if a parent has done something wrong, then babies shouldn’t suffer for it. All children should be cherished.”

Luo Jiahui’s voice breaks a little, her eyes turning wet. Shang Qinghua fumbles for a handkerchief to offer his sister-in-law, which she accepts gratefully.

He wonders if she’s thinking about her stillborn baby. She doesn’t talk about her other baby very often, but she does sometimes. She told him once that she observes that day. It’s something that she insists on doing alone.

“...I was left in the human world as a young child,” Mobei-Jun says.

Shang Qinghua’s head snaps up. He knows that, but that’s because he wrote that. He has never, ever heard Mobei-Jun talk about it before.

“Oh, no,” Luo Jiahui says.

“I was nearly killed by humans,” Mobei-Jun informs them.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Luo Jiahui says.

“It was my uncle’s doing. He wishes to see me dead.” Mobei-Jun says this like it’s just another fact of life, not even an upsetting one, which kind of makes it one of the saddest fucking things that Shang Qinghua has ever heard the man say.

“That’s terrible,” Luo Jiahui says vehemently. “How rotten.”

Mobei-Jun blinks at her. His expression is still solemn, but the pause seems surprised.

Shang Qinghua almost wants to shrug. Yep, his sister-in-law is just like this!

“I have promised Qinghua that I will protect your son,” Mobei-Jun says to her. “I make you the same promise now.”

“...Thank you.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is like, “I understand you to be one of the rare humans who is not a piece of shit and who would have saved me as a child. I respect this. I don’t fucking understand it, but I understand you should be protected and that your child should be protected. I am doing this for Shang Qinghua and not because I have any personal issues surrounding the endangerment of demon children.”

Luo Jiahui is like, “Oh, he’s soft inside! He’ll protect my Binghe. Okay, I like him now. I didn’t want to, but anyone who basically professes to be willing to die for my child and my brother has my reluctant approval.”

Shang Qinghua can’t help it. The energy in here is so weird! He laughs.

“My king, have you had that all this time?”

Mobei-Jun doesn’t say anything, he just frowns.

“Clearly he was waiting to return it in person, Houhua,” Luo Jiahui admonishes. “It’s not his fault that you took so long introducing us or surely he would have returned it sooner. Don’t make it out to be impolite.”

Mobei-Jun gives Shang Qinghua’s sister-in-law an approving look.

AN: Mobei-Jun is like, “Oh, she’s smarter than Qinghua. Good. (Not that my Shang Qinghua isn’t very clever, but he’s an idiot.)”

And sometimes it’s just nice to take a minute to sit back, relax, and see his disciples daring their shidi, his fellow transmigrator, to chug the spiciest soup on the menu.

“Ah, kids,” Shang Qinghua says to Luo Jiahui.

Luo Jiahui is making a very concerned expression as her sisters, Shang Qinghua’s head disciples, and even Liu Mingyan chant: “Chug! Chug! Chug!” Yeah, he should probably stop them! But why would he? If anyone throws up from this, he’ll just appear out of nowhere to scare the shit out of all of them and then make them clean it up. It’s fine. He says as much to Luo Jiahui.

“They’re old enough to know better,” she says, but she looks fond now. “Their shifu should have taught them better manners, hm?”

“Hey! Only… four of those are mine.”

AN: Friends for Shen Yuan! Friends for Shen Yuan!

Also SQH being like, “Oh, fuck, I really have too many kids.”

Luo Jiahui sighs wistfully. “It is nice having children in here again, even big ones who are supposed to be adults now. I’m so proud of how Binghe has grown, but I miss when he was little. I miss when I could pick him up and carry him around. Uncle Han’s daughter brought her new baby in yesterday. He was so cute!”

“Aha, don’t steal a baby to fill the empty nest, please!”

Luo Jiahui swats him. “I wouldn’t do something like that!” she insists, cheeks flushing pink.

AN: Baby?! Baby for Luo Jiahui and Liu Qingge?! Maybe!

#tossawary commentary #tossawary svsss #pride is not the word

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dayseternal-blog · 3 years

Note

Bunny-Hoodlum's eblogs of your posts actually got me wondering: what's your top 5 fanfic?

TUMBLR DESERVES TO KNOW, DAYS

HMMM!!

After thinking about this ask for probably too long, I think I have different Top 5s, like within different categories. And like bunny, my faves are influenced a lot by who was writing when I first entered the NaruHina fanfiction world because they made the most impact on me in developing my own style.

I’m sorry, this is super long, like, I have a problem.

🙌🏼My Top 5: Best Characterization, Plot, & World🙌🏼

All of the following just set the bar really high when it comes to creating a living, breathing main character. The storylines are daring and fresh. Side characters are treated with careful attention. Each chapter brings something important and new. There are no wasted words. The world the characters live in is vibrant and necessary. Basically, these stories deliver in a way that I could never hope to even try to emulate.

Btw, these all have a strong or healthy dose of AnNGgSssT.

💯 “Tainted and Possessed” by cafrye017 - Demons/Angels AU. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Rated E for a lot of things. Adventure, Drama, Action, Eventual Romance. - Naruto, enslaved by the Sanctified for his Forsaken blood all his life, learns that he holds a power great enough to one day change the system, but he’s not on this journey alone.

💯 “Common Side Effects” by @katarinahime & “Medicated” by @szajnie - Crime/Modern AU. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Rated E for a lot of things. Drama, Action, Romance. - Naruto and Hinata, in a struggling relationship, must confront the pain inside before they can love each other.

💯 “Powerless” by @bunny-hoodlum - Mystery/Crime Modern AU. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Rated E for a lot of things. Drama, Action, Eventual Romance. - His family’s past can’t be taken at face-value, and it comes clawing back to hurt him in ways that are out of his control. DELETED FIC.

💯 “A Place in the Sun” by ihaveastorminme - Canon-Divergent AU. Multi-chapter, Incomplete Forever. Rated E. Action, Romance. - Naruto realizes that he’s not enough to love her. He’s not enough to save her, either.

💯 “Stolen Beginnings” by @utsus - Mystery/Crime Modern AU. Long One-Shot/Incomplete. Rated M. Drama, Action, Eventual Romance (?). - Naruto always covers his tracks, not realizing he’s leading Hinata down the wrong trail.

Yeah. Those five are the strongest I’ve ever read in technical composition. The characters have depth, the plot is gripping, and the setting is alive.

❤️My Top 5: I Just Love Them So Much❤️

These next five are ones I’ve reread and practically studied! I’ve taken pieces of these stories and pocketed them as essential to how I write characters, scene transitions, descriptions of smut, emotions of falling in love, etc.! If these writers have ever read my stuff, they’ll be like, hey 😠 is she copying me?😠. And the answer is, yes 🙇🏻‍♀️, yes I am 🙇🏻‍♀️.

These 5 stories align best with what I personally like, so basically, these are all the foundations of how I attempt to write:

💖 “Unless the World Were to End” & its successor “21 Days” by @bunny-hoodlum - Modern AU. One-Shot & Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Rated E for smutttt. Drama, Romance. - Anonymous internet buddies decide to meet up IRL and give each other their first times.

💖 “Serenity Prayer” by @katarinahime - Modern AU. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Rated E for a lot of things. Drama, Romance. - When their fairytale endings smash to ugly pieces, Hinata and Naruto help put each other back together.

💖 “Love and Water” by nineetaaaillled - Canon-Divergent AU. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Rated E for smut. Drama, Romance. - The hardest part isn’t acknowledging that he’s in love, it’s believing that he can be loved.

💖 “Made in Heights” by @utsus - Spy AU. Long One-Shot/Incomplete. Rated E for smut. Drama, Action, Romance. - Hinata is definitely skilled enough to infiltrate the highly secured Uchiha party and steal sensitive intel that will save lives. It’s just a matter of making it out alive.

💖 “Lady Usagi” by @mmmbuttery - Canon-Divergent AU. One-shot. Rated G. Drama, Romance. - A quiet girl working in an inn meets a noisy young lord, but all is not as it seems.

No matter how many times I read these, they never lose their shine. I can always fangirl over those 5 (6) favorites.

🥵My Top 5: Favorite Smut Stories🥵

because yes, this definitely needs its own category, it’s very important. I would put “Unless the World Were to End” in here, but also that’s just a general fave, so I won’t include that one on this list. My favorite porn with plot, here we gooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

😳 “Side Effects” by Cheating Death - Modern AU. Multi-chapter, Complete. You can easily skip the rape and non-con without compromising the plot, the author warns you before it happens. - When Naruto and Hinata decide to participate in a high-paying clinical study, they wind up signing up for much more than they bargained for.

😳 “Money Shot” by callmesenorita - Modern AU. Multi-chapter, Complete. - When Naruto meets Hinata again, he can’t help comparing her to his favorite cam girl.

😳 “Out With the Old” by agitosgirl - BDSM Modern AU. Two-Shot, Complete. - A poor submissive meets a new Dominant to take care of her.

😳 “Shinobi Passions” by HoneyWriter78 - Canon-Divergent AU. Multi-Chapter, Incomplete. - When a mission takes a surprising turn for the worse, only Naruto can help her through the night...

😳 “Ghost (touch)” by @linisen - Soulmates/Modern AU. One-shot. - A soulmate AU where you feel where the other person is touching their body and thinking about you - like a ghost touch.

