#I am a firm believer in the idea that revenge does nothing personally

[foulfirerebel]

Heh. It's a reason why there's room for all kinds of stories, even those that say revenge is good or otherwise gives closure. I like that, frankly.

Never watched Princess Bride myself, but I'll give it a go when I have the time. Sounds brilliant if that's the case.

Anti-revenge narrative this, anti-revenge narrative that, I personally think that Inigo Montoya had the right idea when he stabbed Count Rugen in the gut and said "I want my father back, you son of a bitch"

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

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[bamf-jaskier]

I’m reading a non-canon short story written by Andrzej Sapkowski about Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding called Something Ends, Something Begins and my heart is literally so full. Even Asaps has to get tired of having so much angst so this short story is a literal fluff-fest and I love it so much. 

So I thought I would share some of my favorite quotes from the story and if you all want to read it, here is the link. 

"One day she'll break her neck," growled Yennefer, watching Ciri galloping in the splashing water, bent, firm in the stirrups. "One day your crazy daughter will break her neck."

Geralt turned his head and without a word looked into the sorceress's violet eyes.

"All right, then," smiled Yennefer, without averting her eyes. "Sorry, our daughter."

She hugged him again, pressing herself against him firmly, bit him in the arm again, kissed him, and bit him once more. Geralt touched her hair with his lips and carefully pulled her gown over her shoulders.

I am literally...I swear, we finally get domestic Yenralt and it isn’t even in the canon universe. I am literally going to fight someone. This is so damn cute and the way Yennefer is like “our daughter” my goddamn heart. 

The list of the guests wasn't that long. The engaged couple compiled it together and charged Dandelion with sending the invitations. Soon it turned out that the troubadour lost the list before he could even read it. Because he was ashamed to confess, he used a cheap trick and invited whomever he could. Of course he knew Geralt and Yennefer well enough that he didn't miss anyone important, but it wouldn't have been him if he didn't enrich the list of the guests by an admirable number of quite random persons.

Why does it just make sense that Dandelion would fuck this up? It’s so in-character, putting him in charge of the guest list was the first mistake. 

No one invited the golden dragon Villentretenmerth, because no one knew how to invite him and where to look for him. To the general astonishment the dragon turned up, of course incognito, in the form of the knight Borch Three Jackdaws. Of course, where Dandelion was present, one could not speak of any incognito, but even so few believed when the poet pointed at the curly-haired knight and claimed it was a dragon.

The image of Dandelion just pointing at this dude and yelling “He’s a dragon!” is fucking hilarious, especially when you consider most people don’t know dragons can shapeshift. 

"Was it you who invited

Triss Merigold?

"No," the witcher shook his head and silently praised the fact that the mutation of his blood system didn't allow him to blush.

"Not me. I think it was Dandelion, even though all of them claim to have learned about the wedding from the magical crystals."

"I don't want Triss to be present on my wedding!"

"But why? She's your friend."

"Don't make a fool out of me, witcher! Everyone knows you slept with her!"

"That's not true."

Yennefer's violet eyes narrowed dangerously.

"It is true."

"Is not!"

"It is!"

"All right," he turned around angrily. "It is true. So?"

The sorceress was quiet for a moment, playing with the obsidian star on the black velvet ribbon around her neck.

"Nothing," she said at last. "I just wanted you to admit it. Never try to lie to me, Geralt. Ever."

I love the little bickering. Also, like, even though Triss and Yennefer are friends try valid of her to not want her at the wedding. She slept with Geralt!! Love how Geralt tries to deny it at first but gives up ten seconds later. Geralt really tried to pull the “just friends” card and Yennefer was having NONE of it. 

The doppler accused Villentretenmerth of racism, chauvinism and lack of knowledge on the discussion's topic. Therefore, the insulted Villentretenmerth changed for a moment into his natural dragon form, destroying several pieces of furniture and causing a general panic. When the situation calmed down, a fierce quarrel began, in which humans and non-humans accused each other of lack of open-mindedness and racial tolerance. 

A quite unexpected twist in the discussion came from the freckled Merle, the whore who didn't look like a whore. Merle announced that the whole debate was stupid and pointless and didn't concern true professionals, who don't dinstinguish between such things, which she was willing to prove on the spot (for an adequate reward, of course), even with the dragon Villentretenmerth in his natural form. 

In the silence that fell abruptly in that instant they heard the female medium proclaim that she's willing to do the same, and for free. Villentretenmerth quickly changed the topic and began discussing safer topics, such as economics, politics, hunting, fishing and gambling.

Everything about this sequence is perfect, absolutely prime. Dragons and Dopplers fighting, Merle saying she would fuck a dragon in dragon form. This has EVERYTHING. 

"I'll get going right after the feast," Ciri repeated. 

"I want... I want to feel the wind in my face on the back of a galloping horse again. I want to see the stars on the horizon again, I want to whistle Dandelion's ballads at night. I'm longing for a fight, the dance with a sword, I'm longing for the risk, for the delight victory brings me. And I'm longing for solitude. Do you understand me?"

"Of course," Geralt smiled sadly. "Of course I understand you, Ciri. You're my daughter, you're a witcher. You'll do what you must. But I must tell you one thing. One thing. You can't run away forever, even though you'll always try."

"I know," she replied and cuddled herself closer to him. "I still have hope that one day... If I wait, if I'm patient, then I, too, perhaps will live such a beautiful day like this... Such a nice day... Even though..."

"What, Ciri?"

"I've never been pretty. And with that scar..."

"Ciri," he cut her off. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Right after Yen, of course."

"Oh, Geralt..."

"If you don't believe me, ask Dandelion."

"Oh, Geralt."

Ciri telling Geralt she wants to travel and move on is just heartbreaking but it makes sense. She has more adventures to go on. Geralt’s story is ending. Hers is beginning. Also Ciri feeling insecure about her appearance and Geralt being a good dad and comforting her? Amazing. 

"I have unfinished business there," she hissed. "For Mistle. For my Mistle. Even though I avenged her, but for Mistle one death is not enough."

Bonhart, he thought. She killed him out of hatred. Oh, Ciri, Ciri. You're standing on the edge of an abyss, daughter. Not a thousand deaths would avenge your Mistle. Beware of hatred, Ciri, it consumes like cancer.

"Watch out for yourself," he whispered."I'd rather watch out for others," she smiled ominously. "It pays off more, it works better in the long run."

I will never see her again, he thought. If she leaves, I will never see her again.

"You will," she answered unexpectedly and smiled with a smile of a sorceress, not of a witcher. "You will, Geralt."

When Geralt asks what Ciri plans to do on her travels she literally says: I am going to avenge my dead girlfriend and murder some people. Which is not a healthy coping mechanism but damn if the idea of a gay revenge story doesn’t sound good to read. 

The priestesses Iola and Eurneid also sobbed, when Yennefer refused to put on the white wedding dress they had made for her. Not even Nenneke's mediation helped. Yennefer cursed, threw around hexes and dishes, while repeating that she looks like a fucking virgin in white. 

The enraged Nenneke began yelling, too, and told the sorceress that she behaved worse than three fucking virgins at once. Yennefer responded by conjuring a ball of lightning and demolishing the roof of the corner tower, which had its good side, too. The crash was so terrible that Caldemeyn's daughter got shock from it and her diarrhea stopped.

Once again, this scene has EVERYTHING. Yennefer getting so pissed it demolishes a tower. The shaking being so bad it stops diarrhea. Also, why does Asaps use diarrhea so often in his books? You know what, I don’t want to know. 

Triss Merigold and the witcher Eskel from Kaer Morhen, were seen again, sneaking, arms linked, into the garden summerhouse.

Is that...IMPLIED TRISSKEL?? OKAY THEN. All the Trisskel friends out there: They hooked up at Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding I don’t make the rules. 

"Yen..."

She looked breathtaking. Black wavy locks, curled up with a golden tiara, fell in a shining cascade over her shoulders and the high collar of a long white brocade dress with black-striped sleeves, pulled together on a bodice with countless drapes of lilac ribbons.

"Flowers, don't forget the flowers," warned Triss Merigold, all in dark blue, and handed a bouquet of white roses to the bride. "Oh, Yen, I'm so happy..."

"Triss, darling," sobbed Yennefer all of a sudden, upon which both sorceresses embraced and kissed the air around their ears and diamond earrings.

"Enough of those endearments," ordered Nenneke, smoothing the folds on her snow-white priestess dress. "We're going to the chapel. Iola, Eurneid, hold her dress, or she'll kill herself on the stairs.

Triss and Yennefer’s friendship is so sweet sometimes. Like, they would literally murder each other but they would also murder FOR each other too. 

Yennefer approached Geralt and with a hand in a white lace glove she straightened the collar of his black cloak, embroidered with silver. Geralt offered her an arm.

"Geralt," she whispered into his ear. "I still can't believe it."

"Yen," he answered her in a whisper. "I love you."

"I know."

I don’t know is Asaps is purposefully referencing Star Wars here but either way this had me tearing up. Geralt and Yennefer deserve a happy ending and even if it’s not officially canon the author wrote it so this is canon in my head. 

The wedding was splendid. Ladies and maidens cried collectively. Herwig was the master of ceremony, a former king, but still a king. Vesemir from Kaer Morhen and Nenneke stood in as parents of the betrothed couple, Triss Merigold and Eskel as witnesses. 

Okay but why is Asaps sneaking in the Trisskel? I want more of it and this pairing definitely intrigues me. Also Vesemir and Nenneke as their parents? That’s so damn sweet. I swear to fuck this entire short story is too damn cute and I want more of it. 

I cannot stress how much I love the energy Merle brings to the table. Saying she would straight up fuck a dragon. The power of it all. 

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: episode 7

The world’s most amicable mugging continues in this episode, as Shen Wei waits for Zhao Yunlan to spring into his defence as his personal knight in shining armour. Or, as the official subtitle of the episode states:

I kid you not. Here’s the original with the alternate translation.

I am once more very much not mad at it. 

I say that Shen Wei’s mugging is amicable, but that is of course is before one of the “gangsters” tries to grab at his Pendant of Pining. “It’s not something that you people can touch”, he states, easily restraining the man’s wrist. He’s not losing his composure just yet, but his warrior’s stance is showing, and he comes pretty close to breaking cover.

Thankfully, this is when Zhao Yunlan shows up to intervene. Hearing him approach, Shen Wei’s first priority is hiding the Pendant of Pining. His second priority is straightening his collar and tightening his tie. Shen Wei may be in a middle of an attempted mugging, but he’d be damned if he allows Zhao Yunlan to see him dishevelled. Come to think of it, it’s kind of hilarious that Shen Wei’s attempt at pretending to be a poor helpless human includes being completely nonplussed by being attacked. Surely freaking out a little would be an infinitely less suspicious choice. 

Yunlan politely but firmly pushes the professor aside, and Shen Wei waits patiently next to the wall, neatly folding his hands the same way he did at the unpleasant councillor meeting in the previous episode. 

Here we finally see that Zhao Yunlan is pretty impressive in hand to hand combat. This man may not have a sword, but he can easily knock two dudes out with three moves. Again, this is a very short, but pretty damn flawless little piece of choreography. Zhao Yunlan’s fighting prowess is even more accentuated with a gleeful adrenaline-filled grin he breaks into after he’s done. I understand Shen Wei’s endless desire to protect the man he’s devoted to, but, honestly, it’s nice to see Zhao Yunlan not really needing protection - not against simple street crime at least. 

Shen Wei proceeds to calmly dust off his discarded briefcase. Zhao Yunlan proceeds to retrieve the other man’s watch from the ground and then passes it on. With physical contact. Should I be obsessing over how their fingers linger together for a second? Maybe not. I am doing it anyway. 

“What a coincidence”, deadpans Shen Wei, who knows for the fact that the other man is tailing him, and causes a delightful burst of faux outrage in response. 

“What are you implying?”, Zhao Yunlan asks innocently, deflecting further by inquiring whether Shen Wei thinks he staged this little rescue mission. He follows it with “Only you’re allowed to be here this time of night?”, which I choose to read as, “Really, Shen Wei. Why do you think you should have a monopoly on stalking in this relationship?”

As the two are distracted by the low key flirting, one of the muggers makes an opportunity attack on Zhao Yunlan. Shen Wei is alarming Yunlan to this with genuine worry, but does not lose his composure enough to intervene.  

We are treated to another excellent three moves, which are block-break-backfist. Well mixed sound helps, but Bai Yu does look very good as well. The footage does not appear sped up at all, but his movements are fast and crisp, he’s engaging his whole body, everything lands well angle-wise, it’s appropriately safe... Again, I cannot fault this at all. Bai Yu is not physically strong, and this just goes to show that you don’t need a lot of muscle to look like you can be an effective fighter. I don’t want to go into long detail on western media’s obsession with unrealistic physical standards in action media, but suffice it to say that it’s an unhealthy and pointless aesthetic choice which has nothing to do with reality of combat performance - as this scene clearly illustrates. (Look. As I said, stage violence is one of my jobs, and I’m a curvy woman who spends a lot of her time with insecure young actors and drama students. I have opinions.)

Having fended off the attack, Zhao Yunlan exaggerates the situation with the proverb “talking too much will get you killed.” Shen Wei is obviously distressed over his choice of words, but he looks down to hide it. 

At this point the two decide to go home instead of getting the street criminals off the street. 

Zhao Yunlan follows Shen Wei into his flat, pretending very loudly that he has not seen this place before. He is trying way too hard. And there is a touch of a naughtily feline glimmer in his eyes, because he is probably still on that adrenaline rush: his heart would be pounding, senses elevated, brain basking in a pleasant sharpness akin to a sugar rush, when everything is a little bit too saturated. And an attractive mysterious man he just saved is asking him to stay. Zhao Yunlan’s going to have even less brain to mouth filter here than he usually does. 

Shen Wei is getting a first aid to kit to treat Zhao Yunlan’s injuries. It’s anyone’s guess why the self-healing Envoy needs a first aid kit at all - it lives in a Tupperware box as well, suggesting that it’s been assembled and organised by hand rather than store bought. 

Sitting down, and tucking his tie in (because neatness is everything), Shen Wei prepares to administer a mysterious ointment to Zhao Yunlan’s bruise, and states that this is him giving Chief Zhao an opportunity for interrogation. I bet he has got a lie prepared for any question, because this situation has definitely been pre-planned. 

Instead of probing the other man, Zhao Yunlan offers him a job. Shen Wei’s answer is a firm no, which he utters without even a second hesitation. To Zhao Yunlan, this clearly reads as a rejection, as his face crumbles. 

He livens up however, when Shen Wei hurries to add that this is not a denial of help or cooperation. Zhao Yunlan is right to ask why he would take the job then case; this is an entirely reasonable question. I’m guessing, Shen Wei’s reluctance comes from his unwillingness to compromise Hei Pao Shi’s position, rather than an attempt to prevent Zhao Yunlan from getting involved in the cosmic shitstorm which is currently brewing: as the Lord Guardian, he’s gonna get right in the middle of said storm either way. 

“You just move in and didn’t invite your neighbour over for some fun?”, Zhao Yunlan asks.

Laying it on really thick, I see. 

Shen Wei blinks disbelievingly, as if to say “did he just…?” then recovers enough to huff out a laugh.

“My mistake. Next time, I’ll properly invite you.”

Zhao Yunlan snaps his fingers in delight, visibly vibrating with joy. In his head this is Yunlan - 1: Xiao Wei - 0. 

As Shen Wei starts to apply the mysterious ointment, Zhao Yunlan flinches, and Shen Wei is genuinely taken aback by an idea that he might hurt this man. He is so preciously startled for a second, shedding ten thousand years in an instant. I am never going to not be impressed by Zhu Yilong’s ability to switch into Baby Shen Wei mode in a matter of seconds. 

“I didn’t expect you to have such skilful hands.”

Zhao Yunlan’s charm attack truly is unrelenting, and Shen Wei looks up with such a fragile hope in his eyes. He has lived a long time now, and he has learned to maintain thick walls around himself, but he is still incredibly affected by Kunlun’s shameless flirting. 

Continuing his charm offensive, Zhao Yunlan gets so distracted by trying to further impress Shen Wei, he unwittingly reveals that he knows the layout of this flat. And realises what he said. And hopes that the other man had not noticed, adorably brushing his nose in embarrassment. 

He dug this one out for himself, and Shen Wei is far from mortified: he is pleased to have caught the other man out. Zhao Yunlan flails, and Shen Wei quite literally is failing to wipe a smug smile off his own face. 

He’s not even really waiting for an explanation. He’s just happy to win this round. There is even a little “yeah sure let’s pretend I believe you” tilt of the eyebrow, when Yunlan finally comes up with something that sounds as a reasonable excuse. 

After his massive blunder, Zhao Yunlan tries to leave again. Shen Wei stops him, again, and there is no limit to how slyly Zhao Yunlan turns around, followed by a hind of disappointment when all he gets is an ointment, and not, you know, an opportunity to have a good look around Shen Wei’s bedroom. 

Shen Wei is left alone in his flat in a state of utter emotional overload, stroking the Pendant under his shirt. 

Let’s disregard for a second the fluctuating length of the chord the Pendant hangs on (is it between his collar bones or in front of his breastbone? Pick one!), and just appreciate the pining. Shen Wei is going through a lot of feelings since his Kunlun’s returned into his life, and sometimes computing is not an option. 

In the next scene, the muggers are discussing Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan, calling them both too formidable to even attempt an act of revenge against them. Definitely a wise idea. Unfortunately for them, they immediately get attacked by… something.