Hmm maybe honorable mentions would be “Timer: Naruto Edition” by funkychicken67, “Differences” by EroPrincess, “Secrets of the Hidden Leaf” by Sessakag (wait, does that one even have a plot), and “I’m in Here” by @bunny-hoodlum (hmmm actually that’s definitely porn without plot lol). There are tons of really good NaruHina smut fics, so this was hard.

✨My Top 5: Best of 2020✨

The stories of this past year that really, really made me look forward to checking the AO3 update list!! Like, there were a ton of new stories last year, and I didn’t get to read a lot of them, and especially for the long multi-chapter ones, I just didn’t have the emotional capacity to start them. But out of what I did get to read, the following were the most memorable and left an impression on me (pretending to exclude @bunny-hoodlum’s “Territorial”, because that’s just starting to feel unfair of me if she’s in every list lollllllll).

💫 “Still Falling for You” series, especially “August” and “October” by @chloelapomme - Various AU based on the NaruHina2020 Prompts. One-shots and Multi-chapters, Mostly Complete. Various Ratings and Genres. - August: Despite differences in cultures, appearances, and current occupations, Naruto will always feel at home with Hinata. October: Hinata has an unhealthy obsession. Naruto does, too...

💫 “A fate worse than death” & “A risky bet” by Caelestia - ABO Canon Universe. Two-Shot, Complete. Rated E. Romance. - Improperly socialized for his inner Alpha as a child, Naruto struggles with the intimacy of his mating bond.

💫 “Harbinger of Light” by @mysterious-crimson-lotus - Canon-Divergent AU. Multi-chapter, Complete. Rated T. Action, Romance. - Hinata is his light in the middle of the war.

💫 “As Luck Would Have It” by @vegebulsoup - Modern AU. Multi-chapter, Complete. Rated M. Romance. - Two strangers wake up naked together in Las Vegas with no memory of the night before.

💫 “Come and Find Me When the Weather is Fine” by @badluckbrebis - Modern AU. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Rated T. Drama, Romance. - When she comes back for a wedding, years later after moving abroad, Hinata catches Naruto’s attention...but is he ready for a relationship?

AHHHHH I’M FINALLY SATISFIED WITH MY ANSWER. This took me sooooo long to put together because I kept rereading 🥺 all the stories I clicked on 🥺. Time to go to bed.

#anon #naruhina fanfic recs #my top 5 #more like top 20 haha #this really is my ultimate rec list #naruhina fanfic rec list

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cmtuckerly · 3 years

Text

25 Things I learned by 25

1. A dream isn’t the same as a passion. Publishing a book is a dream, but writing is a passion. You can’t take away passion.

2. Don’t expect to become an adult during undergrad. You’ll definitely grow, but you’re still figuring things out. You’ll make mistakes. Undergrad is when you can still have fun, do whatever you want, and not be answerable to anyone (rejoice in not yet having a supervisor or boss to report to). You can take whatever electives you want. You can choose to study for that midterm for as much or as little you want. It’s one of your last times to be chaotic (whatever chaotic means to you) before going into the workforce or starting grad school, where you have responsibilities have and to answer to a supervisor.

3. You don’t need to impress anyone with your life, especially not your friends or relatives. It’s your life and you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with the choices your make, not them. Their judgements and approval aren’t going to be what sustains you. It only matters whether you’re happy with what you do.

4. Age differences matter less when you get older. When you were 18, it felt weird being in the same class as a 19 year old. But when you’re 25, you’ll be working on projects with people who are 22, 33, and 50, and everyone’s opinion has comparable weight. You gain a lot of wisdom and maturity when you work with people outside of your age cohort. Also, stop putting so much stock into your 20s. After having a year taken away from my 20s due to the plague, I’m trying to tell myself that being young is more of a state of mind than an age range. Likewise, I find the label “old soul” pretentious as heck.

5. Living harmoniously with your housemates means that you should communicate clearly what your expectations are for the bathroom and kitchen. Tell your housemates to clean their own hair from the drain after they shower instead of letting everyone’s hair clog it up after a month. Tell your housemates to clean their food from the kitchen drain after they do their own dishes.

6. No matter who shames you, don’t feel bad about staying up til 4am and waking up at 2pm. In a way, sometimes it’s a privilege to have a school/work life that allows you to have a dysfunctional sleep schedule. Embrace it while you can.

7. Don’t feel regret for the mistakes you made or the things you didn’t do. You only wish you made a different decision now because you have hindsight. At the time you made that decision, you didn’t know any better and thought that was the best choice. Those series of decisions and mistakes you made helped form the person you are and the wisdom you have now. So why regret that things that helped make you you?

8. It’s okay to lie to your family and friends in order to make it easier to get some space to breathe. You don’t owe anyone your time or explanations.

9. ”Your vibe attracts your tribe”. Something I heard from a youtuber. There will always be at least one person out there who likes what you do, no matter how niche it is. You’ll always find an audience for your voice. Keep doing you.

10, Some deadlines are flexible and some rules are bendable. Don’t always do things by the book. Things will work out. They’ll be fine. Rejection also doesn’t mean you’re not good enough or not capable. Rejections means you weren’t given that opportunity, but it doesn’t mean you are incapable to learning that knowledge. It’s also why going to college and having a post-secondary education isn’t necessary for success. Likewise, don’t take failure so seriously. Learn from it, yes, but it’s not going to matter in the grand scheme of things years from now.

11. Don’t mistake being nice for flirting. You’ll make yourself too vulnerable that way.

12. Invest mental energy into something meaningful. Staring at someone’s instagram profile or a celebrity’s photos on google images isn’t going to change anything. Similarly, that trip to Paris you took, the fairy lights in your room, or the hipster cafe you spend your time in doesn’t make you more artsy or cultured. The great plague of 2020 taught me to re-evaluate and redefine what’s left of my personality when I’m stuck at home for a year.

13. My favourite form of therapy: wandering solo. Whether it be walking through a city, a summer music festival, hiking through a forest, driving, or going to a museum or art gallery on my own. There’s a lot of freedom when you’re alone and anonymous.

14. Go eat alone in that restaurant (when safe and appropriate). No one is noticing. And if they do, take pride in the fact that you’re more open-minded and confident than they are.

15. No one remembers the mistake or embarrassing thing you did in your meeting or presentation. People have better things to remember and think about in their lives.

16. Fate is just meaning that we choose to give to certain coincidences. It’s not real.

17. Meet-cutes don’t end in happily ever after like they do in the movies. But they do make for interesting stories.

18. Don’t expect to meet the love of your life at a cafe, bookstore, social dance night, or whatever special event. People are mostly there to work, find a book, practice their dance skills, and socialize with their friends. They’re not paying much attention to people around them.

19. Maturity is being able to have a celebrity crush and knowing that it’ll never work out in real life and being okay with that. It’s all about learning how to have a healthy balance of emotional attachment and emotional distance.

20. I think one martini gets me just as tipsy as 3 glasses of wine. I need to do more tests to find out though.

21. A good conversationalist and someone who has the same interests as you doesn’t mean they’ll be a good partner. There are lots of people who fit that criteria. That’s why we have friends.

22. Fake it ‘til you make it. Feeling unconfident? Pretend that you are! Shy? Pretend to be the charismatic person you always wanted to be. No one will be the wiser. All the world’s a stage. Everyone’s trying to act out the best versions of themselves. As a shy introvert, I’m always worried about stuttering and betraying to others that I’m not as knowledgeable or confident than I actually I am. But I find that it somewhat helps to think less about what people think of me and to think more about the effect that I want to have on others. By projecting outwards, I become a little less self-conscious and ruminate inwards less.

23. Spending a lot of time with someone doesn’t mean you’ll be friends with them. After pulling all-nighters for group projects and seeing my group members more than my own friends and family for 4 months at a time and then never speaking to the group again despite how much we’ve bonded during the group project, I finally understand why actors don’t always become close friends with their co-stars.

24. Read. Learn how to tell stories, whether visually, orally, or textually. You’ll learn how to think more clearly. Unplugging from your phone and computer for 2-3 hours to do this really helps.

25. Be creative, curious, open, and spontaneous. Make the most of a disappointing situation. Be positive. Everything is an opportunity, from being stuck in traffic to being stuck in a grocery line. Everything can lead to a story that can be told later. Drive aimlessly for an hour every weekend and notice how the landscape changes and how neighbourhoods shift. Be open to taking up new hobbies. Be open to reconnecting with an old friend over coffee, even if the homebody inside you wants to cancel everything.

#life lessons #20 somethings #25 years old #college student #positivity #inspiration #philosophy #introvert #infj #mbti #personality #college #grad student #uni life #college life #university

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letstalkaboutsebbaby · 3 years

Text

Related Activities - Chapter 4

The district has a new attorney and Marshall is going to learn the hard way that he should have acted sooner in pursuing his passion for Caroline.

Pairing: Andy Barber x OFC (Caroline Kline) / Walter Marshall x OFC (Caroline Kline)

Author: Deb @letstalkaboutsebbaby / @letswriteaboutsebbaby

Rating: Mature

Warnings: crime talk, smut (hi @klaine-92 - it's starting!)

Walter Marshal is a man that has little to no time to lose with useless things. His house lack decoration because he sees no need for them. A couple of frames with pictures of his daughter, some cushions that he didn’t know were uncomfortable when he bought them, and a painting in his bedroom. He has few friends - his brother and a couple of guys whom he grew up with - fewer reasons to trust new people, but he trusts Caroline. He likes her, he wants her more than he cares to admit to himself, not really confident in his relationship skills.