Spoiler alert: no, it’s not a bear.

It’s the White Shirt Day at the SID. Chu Shuzhi is the only one not participating. In this scene, we discover that Lin Jing likes a horror web novelist called Lai Su - which will be very convenient for the case at hand. During their conversation, Wang Zheng alerts he team to the new case, asking for the whereabouts of their boss. Zhu Hong’s reply is that who knows which old pal the man is hang out with. As we never see him having any friends outside of his job, I choose to believe that he is probably hanging out with Shen Wei; quite possibly exploring the layout of his bedroom. Especially considering how good his mood is as he strolls into the office announcing that he is going to buy a feast for everyone.

Unfortunately, the feast has to wait. Zhao Yunlan, Chu Shuzhi and Xiao Guo head towards the crime scene, which is the very same alley the mugging took place the night before. 

“Based on my experience, he died from freezing.” 

There has never been a more apt reason to use the phrase “no shit Sherlock”. 

Apparently, there is a cctv camera trained right on this very particular dark alley. Which implies that the muggers were even less professional than they appeared to be at the beginning of the episode. Mysteriously, the footage fails to show the actual monster who attacked the poor unfortunate street criminals. It did, on the other hand, capture Zhao Yunlan’s dashing rescue of Professor Shen.

Zhao Yunlan can’t exactly stop his team from rewinding the footage, so he is just left squirming as those around him gape at him spending time with Shen Wei in the middle of the night. 

“You... and Shen Wei? This late at night?”

Chu Shuzhi’s transition from disbelief to a knowing “ah” via a mischievous smirk is particularly amusing. 

The following afternoon, Zhu Hong appears in Shen Wei’s office, laptop in hand. She is quietly furious at being given this task; as I imagine it is very awkward indeed to be a laptop carrier for your crush’s crush. The entire scene she will be alternating between glaring, rolling her eyes, pursing her lips, and glaring with even more venom. 

After Shen Wei gets over his initial bafflement at technology, he realises that Zhao Yunlan is video calling him in order to ask for his expertise on the current case. For the most of this scene the call looks like some sort of fake generic video conference software, apart from some shots on the SID side which very obviously show a pre-recorded footage being played: with a pause button, and a time stamp, and everything.

Shen Wei is in full trolling mode when he educates the SID team on all the types of bears that could have attacked the victim. He tasted this feeling of outsmarting Yunlan the night before and it’s too sweet to let go. Judging by the fact that Da Qing, who is by Zhao Yunlan’s side, is falling asleep during this conversation, we can guess that it’s been going on for a while. 

Zhao Yunlan knows that Shen Wei is trying to prove a point here - he will not be bullied into being a consultant. So, Zhao Yunlan changes tactics, and asks Shen Wei for clues as a friend. Shen Wei assures Zhao Yunlan in turn that he would never hide anything important from. The magnitude of this particular lie is immeasurable, unless Shen Wei considers turning himself into a literal suicide bomb inconsequential. Which, to be fair, he might do. 

Finally, Da Qing wakes up and suggests that the suspect is a Youchu (translated in subs a “secluded beast”). He is not correct, but it is important that we know what those are, because we’ll see them in a couple of episodes - so it actually makes sense to write them in here. 

Shen Wei instantly comes forward, fishes a relevant file out of his drawer, and educates the team on that particular monster. Zhao Yunlan relates that he is familiar with those, and that he knows Hei Pao Shi fought them before in nearby cities. 

Existence of aforementioned nearby cities will remain a beautiful enigma, which will never be explained. Seastar will remain very much a Little Prince-sized planet. 

At this point Zhao Yunlan gets a call about the other mugger being found, and Shen Wei tells him in a rush that he does not think those two men possess Undergrounder qualities. 

When asked however what those qualities are, he does not elaborate, and, after a thick silence, Zhao Yunlan sighs in resignation and finally lets Shen Wei off the hook, assuring him that he knows not all Undergrounders are monsters. He knows - of course he knows - that Shen Wei is hiding stuff. He knows the other man is somehow invested in the Undergounders, and is probably is one himself.  Once again he chooses to trust him absolutely. I know it feels like I say those words every single episode, but this is also the choice Zhao Yunlan makes, deliberately, every single episode. This conversation will leave Zhao Yunlan very cranky for the remainder for the case, but his willingness to keep giving Shen Wei concessions is actually really sweet. 

Shen Wei asks, perhaps, impulsively, that Yunlan shares his findings with him, because he is curious who the culprit is. It makes, as ever, little sense for him to do so considering that he would find it out anyway as Hei Pao Shi.

After completing her mission, Zhu Hong leaves in a huff. She did not say hello and she does not say goodbye either. Shen Wei tries to wave amicably, but aborts the gesture.

He does not yet know - and will not find out for quite some time - why Zhu Hong feels so antagonistic towards him. 

Next stop: the hospital ward with a now insane criminal. Portrayal of mental health issues on this show is... interesting, by which I mean terribly stigmatising. I would have understood if this was a magic-induced psychosis, but I don’t think that’s the case at all. 

Lin Jing realises that the case sounds very much like the web horror novel he likes. It sounds insane, but Yunlan hears him out. The scientist goes into great detail over the author, revealing that he was a leader of his fan club at some point, and detailing several murders from his recent novel that appeared to have have happened in reality.

The team moves on to scout the author’s - Lai Su’s - house, with Zhao Yunlan being the one to approach it. He then proceeds to summon his team via a non-existent radio. 

Look. There is no mouth piece on this jacket. There is no earpiece in his ear. There are no wires. None of the team have radios. None of them even look like they are listening to radios. (Trust me, the “please shut up for a second, someone is speaking into my ear” is a recognisable look). Guardian’s writers/directors. Mah dudes. If you can’t afford radios, just make him do a non-verbal signal, seriously. Same effect, with much less silliness, and no continuity issues. 

Before the team enters the house, we see Ya Qing in crow form for the first time. Even without the benefit of hindsight, it’s easy to recognise that the crow will become narratively significant because she is animated, and this show would not waste its very scarce and rapidly depleting CGI budget in vein. 

We also know that the crow is a Yashou because Lin Jing starts talking about Zhu Hong at that exactly moment. Guardian is many wonderful things - it’s dramatic, breathtaking, heart-wrenching, and poignant - but subtle it is not.

Inside the house, they discover a secret room, which Lai Su is hiding in, and we finally get to meet our unfortunate culprit. 

It is very peculiar how mean-spirited this episode seems to be. The web novelist in question is shown in an unequivocally negative light. He is a coward hiding behind a blanket, a weirdo living in a secret room, a glutton stuffing his face with snacks and drinking wine. He is shown as too vain to stop chasing clout even when he suspects that his novel is leading to people dying. He writes for attention and money rather than out of genuine artistic expression. He is a whimpering mess, begging Lin Jing on his knees to speak to the Chief on his behalf. Even if we consider that moral of the story (as stated later in Guo Changcheng’s diary note) is “internet bad”, this insistence of making Lai Su so unmistakably despicable is baffling. The series is based on the web novel. What kind of message is this sending about its origins?  

On the bright side, I suppose it is nice that part of this episode not revolving around Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei’s relationship is actually rather Lin Jing-centric. So far, he was mostly there for occasional tech support and countless shots of him of screaming at a computer, but here we get to know more about him, and he goes on a little emotional journey of his own - meeting his idol and being distraught by the author not living up to expectations. It is always so disappointing to see creators you admire being imperfect, or downright unpleasant, and it’s easy to sympathise with Lin Jing’s discontent. 

Zhao Yunlan’s modus operandi has always been intuition. Looking at the author, he knows that he must be responsible for the murders, and also knows that he could not possibly have been. For once it is actually Xiao Guo who suggests the solution: multiple personality disorder. Or, magical multiple personality disorder, as it is the case. We see this click with the Chief, and he genuinely praises the young man. 

Back at the house, Lai Su is deciding to stop the murder spree by writing the demise of the homicidal protagonist of his novel. This is his ultimate redemption, which also leads to his untimely death by the hands of the monster who lives within him and is manifested through his writing. 

The team asks Zhao Yunlan what was going on with this strange case. They won’t get an explanation; but Shen Wei will. 

Zhao Yunlan, as promised, drops by Shen Wei’s office late at night to tell him all about the case. He concludes that Lai Su must have had Undergrounder blood in him, with his power not manifesting until now. Zhao Yunlan sounds rather remorseful as he stipulates that the writer could have lived a long happy life despite his origin and abilities, had he not started unknowingly abusing his powers. This Zhao Yunlan is miles removed from the man who vowed to catch every Undergrounder, and we can see Shen Wei infinitely moved by this man’s empathy. 

This, I think, is the very moment Shen Wei starts to fall in love - not with the man who was Kunlun, or the man who will be Kunlun, or the man who resembles Kunlun - with Zhao Yunlan, Lord Guardian, Chief of Special Investigations Department, with all his incessant flirting, and sharp edges, and pointed questions, and endless understanding. 

In the final moments of this episode Zhao Yunlan shares a dark premonition that something truly terrible will happen in their city. 

He has no idea how right he is. 

Next up: Episode 8: The Morning Porridge 

——

This conversation happened with my partner as I was working on this recap:

Me: … I am two scenes in and this is how much I’ve typed up already. 

My partner: Honey! I know you’re Russian, but War and Peace has already been written. 

[gelatomesomeironqrow]

My favorite Marvel/Xmen families.

Let's start with Charles Xavier. Who here knew he has a son? Because he sure didn't.

Charles Xavier met Gabrielle Haller and the two had an affair. Long story short, he left while she was pregnant and didn't find out about it until Legion accidently on purpose kills Charles Xavier and accidently jump starts a whole new mutant universe that exists entirely in his head. Oops. I mean spoilers.

Legion aka David Haller. Is an Omega level Mutant who basically doesn't realize he is a mutant because he has dissociative personality disorder in which case he legit has a different ability for every one of his many and I mean many personalities. His main ability is telepathy, like father like son am I right? But his ability goes even further than basic telepathy, any one who dies near or around him gets sucked into his mind and he gains new abilities. But unlike his superhero father. He is an anti hero because every one of his personalities is fighting inside his head to get out. As a result, bad things happen around him, he gets new abilities and he has no idea what the heck is going on. I highly recommend watching Legion (an Fx show), trust me, he is such an unreliable narrator that you, as a viewer, also have no idea what is real and what is in his head.

Moving on. Let me talk about Magneto.

He is my favorite omega level mutant but much like his frenemy Charles Xavier. He also has no clue he has children. But unlike Xavier. It's not because he left while the girl was pregnant, more like the mother ran away because Magneto is cuckoo for cocoa puffs. His children also having a few screws loose.

Now Magneto has shit luck with family. He lost his original family during the Holocaust, and literally every single one of his relationships either dies or runs away from him once they learn of his powers. That being the case of Magda, who gave birth to Anya (who dies due to their home burning and collapsing with her inside), Magda runs away once Magneto seeks revenge on the officers who had prevented him from saving his daughter, thus revealing his powers and frightening Magda who was pregnant with twins and Magneto didn't know it at the time. Now the comic books are a fickle thing. For a time it was believed that Quicksilver and The Scarlet Witch were the twins Magda had run away with but it was later revealed they are not. Now. I am a firm believer that they are related to Magneto because we have never seen or heard from these missing twins. Hence why I am including them in the Magneto family that I adore.

So let's keep diving into this family lineage.

Quicksilver has no children, but Wanda does. She creates twins, Billy and Tommy, after she suffers a psychotic break. It's believed that with the help of Mephisto and/or Agatha Harkness, she was able to have children with her synthezoid husband, the Vision. Quicksilver, who has always disapproved of their relationship tries to intervene, shit happens, Mephisto steals the babies and reabsorbs them back into his body to gain more power (Wanda having unknowingly used apart of Mephisto's soul to create twins out of nothing), Wanda collectively loses her shit once again, briefly becomes a villain because she cannot handle losing her makeshift family, goes insane and eventually seeks solace on a mountain. Unbeknownst to her, her twins had been given souls of their own, and as such were resurrected into Billy Kaplan and Tommy Shepherd. They become part of the Young Avengers superhero team as Wiccan and Speed. Wiccan having greater witch powers than his mother and Speed having similar abilities to his uncle. Billy has a boyfriend turned husband Teddy (a Kree/Skrull hybrid born from the Princess and Prince of the Kree and the Skrull respectively).

And that's where we are currently at. I love the family lineage of two of the greatest mutants the world has ever seen

I don't pretend to be a comic book expert but like it just fascinates me how crazy the offspring are. Even Billy goes through a period of hysteria when he learns his boyfriend is a shapeshifter and goes through a sexuality crises as Teddy could be a girl if he chose but Teddy chooses to be a guy, an alien guy, but a guy. And then Teddy is needed to help put an end to the Kree-Skrull war and as a result, Billy, much like his mother, goes a little depressive/crazy when the anchor/love of his life is not near him. But that's much later and I hope Disney doesn't screw up a great LGBTQ couple.

UPDATE: Thanks to lazykcdoodler, I've been informed that Quicksilver does in fact have a daughter. Meet Luna! She's so cute, see lazykcdoodler's comment to my post for details on Luna!

[bts-ficrecs]

hey!! can you recommend a few series (any member)? thank you very much!

“a few” hAHAHAHA you’re really funny.

Bro, why’d u have you make ur request sooo broad 😂 i tried to reign in the crazy and failed. I decided I’m going to give you a list of series that are sitting impatiently on my to read list! Making this list makes me want to devour them all right now lol.

Feel free to go through my archive to find series that I have read, cause there are plenty of those too :”) So without further ado…

Note: please be aware several of the ongoing series are either on hiatus or discontinued or just haven’t been updated in 17392 years lol. I know some people can’t deal with that so do make sure to check if the writers are still active and/or when the last update was! And don’t pressure the writers about updates kthxbai ❤

 

ONGOING

Aristocrat by @itskimtaehyung

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 3/4

Summary: In which Namjoon pays you for your *ahem* services.

A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning by @therealredraven

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 4/? (discontinued)

Summary: Love comes in many shapes, but does not always have a prosperous fate. However, whereas parents might have found it, all the children can do is live in kalopsia. Forbidden yet denying the mourning of the path chosen for them by Fate.

Blood Princess by @mintchockookie

Genre: angst

Parts: 9/?

Summary: Choi Y/N is one of the most dangerous and feared members of Papa Choi gang. But she doesn’t want to be. Kim Nam Joon is the leader of the biggest gang in all South Korea and craves revenge for having his godfather being killed by Papa Choi. When their paths cross, nothing can hold them.

Untold Stories by @interludemoonchild

Genre: fluff

Parts: 8/?

Summary: A series of drabbles based on Namjoon owning a bookshop in a small town.

What Am I To You? by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: To Namjoon, she could make the salt taste like sugar on her hands. But in the end, she isn’t as sweet as he believed her to be. 

 

 

COMPLETE

Best Friend!Namjoon by @lamourche

Genre: angst, fluff, smut 

Parts: 3/3

Summary: “I locked the keys in the car.”

Passionfruit by @joonbird

Genre: smut

Parts: 4/4

Summary: To you, matters of the heart have always been simple. You’ve always lived by three rules: you don’t do emotions, you don’t do attachment, and you don’t do love. That is, until you meet the enigma that is Kim Namjoon- a man who shakes your entire world upside down.

Piercings by @personawife

Genre: smut

Parts: 2/2 + 1 (feat. Yoongi)

Summary: “What’s that sticking through your shirt?”

Rumor Has It by @jjungkookislife

Genre: smut

Parts: 2/2 + drabble

Summary: After hearing a rumor about your best friend, it's all you can think about.

Tear by @polaritae

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/3

Summary: Getting the attention of your crush seems impossible. Good thing your best friend is always willing to help out!

 

 

ONGOING

Dame-De-La-Nuit by @cyphahobi

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: First night on the job turns into a week long adventure of business and pleasure. Landing business man, Kim Seokjin as your first client, turns your whole world upside down.

Evanescent by @jinletgo

Genre:angst, smut

Parts: 1/?

Summary: You’re a journalist-aspiring secretary to Kim Namjoon, the CEO of Telescope, a leading lifestyle and culture magazine. One night with a handsome and charismatic stranger ignites a passion and excitement that you didn’t know you had. When that stranger turns out to be Kim Seokjin, the print journalist of a rival magazine, the simple life you take for granted and dream career you’d been working towards are left in jeopardy…

King of Hearts by @thecozywhaleshark

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 9/10

Summary: You are a famous writer who can’t exactly show up to an event alone… so you hire an escort… his name is Jin.

The City Comes Alive by @minflix

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 1/2

Summary: Being a street performer, Kim Seokjin sees many nameless and forgettable faces each and everyday. But there is this one girl that he can’t seem to forget. Maybe it’s because his heart seems to fall in love with her a little more each time she passes him by.

 

 

COMPLETE

Aperitivo by @bangtanbetchfics

Genre: smut, feat Jungkook

Parts: 2/2

Summary: On the heels of a breakup, you fall hopelessly in lust with two pastry chefs on your vacation in Venice.

Burden by @neonlights92

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 8/8

Summary: After the death of his wife during childbirth Kim Seokjin is unable to hold his baby daughter without grief taking control. Just three weeks after the love of his life is taken from him so suddenly, Jin is expected to marry somebody new. You are foolish and have spent your whole life pining after Kim Seokjin from afar, even after he marries your best friend, Seul.  But suddenly Seul is gone and you are expected to marry Jin and raise his child. You know your heart is already in it, but what about his?

Alt. Summary: A marriage to Kim Seokjin was all you ever wanted.  But not at the cost of your best friend’s life.

Don’t Wanna Fall by @9uk

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 4/4

Summary: After your boyfriend breaks up with you, you are in need of company. Strangely enough, you get more company than you had initially wanted.

Alt. summary: His world revolves around wealth, power and most importantly—women. He’d spoil every one of them by his side or on his bed, with limited edition bags and expensive heels. So why is the CEO of kim corporations currently buying you a pet bunny?

In The Bleak Midwinter by @pcyheartgirlx

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 25/25 + 2 different endings

Summary: We’re all whores, we just sell different parts of ourselves.

Peach Parfait by @jamaisjoons

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 2/2

Summary: You and Seokjin have always been at odds as the top two chefs at Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts.

The Devil Wears Armani by @floralseokjin

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 5/5 + drabbles

Summary: You never imagined accidentally attempting to sell your soul to the devil would lead to this…

 

 

ONGOING

Addicted by @yoongiandchiminie

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 4/?

Summary: Suga, the Stealth and Weapons guy of Bangtan meets his Soulmate with a bang. He’d grown up believing in the idea of finding the person he was destined to be with and won’t let her get away. Even if she’s addicted, he’s determined to help her. He just wants to save his Blue girl.

Choices by @btsiguess

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 4/?

Summary: You didn’t think that when you woke up this morning you were going to go out and buy a hybrid. But really, ending up with this stupid cat might be the best thing that ever happened to you. Much to both you and Yoongi’s chagrin. 

Grey Area by @blushoseoks

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 13/?

Summary: And just like that, your fate was sealed - because min yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. But hell if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so.

Reputation by @mindayss

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 1/?

Summary: Min Yoongi’s got quite a reputation. As do you.

 

 

COMPLETE

Di piano e forte by @justoneday-namjoonii

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 6/6

Summary: Piano; A keyboard of cypress, played with soft and loud. Was it the ivory and onyx keys that let you escape from your reality…Or was it the man with sable hair and ivory skin.

Errantes by @cno-inbminor

Genre: fluff

Parts: 2/2 + Epilogue

Summary: Yoongi accidentally gets spiked pumpkin juice, but it’s not by alcohol. More like it was spiked by a Love Potion – Beguiling Bubbles, to be exact – and Sora may or may not have had a hand in this. The point is, she’s hoping Yoongi will never find out and she’ll be alive to take her N.E.W.T.’s.

Fragility by @writtenyoongi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/3

Summary: “There are a lot of fucked up things about me, you know? And there’s a lot of fucked up things that have happened. But when I’m with you all of those things, yeah they still exist but it’s like they’re a lot further away, I don’t feel as if they’re eating me alive.”

Long Time Coming by @an-exotic-writer

Genre: fluff, angst (?)

Parts: 6/6 + drabble

Summary: In which it’s been a long time coming since you’re meeting Min Yoongi once more.

Private Lessons by @baeseoul

Genre: smut

Parts: 2/2

Summary: “I have an idea,” Once he saw how you straightened in your seat, your gaze flaring with aggravation, he continued quickly, “For every question I get right, you tell me something about yourself.”

Skin Deep by @aquaminwrites

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 10/10

Summary: Yoongi has never—and presumably will never—like tattoos.

 

 

ONGOING

Bygones Of The Sun by @scriptaed

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/?

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the rises sun has gone into hiding- because perhaps its shadows have out-shines its own radiance.

Euphuistic by @guksthighs

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: Hoseok’s delivery of flowers does not go as planned when it starts raining and someone mysertious gives him an umbrella.

Plant A Kiss On These Tulips by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: fluff

Parts: 2/?

Summary: After your boss, Jisu–head wedding planner at Ornate Events–develops a ragweed allergy, you are put in charge of working with the florist company In Bloom. But instead of their top-notch flower arrangements, their incredibly radiant owner Jung Hoseok proves to be what catches your eye over the course of the months that follow.

Salted Caramel by @your-miss-right

Genre: fluff

Parts: 9/?

Summary: She liked him…a lot and she just wanted to get the point across. Too bad the wrong guy got it. Note to self: Check orders before writing little notes to the wrong customer!

Starfire by @readyplayerhobi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 6/?

Summary: The schism that broke the galaxy began, as it usually does, over a disagreement. The resultant civil war has raged for hundreds of years. When a ragtag group of travellers discovers something that could turn the tide of war, for good or for worse, the bonds of friendship and love will be tested.

Note: ok but basically just read all of Tali’s Hoseok series sdjfakjaf

Wall to Wall by @winetae

Genre: smut

Parts: 1/4

Summary: Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

 

 

COMPLETE

By Its Cover by @crystaljins

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 8/8

Summary: Your annoying little brother Jimin accepts a dare and summons a demon into your living room. There are multiple problems with this. 1) Demons are the most hated species on earth. 2) That demon happens to be Jung Hoseok, the most popular guy on campus 3) The fact that Jung Hoseok is a demon is his biggest secret and 4) Jung Hoseok hates your guts. You’re in for a wild ride.

Life in the Fast Lane by @sugaxjpg

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 1/3

Summary: Hoseok was not someone who expected to find love, even less under the conditions he met you—bleeding to death in an alley, unable to go to an hospital without being recognized by the ones who did such thing to him. Though, he would soon learn that the best things in life are the unplanned, kind ones. Especially the kind ones.

The Black Book by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: smut

Parts: 9/-- (discontinued)

Summary: Being personal assistant involves doing a lot of different tasks for your boss Jung Hoseok–including setting up his rendezvous with his black book clientele.

The Gentlemen’s Club by @brookelegend

Genre: smut

Parts: 15/15 + Epilogue + author’s note + drabbles

Summary: You’ve been in a dating drought, more specifically, a sex drought. Your best friend has the perfect remedy for your problem: The Gentlemen’s Club.

 

 

ONGOING

Contraband by @leadermon

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 11/?

Summary: If you had known what you had known now, would you have gone? If you knew who you would meet, the boy with the bright orange hair, and how getting wrapped up in him would tear all your brother had built to the ground, would you have gone?

Crossroads by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 4/?

Summary: You summon Park Jimin, the crossroads demon who rather than taking your soul and granting you wish, wants to become an extremely annoying life companion.

induratize by @hobiwonder

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 5/?

Summary: Prince Jimin had grown up despising people from your empire and vice versa. When your father weds you to the crowned Prince of Haelyra, your kingdom’s sworn enemies, as a form of alliance to fight a greater evil, you struggle to make sense of your new life as the future Queen to be and deal with a husband who cannot stand you.

Jealousy Games by @avveh

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/?

Summary: You decide to play a game of push and pull with your ex Jungkook, bringing Jimin along for the ride.

 

 

COMPLETE

Handyman by @drquinzelharleen

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 5/5

Summary: Jimin is your landlord’s son. After one stressful day he comes to fix your shower for you. You find yourself constantly thinking about him. Could he be the perfect submissive?

I’ll Never Be Her by @anon-luv

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 5/5 + Epilogue + drabbles

Summary: You loved him with all your heart, but he could only give you half of his. Jimin was the love of your life, your night in shining armor when she wasn’t around. She was his ex girlfriend,  his first love, actually she was his many firsts and she kept coming back. He had warned you she was his weakness, but you didn’t listen, because to you having him even if it was only partially was better than not having him at all. At least for now.

Neighbors by @jkeuphoriadreamland

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 7/7 + Epilogue

Summary: Finally achieving your successes in life you never expected the distraction that came with your new hot neighbor. He however, had been trying to get your attention for a much different reason.

Nine One One by @yminie

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 2/2

Summary: When murder and crime threaten the city of Seoul, there’s a team in place to help keep the public safe, but just what do you do when all your training is to help others, and the one that needs help is actually you?

Limerence by @jiminscenarios

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 14/14 + Epilogue

Summary: He was a coldhearted asshole and the leader of South Korea’s most wanted gang, whereas she was an innocent and kind college student. They were polar opposites, yet he was so infatuated with her. But opposites are supposed to attract after all, aren’t they?

Love Yourself Trilogy by @threeletterslife

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 3/3

Summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda… but when life throws you curveballs, it is what it fucking is.

 

 

ONGOING

Begin Again by @writtenyoongi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 4/?

Summary: Things had been tough since your divorce from yoongi, you were still heartbroken over losing him whilst trying to balance being a single mother and providing the best you could for your daughter. When Kim Taehyung enters your life you start to learn how to love again, but the beautiful man is not without his own source of heartbreak.

The Client by @jungkookiebus

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: Your services applied to many types of people and you were good at what you did, delivering sexual fantasies. This particular client happens to be your personal favorite for more reasons than one.

Van Gogh by @btsjeonjazz

Genre: smut

Parts: 1/?

Summary: Who would have guessed that Kim Taehyung, honorable student and your tutor, had some dark secrets?

V2 by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 9/12

Summary: This series is reader-insert revolving around Taehyung and his long-term surreptitious relationship with Y/N. 

When You Least Expect It by @johobi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 12/15 + drabble

Summary: You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

 

 

COMPLETE

Change by @junghelioseok

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 9/9 + Epilogue

Summary: A kind, handsome stranger makes you question your deteriorating relationship. 

One Good Purr (Deserves Another) by @jinpire

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 4/4

Summary: Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to visit Taehyung just before your heat. (Or to ask if his best friend was available.)

Summer Love by @analovegirl

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 3/3

Summary: It was Summer when he lost his whole world, his family and his identity. And it’s summer again when he comes across the girl he swore was his enemy. Join Taehyung, as he tries to find his true identity– as a human and as a merman, along with the mystery of his parent’s demise.

The Chrysanthemum Effect by @rosaetae

Genre: angst

Parts: 10/10 + Epilogue

Summary: Keeping your flowers, keeping your pain— it’s already everything you need to move on. How do you move on from things if you’re not willing to accept them?

Yarn by @dreamhimcloser

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 2/2

Summary: The mere idea that someone will kiss you while you slept made you shiver with disgust, but your educators promised you time and time again that this is exactly how you reach true love.

 

 

ONGOING

Block Party by @minlucent

Genre: smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: Moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake.

Employee Perks by @chiminiemoans

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 3/?

Summary: Sure, the employee perks at your job were bonuses, life insurance, sick leave, health benefits etc. etc., but the best employee perk of all was working with a man known as Jeon Jungkook.

In Debt by @ichirakukpop

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 2/?

Summary: All your life you’ve been taken care of by your rich father and his money, but when a someone named Jungkook barges into your home demanding for his money back, your life is turned upside down.

Serendipity by @rohobi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 10/13

Summary: The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way. After forgetting to click out of his pornhub incognito tab last night, you find yourself shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook at 3am watching the rest of it.

 

COMPLETE

Anima Meaology by @arckook

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 4/4 + Epilogue

Summary: Your best friend was never supposed to know that his name was on your wrist.

Falling Skies by @fortunexkookie

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 6/6 + drabbles + spinoff oneshot

Summary: Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely.

Goldilocks by @perpetually-jungshook

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 10/10 + drabble

Summary: After getting evicted, your two best friends Jimin and Taehyung offer you a place to stay until you get back on your feet. Needless to say, with a part time job and a mountain of student debt, that’s not happening any time soon. Eventually, they DO become really fond of having you around, helping with chores and even splitting rent. So when you come home one day to find someone has been sleeping in your couch-bed, well… it’s something you won’t take lightly.

Oath by @bangtan-yeonghon

Genre: angst

Parts: 33/33

Summary: What if one day everything you ever wanted is taken away and your whole world comes crushing down? If you were to forget today, who would you be tomorrow?

Watch Me Babygirl by @lunarimagines

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 20/20

Summary: Jungkook is your brother’s annoying best friend. You can’t stand him but he just can’t resist teasing you. How far will he actually go?

Will You? by @jungee

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 2/2

Summary: Jungkook + you = prom dates??

 

 

ONGOING

Bangtan Crossing by @mintedmango

Genre: fluff

Parts: 4/?

Summary: You step off the train in the quiet of dusk with a relieved sigh, just looking at the awakening of some stars and the bottoms of trees of this countryside town in awe. It was so different from the city, so dark at night, not lit up by thousands of street lamps and buildings turned on in the wee hours of the evening.

Lifeline by @forgottenpasta

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 6/?

Summary: What happens when a witch curses seven vampires to share one fated mate between them?

Lueur De Lune by faery_kth (AO3)

Genre: fluff

Parts: 5/?

Summary: Your recent move has caused a lot of stress and you decide to take a stroll by the little lake behind your house only to find the moon and her fallen star.

Over the Moon by @threeletterslife

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 6/8

Summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you’re left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You’re not ready for that alone. Are you?

Potions, Magic, And Otherworldly Charmers by agentlemanshat (AO3)

Genre: fluff

Parts: 3/7

Summary: Have you ever imagined Namjoon as a high-end witch? Jungkook as a werewolf or Jimin as a merman? And a magical world full of possibilities? Well, look no further! Because here is where it happens.

Twisted Tails by @kmseokjins

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 4/?

Summary: After the death of your older sister, you're suddenly entrusted with her two hybrids. Who knew that following your sister's wishes would eventually turn your life upside down.

Void by @btssavedmylifeblr

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 6/?

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

 

 

COMPLETE

A Fairy Tale’s End by @bangtan-dreamland

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 8/8 + Epilogue

Summary: You wanted, for once, to be someone important, someone needed- to be wanted and appreciated, to love and be loved. Well, you should be careful what you wish for.

College by @btslibrary

Genre: smut

Parts: 7/7

Summary: A 7-part BTS smut series.

Hybrid House by @hollyhomburg

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/3 + Epilogue

Summary: To Seokjin, Home consists of his human partners Namjoon and Hoseok as well as their Hybrids; the pups- named Taehyung and Jimin, their black cat- called Yoongi, and their foxboy- called Jungkook. Together they have the happiest family possible, everyone loves everyone equally. So what happens when Namjoon finds you? A cat hybrid, beaten close to death left alone in an alleyway on the coldest night of the year? He takes you home, shows you his family, and together they teach you what love can be like.

 

 

  

 congratulations you made it to the end....lol. enjoy all these fics and give the authors lots of love, okay? 🧡

[bigskydreaming]

You're totally right. I literally cannot read "Jason finds out about Tarantula" fics anymore. I find the way they generally filter what's considered in fandom maybe Dick's biggest trauma, through the lens of " isn't Jay just so awesome for caring (even though Dick's always been such a dick to him)", rather that Dick's needs, pretty gross. And why does Jay's revenge on Tarantula usually matter more than Dick's feelings on the matter (like, Dick could have revenge himself if he wanted, you know?)?

This is DEFINITELY a thing and it bugs a ton.

Like, I get the projection element of using Jason killing Dick’s rapist to act out or process the revenge fantasy of wishing someone would do that for you with your rapist, for writers or readers for whom this is part of the catharsis, and so this isn’t like, a moral judgment of him for doing so, the problem is it never in ANY story has ANYTHING TO DO WITH DICK OR WHAT HE WANTS.

Never have I ever seen a single story about Tarantula or Mirage where Jason kills them after ASKING Dick if that’s what he wants, if that will help him, bring him closure or comfort or relief.

Its just Jason going off and doing his thing, and that’s 100% entirely about Jason, and that’s....annoying, in a fic and an issue that’s supposed to be about hurt/comfort for Dick for something that happened to him.

Like, if Jason was actually acting on Dick’s behalf and fulfilling his wishes, that’d be totally different, but there’s not a single thought ever spared about the fact that if Dick blamed himself for Tarantula killing Blockbuster and thought HE failed HER by not putting her on a better path, then how in the hell do you think he’s ACTUALLY going to feel about Jason then killing Tarantula, supposedly on his behalf?

I’ve talked extensively about how I think Dick has a lot more nuanced and complicated perspective on killing than most people assume of him, and I’m not refuting that here.....but even Dick being willing or tempted to kill someone who’s hurt him or taken someone from him like he was with Zucco and later with Two-Face and then with Joker.....like, this is not remotely interchangeable with how Dick might feel about killing being done in his name, and I don’t for a second believe that’s what he’d ever want from any of his siblings, and thus this would IMO only make things WORSE for his mental and emotional state, rather than bring him any sort of catharsis at all.

Like, its not even about the morality of killing itself even....there’s so many other factors such as Jason’s complicated history with Bruce on this very issue, and like, the last thing in the world Dick would want is to be the reason for even further conflict between Bruce and Jason because Jason killed someone on Dick’s behalf.....ESPECIALLY when its not even on Dick’s behalf because at no point, as I said, is Jason shown thinking through the thought process of ‘is this actually what Dick would want and would it make him feel better, or is this wholly about making myself feel better and venting my anger and aggression about my brother being hurt on the one who hurt him, regardless of how he’s going to feel about it if and when he finds out.’

Like, say what you will about Dick killing the Joker in Last Laugh, but there was never any illusions about him going that far and beating the Joker to death because he thought it would bring either Jason or Tim (who he thought at that point the Joker had killed too) back, nor did he ever during or in the aftermath express any kind of idea that he was doing it because its what they would want. Ironically of course, this ended up being exactly what Jason DID want, just not from Dick specifically, but the point is, this never came up as part of Dick’s thought process either during or after. It was always 100% clear that this event, that moment, was about Dick and his hurt and rage over the Joker taking away his loved ones, just like with Zucco it’d been about his hurt and rage over him taking his parents away and not at all because he was of the belief that his parents would actually want him to kill Zucco. 