One of the things he needs the most is the only thing she can’t ever give him - silence. She’s always with something to talk about, a view over some case, a question about his past experiences, or a song to softly sing when she knows he’s not wanting to talk. Marshall feels like he can listen to her singing the whole discography of the Pretenders before he’ll get enough of her voice.

Waking up early after a hard day, he stays in bed contemplating his next steps to make sure she’ll understand he needs time cause he can’t start a relationship while worrying about the cases they have now. Obviously, they’ll always have to work and it’ll always have a lot of shit to deal with but at the moment it’s too time-consuming and he wants to start a relationship with the possibility to really give her time and attention. Looking at his phone, a text gives him hope that things will go as planned: Only pick me up if you bring hot chocolate with vanilla cream. It’s the closest thing to “I’ll forget you’ve been so dumb” he will get and since his apology hasn’t been so eloquent either, he’s fine with it.

After half an hour and bringing a big cup of her favorite drink, he picks her up at her apartment. From the driver’s window, he can see the pale rose curtain on her room reminding him of how contrastive their houses are; her full of cute decor items, different patterns on the walls, soft rugs, mirrors and candles everywhere. If it wasn’t Carol he would’ve said the person spent a lot of time decorating the place, but somehow it feels effortless for her. It’s like anything he finds difficult is incredibly natural for her.

As she climbs in the car, Marshal smiles at her and she smiles back, quickly reaching for her drink. He stops her hand midways and holds it between his. “Can you at least say good morning?”

“Good morning, big guy. You look better”

“I am. Look, Car...I’m not in the right mind to...to do anything other than find these fuckers. Let’s look forward to that week off, can we?” His big fingers caressing her palms and bringing butterflies to her stomach. As handsome and sweet as Andy is, her attraction to Marshall has been something growing since day one and her heart is more invested than she would like. The way he calls her ‘Car’ only adding to the entire sexiness of him.

“So let’s find these fuckers...Give my hands back, I need to drink and you need to drive.” she teases. “Any new clue?”

“No, some test results will be ready today tough, so I guess we’ll at least have something to go after. Yours?”

“Nothing either, I was just talking to Andy last night and he thinks the same modus operandi was being investigated in Massachusetts. He’ll bring the files today so I can give a look before interviewing the guy again.”

The mention of a night talk with Andy bothers Marshall and he can’t really pay attention to anything Carol says after it and she notices the change in his behavior but decides not to ask the reason.

Shortly after they get to the station, each working on their own cases, Andy gets there for the suspect interview, files ready for her to analyze.

“Hey, that’s for me?” Caroline points with a smile when she sees him.

“I believe it’ll cost you something” he replies, sitting by her desk.

“I’m ready to pay for it. What’s the price?” she plays along.

“Dinner tonight.”

“Done. Pass me the files, Sir.”

The friendly chat is something she really likes about him. A bit of flirting doesn’t hurt, right? Caroline reads the info and adds sticky notes to some of the papers while Andy talks to one of the cops. When the suspect is in the interrogation room, she calls Andy to go along with her.

“You go ahead, I’ll watch by the glass” he responds.

“You don’t want to get in?”

“Go on...I trust you, I’ll be there if you think a different approach it’s required.”

Once she’s there, with a bust in her confidence after Andy’s speech, the suspect is clearly trembling as she makes the questions but answers everything as determined by his lawyer - even though a peeved tone is always present. In the next room, Andy is watching the interrogation when Marshall enters to do the same, just as the suspect changes the subject to the previous encounter with the detectives.

“Were’s your bodyguard, Miss? Not going to intimidate me today?”

“I just need the answers, I don’t think you need to be intimidated in order to give me the truth. You’re smart enough to know there’s only one way not to be sentenced to death in a case like this and it starts with giving me information” she states.

“Are you fucking him?” the suspect challenges as his lawyer tries to make him behave. “You look like a good fuck”

The suspect enrages Marshall and he’s ready to go inside and put him in his place, but Andy stops him with a hand in his arm.

“You can’t really blame him” Andy calmly says.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Marshall verbalizes with no calm at all.

“The way you act...he knows you’re here and all he wants is for you to enter that room and give his lawyer a reason to ask for a transference.” He asserts the situation, stopping Marshall from ruining Caroline’s work.

“I better go” The detective mutter.

“Don’t worry, I got her” Andy claims, much to Marshall’s displeasure.

When the interrogation ends Caroline meets Andy to deliberate for some time. Eventually, he went back to his office, promising to pick her up at the end of the day, both concentrating on work before the time for a new date came around. They decide to have dinner at hers, dismissing the idea of going home to get ready for a formal event - buying some take-out from an Italian place she likes and finding comfort at her floor once again.

“This is delicious” he declares, the pleasure clear on his face.”Can we do this every night? I want to try out all of their dishes.”

“It’s so yummy, right? I can’t have it every night though, I would end up in the worst shape.” Caroline says kiddin’, trying to imagine if he really wants to spend more time with her, and for what reasons.

“I find it very hard to believe you could get into a bad shape, babe, you’re gorgeous.”

A bit abashed by his comment, she smiles shyly and drinks a gulp of wine. “Well, in this case…we can do this sometimes before you get tired.”

“If I get tired we can change to japanese food, or mexican…”

“I was talking about the company”

“No sense. I might get tired of air before this happens.” He smiles and gets closer to her, an arm inviting her to lean on him. “You’re like...you know the feeling when you’re little and you know a Christmas present is waiting for you downstairs?” her head resting on his shoulder turns up to look at him.

“Yeah” she whispers back, looking deeply into his baby blue eyes. “I’m not sure the wrappings would be more interesting than the actual prize…” she tries to jest, but he holds her face, his thumb pressing over her lips. The way he looks at her gives no space for misinterpretations and the butterflies in her belly are very hard to ignore.

“If you agree to a hundred dinners more I can try to find out…” Andy’s low timbre functioning as a poison that keeps her weak - no reason to leave his arms, no desire to be anywhere else but in his presence.

“A hundred?” she softly asks.

“Just to start…” his lips softly touching hers before he kisses her. “You deserve better, you know?” She wasn’t sure what he means...deserve better than what? But his lips are on hers again before she can think further about it, both of them getting lost in sweet and deep kisses. Caroline wasn’t aware of the time, only able to feel Andy and the desire he evokes; not even the fact that they’re now lying on the couch seems to register in her mind, just his scent and the weight of his body over hers. Resting his forehead on hers, Andy whispers in the most enticing way “I’ll be what you need, sweetie. Everything you need.” while his hands expertly unbutton her jeans.

That was a completely different end to her night… she’s spent months dreaming about finishing her day in this same position with Marshall but it didn’t feel wrong to be with Andy - he’s attentive and attractive, very easy on the eyes - anyone would love to have him and she’s not about to lose this guy waiting for someone that never gave her anything more than a promise of a week off together. “We should take this to the bedroom”.

“Shhh...just relax.” He before taking her pants off and lying between her legs, positioning them around his waist; he slowly slides an arm to hold her neck as she stares at his eyes, entranced by how hot he looks at this moment. “Choose me, babe. Just tell me you want me.”

She can feel how hard he is through his pants and nods unconsciously “I want you, Andy.”

He tries hard not to lose control, wanting to watch her surrender, to see her gradually becoming his. “I want you too...so much” he starts moving his hips, rubbing his covered hard-on over her panties, a hand moving to grip her butt, helping her to grind against him “You look so beautiful...take what you need to feel good, babe”.

The friction on her clit driving her wild, making her squirm and cling to him. “Andy, please.”

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now...to take these clothes off and slide into you…” as he declares all he wants to do to her, she keeps grinding and kissing his jaw as if he’s going to disappear. “So fucking cute” Andy sits and brings her body with him, finding the view of her straddling his thighs the most erotic sight ever. He touches her tits through the shirt and holds her as she rides him. Caroline wants him to lose control, but all she accomplishes is to get closer to cumming, so she hugs him and lets herself go listening to his sweet praise of her.

With her body still trembling she opens her eyes to look at his proud face. “Stay.”

“I can’t. I need you to have a good night of sleep and think about what you want...then tomorrow you’ll text me let me know if you want another date.”

“A third date.”

“Yeah”

“I already know the answer”

“I’ll believe you when you’re not looking like you want to fuck so much” he jokes, standing up and putting her on the couch, adjusting his pants as much as possible with his cock still hard.

She stands up and slides her arms around his neck, bringing Andy close to kiss him once more. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Grabbing her hand, he takes his jacket from the other couch and walks to the door, stopping with a hand in the handle “I’ll be waiting. Have a good night, Car.” he gives her a light peck before leaving her house. She shivers when she hears him calling her ‘Car’ the exact same way Marshall does. She’s so fucked.

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terresdebrumestories · 3 years

Text

Available for consultation

FANDOM: The Old Guard (2020) SERIES: - RATING: General audiences WORDCOUNT: 4 776 words PAIRING(S): None CHARACTER(S): Nile Freeman (POV), Yusuf Al Kaysani, Andromache the Scythian, Niccolo di Genova (mentioned), Sébastien Le Livre (mentioned). GENRE: Mutual care, Nile Freeman character introspection. TRIGGER WARNING(S): None that I can think of :) SUMMARY: Nile misses her mother but doesn't know how to talk about it or with who. fortunately, Bâtard the emotional support tortoise is here to help. NOTE(S): This was originally written for Nile Week 2020 but never put online because of reasons, so now here it is, longer and better written than it was :D Hugest thanks to @avaniesque for the most excellent beta work :D [ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3.]

Nile gasps when something soft bumps against her foot, hurriedly wiping at her cheeks as she turns towards the door. It looks empty at first, the cobwebs they didn’t bother dealing with earlier in the day gently swaying in the air. There’s some shuffling along the dusty floor, a light click of nails on stone, and then a small oblong head appears near the bottom. This is swiftly followed by short scaly legs and a black and brown shell wrapped in a crocheted lab coat. Nile tenses, unprepared for any sort of human company at the moment, but relaxes when it becomes apparent Booker has not elected to follow his pet around.

Said pet has now fully entered the living-room and is beelining for a strawberry resting against her right pinky toe. It looks good enough to eat, as does the rest of what Booker feeds it, which Nile still doesn’t really understand but who is she to tell Booker how to care for his pet? Bâtard, of course, is unconcerned by her surprise and eventually gets to chomping on the strawberry.

Nile’s eyes are dry by now, the tight press of sadness around her heart still present but past its peak, at least for now. It still takes her a couple of seconds to realize the small square of bright white on the side of Bâtard’s outfit is a piece of paper. She picks it up to find a few words from a hand that hasn’t yet lost the impeccable penmanship of its first life. Apparently it’s hard to let go of habits people beat into you with a stick. The note reads : “He’ll keep your secret as long as you keep paying. First one on me.” It makes Nile smile.

(Andy, Nicky and Joe are all just as capable of impeccable calligraphy, but when free not to pay attention to it they tend to revert to script letters. Booker is the only one who insists on torturing them all with permanent cursive written with fountain pens on special paper.)

She doesn’t know Booker all that well, yet. Seven years ago, he was the quiet grumpy member of the group who didn’t seem to care much whether Nile stayed or left. Then he was the one who made a pretty compelling case against Nile seeing her family again—revealing himself to have some unresolved issues in the process—and then he was the one whose issues exploded all over the rest of the group. Now he’s mostly the one who was brought back way too soon, who knows it, and tries to make himself as scarce as possible because of it.

Mostly, it means that while Nile is the one who’s exchanged the most words with him so far, it’s also pretty much been limited to the topic of...well. His tortoise. All in all, much less informative about the man compared to just watching him settle said tortoise up in every safehouse they use, no matter how temporary. (Nile would help, but she’s not entirely sure how the others would take it. It seems prudent not to.) Or looking at the cozies the tortoise parades around on a regular basis...or, as the case may be, discovering he’s taken the time to bedeck his precious reptile in a new outfit for the sole purpose of leaving it (uncharacteristically) unsupervised in Nile’s company just so she has someone to talk to.

“You’re not who I want to talk to either,” she says, because she’s under no illusion that her solitude today has been accidental. “I mean, I know they’re trying I just—”

Nile sighs, wiping at her face in a vain attempt to clear her head, but the gesture only brings fresh moisture to her eyes as she tries to swallow down her frustration. It feels almost silly, in the grand scheme of things, to be this upset over this, but, well... Hearts do what they want, and there’s nothing Nile can do about that, so eventually she looks down at Bâtard’s scaly little head and tells the tortoise:

“It’s my mom’s birthday tomorrow. She’s turning sixty-five and I—”

Nile claps a hand on her mouth to stifle the sob wrenching itself out of her, but it feels piercing and loud in the quiet evening air nonetheless. She breathes around it for a bit, unwilling to attract company just yet, and reaches down to rub Bâtard’s head with her forefinger.

“I want to be with her,” she eventually confesses to the tortoise. “I want to be there and hug her, I—I miss my mom.”

Nile knows she can call. They’ve got burner phones, Copley’s skills to keep them hidden, and an uneasy truce with Quynh ensuring the biggest threat they’ve faced so far isn’t much of one for now. Three years ago she wouldn’t even have had that: her mother and brother both convinced she was dead and buried somewhere in the mountains of Afghanistan. She believes with all of her heart that her mother and brother would never blame her for living when they can’t.

Her mother is starting the second half of her sixties, and she’s not there to see it. Her mother, who’s growing older and greying a little at the temples. Her mother, who deserves better than never knowing when they’ll see each other again, with little-to-no news in between visits. Her mother, who was there for her in every way she could and every way that counted, and for whom Nile wants to be there but can’t. Her mother, who will not be there forever.

(Sometimes, the thought hits Nile out of nowhere, and it takes an impossible effort not to drop everything right then and there to jump in the first flight to Chicago.)

“It’s just—” Nile pauses, trying to pick her words so she can really make Bâtard understand, as impossible as that is, and continues : “They’re great. All of them. They’re—even Booker’s not so bad. I mean, I’m kind of stuck in the middle of the family feud so that’s not the best feeling, but... They’ve gone above and beyond to help me feel welcome, they’ve taught me so many amazing things…. They’re just...not my mom.”

Bâtard, done with his strawberry, lifts his head to look at her, and Nile swears he even leans into her scratching, just a little. It’s a pleasant surprise and she finds herself smiling, not very bright but present nonetheless. It soothes something in her, too, not to be alone right now even though she’s not ready for human company. Both her mother and Jordan have allergies so they’ve never had pets before, and Nile never really longed for one either. Right now, though, she thinks she understands a little better what endears them to people.

“I’m...scared,” she admits, keeping her voice quiet like it’s going to make a difference. “I know I’m going to lose her one day, that’s inevitable, but I don’t want to find out about it months later because my brother couldn’t reach me...I don’t want to find out about his death from nephews and nieces who’ll barely know who I am, if they know I exist at all.” Nile sighs again, sobs crowding in her throat and tightening her voice as she admits: “I wish I hadn’t listened to Booker.”

That last admission is what breaks the dam, and all of a sudden Nile is sobbing again, and she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. There’s misery here, and anger too, maybe even more than there was at the beginning. It was...easier, in a way, to pretend to be dead. She had to mourn, of course, and that tore at her and still does sometimes, but it was a clean cut. It was simple.

Now her mother knows she’s alive and her brother knows and it’s a relief for all of them, but it also means Nile has to be the one consciously deciding not to call home until she’s in a safe enough place to do so, not to text until she can do it from a sufficiently untraceable phone. The temptation there is a hundred times harder to resist because it would be so easy not to.

“If it makes you feel better,” Joe’s voice says from the threshold, “I think we can all sympathize with that sentiment.”

He’s being quiet and careful—it’s the middle of the night after all—but Nile is still startled, and she pretends to glare at him until he tilts his head in quiet enquiry. In response she sighs, wipes at her wet cheeks again, and waves him over. He smiles, something almost like relief in it, and steps lightly into the living room.

“Mind the doctor,” Nile tells him, gesturing at the remains of the strawberry, as he lowers himself on the ground next to her.

“The doct—you mean Bâtard?”

“Yeah he’s—”

In that instant, Nile realizes she has no idea where Bâtard went. He was chilling by her feet, seemingly content to go to sleep soon, and now he’s nowhere to be seen. The realization is enough to send Nile’s heart racing, horrified at the thought of being the one under whose watch Bâtard meets an unfortunate end.

Sure, it isn’t her pet and she and Booker aren’t really close—not like she’s becoming with the others, at any rate—but 1) Bâtard doesn’t deserve to die and 2) it doesn’t take a genius to realize his demise would be absolutely disastrous for Booker’s mental health, and no one wants to see the consequences that could have on the rest of them. Joe must have gone through a similar realization, because as soon as Nile falls quiet he tenses and gets back up into a crouch.

“Please tell me we didn’t lose the tortoise,” he whispers, like he thinks Booker might be listening in on them.

“We didn’t lose the tortoise,” Nile replies because it’s barely been five minutes and Bâtard cannot possibly have gone far in that time frame.

“Good,” Joe says while Nile rummages through her pocket for her phone and turns the flashlight on, “because I don’t think any of us are prepared to deal with the fallout of—”

“We did not lose the tortoise,” Nile interrupts, her tone firm enough to pretend she’s not actually nervous about this. “Can you turn the light on? I’m getting nowhere with this.”

Joe does, and Nile spots Bâtard almost instantly, ambling in his unhurried stroll towards the fridge like he knows where the treats come from...maybe he does, Nile really doesn’t know enough about tortoises to tell. Either way, it’s a relief seeing him there, and she turns to let Joe know she’s found their target.

“Oh thank God,” Joe sighs, sagging with it. “I really don’t want to find out what Booker would be like if we lose him.”

“You know,” Nile remarks as she follows Bâtard’s mosey to the fridge, “I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time the lot of you had a talk about this.”

Joe winces, and Nile can sympathize with that if she’s really honest. She doesn’t feel the same about what happened, but then she doesn’t have a shared history with Booker the way the others do; it’s easier for her to let go faster. Still, Booker’s been back for nearly three months now, and Nile is getting tired of feeling like she needs to be walking on eggshells between the two parts of the group. Joe sighs.

“Which ‘this,’ do you think?”

“All of them,” Nile retorts, careful to keep her voice gentle. She’s not trying to force anyone into anything, after all. “Just...it’s been months, and you’re still avoiding each other. You all need to talk.”

Joe sighs again, running a hand over the nape of his neck. He looks like he might be ready to talk with someone, but the very thought of it makes Nile want to recoil. Another day, maybe. When she’s got more energy, and more space in her head for other people’s problems.