Even with Two-Face in R:YO, Dick being tempted to kill Two-Face was less about him having been hurt by Two-Face when he almost beat Dick to death....it really was about him holding Two-Face and that whole situation to blame for Bruce firing him and in Dick’s mind no longer needing or wanting him....he wanted to kill Two-Face not because of what had been DONE to him, but what he blamed Two-Face for having lost, what he felt he’d taken from him....even while knowing full well that this would in no way make things better or right with Bruce, and its the last thing Bruce would want Dick to do.

There is a difference between avenging and revenge, and one of the interesting things about Dick’s stance and history on killing has always been that it always ONLY comes up in the latter. Like, there’s never any point in Dick’s history where he views killing as a valid way to avenge a loved one......the times when he struggles with the desire to, its 100% about his wanting revenge on a personal level.

And that’s the honesty and directness I’m missing from so many Tarantula or Mirage fics these days. Its the disconnect, how Jason is framed and even celebrated as though he’s AVENGING his brother and acting on his behalf, justice for Dick being hurt by these people.....

But the reality is, there’s little to no thought or attention paid by Jason or the narrative as to what Dick’s ACTUAL wishes in this matter are, and what he actually wants and needs in order to be helped along in his recovery.

Its really just about Jason getting revenge for someone hurting someone he cares about and thus feeling hurt and pain by proxy......just twisted and made to look like something it’s not, by saying its FOR Dick even though its likely Dick would actually be worse off for knowing what Jason was doing/had done, as Dick’s guilt complex makes it all but inevitable that he’d now additionally blame himself for being the reason Jason felt he had to do that.....when ironically and obnoxiously, the reality is Jason did it in those stories because its what Jason wanted and what Jason felt HE needed to cope with his feelings and emotions about what had been done to his brother. It really ultimately has nothing to do with Dick, he’s just the excuse, but he also just so happens to 100% be someone who would shoulder the burden of guilt and blame and remorse for even just being the excuse for someone going to those extremes.

If a story is about Dick’s trauma and Dick’s recovery, leaving out Dick’s actual expressed wishes or Dick’s feelings about what other people do or want to do as a result of this is a huge, gaping, annoying as hell oversight.

And for the record, I’m trying to keep this general and not speak to specific fics because I’m aware that for many survivors, the act of projecting onto Dick and what he suffered there can and does mean that for some people, Jason’s actions there are viewed as almost actually being on behalf of the readers/writers who project themselves into Dick’s position in that narrative. I get that, and that’s why this issue is always going to be messy.

As with most things, my true gripe is the overwhelming SAMENESS of the takes on Tarantula/Mirage stories, and the fact that no room is hardly ever left for those who ironically are NOT projecting onto Dick so fully that they feel avenged by whatever Jason does here.....but rather who are simply relating to Dick and thus are actually just looking for the catharsis of him being able to seize back control over his own life and what happens to him and because of him, by the narrative prioritizing the other characters focusing on what HE wants and needs for HIS recovery rather than going off to enact revenge of their own.

Sorry not sorry, but I am always gonna be hardcore gung-ho about the fact that I think that stories that are ABOUT a specific character’s rape should always center and prioritize THEM and what THEY want and/or do, rather than just use them and what happened to them as a catalyst to then showcase someone else acting out a revenge fantasy in their name.

The desire to avenge a loved one, the desire for personal revenge against someone who hurt a loved one, and the desire to act as little as possible on your own personal feelings about what happened and instead be there to help enact whatever that hurt loved one says they want or need to help get better....

Each and every one of these desires has validity....the problem is, depending on the characters involved, they absolutely ARE at times mutually exclusive and not compatible, and thus not keeping a firm awareness on the distinction between these and which are the primary motivations for which characters, like.....it often brings these into direct conflict....but without a lot of writers and readers ever perceiving any conflict exists, because they’re completely centered on Jason’s actions and choices rather than Dick’s wants and needs, to the extent that in a lot of fics, the latter never even comes up for a mention.

And that’s the part that just will never work in my eyes. If its about what happened to Dick, it needs to be about what he wants or needs as a result. There can be other elements in play as well, by all means Jason and others can absolutely have their own conflicting views about what happened and wants/needs for revenge that are at odds with what Dick himself wants, and this doesn’t make them bad or wrong, but there’s so much room for intricate and complicated dynamics and insights there....whereas there’s just none of that in narratives that use harm done to Dick as a catalyst for character choices.....just without Dick’s character choices ever then entering the narrative as being considered at all relevant.

[tearsofthemis]

Tears of Themis : Chapter 2 “Unbearable Love“ Part 15

[Previous Part] | [Masterlist] | [Next Part]

▌Location- Crime Scene

(Jiang MingYue’s lie about the rooming arrangements combined with the strange position that Shen Xi was found in… tells me that the missing piece we needed to crack the case was about to be revealed.)

MC: “Even if the hallway was empty, people could come and go as they pleased through the connecting door! This means Li Zhou could have entered Shen Xi’s suite when no one was watching. Officer, when did Li Zhou check-in?”

Officer: “Last night, 7:00 PM.”

MC: “That’s to say, Li Zhou was already checked in by the time Jiang MingYue brought up the box of chocolates. He had time to poison the chocolates.”

Mo Yi: “You’re right. From my guess, Li Zhou and Shen Xi must be associated with one another.”

MC: “You’re so sure of it, is it because…”

~~~Analysis Begins~~~

[Select: Position of Shen Xi’s Body, Misplaced Phone]

MC: “Her cellphone! Last night when Shen Xi returned to her suite, no one entered or left it, but her phone was taken away by someone. The only one who could’ve done so was Li Zhou.”

Mo Yi: “Not only that, judging by the position she was found in and the fact that she was still dressed in formal wear… points that it’s likely she saw someone in the room. Otherwise, the first thing she would have done upon returning to her suite would have been to get changed and remove her makeup.”

MC: “Therefore, Shen Xi must have known Li Zhou.”

Mo Yi: “The fact that Li Zhou was staying right next door and has the connecting keys to her room in his possession, is no coincidence.”

~~~Analysis End~~~

MC: “Did Jiang MingYue intentionally plan the room arrangements so that Li Zhou would be next door to Shen Xi?! If so, then the lies that Jiang MingYue told in regards to the room bookings were told to cover up Li Zhou’s presence. Li Zhou and Shen Xi, what kind of relationship do they have… If Li Zhou wanted to talk to her, why couldn’t he just enter through the suite door?”

Mo Yi: “It’s not outlandish to assume that Shen Xi and Li Zhou would be involved with some kind of secret romantic relationship. Li Zhou avoided entering through the suite door to prevent being photographed by paparazzi and risk exposing his relationship, which would ultimately affect his career.”

MC: “That’s true. There’s a saying that fans will use, ‘when an idol dates, heads will roll’. There’s no way Li Zhou would publicly announce that he has a girlfriend.”

Mo Yi: “Jiang MingYue’s intention behind the room bookings was to facilitate Shen Xi and Li Zhou’s secret rendezvous. She lied to protect her boss and a famous actor’s privacy. Jiang MingYue would have never suspected that her boss’s lover could be the murderer. She, like Shen Xi, believed that this was part of Lu JingHe’s revenge plan.”

MC: “Truly, once you think about it, you can find a reasonable explanation through a sea of doubts.”

(As Mo Yi and I were discussing, another officer knocked on the door and let us know that we could interrogate the hotel manager on duty.)

Hotel Manager: “How long will this police investigation take? We’ve been receiving guest complaints all morning.”

MC: “As long as you cooperate in the investigation, I think the evidence gathering will end soon.”

Hotel Manager: “There goes my yearly bonus, I suppose. Go on and ask what you need from me.”

MC: “When did Jiang MingYue make the room bookings? At the time, were the connecting rooms to room 1817 and the executive suites on the 17th floor already booked?”

Hotel Manager: “Miss Shen and Miss Jiang’s rooms were booked under Venus Fashion’s name. But the room next to it, room 1817, was booked by Miss Jiang herself. We never could have known that Mr. Li Zhou would be staying with us. In regards to the executive suites on the 17th floor, 1718 and 1717, both rooms were vacant. No one booked it and no one stayed in it.”

MC: “Then the suites on the 17th floor, were they connected?”

Hotel Manager: “No. The rooms were renovated last year, and any connecting doors were removed for all suites under the 18th floor. If it goes according to plan, the connecting doors will be removed for suites from the 18th to the 30th floor starting next month.”

Mo Yi: “This confirms our previous suspicions, does it not? The rooming situation was premeditated, whether by Jiang MingYue or Shen Xi’s request, it was intentionally planned. The choice of staying on the 18th floor must have been because of the connected suites.”

(Mo Yi’s explanation could very well be concrete. I nodded as I thought of another key problem.)

MC: “There’s another question…”

[Select the Red Wine in Room 1818]

MC: “I saw Romanée Conti on the wine list, but I didn’t see the actual bottle. Does the hotel really offer this product?”

Hotel Manager: “Of course! It is an expensive wine, and I personally dealt with the request in celebration of Miss Shen’s accomplishments. The servers brought it in after making the room last night.”

MC: “Around what time did that happen?”

Hotel Manager: “It was almost 7 PM.”

Mo Yi: “7 PM? Then the banquet had already started…”

MC: “I saw that room 1817 was already cleaned this morning. Was a bottle of Romanée Conti found in that room?”

Hotel Manager: “No, there were no abnormalities when Mr. Li Zhou returned the room key.”

MC: “What about Jiang MingYue’s room? Was the bottle of wine discovered there?”

Hotel Manager: “Rooms 1713 and 1817 are regular rooms, therefore, Romanée Conti isn’t offered on their wine list.”

Officer: “The police have already searched Jiang MingYue’s hotel room and nothing suspicious was found.”

MC: (Where did that bottle of red wine disappear to?)

MC: “The door connecting rooms 1818 and 1817, is it normally locked? Is there only one set of keys?”

Hotel Manager: “Our hotel is considered a legacy of Stellis City; the connecting doors were built according to old safety standards. The door isn’t normally used, so we keep them locked for our guest’s safety and privacy. There were two sets of keys, one of which we keep at the front desk, and the other was given to Mr. Li Zhou.”

Mo Yi: “What was Li Zhou’s reasoning for wanting a set of keys?”

Hotel Manager: “Mr. Li Zhou asked us whether or not the rooms were connected at the time of his check-in. He says he was afraid of paparazzi or fans catching wind of his whereabouts and the connecting door was a liability. So he requested the set of keys kept at the front desk and took them. The keys to rooms 1818 and 1816 were also given to him.”

MC: “That excuse was so unfounded. If he was truly scared of the paparazzi finding him, he should have chosen to stay in a room without connecting doors. If the other person was determined to harass him and invade his privacy, they would have been able to do so if they picked the lock, right?”

(I tidied up the testimony. Even if there were a couple of murky things, there wasn’t anything else, at the time, that I needed to ask the hotel manager for.)

Officer: “The analysis report of the glass shards has been completed. After a search in the citizen database, the dried blood on the shard was determined to be left by Li Zhou.”

MC: “So Li Zhou has been in this room!”

Mo Yi: “The two of them were in this room. Judging by the shattered vase and the fact that he cut himself, they must have been arguing about something.”

Officer: “Shen Xi’s autopsy report has been completed as well, her fingernails have been torn. Compared with the marks left on the connecting door, Shen Xi’s nails must have broke when she was knocking on the door.”

MC: “Then what about the time of death? Was there anything that could shrink the window of opportunity?”

Officer: “No, the suspected time still falls between 9 PM and 2 AM. To add, forensics can confirm that Shen Xi’s death was caused by the consumption of poisoned liquor chocolates. Other than the minute amount of brandy in the liquor chocolates, Shen Xi did not drink last night. We performed mark analysis on the liquor chocolates as well. There were only Shen Xi’s fingerprints, and indentations made from some kind of silk material.”

MC: “Silk product? That’s to say, when the murderer was tampering with the chocolate, they were wearing silk gloves.”

Mo Yi: “Even if it’s not a fingerprint but a silk imprint, it’s still a clue. Officer, even if there is not enough evidence that points to the culprit being Li Zhou… we can confirm that he has an undeniable association with this case. I suggest that Li Zhou be detained as soon as possible. If he possesses key evidence on his person and we’re too late, he’ll be able to destroy it.”

Officer: “We have updated Captain Yan’s team, and they with the idea, but… we broke procedure by taking in Lu JingHe without proper documentation. If we breach protocol again by detaining Li Zhou…”

MC: “But if we wait for the documents to come through, it might be too late. Can’t we expedite the process?”

Mo Yi: “In the face of these rules you call protocol, does Yan’s team not know how to improvise?”

Officer: “That…”

MC: “Dr. Mo, the police must follow set procedures in the justice system. Because of Lu JingHe, the media already has their eyes on the police. If you add Li Zhou to the mix, the case will be blown out of proportion…”

Mo Yi: “I acknowledge the police’s hardship. I'm simply regretful that when one knows the path one must take to exit hardship, one is walled up by rules, a mere social construct. The road ahead stays in sight, but out of reach.”

Officer: “We don't know where Li Zhou went after he checked out of the hotel, we’ll have to check road surveillance to find out and that requires additional clearance. To do so isn’t difficult, but considering the amount of heat Captain Yan’s team is under…”

MC: “What can we do… I got it, I know where Li Zhou is!”

(Under Mo Yi and the officer’s watchful eyes, I took out my cell phone and dialed Cheng Cheng’s number. She’s a paralegal in our firm and is one of my juniors. She’s been with Themis for less than a year and she’s a die-hard star chaser.)

Cheng Cheng: “Sigh, it’s Sunday, why did you call me so early.”

MC: “Early? It’s literally lunchtime, Cheng Cheng!”

Cheng Cheng: “It’s early for me. I was binging dramas until the sun came up.”

MC: “Alright, it’s early, if you say it so. I'm calling about actual business, can you do me a favor?”

Cheng Cheng: “What is it?”

MC: “Can you help me check Li Zhou’s itinerary for today? See if he’s gone on set for a shoot or maybe at an event?”

Cheng Cheng: “Eh? Since when did you start following celebrity news, and to be Li Zhou’s stan on top of that. Stay on the line as I check. There’s a lot of fan apps that you can search to see your idol’s public itineraries.”

MC: “Then I’ll have to trouble you.”

Cheng Cheng: “Hm… Li Zhou might be out of the province for a shoot. There isn’t anything on the app for this week.”

MC: “But he was staying at the Manny Hotel last night.”

Cheng Cheng: “Then it must be his private itinerary. It's not right to expose stuff like that.”

MC: “Where can I find his current-day plans? Like where he is, right now…” Cheng Cheng: “Oi, why would you want to know something like that! It’s an invasion of privacy and it’s not allowed!”

MC: “It’s not like I want to do this, but Li Zhou is connected to the homicide I’m currently investigating. By the time the police find his whereabouts, it may be too late, so I might as well…Sigh, you know what I mean. I have no other options… So you can’t find out where he is?”

Cheng Cheng: “A homicide? My gosh! Then I… why don’t I help you ask my friends if they know any paparazzi or information dealers…”

MC: “Sorry about this, Cheng Cheng. If you could, please do. I’ve put you in a difficult situation.”

Cheng Cheng: “If it gets out that I was looking for private information, my reputation will be smeared in the fandom! Everyone will accuse me. If things go south, they’ll expose me as a sasaeng fan. You owe me big time.”

MC: “Alright, whatever you want as compensation. But don’t reveal the fact that it’s for a case.”

Cheng Cheng: “Of course I know that. Don’t worry and wait for my reply.”

(After the call dropped, I lifted my head to see the shocked expression on the officer’s face. Mo Yi was trying his best not to laugh as he shook his head.)

MC: “It was an emergency, I was at my wit’s end…”

Mo Yi: “Even if I interact with students daily, I’ve always approached the subject of star chasing as a psychological lecture topic. I thought that it was low, but now… perhaps I needed to broaden my horizons. I should not have held onto prejudice for any group of individuals.”

MC: “I’m not too knowledgeable either, it’s all Cheng Cheng…”

(Just then, Cheng Cheng’s message came through. She sure is speedy.)

(“I found it, Li Zhou is at Stellis Airport, his flight is outbound for 12:30 PM, he’s already through security checks.”)

MC: “Li Zhou’s at the airport. His flight takes off in an hour, he’ll be boarding the plane soon!”

Officer: “I’ll head over right away and stop him.”

(The officer ran out while dialing a number on his phone. He must have rushed to inform Yan Wei.)

Mo Yi: “From the looks of it, we’ll have lots of things to ask Jiang MingYue again. Before that, we’ll need to organize the clues we obtained, so… we need to obtain more evidence that pertains to Li Zhou in this room, otherwise, Jiang MingYue will be unlikely to open up to us again.”

MC: “Jiang MingYue still has a chance to commit the crime, but as it stands, her motives aren’t as clear. Unless…”

(A man and two women, the entertainment industry, a fashion house… my mind conjured up something in an attempt to explain it all, in the most logical way possible.)

MC: “Unless her, Li Zhou, and Shen Xi are in a love triangle…”

(Voicing something so gossipy was awkward, but when it comes to a formal investigation, nothing is impossible.)

Mo Yi: “You’re guessing that Jiang MingYue poisoned Shen Xi out of spite and that Li Zhou was simply arguing with Shen Xi and did not intend to kill her?”

MC: “I cannot dismiss the possibility.”