Not right now.

“Remember you’re on my strawberry,” Nile says, smiling to turn it half into a joke, “if you need a consultation you pay your own fee.”

“Alright,” Joe chuckles, good natured even in the middle of the night. “That’s fair.”

He sobers up soon after, growing quiet and serious to ask: “Is it working for you? Or would you like to tell me what’s going on? I’ll even listen for free, if you’re short on strawberries.”

Nile snorts. The truth is, she does feel better for having told him what was going on, even if her ‘consultation’ was accidentally cut short. She’s not sure how much of this she wants to share with the team just yet. There’s never an easy way to tell people who want to help you that they can’t because they’re simply...not who you want at that moment.

“Actually, I’m good right now,” she tells Joe. “Take you up on it another time?”

Joe visibly hesitates, something a little worried in his frown, so Nile gives a fond smile and leans up to squish him in a hug as much as she can manage.

“Thank you,” she tells him, relaxing when he returns the embrace just as tight and actually lifts her up against him. “I’m good, I promise. It’s not─you can probably guess most of it, honestly. I just...I feel kind of awkward about it, I guess.”

“Because we’re too close?” Joe guesses, and Nile nods.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to talk to someone uninvolved.”

“Well,” Joe says, something too wet in his throat to be only about Nile, “I’m glad you have that then. Just...just know I mean it.”

“I know,” Nile promises, chest warming from the care and the obvious concern. “Now go to sleep, old man.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Nile gives Joe a playful shove, snorting when he pretends to stumble, and watches him go with the stretch of a smile sinking into her cheeks. Slowly, the air around her grows still again, the vague sounds of a forest at night and a door creaking barely even noticeable.

How much sleeping is actually taking place on the other side of the safehouse, Nile doesn’t know. She learned very quickly that no one on this team is capable of normal sleep patterns. It’s quiet all the same, and after a few seconds of standing in place, she goes to the fridge, retrieves a peach quarter from Bâtard’s snack box and she plops the offering in front of him, turns the light off, and sits back down next to the tortoise.

“Alright,” she tells him, “maybe I wasn’t completely fair with your dad. I mean...he was wrong, but it’s not like he was trying to be cruel. And he did have a bit of a point.”

She still can’t quite stand the thought of losing her family. It’s unavoidable, she knows. One day, maybe, she’ll make her peace with it, but for now...no. She doesn’t want to think about that any more than she already has tonight.

“I know there’s a purpose,” Nile tells Bâtard. “I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed it. And we’re getting better at it! I know I’m doing more good here than I used to as a soldier...but sometimes I wish there wasn't a purpose and I could just go home.”

Bâtard, either oblivious to or unconcerned by Nile’s predicament, keeps munching on his piece of peach, and Nile can’t help but smile down at him, reaching to rub at his head once more.

“You really are a good listener,” she tells him. “You’re still not my mom though. She’s the one I want to talk to.”

Bâtard looks up then, and straight at Nile with something that could almost pass for a purposefully flat expression...and, really, he’s not wrong. It’s nearing three am here which makes for...maybe ten or eleven in the evening in Chicago? And sure, Mom’s not so young anymore and could probably use the sleep...but today is her birthday, and Nile’s always tried to phone her on the day before, and she has a burner phone with her so, really, what’s stopping her?

Maybe the possibility of displeasing Andy, a bit. But, Nile thinks as she dials, they’re leaving tomorrow aren’t they? If she’s going to do it, at least she’s picking the least inconvenient time for it.

“N─yes?” Mom’s sleepy voice mumbles into the phone, better at the incognito game than she was when it all started two years ago. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Nile says, and smiles at her mother’s joyful, wordless exclamation. “Am I waking you up?”

“Nevermind that,” mom chides, “nevermind that! How are you? Where─well no, you can’t tell me where you are, but how are you?”

“Better now,” Nile says in a sigh, warmth and bittersweetness spreading in her chest as she leans back against the wall, finger still tracing circles on Bâtard’s head. “I mean. I miss you, but at least I get to hear you now.”

“Oh, I miss you too baby,” Mom says, tears audible in her voice, “but I’m so glad you called! Don’t tell your brother, but it’s definitely my favorite present this year!”

Nile smiles again, a little wobblier than she’d like, maybe, but not forced. This isn’t ideal and she wants more, but it’s better than not calling the way she’d planned to do. At her feet, in the dim silvery light of the moon, Bâtard looks just a little smug.

“Not a word,” Nile promises, knowing her mother is going to share the news herself anyway. “How was your day?”

“Oh it was nice! You know how I told Marjory down the street I felt ready to celebrate a little more this year now I got used to you being dead and all, so she treated me to lunch at that new Italian on the corner─you tell your Nuncio he was right, by the way, osso bucco is delicious. And then we went for a stroll in the park, and I was a little worried, because I’m still supposed to be grieving, but you’re alive and I wasn’t sure I’d look suitably emotional when we passed your favorite spots, but I do miss you so it really wasn’t that hard and all in all it was nice and Marjory’s none the wiser so I’m calling it a success.”

“I’m sorry,” Nile says, unsurprised when Mom tuts at her in response. “I know, I know. I still wish you didn’t have to lie to her.”

“Nile, baby, if Marjory knew, she’d understand. Now you stop worrying about her and tell me what your day was like.”

“It was alright,” Nile says, rolling her neck as the tension slowly seeps out of it, the breaths coming slower and easier now that she’s actually doing what she’s wanted to do all day. “I missed you. Jaamal taught me how to draw a dog, though, and then Antaram kicked my butt in training again.”

“Just you wait a few years,” Mom says with a chuckle, “then you can take advantage of her age.”

Nile snorts, even though she seriously doubts Andy will let an aging body get in the way of remaining the best fighter of the group. She might look past forty─although she doesn’t remember how long she’d lived before she died the first time─but she’s also been fighting since before horses were domesticated (or near enough), and all that expertise doesn’t just go away.

It’s still an amusing thought, though, so Nile chuckles along with her mother for a bit before continuing.

“It’s not that bad. I’m learning a lot.”

“Of course, of course! I’m just saying.”

“Of course,” Nile repeats, still smiling. “Anyway, that’s about it. Nuncio made us tagine, Jaamal made fun of him because apparently he cooks like a christian─I’m pretty sure that’s an inside joke. And then I was feeling a little down so Blàsi lent me Bâtard, and now I’m here.”

“Is Bâtard Franklin’s name?” Mom suggests when she hears Nile hiss at her slip up.

“Yes, but I don’t think he deserves it,” Nile says, grateful for her mother’s help. “I think we’re bonding. Either that or he just wants me for my fruit.” Mom chuckles. “He’s wearing a doctor’s outfit right now, by the way. I think it’s one of the homemade ones.”

It looks lumpier than the ones Bâtard wore at the beginning, at any rate, but in a way that makes it even cuter. Not that she needs the cozies to find Bâtard cute anymore. It’s entirely possible the tortoise doesn’t care one whit about her─she really doesn’t know a lot about them─but it’s clear that this little late night conversation was enough for Nile to bond with him.

“Oh, well, send me a picture if you can,” Mom says with the tone of a connoisseur readying to look at a newbie’s attempt, “see if I can give Blàsi some pointers.”

“I’ll try my best, but you know I can’t make promises,” Nile says, sadness creeping up again. “Places to see, things to do...you know how it is.”

“Speaking of,” Mom asks, “what time is it where you are? I mean─you can telle me that, right?”

“I can,” Nile says, smiling at her mother’s effort. “It’s uh...almost one AM.”

Nile yawns, unbidden, and then sighs.

“I think I need to go.”

“Yes you do,” Mom chides, teasing and firm all at once. “You’re not going to accomplish anything if you’re dead on your feet─off to bed, Nile.”

“I don’t want to,” Nile protests, not trying very hard to keep the pout out of her voice. “It’s your birthday.”

“It’s okay,” Mom says, and the tone of her voice is like a hug Nile wants to linger in forever. “I understand. I’m just glad you called.”

“I’m glad too,” Nile says, wiping at a stray tear on her cheek. “Happy birthday, mom.”

“I love you, baby,” Mom says, and Nile grins through a fresh wave of tears.

“Forever and ever?”

“Of course forever,” Mom promises with something like an amused eye roll in her tone. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes mom. Bye.”

“Bye bye, love you.”

“Love you too,” Nile says, and then she reluctantly disconnects the call.

She’s still feeling blue, it’s true, but it’s a different sort of ache now, the sort that’s softened enough to be a fond remembrance of someone you love rather than a knife to the heart. It isn’t something Nile has figured out how to value yet, but it could be, someday, maybe. With a watery sigh and a smile, Nile bends to pick Bâtard up─he’s fallen asleep, it seems, all snuggled up in his shell and entirely unresponsive in the time it takes for her to scribble a quick thanks at the bottom of Booker’s note and bring Bâtard back to his terrarium in the old parlor.

“M’ci,” Booker mutters from the seat to her left, and Nile almost has a heart attack.

When she turns to scold Booker for it, however, he’s already back to sleep─or feigning sleep, she’s not entirely sure─his back to the door to the bedroom and turned towards the only unboarded window, which they’ve been using as an entry and exit point. Nile sighs, shaking her head, and goes to the room she shares with the others, only to jump again when she lies down on her mattress and finds herself face to face with Andy’s eyes shining in the moonlight.

“I fear the day my sleep patterns start matching yours,” Nile whispers to Andy, and sighs when all that garners her is a sharp smile. “How are you not dead on your feet?”

“I’m old enough to transcend the need for sleep.”

Nile punches her in the shoulder.

“Feeling any better?”

“Yes, actually,” Nile says, trying to shift into a comfortable position. “I talked to my mother...it’s always too short but. It’s good.”

“Good,” Andy says. There’s a pause, and then she adds, “Nile, I’m sorry.”

Nile blinks at the darkness. It’s been seven years, and while she knows full well Andy is perfectly capable of recognizing her shortcomings, it’s the first time Nile hears her actually apologize for anything. She’s got a right to be a little startled, she thinks.

“I was with Book on this,” Andy explains when the silence between them has stretched a little while longer. “Not seeing your family again, I mean. I didn’t think it could turn out well, either...sure didn’t do him any good. Or Lykon, for that matter.”

“To be fair,” Nile admits after a beat, “I get it. I’m probably just very lucky. And I...I’ll lose them anyway. Sooner or later. I don’t─I’m glad I still have them for a bit, even if it hurts but...sometimes, I think at least the clean break was...easier.”

Andy stays quiet at that, eyes still looking at Nile in the darkness. Nile resists the urge to squirm under those eyes, but she’s not surprised when the urge to elaborate becomes too strong:

“It’s just...before my mom saw us, I didn’t have to wonder how this was affecting everyone. No contact, stay out of Chicago for another fifty years, maybe a little more, and that was it. It hurt, but at least the path was clear. Now I keep wanting to call her not knowing if I should. I have to use fake names to tell her about the most important people in my life, who she’ll never meet─I’m making her lie to her best friend!”

On the other side of the room, Nicky snorts in his sleep, and Nile smiles through her anguish as it morphs into a soft snore.

“They’ve been friends since elementary school, you know,” Nile tells Andy when she’s sure Nicky isn’t waking up. “They tell each other everything, and now my mom has to lie to her because of me. I don’t know how she can bear it.”

She pauses, breathing through the sudden tightness in her throat, and concludes:

“I don’t know how long she’ll bear it.”

Andy hums.

“I don’t have any advice for you Nile,” she says eventually. “I don’t really remember how that went for me, it’s been too long. But...even now, sometimes I─it’s hard, living without your family. Even at my age.”

“I...I didn’t know you felt like that,” Nile admits. “I thought you’d grown past that.”

“I don’t think we’re meant to,” Andy says. “I can’t remember what my parents looked like, or what it was like to be a child...but I do know what it’s like to want someone else to take care of your shit for a while.”

Nile grins, surprised into a light laughter that’s almost a giggle. Sometimes it’s easy to forget Andy is as human as any of them, even if she’s the oldest person on Earth. Discovering moments of relatability is always a delight and a relief all at once.

“I know we’re not your mom or your family,” Andy says after a while, the smile fading from her voice as she grows more serious, “and we’re not trying to be. But you’re─I won’t get angry if we’re not enough. You don’t have to...to hide it from me. You don’t have to stay alone and just...assume. There’s been too much of that lately.”

Nile can’t see Andy’s face in the darkness, not when her eyes aren’t angled to catch the moonlight, but it’s not hard to guess where she’s looking. In the doorway, Nile can see the outline of Booker’s seat, one hand dangling over the armrest─bottle free for the second night in a row, though there’s still an empty glass nearby on the floor.

“What I mean,” Andy says, startling Nile again, “is that you don’t have to be ashamed if we’re not what you want or need. The fact that you value your family isn’t a weakness, or a flaw. Just because we’ve─just because most of us grew out of it doesn’t mean you’re wrong for still needing more time, especially when it’s so recent. This...I didn’t tell him that, and I should have, so now I’m telling you. Not to protect us, but because it’s true.”

“Thanks, Andy,” Nile says.

“Sure. Now go to sleep,” Andy orders fondly.

Nile snorts, gives Andy a light punch in the shoulder, and turns over to go to sleep.

#The Old Guard #Nile Freeman #TOG Fic #NileFreemanWeek2020 #Fanfiction #Bâtard the tortoise #s: Bâtard verse

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cakeandpi · 3 years

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Parker!! spoilers abound

hm, so Harry (aka Lawyer) has been fired/let go and no one gave him the memo on it. Is his old job/boss going to be this episodes mark?

oof, Harry is bad at being subtle with his ‘okay look in [place]’ comm directions

ah okay so isn’t a legal firm that’s about representing their clients to the best of their ability. it’s a firm whose about smoothing bad things over for rich clients so that there’s little to no consequences.

“I remember when you wanted to change the world.”/“World did change. We just went along for the ride.” So the world changed the boss, the boss gave up on changing the world because he saw a way to profit from it and didn’t care that he hurt others along the way.

The way that car drove up onto the curve, I thought that was Sophie in a big hurry at first. (I would have thought Parker but there wasn’t enough time for her to crack the safe, get to the relevant files, get out, and then drive there.) But no, it’s Maxwell’s thugs because the man holds a grudge apparently. So I’m going to guess he’s going to be the season big bad? Or is he just a 2-episode bad guy and we’ll find out who the real big bad is later?

Hardison: listing various problems on various international efforts he’s helping with Eliot: let’s make this a restaurant metaphor Hardison: *very much regretting ever buying Eliot that brewpub*

Nuts and bolts about bad guy details

Also that bit about Hardison being distracted by problems is definitely a distraction, there’s no way he’d pause on making sure their safehouse was secure

Eliot is not so much pissed as insulted that the world is at the point of advertising the corruption rather than him needing to beat it out of someone.

drone!!

*snort* eliot's usually the grouchy one, and he’s carrying a trashcan right now. there’s no way hardison doesn’t make some oscar the grouch joke once he sees that.

“It’s like you never stopped.”/“Yeah. Quite the act.” Sophie slows down at Hardison’s comment, then sighs and sits. She’s finding this tiring now. Is it because she’s out of practice? Or because after so many years of retirement, her hearts not in it anymore? And Hardison notices. He doesn’t say anything concrete immediately, because Sophie hasn’t really elaborated on what’s going on with her. When she does - it’s her grief, and how its affecting her grift now - there’s this concern in Hardison’s face. There’s absolutely going to be a meeting between the OT3 about how to straddle not straining Sophie too much and not babying her should she stay on for another job after this.

“But I can’t work forever, can I?” There’s a defeated tone to this, and it’s true - Sophie’s just human, one day she too will pass on. Her grief for Nate (and how being back with the team keeps reopening that wound) is coloring her view on this for sure. (Did Nate work himself to death?) It’s also, very distantly, a remark on the OT3 - they too can’t work forever. They were Sophie’s and Nate’s proteges. And it’s not that the OT3 doesn’t have anything in place if they go down - they’ve got small teams running all over the world. But they don’t have their own personal proteges. Harry’s a decent start, but they’ll need to recruit and open up their circle to at least one, maybe two more before they’re ready to retire. Before they, too, burn too hot for too long.

“You hear that? That’s a very distinctive sound.” YES

Another Basil & Brick truck! This one has.... empanadas, ropa vieja, sancocho, and I think the last one is yuca frita. Mm, yuca fries.

BREANNA!!!

Parker! Taught Breanna to tail people! (Hardison in particular?) When she was 11! Wait does that mean Parker’s met Nana?! Also Parker is so smug and satisfied that Breanna paid attention to her lessons.

“I teach every kid I meet how to do crime.” <3 be gay do crime

This is a big ‘I’m telling mom!’ argument and I love it, especially the “I think she’s napping” LMAO

“How you saved Eliot’s life all those times” Oh man Hardison is sleeping on the metaphorical couch tonight. But also I need to come back to this later because honestly and really? Hardison has - as part of a group team effort - saved Eliot’s life from himself. By giving him a way to work through his anger issues, by caring for him, by showing Eliot he’s needed and that he’s more than just a hitter. The team saved Eliot’s life. (And there’s probably a bunch of erasing digital trails/etc where Hardison did more directly save Eliot’s life but that's besides the point.)

“But hacking’s kind of old school anyway.” And as she goes on, Eliot goes from aggrieved to ‘oh, a new best friend’ because now he has someone to help him annoy Hardison.

Parker pulls Hardison into a side room (by his ear, but he’s not protesting in pain so that’s got to be just for show). And then pushes him up against the wall and Hardison is like ‘okay whatever lecture is coming can it not be like this?’ If it weren’t for the glass walls that’d be some makeout stuff right here.

LOL at Parker’s standard for a ‘normal’ person being ‘uses Uber, pays taxes, and has a birth certificate’.

“Wait is this like that time in Paris?” I... don’t remember an episode set in Paris with a robot and explosions so this must be during the time skip. And - “... but you didn’t want to hurt Eliot’s feelings so you secretly wanted us to agree.” I’m going to scream if there’s no confirmed ot3 by the end of the season. And cry. And read a whole bunch of fic.

Look at these two being honest with each and communicating and respecting each others opinions, they’ve grown so much from pretzel metaphors.

“You’re not mad. You did the Picard tug.”/“I am mad.“/“Did the tug. You know I like that.” Parker might be mad (at Hardison? Breanna? Both?) but not so much that she’s completely shutting out Hardison, giving him a nonverbal signal that she’s not pissed, just needs some time to be upset before everything’s okay.