Mo Yi: “I believe that the culprit isn't Jiang MingYue and that it can only be Li Zhou.”

——-

[Previous Part] | [Masterlist] | [Next Part]

——-

《CREDIT》 Translator: Humi Editor: @cL  QC: @hallowsivy​ 《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo.

《 VOICE ACTORS 》 Mo Yi | Jiang GuangTao: https://weibo.com/jiangguangtao Lu JingHe | Yang Tianxiang: https://weibo.com/u/1745507755 Yan Wei: https://weibo.com/lengquanyeyue Jiang MingYue | V17-Vila: https://weibo.com/u/7360408881

[padawanlost]

“Attachment is not compassion.” What does that mean? Attachment are undoubtedly normal but I don’t get this quote

“Attachment is not compassion” Title card – TCW 02x08

Well, attachment and compassion are two different thing. The fact you’re attached to something or someone doesn’t necessarily mean you have compassion. Attachment can come from a selfish place too. That’s what Ahsoka needs to figure out by the end of the episode. Did she save Barriss out of selfish attachment (*she* didn’t want to lose a friend) or out of compassion (sympathy for Barriss and what she was facing)? Because, by choosing to save Barriss, it could’ve backfired costing thousands of lives.

On a deeper level we have to ask ourselves if it’s possible to experience real compassion without any kind of attachment. Filoni believes that the Order’s approach to compassion failed them and the galax.. you have to ask what’s compassion without action? Is it really compassion if it doesn’t translate into action? The Jedi, by becoming so focused on the greater good, failed to notice how dispassionate they had become at a personal level. They tried hard to save the galaxy but did very little to save people as individuals. We this see on multiple occasions:

Obi-wan’s initial reaction of Qui-Gon’s helping Anakin and Jar Jar;

He moved out of his seat to kneel close to Qui-Gon. “Master,” he said, unable to help himself, “why do you keep dragging these pathetic life-forms along with us when they are of so little use?” Qui-Gon Jinn smiled faintly. “He seems that way now perhaps, but you must look deeper, Obi-Wan.” [Terry Brooks. The Phantom Menace]

The Council’s reaction to Anakin:

Like Anakin, I was well past infancy when I began my training at the Jedi Temple. There was much concern about whether I was too old to learn the ways of the Force, that my Cerean childhood might cloud my judgments, but … I am not certain of how to express myself. My mind tells me I should feel empathy for Anakin, but my instinct tells me something else. [Ki-Adi-Mundi in Ryder’s Windham’s Jedi vs. Sith: The Essential Guide to the Force]

What disturbs me most of all is Anakin Skywalker himself. It is not in my nature to make assumptions about anyone based on appearance, and yet I find it almost alarming that the boy looks so entirely unremarkable. If I didn’t know better, I would have dismissed him as a harmless raga-muffin. [Ki-Adi-Mundi in Ryder’s Windham’s Jedi vs. Sith: The Essential Guide to the Force]

Their usual reaction to slavery:

The pirate spoke in a hushed tone. "I am Condi, from the planet Zoraster. I am not a pirate. I am a slave. As are my companions. Stolen from our home worlds by Krayn. Under penalty of death, we have been assigned guard duty aboard the ship." Condi looked at him eagerly. "Thank the moons and stars, we have rescue in our grasp at last." Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsaber. The naked desperation on Condi's face unnerved him. It was mirrored in the faces of his companions. All of them had obviously suffered great deprivations. "I am sorry," he said. "I have not come on a rescue mission." [Jude Watson. Path to Truth]

Can you help him? He did not know how that was possible. “I don’t know,” he told her, keeping his voice gentle, but firm. “I didn’t come here to free slaves.” [Terry Brooks. The Phantom Menace]

And, our most recent example, the Martez sisters.

A couple of years ago, there was a prison break on the surface of Coruscant, where you live, some gangster named Ziro. Then came the Jedi.  We watched, like so many others, as they chased Ziro and his gang down the portal, leaping from speeder to speeder as they went. Finally, some red-eyed alien protecting Ziro blasted the engine of an ascending cargo transport. The ship went spiraling out of control. The Jedi went into action, tried to gain control of the ship. There was a populated landing platform right in the path of the ship, but the Jedi steered it clear of that, right into the portal wall. And on the other side of that wall was our home. Mom and Dad saw it coming. They got Rafa and I out. But they weren't so lucky. The Jedi didn't even capture Ziro. The "distraction" of the ship helped him get away. Afterward, the Jedi came back, and one of them came over to me. I'll never forget it. She was beautiful, dark robes contrasting against her light green skin. Penetrating eyes. She looked at me, and you know what she said? She said, "I had to make a choice, but not to worry, the Force will be with you." That's it. Then she was off. And Trace and I were left without parents, without a home, just left there to find our way in their system.” TCW 07x07

Is any this compassion?

The point here is whether or not compassion means anything if you don’t act on it. You can say you love everything and everyone but if that love is not put into action is it really love?. What Ahsoka did was not the Jedi way but it’s clear she did the right thing by saving Barriss.

He looked over at Yoda. “Master Yoda, you and I have been close since I was a boy. An infant. Yet if ending this war one week sooner—one day sooner—were to require that I sacrifice your life, you know I would.” “As you should,” Yoda said. “As I would yours, young Obi-Wan. As any Jedi would any other, in the cause of peace.” “Any Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, “except Anakin.” Yoda and Mace exchanged glances, both thoughtfully grim. Obi-Wan guessed they were remembering the times Anakin had violated orders—the times he had put at risk entire operations, the lives of thousands, the control of whole planetary systems—to save a friend. [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

Ahsoka, like Anakin, doesn’t take things that far. Her compassion is translated into actions. and that’s a result of Anakin’s training. Her desire to get involved and help individuals with their personal problems is a trait she got from Anakin, not from the Jedi.

“Not that Luminara is indifferent, but that Luminara is detached. It’s not that she doesn’t care, but she’s not attached to her emotionally. And at the end of the day, one of the questions that I guess I pose is, is that really a good thing? Is Anakin’s way of being so compassionate wrong? Because on a certain level, you have to accept that the Jedi lose the Clone War. So there is something that they’re doing that’s wrong.” Dave Filoni

“I’ve always felt that one of Anakin’s downfalls, like it’s never that Anakin was innately going to be evil, but the people around him, the Jedi, in their lack of compassion, in being so selfless that they almost forgot to care.”— Dave Filoni

“So as far back as Anakin, there is a seed of an idea of love and compassion, which admittedly in Attack of the Clones, the Jedi say they’re lacking because they’ve become arrogant and very sure of themselves. As Ahsoka gets older, her first big challenge comes when she’s abducted by Trandoshans and put an island [to be hunted for sport]. Anakin is put in a position where he can’t help her, and he obsesses over trying to find her, and there’s nothing he can do. But she survives anyway, and at the end of that she says, “I was only able to do this because of your teachings. Because the other Padawans I was with, boy, they were completely messed up. They were cracking.” So again we see this comparison of where Ahsoka is at because of Anakin, and where these other Padawans, which represent the other Jedi, are at.” Dave Filoni 

In the end, the message is attachment is not compassion but neither is detachment. Both extremes are wrong. Complete detachment and obsessive attachment are wrong. Ahsoka’s balanced approach to compassion is the best way.

[ren-c-leyn]

Follower Celebration Story:

As promised, here is the follower celebration story! Thank you very, very much to everyone who sent in words for this. The only word I received a double of was safe, so it will be bolded twice in the story. If I use one of the other words more than once, it will only be bolded the first time. (For those wondering why the word chart is bolded, it was so I could keep track of what words I had and hand’t used while I was writing.)

The word chart:

Feckless, Umbrella, indifference, attentive, vaguely, archetype, diorama, vermilion, Lone, family, angelic, Sally, Safe x 2, Sound, Passion, Adore, Desire, sky, storm, bracelet, resilient, amber, peeling, fangs, fur, claws, abide, lessen, Dynasty, shots, bogwater, Window, Map, Tower, bruschetta, petrichor, disastrous, anachronistic, ethereal, fury, misty, charcoal, greenery, bleach, crown, stuff.

Keep an eye out for the bolded words as you go!

Warnings: This piece does include death, bones, a fight scene, a little bit of blood, but nothing in gory detail. I hope you all enjoy the piece, I had a great time writing this one and am proud of how it turned out =D

~

 The air was thick with the scent of petrichor, and the sky laid heavy with storm clouds, preparing for their second bout of rain. I clutched at my umbrella as I watched the grays of the sky mix with the misty whites that clung to the forest greenery. A terrible day to be the lone traveler.

 Gods know if it wasn’t so important I would have stayed home, safe and sound, by the warmth of my hearth. But no. I had to be out, running errands for the crown.

 A sigh slipped from my lips. No point in complaining about it. I just had to rise to the occasion and sally forth, into the disgusting swampland and get this over with. The sooner I finished the mission, the sooner I could return to my family.

 The trudge through the bogwater and vines would have destroyed a less resilient person. Every step felt like I was being swallowed by the mud. The mist dulled the senses and rendered my map useless. For a long while, I was not sure if I was walking in a straight line or a winding path. The only thing that helped guide me at all was the occasional trees I would stumble into, damp with moss and thin bark practically peeling off at the slightest touch.

 That was the first sign to me that I was on the right path. Or rather, that this path led to something terribly wrong, just as I had been told. The confirmations came steadily after the trees started feeling sickly. The mist darkened first and then the water did. Both of them blackened until they matched the color of charcoal, all the while the water slowly thickened to a paste. All were tells of something disastrous, indeed.

 Time seemed to lose it’s meaning in that place. There was nothing to indicate that it was moving at all, aside from the appalling squelching of my own boots and our seemingly endless battle with the mud. I think I would have gone mad without it, to be frank. Everything seemed to be attempting to rob me of my senses, drain me of my mind. Had I been out there much longer, it may have succeeded.

 However, I found the edge of the black mist before it found the edge of my will. There are no words to describe how absolutely delighted I was to realize that it was thinning, waning. Every fragment of my being had the great desire to see anything besides the deep darkness that seemed to be devouring me.

 I rushed forward with all my speed, sending the dark mud spraying with each heavy step. When I broke out of the mist, my feet hit solid ground and my eyes met with hints of color. The dark greens of moon-kissed grass, the dim twinkle of distant starts, pale stones scattered in the distance, and the grayed silhouette of a great tower.

 A broad smile pulled onto my face as I laughed. The joy, however, was short lived as I stepped forward and onto something that cracked underfoot. My gaze traveled downward only to meet the empty eye socket of a bleached skull. Dread formed a pit in my stomach as I looked up from the bones I was standing on and took a closer look at the rest of the pale ‘stones’. None, in fact, were rocks, but rather... bones.

 I tread lightly as I moved from skeleton to skeleton. Elves, dwarves, humans, male, female, it all varied greatly. The only thing that did not seem to was the terrible cracks and violent tears in the bones themselves. Something powerful did this. Something without mercy nor remorse.

 I swallowed thickly, straightening my cloak before turning my gaze to the tower. My bet was, was the monster responsible for this lived in there, and likely was in possession of my true objective.

 I forced myself to the side of indifference as I stepped past those unfortunate enough to have come before me and towards the tower itself. There was nothing I could do for them now, save perhaps vengeance. And I got the feeling that if I wanted to make it back home, safe and sound, then I would have no choice but to get these people their revenge.

 The tower itself was not the largest I had ever seen, but it was certainly one of the more ornate. Statues depicting mighty beasts sat defiantly on either side of the iron wrought doors, both far from angelic in visage. I did not answer their challenge, at least, not immediately. Instead, I took my time to wander around the perimeter, attempting to get an idea of what I was to face.

The place was peculiar. Almost anachronistic, if I were to put a word to it. The stone work was of ancient designs, almost the very archetype of them. The craftsmanship was similar only to the oldest of the temples in the land, but seemed as fresh as if it were built yesterday. The wild rose vines growing around it, however, were the very embodiment of ancient ruin. Gnarled and unkempt. Some of them even went so far in their defiance of the tower’s perfection to dig into the stones where they were weakest.

 A flash of movement in a window caught my attention, but was gone by the time my eyes had focused in one it. I cursed myself for not being more attentive. It could have been an enemy with a bow, and I would have been doomed. There would have been no dodging such shots unaware from this distance. Thankfully, it had not been, but I believed it was safe to say that I had lost any element of surprise I may have once had.

 A deep sigh escaped me as I turned my gaze up to the ethereal glow of the moon. There was no time left, it seemed.

 I returned to the stone beasts and walked past them to the entrance. Their silent snarls were lost to me as I pushed past the great doors and into the depths of the tower itself. I was greeted with what felt like yet another rift in time, as the interior of the tower was in great disrepair.

 The vermilion carpet was torn and worn down, blood stains long turned brown and rotted in places. Paintings had fallen from the walls, their pictures long faded and frames cracked. There were great claw marks and gouges in the walls and scraps across the dulled flooring. Ruined furniture littered the rooms as I stalked through them, clutching tightly at my staff.

 It was hard to discern exact shapes among the mounds of ruined stuff. I would freeze into place anytime I saw something even vaguely shaped like a beast or a person. By the third or forth room, I was contemplating casting a light spell, but the risk of drawing attention to myself was more than I could abide. Not when it seemed as though something within these walls had a passion for death and destruction. 

 After clearing the first floor, I slowly made my way up the old staircase. There were moments when I feared it would not hold my weight, but it thankfully held firm. I winced at every groan and creak of the decaying wood, however, and prepared myself for a battle.

 But the battle did not come. I arrived safely at the landing of the second floor, and found nothing more than I did on the first floor. Then the third, and the forth, until I reached the fifth floor, where time and reality again seemed to be removed from the tower’s presence. And it was here that I sensed what I had come for as waves of magic energy ebbed down through the halls and to the stairs where I stood.

 The carpet was a darker red, in one piece and untouched by time, only one of the tapestries were torn through with claws, paintings remained hanging, the furniture was whole, everything seemed as it should, except not at all.

 Sparks of magic flitted through the air, casting ominous glows as I checked the floor, room by room. They were dark colors, and almost made crying noises as they phased in and out of existence. Many people mistook such things as spirits of some sort, but they were truly just extra magic that the fabric of reality could not absorb. Nothing to fear themselves, but usually they were the signs that something that should be feared was near.

 In the last room, I found the most curious thing. There was a pedestal with a bracelet upon it, my goal, I assumed. It was a plain, silver one, no markings or jewels of any kind, but the magic energy I felt from it was dizzying. Lesser mages would have fallen to their knees long before they reached this room, but I was not the court mage for nothing.

 After claiming my prize, and sealing it within an enchanted bag to contain it’s power, I spotted something even more odd. On an end table in the corner was what appeared to be a  diorama of the tower itself. I admit that my curiosity got the better of me, beckoning me to have a look. It seemed to be a perfect scale model, everything laid out as I had found it so far, but it didn’t take me long to notice something truly unsettling.

 A little figurine... shaped just like me was standing in the corner of the room, and moving, actually moving, was another figurine, shaped like a monster I had never heard of. Not only was it moving, it was moving down the hallway of the floor I was on, heading straight for this room.

 Fear and adrenaline rushed through my veins as I desperately searched for an escape, or at least a hiding place, but neither were available in this room. I was at the very end of the hall, and I could hear the scraping of claws coming for me. With flight not longer open to me, I turned to face the door, raising my staff as I began to call upon the magic within me.

 “Poor, little, feckless mage,” a deep, growling voice seemed to sing from within the darkness of the hall, “You adore a dying age. The queen’s dynasty shall end, and another will begin.”

 I held the spell, waiting for it to come into view. The little motes of magic flashed in the hall from time to time, illuminating shadows and small flashes, but nothing solid enough for me to know my strike would land true. Then, I saw them, the terrible amber eyes.

 I flung the bolt of ice at it’s head, but it leaped over it and into the room. It was a massive creature, with fangs and claws to match. Pale fur bristled as it laughed, laughed at me.

 “My turn,” it purred, sung, whatever one would call that horrifying voice.

 Then, it came at me with fury enough to give dragons pause. It took every, single bit of my training and experience with battle to so much as lessen the deep wounds it tore into me. I kept the jaws at bay with my staff, or what little of it remained after it took the full force of the first bite. The claws cut through my robes like they were nothing, and aided it in pinning me to the floor. But not even it’s massive bulk could save it at this distance.

 I put my hand to it’s exposed belly and drew on not only my own magics, but those that were floating aimlessly around the both of us. And I set fire to the wretched creature. It shrieked with pain and wrath as it thrashed and rolled. I followed up with lightening and ice and then more fire. It came charging at me, fangs and fury and bloodlust, but I conjured a wall of magic between the two of us that it slammed into.

 “I am the court mage of these lands!” I shouted as the monster wailed in rage. “And you shall pay dearly for the blood you have spilled and the wicked deeds you have committed here.”

 And then, the room went white with the explosion of magic that rattled the tower to it’s core. There was the scream of the monster and then the howl of shattering, collapsing stonework. 

 The walk back was far more pleasant than the walk to the tower, even if I was sorer for it. Between the deep tears the creature left in me, and the bruises and cracked rib I got from the collapse of the tower itself, I felt lousy and just wanted a hot plate of bruschetta, a warm bath, a healer, and some sleep. Frankly, I was beyond caring about which order those came in. But, first thing was first, I had to get back to the castle to have the ruinous bracelet destroyed before it caused the world anymore troubles....

~

Submitter taglist: @1-2-butter-my-shoe, @the960writers, @ducky-writez, @candy687, @silver-wields-a-pen, @whiteomorox, @hyba, @ratherinterestingmilkshake, @bookenders, @leave-her-a-tome, @likelyfantasywriterspsychic, @kaatiba, @aziz-writes, @somethingreallydeepandprofound, @montevena, And, last but certainly not least, @innocentreticent.

 Thank you all again! This was quite the challenge and I had a blast working my way through it ^-^ This story wouldn’t have been possible without your combined and creative word choices.

Short story taglist, because this still counts for that: (You may ask to be added to/ removed from my taglists at any time. Just let me know ) 

@wemitodd, @greenwood-writes, @elkatheinkstained, @n1ghtcrwler, @writingiswilde, @say-no-to-negativity,  @dawnscribbles, @silvertalonwriteblr, @inspiring-prompts, @dawnoftheagez, @likelyfantasywriterspsychic, @orphicodysseywrites, @mischiefiswritten, @nemowritesstuff

[nad-zeta]

MBTI Uesugi-Takeda forces

And here is the other half’s MBTI- enjoy!

Again if you haven't taken the MBTI personality test yet I highly recommend, I also got all my personality-related info off of the website. https://www.16personalities.com/free-personality-test

Shingen Takeda- ENFJ Protagonist

“Protagonists are natural-born leaders, full of passion, and charisma. Protagonists take a great deal of pride and joy in guiding others to work together to improve themselves and their community. Charm and popularity are qualities Protagonists have in spades. They instinctively know how to capture an audience and pick up on mood and motivation in ways that allow them to communicate with reason, emotion, passion, restraint – whatever the situation calls for”.

Shingen, in my mind, is a protagonist, he is forever caring about everyone around him. He is definitely charming and will most likely be able to charm every man, woman, and child around. He is the master of picking up on moods and can easily talk Kenshin into toning it down when he is in a particularly bad mood or a bad space. Also, let’s not forget ENFJ are smooth talkers, and this is particularly clear with Shingen’s cheesy pick-up lines, which seems to get him all the ladies.

Potential Matches: INTP, INFP, and ENFP

Kenshin Uesugi- ENFP Campaigner

“Campaigners will bring an energy that frequently thrusts them into the spotlight, held up by their peers as a leader and a guru – but this isn’t always where independence-loving Campaigners want to be. Worse still if they find themselves beset by the administrative tasks and routine maintenance that can accompany a leadership position. They can quickly lose patience or become dejected if they get trapped in a boring role. People with this personality type know that sometimes, nothing is as important as simply having fun and experiencing life’s joys. Campaigners even viewing it as a core part of their identity, it can come out strongly enough to cause problems for this personality type. Particularly when under stress, criticism, or conflict, Campaigners can experience emotional bursts that are counter-productive at best”.

Let’s be real people place this soft bunny boi on a pedestal, yet all he wants to do is fight, drink, and eat pickled plums. Under stress, bunny boi definitely is a bit irrational and prone to emotional outbursts. The core part of his identity, “God of war,” has been shaped by having fun and experiencing the joys of like, i.e., fighting. Our bunny lord cares about his loved one so much and would do anything for them. Other traits Kenshin embodies as an ENFP is sensitivity, restlessness, perfectionist, and thoughtfulness.

Potential matches: INFJ, INTJ, and ENTP

Kennyo- INFJ Advocate

“People with this personality type tend to see helping others as their purpose in life. Advocates can often be found engaging in rescue efforts and doing charity work. However, their real passion is to get to the heart of the issue so that people need not be rescued at all. Though soft-spoken, they have firm opinions and will fight tirelessly for an idea they believe in. They are decisive and strong-willed. If their zeal gets out of hand, they can find themselves exhausted, unhealthy, and stressed. When the circumstances are unavoidable, however, they can fight back in highly irrational, unhelpful ways.”

I don’t know Kennyo all too well, and I also haven’t read much fanfic involving him, but I get the idea that he is an old sensitive soul who has been pushed to the brink of destroying himself for the good of others. It is shown in both Mitsunari and Shingen’s route that he is one of the kindest and caring men out there, but his zeal for revenge has caused him to become mentally unhealthy and stressed. He is a monk for crying out loud and helps injured forest animals; if that doesn’t scream charity work, I don’t know what does. I leave you with an INFJ quote, which I can totally see Kennyo saying, “I face everything on my own, never asking for help until I am certain of my death or destruction. I never want to burden others with my problems.”

Potential matches: ENFP, ENTP, and ENFJ

Yukimura Sanada - ISTP Virtuoso

“Virtuosos explore ideas through creating, troubleshooting, trial and error, and first-hand experience. Friendly but very private, calm but suddenly spontaneous, extremely curious, but unable to stay focused on formal studies, Virtuoso personalities can be a challenge to predict, even by their friends and loved ones. Virtuosos are very loyal and steady. They’ll be the first to tell an insensitive joke, roughhouse and play around.”

Yuki boy honestly doesn’t get enough love in the fandom, in my opinion! This rough around the edges boy is definitely one to tell insensitive jokes or play around (roughhouse). He is incredibly loyal and hardworking. He is soft and sensitive and cares for those around him, despite id ability to trip over his words. ISTP traits that I deffos see Yuki having, dry sense of humour, honest and direct, Bold, accidentally rude, wanting to be the best at what they do, and the best most loyal friend you could have.

Potential matches: ESFJ, ESTJ, and ENTP

Sasuke Sarutobi – INTP Logician

“Usually known as the philosopher, the architect, or the dreamy professor, Logicians have been responsible for many scientific discoveries throughout history. Their minds buzz with ideas from the moment they wake up. Logicians are known for their brilliant theories and unrelenting logic – in fact, they are considered the most logically precise of all the personality types. Under the right conditions, Logician subordinates are innovative, resourceful, and hardworking, easily wrapping their minds around whatever complex problems are placed in front of them and delivering unorthodox but effective solutions.”

So, I struggled with Sasuke cause no personality captured him the way I see him. He is logical and straight face, yes, but he is also a people’s person who is funny and charming in a cute nerdy way. He is definitely resourceful and hardworking as he managed to fully adapt to the Sengoku life in 4 years and become of the best ni-ni-ni ninjas ever. His solutions are definitely unorthodox at times, but strangely entertaining and effective. His mind is always buzzing with new ideas and theories, and let’s be real; he basically invented and discovered time-travel. Some other INTP traits that Sasuke embodies are being quirky, easy-going, open-minded, dislikes small talk, and tries to see both sides of the story  

Potential matches: ENFJ, ENTJ and ESTJ

[ibijau]

hey so who wants the beginning of that Lan Xichen/Nie Huaisang fic that I will never finish because it’s melodramatic and probably way ooc?

Lan Xichen smiled as politely as he could, considering the circumstances.

“I have to say, when I was told I had a visitor, you are the last person I might have expected to see.”

This was answered by a distant, polite smile and another bow from Nie Huaisang.

“I did not expect that I would get to see you, Zewu-Jun,” he admitted. “But I had to try regardless. May I sit?”

Absolutely not, was Lan Xichen’s first instinct, and from this point on, he would insist that no guest be brought to him until he had been given their name. He had had so few visitors these last three years that he had never felt the need for wariness. This had just changed.

Still, since Nie Huaisang was already there, and he was a sect leader, it would have been rude to send him away. Lan Xichen motioned for him to take a seat, which Nie Huaisang did with careful grace.

“Is there anything you wanted to talk about?” Lan Xichen asked, serving the tea that had been brought along with his unwanted guest. “I doubt you still want my advice after everything that happened.”

Nie Huaisang’s smile did not falter as he took the glass of tea offered to him, turning even that simple gesture elegant.

“I have taken it upon myself to visit some of my old…” he hesitated for a brief moment. “Some of my old acquaintances. I came to Cloud Recesses to see Wei Wuxian, but since he’s absent I thought I might try and make the best of my trip by trying to see you.”

“How thoughtful of you. What prompted this, I wonder? Nostalgia?”

The younger man sipped on his tea silently, and put down his glass on the table with barely a faint click as the ceramic touched wood.

“Regrets, if you can believe it.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Lan Xichen replied with a bitterness he could not quite contain. “Please be honest. I think I deserve this, coming from you.”

The distant smile on Nie Huaisang’s smile wavered, but remained. How had Lan Xichen never realised how perfectly in control that boy always was? Even the faint trembling at the corner of his lips might have been faked.

“No, I don’t suppose you would believe me,” Nie Huaisang graciously conceded. “I have earned your distrust. Still, I will say this: I am sorry for what happened. If I could have found another way, I would have. You…" he paused, either unsure of his words. Or pretending to be at least. "You were kind to me, and I would have preferred not to see you hurt." 

Lan Xichen stared at the younger man, wondering how much of this was sincere and how much was an affectation. If he had learned one thing from this disaster, it was that Nie Huaisang was an unprecedented actor who had no time for remorse.

"Clever as you've proven to be, I'm surprised you found no other way to bring justice to your family," Lan Xichen replied. 

"Peace, not justice," Nie Huaisang protested, something shining briefly in his eyes before he could control it. "My brother's soul deserved to be brought to rest. You knew him, Zewu-Jun. Do you think he would have been satisfied with anything less than the death of his enemy? If the killer had been anyone but Lianfang-Zun, wouldn't you have praised me for doing this?" 

Lan Xichen's grip on his glass tightened. Three years had passed, but his mind still struggled to reconcile his private image of Jin Guangyao with what had been revealed to the world. To have it thrown in his face once more was a hard blow.

"Ah, that was uncalled for," Nie Huaisang said, frowning but not so much it would distort his features. Even in acting, there was a vanity to him. "I came here to apologise, but in the end I am only hurting you again. Perhaps I had better leave you alone."

"Perhaps. A question, first. That day, in Guanyin temple. What did you really see?" 

Lan Xichen did not expect an answer to that question, but found Nie Huaisang looking right at him, an air of rare determination on his face. On someone else, it might have passed for a moment of sincerity.

"You answer this first: if he had lived, what would have happened to Lianfang-Zun? Would he have been brought to any sort of justice? Or would he have been allowed to hide in seclusion, never paying for his crimes?” 

He paused, giving Lan Xichen a chance to answer. Faced between the option to lie or to comfort Nie Huaisang in his decision, Lan Xichen chose silence. 

“I did what I had to do, Zewu-Jun. I cannot say I made the right choice… But I doubt I made the wrong one either.”

That was as close to an admission of guilt as Lan Xichen would ever get out of Nie Huaisang. The younger man had manipulated him into killing his oldest friend, there was no longer any doubt possible… not that Lan Xichen had doubted very much in the first place. Jin Guangyao had said he would never have hurt him, and that was something Lan Xichen believed to be true. He had to hold on to something, and he held on to this: Jin Guangyao, whatever else he had been to the rest of the world, had been his friend. He would not have attacked Lan Xichen.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Lan Xichen announced, struggling to remain polite. "It is getting late, and the road is long to Gusu." 

Taking this as the firm dismissal that it was, Nie Huaisang rose up, only for his legs to tremble under him and his face to turn deathly pale. He bent over as if he might fall, prompting Lan Xichen to reach out for him, but regained control of himself just in time. 

"I stood too quickly," he said with a small smile, his tone indicating this wasn't an uncommon occurrence. "Thank you for seeing me today, Zewu-Jun. I won't take any more of your time. I am happy I got to see you again, though I doubt it will happen again. Farewell, brother. I hope someday, your pain will fade." 

"Goodbye," Lan Xichen replied, upset by this fake demonstration of weakness and refusing to partake in whatever dramatic demonstration was going on. He would leave his seclusion someday, and meet Nie Huaisang at discussion conferences if nothing else. No need for a farewell. "Have a safe trip home." 

Perhaps, after Nie Huaisang had gone, Lan Xichen stared at the door, wondering how the sweet, innocent boy who used to care for nothing but fans and pretty birds turned into that man who lied and used others to kill… 

Or perhaps he refused to let his mind wander on such a path, so he wouldn't have to see who might have inspired such a change. 

Nie Huaisang did not leave Cloud Recesses. As he reached the gate, he had met Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who had insisted on having him as a guest. At least, so the servants said in the morning, bringing him both his breakfast and daily news. It was unpleasant to think of that young man still in his home, but he supposed his brother might have felt a debt of gratitude. Lan Xichen decided he would keep to himself that he had tried to send away Nie Huaisang. It might upset Lan Wangji… or it might not, which would be worse. It would have been Wei Wuxian’s idea to keep his old schoolmate around, and Lan Wangji indulged him in everything.

It was not a great surprise when that night, Lan Xichen received a visit from his brother. That Wei Wuxian had tagged along was more surprising, but not as unwelcome as it might have been, once.

The topic of conversation that Wei Wuxian chose was definitely unexpected though. 

“How well versed are you on the topic of curses?” he asked, as casually as he would enquire about the weather. 

“Likely not as well as you, but I will help if I can," Lan Xichen replied, pouring tea for all three of them." Why do you ask?”

Wei Wuxian opened a box of cakes that they had bought on their trip. "I've been questioned about a very odd curse. Never seen it before. Could something very old, could be something brand new… but it’s unusual for sure.”

Wei Wuxian should have looked delighted at the perspective of a mystery to solve, even one that was putting someone in danger. He could be a little careless about such things, although to his credit, he usually tried to avoid letting people suffer unnecessarily even while he was having fun. The seriousness on his face was odd to say the least.

“It is rare for you to be stumped that way,” Lan Xichen commented. “How serious is the curse?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, grabbing a glass of tea for himself and pushing another towards his husband. 

“Hard to say. From what I can tell, something is making that man's meridians close off. He’s already lost most of his spiritual energy, and his golden core will be under attack soon. He has a month or two left, then he'll likely die. He'll get more time if I can find a way to slow it. I’m sure I will. Still, it’s a nasty thing to do to someone.”

Lan Xichen stared. As far as curses went, this one sounded particularly cruel to say the least. Someone must have hated that man a great deal to inflict such a fate on him.

“Does he have suspicions as to the perpetrator?” Lan Xichen asked, suddenly hit by an unpleasant intuition regarding the victim, yet unwilling to ask directly. If Wei Wuxian had given no name, it might have been meant to remain a secret.

“He’s not too sure,” Wei Wuxian replied, something almost wistful to his voice that secured Lan Xichen’s suspicions. “He thinks it’s likely someone from Lanling Jin sect. He had some dealings with Jin Guangyao and there’s always someone to miss the tyrant.”

“Wei Ying,” his husband said, glancing at his brother. Wei Wuxian grimaced.

“Right, right. I just meant that power changes are always bad for someone, and there’s probably a few people out there who wish the truth hadn’t been revealed. Jin Ling is quite determined to set things right in his sect, too, so a few people have lost a lot. No surprise someone would want revenge.”

What went around, came around, Lan Xichen thought. If the cursed man really was Nie Huaisang… With everything that he had done in the name of revenge, he could only blame himself if he suffered the same fate.

But that was perhaps an unkind thought to have. Jin Guangyao too had deserved his death, by that logic. And while he had ruthlessly put countless lives in danger, Nie Huaisang had only caused the death of two men whose actions had been… reprehensible. Some of that had been sheer luck though. Children could have died in Yi City, and a number of cultivators were seriously harmed in the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds. Nie Huaisang had only been lucky that Wei Wuxian had been around to save the day… though since he’d orchestrated his return, perhaps calling it luck was inexact.

Still, there was Mo Xuanyu then, a really innocent victim. A proof that Nie Huaisang was as bad as the man whose death he had provoked… though perhaps still not bad enough to deserve that curse. It sounded like such a cruel thing to do, made worse by the common knowledge that Nie Huaisang’s cultivation had always been somewhat… lacking. He would have had the strength to resist what was happening to him and it would have overcome him very fast. How else to explain he was already so close to the end when he came looking for help?

“Well, we won’t bother you anymore,” Wei Wuxian sighed. “I hoped maybe you’d have an idea what could be happening to him. I guess I’ll just have to do my own research.”

“I imagine such a mystery would pick your interest.”

Wei Wuxian’s face did something weird, something between a smile and a grimace.

“I could have done without that one,” he muttered. “That little idiot is…”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji interrupts softly. 

If Lan Xichen hadn’t been here, he was sure his brother would have reached out to comfort his husband. They avoided showing their love in front of him, though he’d heard they’re quite shameless about it around everyone else. Lan Xichen suspected they had the wrong idea about him and Jin Guangyao, that they were trying to be considerate.

In a kinder world, one that had not so strongly twisted Jin Guangyao’s mind when it came to intimacy… but this was not the world they had lived in. Jin Guangyao would never have allowed anything that could brand him as being too much like his mother, so Lan Xichen never asked. He had long thought that they both wanted, though. Now, after everything, Lan Xichen wasn’t even sure of that. If Jin Guangyao had only used his affection to blind him…

“We’ll come visit again some other time,” Wei Wuxian promised. “Well, I’m sure your brother will.”

After his brother had left with his husband, Lan Xichen attempted to meditate. It had been his main occupation these last three years, and would likely remain until he felt ready to rejoin the world. Soon, probably. It was unfair to leave so many responsibilities on Lan Wangji’s shoulders. Besides, Lan Xichen was coming to the slow realisation that meditation was doing little to assuage the guilt of what had happened at Guanyin temple. A different approach might be worth a try. Drowning himself in work, the way his brother had done to deal with his own loss, was starting to become an attractive option. If nothing else, it might exhaust him enough that the nightmares would no longer matter.