“One. Job.” Parker says. And we the viewers know it’ll be more than one. But really what that means by now is that this is an audition. Parker may have taught Breanna some things, but now Breanna has to show that they do better with her rather than without, that she’s an asset and not a liability or dead weight.

I laughed so hard that because this shit’s illegal, there’s no cutting corners on the paperwork.

“And you didn’t get tortured.”/“Not this time.” I can’t tell if Eliot wants Harry to get a little bit tortured or if he’s just reminding Harry that this time around people were in a good mood and showing off.

Breanna stops herself before suggesting something, and Hardison, for all that he isn’t delighted at her presence and protested her being here, encourages her to speak up. If she’s going to be part of the team, even for one job, she’s part of the team and that means speaking up and throwing ideas out there for others to bounce around, even if it winds up being a football that can’t be dribbled.

OT3 TEAM JUST GOT DUBBED ‘DRILL TEAM’. (why is that also somehow a dirty joke i’m dying here)

Oh one of the baddies is a Com4r4t fan... oh wait no this is the beginning of a plan backfiring.

Aww Breanna is so proud of what she’s done! It’s very much like season 1 Hardison. So Sophie and Hardison go to do their own thing, only that means the baddies are here to talk to Breanna and she doesn’t have backup.

THE 'LET ME GET MY BOSS’ THE SPIN AROUND AND THE ‘WHY ARE YOU BOTHERING MY STAFF’ I LOVE BREANNA.

“I’m your neighbor who runs a business built on discretion.” This is going to go very badly depending on how Breanna plays this. At least she gets the earbud in to call for help!

Another Brick&Basil truck! Etoufee and jambalaya, dammit eliot stop choosing delicious food to advertise.

“I monkey-shamed the DJ” I. Love. Her. Also Sophie’s already read Breanna as having the skills to just need general guidelines for an impromptu grift rather than needing to be fed specific lines.

“Okay here’s the thing.” And there’s a pause, we’re thinking he’s about to come down real hard on Breanna, and then we get “I love Com4r4t.” he is a fanboy I guessed it right!! And then he does go through with the threat, but not as a ‘cancel it or die’ sort of threat, but a ‘if i’m disappointed you die’ way.

Breanna nails the impromptu grift though she’s understandably a bit shaken by the threat at the end. (What newcomer wouldn’t be?) But the threat is what pushes Parker into deciding Breanna should go home ASAP. This is Hardison’s family, from before the team, and Parker isn’t about to risk messing that up. If she pushes for Breanna to stay when Hardison doesn’t want Breanna to, and something goes wrong? Parker would never, ever forgive herself.

But as Sophie has pointed out, they’ve all been out of their depth at one point or another. That doesn’t mean that someone should be sent packing.

Lmao Eliot being possessive of the drill.

“Then you ain’t got no more problems ever again.” There’s a certain sense of morbid humor with the team, one that’s both necessary but also a reality. They deal with this level of danger on a semi-regular basis. Harry just hasn’t caught up to that fact yet.

I have a feeling this particular baddie is going to end up dead for managing to drive a 40% cut.

“I’m just saying dude.” I love that Eliot and Hardison don’t have to rehash their entire arguments anymore unless they’re really enjoying themselves, that they can just be all ‘you know I’ve said my piece’.

“Don’t get distracted by the side gig.”/“Is it a side gig?” For all that the team has been their main focus for so long, for all that they all have side projects and gigs, this has been eating up more and more of Hardison’s time. What I thought was him pretending to be distracted earlier may have been a real distraction. And Eliot’s noticed, and he’s noticed that Hardison hasn’t noticed, that Hardison needs to make a choice here.

“In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work you’re the only one, man.” Eliot has a soft smile at the end of that, and it's a bit painful, even as I saw it coming, to hear Eliot suggest that Hardison begin to step away from the team’s day to day.

“It’s okay to grow up, to realize you’re not the person you used to be.” None of them are the person they used to be. Not Sophie, not Parker, not Hardison, and certainly not Eliot. They can see that in each other if not in themselves. (Eliot, being the most grounded of all of them, already knew he’d changed eight years ago.)

“You never grew up.”/“Yeah. I achieved perfection pretty early, huh?” Even as Eliot’s the most grounded, even though he’s the one saying that there’s no one else that could fill Hardison’s role in that other work, the idea that Hardison might actually choose to step away from the team is too raw to handle without turning to humor.

Harry’s a bit jumpy, but he’s learning to play it off. I like that he’s a very different character from Nate, that it’s not his anger or ego driving him so much as a desire to make restitution.

And a “Dammit Hardison”

Ooh, Eliot’s in the vents too, just in time to help Parker. (She doubtless has her beloved taser but that would take time away from getting into the vault.)

“I smell lasers” Ahahahahaha

“You’re going to compare me to Eliot right now?” (’over the comms, where others who aren’t Eliot can hear?’ Hardison did not say out loud.)

ouch, okay, Hardison hurting his back like that might be what actually makes him choose the other gig over the team, or at what makes him take a little vacation so he can heal from that. (back injuries are nothing to play around with!)

how did Maxwell get past Eliot? but it’s all good, Eliot’s right behind to disarm him. And Parker’s been doing her hitting lessons, she didn’t even need a taser or to stab anyone!

Oh Harry, the bomb will be used, it’s just not time yet.

New Orleans gumbo is its own food group.

Okay so Hardison’s done a lot of work getting this place in order... WAIT IS THAT A PUNCHING BAG? That’s a punching bag! It might not be the love-letter the brewpub was but it’s definitely a thing added specifically for Eliot.

Oh no, Eliot might realize what Hardison’s doing with this, but Parker hasn’t caught up yet that Hardison’s going to be taking a break from the team.

Parker’s blindsided by this, and she’s upset, but she’s not mad because why didn’t she see this coming she should have seen it, so she leaves to deal with her emotions alone. Hardison follows, naturally, she knew he would, but she can’t face him because then he’ll see her crying, and Parker doesn’t do emotions easily. She’s torn between wanting him to help people and wanting to be with him (and she can’t go with him, she needs to be helping people too).

And Parker doesn’t want Breanna there without Hardison. Again because it’d put Hardison’s family in danger and that’s a step too far for Parker if Hardison doesn’t okay it. And also because with Hardison leaving, Breanna’s just going to be reminders of what Parker’s missing. And Breanna doesn’t have Hardison’s skillset, can’t fill his shoes - not that she should but she can’t, and Parker, I think, is already mentally preparing herself to go it alone again. Because if this job needs Hardison so bad, then surely Eliot’s got some project that needs his specific attention, and it was just one job for Breanna, and Sophie’s been adamant that this is one last job for her, and Harry’s still new and will probably decide to do his own thing given time to think... I think that’s where her brain is at, at least for the next thirty seconds, before she catches up with herself and realizes that more like the time she busted her leg than the team dissolving around her. (This kind of went weird places but that’s stream of thought for me)

And as they come back in Parker’s already cheering up some, because that wave of despair has already blown over. Yeah, she’s not a parent, but she’s good at teaching when she tries.

“It could be a reunion tour.”/“No. I’m retired.” It’s very different from Nate’s old protestations. He was not a thief. Whereas with Sophie it’s not ready. And while they all point out that she’s been happier while doing cons, that they could use the help, it’s not forceful or overpowering. It’s still Sophie’s decision. They’re not going to make her house their new base and taunt her with it; they’re not the sort of people who’d do that anymore, and anyway that’d be cruel instead of a fun sort of goading.

And because they give Sophie space to make a decision, while she doesn’t want to make a long-term commitment, she’s willing to take on ‘just a few more’.

#leverage redemption spoilers #leverage spoilers #spoilers #redemption 1x02 #MAJOR SPOILERS

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diyunho · 4 years

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The Joker x Reader - “A.N.N.I.E.”

A.N.N.I.E. (Artificial Non-Neurological Intelligent Entity) is an outdated android model that emerged on the market two years ago. The Joker purchased her as a toy for his son not knowing she will become the recipient of desperate attempts to keep Y/N with him. After the woman’s unexpected death, experiments meant to transfer her conscience inside Annie failed yet The King of Gotham couldn’t part with the only thing that reminded him of someone he actually cared about.

“Can you fix her?” The Joker asks the two programmers that have been assessing the android for the past 15 minutes.

“Hard to tell sir, but we are trying to determine what triggered the malfunction,” Zariah points at the 4 laptop screens simultaneously running diagnostics. “Recently there’s been a spike in flaws regarding A.N.N.I.E. models; after all they were released 2 years ago. I would recommend acquiring the most current technology…”

“No need to!” J bitterly cuts him off. “Just fix her!”

“We will do our best, sir!” Mickel reassures The King of Gotham: his wretched temper might interfere with today’s agenda and the two hackers simply can’t afford it.

“Your best is not enough,” The Joker growls. “She cornered my son last night and almost crushed him against the wall. I had to use manual override to shut her down. That’s not typical machine behavior, is it?!”

“No sir, although I’ve heard of similar incidents in the past months. If it continues, Annie prototype will be pulled off the market soon,” Zariah informs.

“Her name‘s not Annie,” The Clown Prince of Crime interrupts the unwanted advice. “Her name’s Y/N!”

Awkward silence and Kase’s voice resonates from upstairs.

“Daddy?... Daddy?...”

“My son’s awake; I’ll be back,” J abandons the two men in a hurry and stumbles on the numerous cables connecting the laptops to the cyborg on his way out.

“Goddammit!”, he huffs through his clenched teeth before vanishing around the corner.