That night, as expected, meditation only served to make him restless. Well past the accepted Lan bedtime, Lan Xichen gave up on finding any peace and decided to go for a walk around Cloud Recesses. He liked seeing his home in the moonlight, quieter than ever, the details drowned in darkness so it was less obvious how new the buildings still looked. He could almost have pretended nothing wrong had ever happened in this beautiful place, that there had been no fire, no death, no pain. It would be a pleasant lie to imagine, but a lie nonetheless.

Lan Xichen decided to leave behind the buildings, and with them the temptation of lying to himself. He had no precise goal in mind, but found himself coming near one of the ponds. To his surprise, there was already someone there. A slender figure sitting in the grass, gazing upon the water.

“I see you have not gone to Gusu after all,” Lan Xichen noted, coming closer.

Nie Huaisang startled at his voice, but did not turn to look at him.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked, his eyes firmly set on the water.

“It is past curfew,” Lan Xichen replied. “But we make exceptions for guests.”

“I meant do you want me to leave Cloud Recesses,” Nie Huaisang clarified. “I imagine it’s unpleasant to know I am here.”

It was, certainly, though at least Lan Xichen’s seclusion meant he had a good excuse to avoid this new guest of theirs. And yet, there they were.

“It might be unwise. Do you not need Wei Wuxian’s treatments?”

“He seems to think so,” Nie Huaisang said lightly, as if it did not concern him what Wei Wuxian might want in this case.

It would have been easy then to leave him alone. A day earlier, Lan Xichen would have continued his walk, or returned home to meditate and try to forget this unpleasant encounter. A day earlier, he hadn’t known that Nie Huaisang was dying and likely looking for his murderer. 

“You came to see me yesterday. Do you suspect me of inflicting this curse upon you?”

At last Nie Huaisang turned around, propping himself on one arm and opening his fan in a vain effort to hide his laughter.

“You? Zewu-Jun, as if you could even want to hurt someone that way!”

“I would have said the same of you, once.”

Nie Huaisang’s laughter died down, but he remained hidden behind his fan.

“But we are different you and I, Zewu-Jun. You are a good man, while I... was never what I should have been. I used to wonder what that must be like.”

“To be good?” Lan Xichen asked, fighting the urge to point how he wasn’t. He’d let people suffer around him. He had blood on his hand, long before Guanyin temple. Everyone who took part in the Sunshot Campaign did, but as a commander Lan Xichen had to bear the weight of losing the men who served under his orders as well as those he killed himself.

“To be able to trust,” Nie Huaisang corrected, raising the fan until only his eyes showed. “I’m not very skilled at that, I must say. It comes slowly to me, and in the end the one I’ve trusted the most was… unworthy of it.”

Lan Xichen thought of the way Jin Guangyao, after being accepted at Carp Tower, never saw Nie Huaisang without bringing him a present of some sort, how he took a keen interest in what the boy loved, how he tried more than once to convince Nie Mingjue to accept that his little brother would never be as fierce as him. At the time, Lan Xichen had taken it as a mark of kindness or pity for a boy who cowered in the shadow of a great man, and knew Nie Huaisang might have felt the same.

But perhaps none of those gestures had ever been about Nie Huaisang. What surer way could there be of angering Nie Mingjue than to encourage everything he despised in his brother? Even if it had been genuine at the time, the memories would be tainted by doubt. Just as Lan Xichen’s were.

“I am sorry for being so chatty,” Nie Huaisang sighed, closing his fan and playing with it. “I’ll be returning to my room shortly.”

“I can walk you there,” Lan Xichen offered, out of habit. Cloud Recesses was an easy place to get lost in, especially in the dark.

The offer made Nie Huaisang tense so violently that it had to be genuine. No one could be that good of an actor… or could they? 

“Please don’t take that pain,” Nie Huaisang said quietly. “I was thinking of sitting here a little longer.”

He sounded perfectly calm, but the hand holding his fan couldn’t contain a small tremor.

Lan Xichen thought back of their conversation the day before, the way Nie Huaisang had nearly collapsed at the end and treated it as something perfectly normal. The curse was attacking his meridians, Wei Wuxian had said, and had nearly blocked off all of them. If that was true (and Wei Wuxian would have checked so it had to be) then it was already nothing short of a miracle that Nie Huaisang had made it from the Unclean Realm to Cloud Recesses. 

Lan Xichen, in spite of himself, found that he pitied that young man sitting in the grass. Nobody deserved that sort of death.

“If you cannot get up on your own, I’ll help,” Lan Xichen offered, holding out his hand.

Nie Huaisang did not take it.

“I would have thought you’d had enough of helping me by now,” he retorted, sounding almost like the boy who kept running to Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao for advice. “You don’t have to force yourself, Zewu-Jun. I’ll manage.”

Lan Xichen ignored his protest and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to his feet with more easy than he’d have expected. Nie Huaisang, always slender, weighed nothing. That was for the best, because his trembling legs could not support him and he fell against Lan Xichen’s chest, clinging to his robe with what little strength he had.

“You didn’t need to do that!” he complained, the words muffled against the fabric. “I could do it on my own, I just need to do it… a little slower than that.”

To prove his point, Nie Huaisang tried to push himself away from Lan Xichen, only to lose his balance. He would have collapsed if the older man hadn’t grabbed his arm and pulled him back against him.

“Perhaps you should not wander alone if the curse affects you so much,” Lan Xichen scolded him, falling easily into old habits. They had sometimes had to hold Nie Huaisang in that manner, right after his brother’s death, when he was still half a boy and didn’t know how to handle his new responsibilities. Or had he already guessed at the truth, was he already playing with their emotions a decade earlier?

“I really am fine!” Nie Huaisang protested. “If I don’t move too quickly, it’s… it’s not that big of a deal. And if I fall somewhere… does it really matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have no regrets, my sect will be taken care of,” Nie Huaisang said, his voice hollow. “My brother’s head disciple will finally have the title that he deserves and we’ve started taking steps to see if he can be spared from Qi deviation. I have no family left to cry for me. No friends I haven’t alienated when I used them as pawns. And I knew that my life would be short. It always is for leaders of the Nie sect. I could avoid my sabre, but fate caught up anyway.”

“Are you really satisfied with that?”

“No," Nie Huaisang retorted hotly, his mask dropping for a second to reveal an expression that wouldn't have been out of place on his brother's face. He soon regained his composure, smiling almost as sweetly as before. "Nobody wants to die, and I’m not different. But if it must happen, I need to make my peace with it. I cannot risk…”

He shuddered in Lan Xichen’s arms, another reaction that felt genuine.

“Your brother’s fate was exceptional,” Lan Xichen remarked. “You would not return in the manner he did. You might not die at all,” he added after some hesitation. “Wei Wuxian sounded confident that he could lift the curse.”

“Wei Wuxian thinks he can solve everything if he just tries hard enough,” Nie Huaisang muttered. “Maybe he could have, if I came earlier.”

“How long have you known you were cursed?”

“Long enough,” Nie Huaisang replied. “I thought I had more time, but being an inadequate cultivator has always been my weakness.”

(and that’s all I got. Of course they’d figure a way of saving him and lxc while still angry would realise he doesn’t want nhs to die. Probably there’d be a lot of discussion of how jgy influenced both of them)

[randomfandomimagine]

Soul of a Warrior. Chapter 17: Revenge

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship: Jaskier x Nissa (OC)

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AO3

Please reblog and leave a comment, it would make my day!

A/N: Since there’s only two more chapters left after this one and some people seem to be losing interest in the series anyway, I want to finish posting it. Next week (probably on Wednesday and Thursday) I will post chapters 18 and 19 and that will be all. Thanks so much to everyone who’s still keeping up with Soul of a Warrior, it means a lot to me 💕

I am fuming mad when my back is roughly pressed against Geralt’s chest yet again. My elbow pushes against the blunt end of his sword, but he does not budge. I grunt, in vain trying to control my fury and the way it makes me breathe heavily. Although I feel mildly confident in my sword wielding skills after many months of training on my own, sparring with someone else is certainly something very different. Especially if that someone else is a witcher. And if that witcher is Geralt of Rivia.

“Control your anger” He says in my ear. “Or it will get you killed”

My hands start hurting from how tightly I'm holding on to my sword. If I keep clenching my jaw, I feel like I will chip a tooth. Taking a deep breath, I relax my shoulders. Geralt approvingly hums behind me. His arms drop the hold on me and I can finally move freely. I turn to be facing him again and nod my head at him to let him know I am ready to continue. Not one second after, and before I can even lift my weapon, he retaliates. I yelp and plant my feet, swinging my sword as fast as I can. Geralt’s blade is faster, however, and it forces me to retreat.

Jaskier loudly sighs, reminding me of his presence. He hasn’t opened his mouth ever since we woke up. At first I thought it was out of pure bliss after what happened last night, yet now I’m not so sure anymore. He didn’t oppose nor comment on our decision to warm up and spar knowing we will pursue them soon as we're done with this. As I glance his way, I catch a glimpse of what seems to be a very bored bard. I frown at the sight, nearly forgetting what I am doing. A stark reminder, the witcher’s sword clashes with mine while I mindlessly hold it up. The blow is just strong enough to throw me tumbling to the ground.

To put an end to Geralt’s aggressive training session, I hold my hand up to ask him for a break. When I lock eyes with the witcher, he nods his head. A strong arm comes in my field of vision, and I hold on to it to be pulled to my feet. When I am up again, Geralt returns by the horses to save his blade. Absently dusting my clothes, I turn to Jaskier. He isn’t even watching us anymore. His blue eyes are pensive as he stares at the horizon.

“Jas?” At the sound of my voice, he blinks back to reality. “What’s the matter”

He sighs, frantically looking from Geralt and back to me. After realizing he has been slouching, Jaskier sits up straight. It takes him a bit to pipe up still.

“I don’t think you should do this” Is his response after all. “Go and kill those men?”

“Heavy conscience?” Geralt shakes his head. The witcher’s mind is made up, as is mine.

“Y-Yeah, what…?” I am baffled by this sudden demeanor of his. “Jaskier, since when do you care what happens to those bastards?”

“Don’t get me wrong, that bastard deserves whatever may be coming to him” He pauses long enough to make me worry about what he might follow with. “Whether he killed Kader or not, he is a poor excuse of a man, but…”

“But..?”

“In any case, I don’t care about them. I care about you…” Jaskier pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Need I remind you what happened during your previous encounters with Jovan?”

I grit my teeth at the reminder. That was a low blow. Of course I haven’t forgotten, all our interactions have been problematic to say the least. My hand absently rests over my stomach, there were a nasty scar will adorn my skin for the rest of my life. He didn’t hesitate to hurt me. The fury I felt then seems more than justified. At the same time, the terror that overwhelmed me at the banquet when our eyes locked is just as strong.

I can honestly say I have no idea how I will react when I see him once again. Aside from our personal interactions, I hold nothing but contempt for him and his friends. They are intent on killing Geralt, and they nearly did once. They also gravely hurt Jaskier, and I had never been so scared as then. I will not forgive them.

“I cannot let fear paralyze me” I conclude, determined on my decision in spite of it all.

“You’re no killer, love…” Jaskier’s eyes are laced with an emotion I can’t quite identify. “Are you really going to do it?”

“Yes!” I exclaim in frustration. Why can’t he understand? I thought he would as he always does. I need to do this, otherwise I will never find peace. “Why is it okay for Geralt to do it but not me?”

“It isn’t!” Jaskier throws his arms up in the air as he stands. “I don’t want you two getting killed!”

“We won’t be. Both Geralt and I know what we are doing”

“He might, but do you?”

“What does that mean?!”

“You are not ready for-“

“And now you doubt me, Jaskier?” I scream in outrage. He doesn’t believe I am strong or capable enough to stand my own in a fight. Although I need his support, he refuses to provide me with it. We are always on the same page, why not now? 

“I-It’s not that, Nissa! You’re not acting like yourself, you’re not like that!”

“Perhaps I’ve changed during our time apart”

“Well, have you turned bitter?”

“Maybe”

“Alright, and since when are you a bad person?”

I click my tongue in hurt and exasperation. Why does he fight me on this?

“You don’t understand…” Even knowing about Kader, being aware of my past and having signs that Jovan is the culprit, and all he has done to us... even then, he argues with me.

“You’re right, I don’t” He vehemently shakes his head at me. “I don’t understand-”

“Then get off my business, Jaskier!” I find myself shouting, even as tears reach my eyes.

He averts his gaze and clenches his fists in a gesture very much unlike him. A wave of hurt crosses his features. I part my lips to ask what the hell he is thinking, though he speaks on his own.

“You are being too obstinate” He still takes several more seconds to even glance in my direction. When he does, however, he is more intense than I have ever seen him. “Can’t you see that hatred is blinding you? You are clearly overreacting!”

“Oh, am I? For wanting to kill the man that has been terrorizing us for months?”

“Yes, for wanting to kill! You want to kill someone, Nissa... can’t you see how insane and absurd that is?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re soft, you’re-“

“Because I’m a defenseless delicate flower” He frowns and opens his mouth, though I interrupt him before he can retort back. “Fuck off!”

“Nissa…” Geralt intervenes, but I only glare at him. He rolls his eyes yet grows silent again.

“You just can’t do it! Can’t you see?!” Jaskier yells. His brow is deeply furrowed. “I won’t let you! You-”

“I don’t need your permission” Establishing the end of the conversation, I take a step forward, leaving him there midsentence. “I am done with you”

“Nissa, that is not-” He holds me back by my arm. I tug at him, even if his hand is firm against my bicep. We glare at each other.

“Jaskier…” Our eyes lock, and he hesitates at the storm in mine. “Let go of me”

“Fine, you obstinate woman” He lets go of me and takes a step back. “Do as you please!”

“I will!” I conclude, continuing to move forward. I look at him over my shoulder to track his movement. Instead of staying there and sulking like I expected him to, or even to retaliate once more, he only turns around and storms off. Geralt sighs by my side, easily catching up to me. We leave that place behind, and Jaskier with it.

_

The more I distance myself from that moment, the more I regret my exchange with Jaskier. The bracelet burns in my wrist. No matter, I will deal with that later. If there is a later... A nasty feeling arrives to the pit of my stomach, though I try to ignore it. I can’t back down now, even if his words still linger. No, forget about it for now. Focus. Remember what Geralt taught you. Remain calm. Don’t get distracted. Avoid being blinded by anger. Do not be reckless. Stay close to him. It will be over soon, once and for all.

My fingers are tingling, and a feeling of anticipation has settled in my gut. My thoughts wander. All the possible scenarios of how it will play out haunt me. I ignore all pessimistic thoughts and stare at Geralt. When he stops walking, I do too. Geralt’s posture hints at a lecture much like Jaskier’s. I sigh in resignation, though when they come, the witcher’s words aren’t what I expected.

“Are you ready?” He asks me instead of ensuring I am alright with this.

“As I’ll ever be” I fidget my fingers and get a better hold out of my sword.

Geralt nods his head and carries on walking. We are already at the outskirts, and their den should be visible soon. The void in my stomach grows with every step.

“You seek revenge” The witcher continues. “What comes after?”

I peer at him, though he doesn’t reciprocate. Geralt only walks with confidence, calmly wielding his sword as though we are not about to start the fight of our lives. Of my life, at least, as perhaps this might just be one of the many encounters the witcher had in all his years.

“Peace” I simply reply, foreseeing the effect their deaths will have on me. Catharsis. Without Jovan and his gang chasing after us, we will stop feeling that dread. That haste of being attacked any second, perhaps even killed. That overwhelming worry for each other.

“Hm” Geralt finally looks at me, and despite the amusement in his hum, his eyes seem to hold no emotion. “Tell me about it when it’s over”

I frown when I understand what he’s implying. The witcher looks me up and down and I realize I have halted when he goes ahead of me. Jaskier’s words keep echoing in my head. I am no killer… No, I have to do this. It isn’t only about fighting off those men once and for all. One of them is guilty for more crimes. One of those bastards killed Kader. And they must pay.

Geralt suddenly takes me by the arm and harshly tugs at me. This gesture makes me aware of where we stand. A rundown shack is ahead. Before it, lazily sitting around a campfire is a group of seven men. Their conjoined voices and disgusting laughter brings me back to a previous lifetime in the tavern of Vizima. They are not the same people, but their similarities could deceive anyone into believing so. Different men, same sins.

“It’s them!” One of the men stands, soon after followed by his companions.

I acquire a ready stance as they come to us. The witcher’s hand doesn’t let off until the very last second. He unhands me when they attack, giving me room to move. I immediately feint and swing my sword at the closest one. I shudder when I feel the blade sinking in flesh. Despite all my training, I don’t think I will ever get used to that unpleasant sensation. Not dwelling on it, I turn and move on to the next one. The sound of steel blades meeting one another is loud next to me, reminding me of Geralt’s own struggle. My heart skips a beat. Despite the instinctive movement of my arms and legs, my mind wanders as I fight. My eyes frantically sweep the area, looking for a scarred face. To find none.

“Focus!” The witcher exclaims, watching me with the corner of his eye.

I twiddle the sword in my hand and oblige, thrusting it towards another one. He stops the blow with his weapon, but I kick him in the knee. When he bends over in pain, I take a step forward. As I do, he swings his sword at me. My reflexes are fast enough to allow me to dodge it. Throwing myself forward immediately after, I rest my blade against his throat.

“Where’s Jovan?” I demand to know, allowing the edge to graze his skin. Neither my aggressive tone nor my sharp weapon seems to threaten him. He smirks.