“That was fucking weird,” Mickel whispers. “What does he means her name is not A.N.N.I.E.?! Am I crazy? Is this not Artificial Non-Neurological Intelligent Entity sitting in that chair?!”

“Of course it is,” Zariah confesses in low tone. “He gives me the creeps too how he thinks she’s in there.”

“What do you mean “she”?” the obvious question follows.

“Check those cords,” Zariah urges and continues: “You noticed he corrected me with the name for the pile of rubbish.”

“Yeah,” the other guy begins typing a bunch of configurations while listening to the scoop.

“Y/N used to take care of his kid. Nobody can say who she really was: some believe she might have even been the mother, that her and Mister Joker were together. Others swear the little boy called her auntie; maybe she actually was Mister J’s sibling. Who the hell knows? She was a strange woman and she looked… different also,” Zariah’s gaze circles the premises to make sure their employer is not eavesdropping.

“No shit!” Mickel frowns at the statistics popping up on the monitors.

“Yeah, I saw her a few times, gave me the creeps. Something was off with her, you just could tell. Mister J always had jerks working for him and I guess they clashed with Y/N quite often: it got so bad they dared planning a prank that ended horribly. Do you know the warehouse on 14th street? The 6 stories one?”

“No.”

“Well, supposedly it happened there: Mister J was out of town and had no clue about the scheme plotted without his consent. The crew took his son on the roof and threatened they will toss him off the building if she doesn’t jump instead.”

“And?!” Mickel halts his typing, intrigued.

“She jumped… … they didn’t think she would.”

“Holy crap! I had no idea!”

“Dude, it was a disaster!” Zariah shrugs depicting the facts. “Y/N splattered all over the concrete, broken to pieces… Despite the severe injuries, she didn’t die immediately: she was in a coma for almost a month before passing away. Mister J had Annie already, he probably bought her as a toy for Kase when it first emerged on the market. The rumor is that while Y/N was in a coma he kidnapped scientists and forced them to work on a senseless project: transferring her conscience inside Annie.”

“You’re shitting me!” Mickel exclaims at the insane disclosure.

“Nope.”

“Can’t be done; it’s impossible!”

“And who’d dare explain the obvious to him, huh? Not the researchers he killed the moment she stopped breathing if you get my drift.”

“That’s messed up!” Mickel forcefully exhales, infinitely more nervous about being at The Penthouse for the moment.

“Do you remember the serial murders that shook Gotham 3 months ago?” Zariah has more gossip for his partner. “It was Mister J hunting down every single person that was on the roof the day Y/N jumped.”

“We shouldn’t be here,” the anxious Mickel shrugs. “Maybe we should abandon our mission.”

“Bulshit! They’ll pay us double over anything he offers so don’t be a pussy! Speaking of, you should assemble the guns prior to his return!”

Mickel is reluctant to the whole scenario, yet he compiles the two guns out of items resembling computer parts scattered in their suitcases: that’s how they were able to deceive security.

“Done,” he stashes one finished weapon under his jacket, offering the other to Zariah.

“Remain calm and we’ll be ok,” the latest mumbles. “Let’s pretend we’re here to repair this junk.”

A couple more minutes pass by and The Joker’s presence alongside his offspring makes the two guys cringe.

The little boy hides behind his father’s legs, shyly glancing the android’s way.

“Don’t be scared,” J grumbles. “She’s in power saving mode, it’s fine.”

“Yes, it’s perfectly safe,” Zariah winks. “We are almost done extracting all the data,” he gestures at the laptop’s screens.

Kase giggles and rushes to climb on Annie’s knees, excited to see her after she wasn’t allowed to sleep in his room last night which is understandable since the robot went bonkers.

“Hi Y/N,” the child softly pulls on her long hair. “I want waffles pwease.”

The hackers exchange meaningful glares and The Joker replies:

“She can’t for now,” he mutters. “She’s defective. Frost will take you out for breakfast, alright?”

“Does it hurt?” the 5 year old pouts at his parent’s affirmation: he doesn’t comprehend all the words and it’s difficult for a kid to process the concept of transference.

After Y/N died, The Joker told Kase she moved inside Annie: he wasn’t delusional about his failed experiment but it was easier to make his son cope with the loss of the woman that raised him. J doesn’t literally believe there’s any trace of Y/N in the machine: how could it be? Several months passed and nothing proved what he tried to accomplish succeeded: a twisted concept originating from a distorted mind was doomed from the start.

“It doesn’t hurt,” The Clown Prince of Crime sighs. “She’s resting.”

“Sir, I think you should see this,” Mickel gets his attention.

“What am I looking at?”

“You used voice command to lock down the android?” Zariah pinpoints at the monitor to his left.

“I did.”

“That’s not what turned off the system: see the numbers flowing borderline with the central matrix, the tiny squares? She wasn’t locked down by external command, she was terminated from within.”

“What do you mean?!” Mickel scoots over in his rolling chair, baffled.

“Somebody trespassed the firewall,” his accomplice utters the obvious.

J is less than happy with the random discovery still he requires confirmation of his suspicion.

“Meaning?”

“Annie, I mean Y/N is the recipient of a cyber-attack: she’s been hacked.”

“Hacked?” J scoffs. “What for? She’s just a companion android, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Not sure, sir…” Zariah lifts his shoulders up, baffled.

“Can you find the source?” the green haired individual suggests.

“Analyzing the algorithm shows puzzling results: these numbers should be repeating themselves every so often, yet they don’t; never seen anything like it and I’ve been dealing with computers for a long time,” Mickel adds. “The most interesting detail is certainly challenging our expertise: tracking the root of the signal is pretty much unachievable. We should see input bouncing around from different servers because this is how hackers disguise their trail; but… this particular livestream happened simultaneously from various servers around the country.”

“There’s practically 0% chance for such abnormal hacking with today’s technology!” Zariah scrunches up his face at the baffling discovery. “How in the world was it done?!”

“You’re the experts!” The Joker barks. “I hired you based on strong recommendations from others that used your skills. Can you fix her or not?!”

“Of course, sir.”

“Yes!” the two associates ease The Clown’s doubt. “We’ll unplug the cables, we already removed all necessary info.”

Kase watches them detach the cords from Annie’s access ports, the child sulking at their action.

“Y/N, does it hurt?” he asks and hops off her lap. The empty shell doesn’t respond since the robot is in power saving mode.

“It doesn’t hurt,” The King of Gotham duplicates his earlier statement. “Frost!” he addresses the henchman entering the living room. “Take him to our restaurant on Madison Avenue for breakfast then he can play at the property on Foster Creek until we are done here. I want a 3 cars escort.”

“Yes, boss. I’ll call in advance and tell them not to open the place until we’re done.”

“Good,” J agrees with his henchman’s proposal. “Kase, go and eat!” he urges the offspring having a few more secrets to share with Annie. “Come on, let’s go!” the impatient father encourages.

The 5 year old obeys and kisses Annie’s cheek, whispering:

“I’ll bwing you beck’fast auntie, ok?” and he rushes at Frost’s side screaming up a storm. “Byeeeee daaaaaddy!!!”

The programmers are so absorbed by the mystifying enigma they stumbled upon by accident they don’t pay attention to the little nugget’s promise: even if they would, Zariah and Mickel wouldn’t be able to untangle the convoluted riddle of Y/N’s true identity.

She wasn’t The Joker’s girlfriend nor Kase’s mother: Y/N was nothing less than The Clown’s younger sister.

The woman protected the only family she had like a hawk, thus she didn’t hesitate to give her life in exchange for her nephew’s.

Too bad she had no idea those jerks were mocking her when she ended up on that accursed roof.

Too bad her brother didn’t guess their intentions and extremely regrettable he was left alone without the only person he ever trusted.

Too bad she died granted J’s desperate efforts to keep her with him.

And so sad he didn’t know how much Y/N meant to him until she was gone.

“Isn’t it weird someone breached my android in the same time it was malfunctioning and closed her down?…” J stares outdoors on the terrace. “Why would anyone go through the trouble?... What’s the purpose?”

The familiar click of safety being taken off a gun awakens The Joker from apathy and he turns around: it’s not easy to surprise J but he’s stunned to notice the two experts he recruited pointing guns at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Cashing in a huge payday, sir,” Zariah sneers. “It’s not often you become a legend for murdering…”

The Joker is not listening, his attention diverted by the strange phenomenon occurring behind the two hackers threatening his life: Annie is standing up from her chair and that’s clearly not possible; she is in power saving mode!

The android grabs Mickel’s arm and twists it to 90 degrees, using his own pistol to blow his brains out. Before Zariah can react he’s knocked to the ground with such violence J starts backing out, unsure on what to do when Annie steps on the man’s neck.

The sound of fractured bone plus the cyborg’s attention clearly directed towards him now makes him shout:

“Code 71345, emergency override!”

“Access denied!” the robot approaches still calibrating its joints and electronic synapses.

What the hell is wrong with this thing?!

“Code 71345, emergency override!”

”Access denied!”

J wants to make a run for it but he’s aware Annie is faster; why is she glitching like this?!

“Code 71…”

“Why are you trying to shut me down when I tried so hard to come back to you?” the cold voice halts the rest of his sentence.

The Joker takes a strenuous breath, dumbfounded at the shocking revelation:

“Y/N?... … Is… is… that you?!... …”

The android tilts its head to the left while an eerie smile flourishes on the plastic lips:

“Missed me?”