“Like you, he was considerate enough to pay you a visit” When I frown in confusion, he only sniggers. “It seems he was quicker, though”

To go along with the halting of my heart once more, I just then hear Geralt’s sword cut through flesh. The thud that echoes after mirrors the thumping of my heartbeat as it carries on. Realization hits.

“Jaskier…” I step back, moved by an unknown force within me.

The mercenary is about to attack me during my daze. Fortunately, Geralt is ready to retaliate before I can react to the imminent attack. Firstly kicking him in the chest, he pushes the man off me. Then I gasp when blood splashes me in the face as the blade mercilessly cuts through him.

Not blaming me for my distraction, Geralt stares at me for a brief moment. Not one second after, he is running away. I do not hesitate as I follow despite my shaky knees.

Jaskier… No… Let him be okay, please. Please. I can’t bear the possibility of losing him. Not again. And after our argument… Oh, God, I need to get to him. Quickly .

_

My mind is fuzzy with frantic thoughts. The pulse throbs in my temples. I can barely hear my own panting with the accelerated hammering of my heart. I don’t need to, however, when we stop before the inn. The crackling of flames is loud enough to deafen me, to literally paralyze me as I freeze before it. A strangled whimper escapes my throat. I cling on to Geralt’s arm in panic when we stop before the burning building. Smoke filters through the windows. The sight is painfully familiar and brings emptiness to the pit of my stomach.

“JASKIER!” I put my hands around my mouth and shout at the top of my lungs.

A pause follows as I wait to see if I was heard. There is no movement, only fire. It has returned to destroy my entire world again. I don’t think I’m strong enough to take it. Not again. I need to do something. Geralt seems to realize my train of thought, however, as he holds me in place with a strong hand. We exchange a glance. The sound of the fire crackling fills the silence during our brief pause. The witcher clenches his jaw. If he is going in, so am I. Indeed, I am about to lunge forward again when the door bolts open, revealing a figure stumbling out.

“Jaskier” I breathe out in relief, squeezing Geralt’s arm tighter as it falls before me to hinder my advance. “Oh, Jaskier, thank the Gods…”

“Fuck…” The bard starts to say, but is interrupted by a coughing fit. “Geralt... Ni-Nissa…”

He’s pointing a thumb over his shoulder as he nervously staggers forward. I try to reach out to help him, but Geralt still doesn’t let me walk toward him.

“Get back, Jaskier” The witcher orders, urgently gesturing for him to get behind us. Jaskier nods, covering his mouth with his hand as he continues to cough.

I’m just happy that he managed to get out of that hell on his own. I hear his coughing still as he stands behind us as asked. His hand falls on my shoulder, and I rest mine over it in solace. The blood freezes in my veins, however, when a scream coming from inside the inn reaches us. Instinct takes over me, throwing any rationality out of the window. I push Geralt away and run forward to help them.

“No!” He catches me before I can reach the entrance. “You can’t help!”

“What do you mean I can’t help?” I debate between his strong arms even if I know it’s inane. “There’s still people in there, we have to-“

I yelp when the flames cause the wooden roof to collapse. Just the same way, I feel myself crumbling on the inside as I completely still. The arms around me support me when I falter as I feel the shift in the atmosphere. I start trembling. There is now nothing but emptiness where once was life. It has extinguished, unlike the flames that defiantly grow to devour the remains of the building.

This was all our fault… I could have done something to stop it, yet… it was not in my power, was it? Why am I always so helpless? Why can’t I help anyone? Even with my magic…

“There’s nothing you could have done” Geralt tugs at me, trying to get me to look at him. “It was too late”

“No, with magic…”   

“You are a healer, not a sorceress”

An overwhelming restlessness takes over me and I don’t know what to do. I need to shake away that feeling. I throw myself to Geralt, needing some sort of comfort before I completely break down. His strong chest heaves under my cheek when he sighs and his arms wrap around me.

Geralt spoke these wise words once: we can’t save everyone. The lesson was easier said than learned. Nonetheless, even with the void within me, I repeat those words in my head like a mantra. We can't save everyone, we just can't. We only help how we can. Sometimes it is not possible to help at all. It is a poor solace.

In a surprisingly tender way, Geralt’s hand falls over the back of my head as he allows me to linger for as long as I need to. I hear his heart with such proximity. It’s racing slightly, but other than that he appears rather calm. Perhaps he is used or resigned to such catastrophes.

The warm embrace slowly melts my restlessness away. The grief remains in my heart, but I know what he said was true. It was too late for me to do anything. We can’t save everyone... I reluctantly break away and look up into his eyes. They seem to hold more emotion than ever as he silently yet reassuringly nods at me.

“I-I’m alright now” I take a deep breath to further calm myself and turn around to our friend. “And you, Jas-?”

Instead of standing behind us, he is limply lying down on the ground, unconscious. I repeatedly tap Geralt’s arm seeing that I can’t find any words to voice out my call for help.

“Jaskier!” Geralt exclaims as he runs to his aid. Just when my heart had stopped racing…

I can’t move. The image before me is far too harrowing to allow me to think. I can’t take it.

Geralt looks from him to me. Before the words come out, I can tell what’s he’s going to say from the way he sternly presses his lips together. Jaskier inhaled too much smoke.

“He's not breathing” Geralt’s words sound like a death sentence. Grave. Concerned. Frightened.

My body advances in a daze as my legs move slowly. I feel out of myself as I join them.

No… No, no, no. I fall on my knees next to him. No... please, no. I lean my head close to his mouth, but I can’t hear nor feel him breathing. His chest isn’t moving either. No, Jaskier... I rest my ear against it, noticing there is a heartbeat though its rhythm is strange.

“Jaskier?” I shout, frantically shaking his shoulder. There is no response. “Jaskier!”

“Nissa…” Geralt mumbles next to me. I had never heard him sound so helpless before.

“Stupid bard…” My fingers are shaking so much that I can barely settle them on his chin and forehead to tilt his head up and facilitate his air intake. “S-Stupid idiot bard!”

I pinch his nose and lean forward. My lips to his mouth try to send some air to his lungs. He tastes like smoke.

Jaskier… you can’t leave me, not you too. Don’t scare me in such a way again. I have experienced enough loss, I cannot lose you…not when we finally were on the same page. Not when you reciprocate. You can’t die!

When I break away, I take a big breath even if the air around us is mildly contaminated with more ashes and smoke. Fortunately, Geralt knows what to do. He doesn’t waste a second to interlock his hands and begin chest compressions on Jaskier. The way he limply moves under him is harrowing. I wait for Geralt to stop before I carry on. Each second is an eternal torture. As soon as he leans back, I move forward. My lips return to Jaskier’s as I mentally pray for him to come back to me.

Stupid bard, don’t leave me. Destiny brought us together, and now that I found you I can’t lose you! What will I do without you? I could not bear it if you died. I might as well perish too. W-What about true love? We said it was a nice thought, and it was. It still is… Wake up!

My eyes start burning with unshed tears of rage and helplessness when I lean back. I can’t breathe properly, how am I supposed to give him oxygen when I lack it?

Geralt pushes his hands against Jaskier’s chest once more. He is too still again, limply moving with the witcher’s strong motions. The sound of the fire crackling behind me makes me want to weep like a baby. Geralt stares at me, and I try it a third time.

Breathe, Jaskier, breathe… Open your eyes, damn it! Call me Nis again. I need to hear you say my name so beautifully, enjoy the way you call me love so tenderly. I miss your voice already. Say anything to me. Tease me as much as you’d like, call me my lady or delicate flower or whatever exasperating thing you want, but wake up! Please… please.

I cradle his face with my hands as I breathe into him, mentally begging for him to respond. My vision turns blurry and I am very light-headed. It might be because of the heavy breathing, yet I feel at the brink of collapsing.

Thanks the heavens, my prayers are answered when I feel him moving under me. I immediately pull away and give him some space, just in time for him to violently sit up and cough. Geralt and I exchange a glance of relief and the smallest of smiles. My shoulders drop. A sob climbs up my throat and lingers there, creating a lump as it does. He's alive.

When Jaskier recovers from the coughing, he lies down in exhaustion. He’s breathing heavily, but he’s breathing. He groans, he winces, but he’s alive. His eyes fall over me, and something stirs inside me.

“Oh, Jaskier…” I throw my arms around his neck, clinging to him. I never want to let go.

Putting an arm around me, he carefully sits up again. I hold him tighter, not wanting him to push me away. He doesn’t. Maybe he can feel me shaking, hear me sobbing, even if I’m too overwhelmed to actually cry. My eyes are dry, though my chest feels heavy.

“I’m sorry, Jas…” I can’t seem to be able to speak coherently. “I’m so sorry, I-I… Oh, p-please forgive… forgive me, I…”

“Me too” He manages, coughing still. “Nissa, I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t you ever… You…” I choke out, too terrified still to form any coherent words.

“I’m okay…” He says even through more coughing and a hoarse voice. “I’m okay, Nissa…”

“Sh, don’t speak…” My voice is broken with sobs. “Rest your… your voice… rest…”

“I’m still here” Jaskier whispers, ignoring my petition. “You won’t lose me, love, I’m here”

His words trigger a sudden torrent of tears, accompanied by a sob so loud that it hurts my throat. Relief overwhelms me with his confirmation. I fear I am hurting him in his weak state from how tightly I am holding him. Yet I can’t stop myself, I need to feel him as close as I possibly can. Warm, breathing and alive. Closer, I need him closer.

Jaskier moves with an outer force, and I can tell that’s Geralt energetically patting his shoulder. I don’t care about the witcher at the moment. I truly can’t care about anything else, only the fact that Jaskier is still alive. That he’s holding me in his arms and whispering in my ear. He’s alright, as he says, he’s still here. He’s okay. Thanks the gods, he’s alive.

Tag list: @x-joie-x​ / @x-jodi-x​ / @dancingwith-thesunflowers​ / @golden-guide​ / @alwayshave-faith​ / @this-is-whump-dammit​ / @legallyblindgamer727​ / @lilyevans1​ / @kingniazx​ / @molethemollie / @a-somehow-functioning-dumbass // Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list to be notified when I post next chapter!!

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 15/?, Words: 83.004

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

---

The information about Thor Odinson appears to be accurate. He has a spotless record, was recommended by several less shady sources and, at least on paper, sounds like a good guy.

Pepper arranges an interview with him in one of the conference rooms in the tower, so Tony does not have to venture out on the streets nor invite a stranger into his home. Also, JARVIS will be able to monitor them at all times.

Still, Tony does not feel good about it. Current events, the new direction of the company as well as the disappearance of its CFO, mean that Tony has to be visible in the coming weeks. He is Stark Industries’ figurehead. If he does not want to completely destroy it, he will have to stand up, hold some speeches, give interviews, make his board of directors believe in him. It is all so blissfully removed from his personal grievances and the possibility of someone still trying to kill him that Tony dives almost eagerly into the task. He just cannot step out of the tower without protection.

The conference room has glass walls, so Tony can see his guest before he has to enter. He thought that would be a good idea to assess the man, but he did not think that Odinson would sit with his back to him. All Tony can see are broad shoulders and blond hair.

Tony’s steps falter. Tall and muscular and blonde. Odinson has been vetted and JARVIS has checked him the very moment he stepped into the tower. Still, Tony expects him to turn around and reveal himself to be Steve.

With the way his brain short-circuits, it would make sense. Steve is constantly going on about protecting Tony. He has recommended Odinson. He could have fooled them, could have slipped in without them noticing, without JARVIS –

The man turns his head, looking at the door, which reveals his profile and that his hair is hanging past his shoulders. This is not Steve.

When air rushes back into Tony’s lungs, it appears ridiculously obvious. Apart from the impressive shoulder line and the hair colour, Odinson looks nothing like Steve. Tony’s brain has just played a prank on him. As he begins walking again, he decides to ignore the faint trace of regret echoing inside him that he is sure originates from the soul bond. This is not about Steve and any possible relationship with him but about Tony’s safety.

Plastering a smile on his face to mask his nerves, Tony goes into the conference room. Odinson notices him immediately and gets to his feet. He is taller than Steve, too, but Tony does not feel intimidated. The man has a kind face and smiles at Tony with a brightness that just screams innocence.

“Mr. Odinson,” Tony greets as he comes closer.

“Mr. Stark.” Odinson shakes the hand Tony offers him, his grip firm but not crushing. “Call me Thor.”

Tony is aware that he is looking for signs of something – and that a simple smile and handshake will not help him decide on the nature of anyone. He of all people should know that, practised as he is in navigating the intricate dances of high society. It makes him feel infinitely safer, however, to cling to appearances no matter that they have failed him so spectacularly before.

“Tony, then,” he offers right back. “Do you need more coffee?”

While coffee intake is not an appropriate tool to measure a stranger’s character either, it puts Tony at ease to share something this simple with Thor. It also gives him the opportunity to stall for another minute while he picks up the coffee pot and fills their cups.

When they are both seated, Tony wonders how to start. He has never actually interviewed anyone in terms of security. They have reviewed all the information available about Thor Odinson. His records, his documented abilities. Apart from a demonstration, Tony is not sure how he should verify that Thor is capable of what he claims to be, much less whether he will turn out to be someone who sells Tony out at the first opportunity.

There is only one question that Tony is really interested in getting an answer to.  

“What do you know about the Avengers?”

That takes Thor by surprise and he does not try to hide it. He sits up a bit straighter, cocks his head to the side, and looks at Tony with a bit more interest than before. He does know something, that much is obvious from the way he hesitates

“I’m sure neither of us should know anything about them,” Thor answers in a measured tone with no trace of judgement. He does sound slightly curious as to what Tony knows and why he brought it up.

“So Steve lied and you are affiliated with them,” Tony sighs, almost disappointed that he will have to send Thor away again. Someone of that stature would have been helpful in keeping people at bay, even if he did nothing but stand glowering in Tony’s back.

It feels like a punch in the gut, knowing that Steve lied to him again.

“I am not,” Thor says firmly before Tony can wallow in his disappointment or end the interview prematurely. “We ran in to each other several times during our time in the military and later during jobs. While they are interested in bringing the guilty to justice, I merely keep people safe.”

All this talk about justice and doing the right thing, Tony is tired of it. This is not the right place or the right person to discuss the Avengers’ policies. He should talk to Thor about what kind of duties he would have, how high the danger level is. These kinds of things.

Instead, Tony keeps his eyes fixed on Thor’s face to not miss any reaction, and says, “You sound like you don’t approve.”

Tony so desperately wants an ally instead of another problem that he is willing to talk about this with a stranger.

Thor watches him right back. Behind his impressive physique sit two very intelligent eyes that tell he is not the type to hit all his issues until they go away.

“It’s not that easy,” Thor answers, sounding pensive instead of protesting. “In our world, guilt and innocence have a lot to do with how much money someone has or what colour their skin is.” He hesitates shortly and a brief smile tugs at his lips before he continues. “My brother is a lawyer. People are willing to pay a lot for their freedom. Our justice system is flawed but that does not mean it should be disregarded completely.”

That is the kind of smooth answer that leaves Tony wondering what Thor really thinks about the Avengers. Recognizing that the justice system is flawed does not equal being all right with vigilantes wreaking havoc in their midst.

Tony decides to just jump right in. He does not have anything to lose from asking pointed questions, other than to have to look for a new potential bodyguard. “Why not do something against them then?”

Thor cocks his head to the side, studying Tony with an intensity that has Tony wishing he had some sunglasses nearby. Pepper always tells him that his eyes betray him.

“They mean good,” Thor says slowly as if testing the waters. “They do their research. They –”

“Or not.” It is stupid, but Tony is disappointed by this man he has known for all of five minutes. “They listen to the first angry voice whispering false information in their ear and act on it with fists. All in the name of justice.”

The interview is over. Tony has had too many discussions like this with Steve or himself, about good and bad. He does not want to hear about people making mistakes and that Tony was a woeful exception to the rule.

“Humans are not creatures of reason,” Thor says, then raises a hand in front of himself when Tony makes to get up. He looks apologetic. “Ah, don’t think I am defending them when I don’t know how they have wronged you. What I mean is, I know Steve and he is driven to do good. We just don’t always end up doing good, no matter our intentions.”

That is not an excuse, Tony wants to yell. Then again, he is not looking for excuses. He already knows the Avengers’ reasons, even knows about Steve’s regrets. What he is really looking for, he supposes is absolution for himself because he keeps going back to Steve despite knowing better. He does not want them to be evil.

“So that’s it?” Tony snaps and does not know who he is irritated at the most here. “I should just forget what happened and forgive them?”

He wonders what he is doing here, unloading on a stranger, spilling his fears and secrets and actually hoping for answers. How far he has fallen. To give Thor credit, he does not look too spooked. Curious, certainly, but not like he is going to have Tony admitted the minute he gets up from the table.

“Nobody should dictate you what to do,” Thor then answers. It sounds practiced in a way but no less honest for it. Just as if he has been repeatedly telling this same thing to someone else already. “If you are hurt then it is your prerogative to withdraw.”

That might be what does it, Thor saying that, since Tony is hurt, it does not matter which intention the Avengers had or have now. He can just leave but does not have to. It is up to him, not what others tell him to do.

Tony leans back in his chair and it is mostly a sign that he is willing to continue the interview than an attempt to get more comfortable. He is too tense for that. Talking about Steve is always difficult. Waiting for Obadiah to jump out of the shadows does not actually help with keeping himself calm.

“My godfather is selling weapons on the black market,” Tony announces without warning. He does not believe in easing into things like this. There are no explanations that can make this topic easier. “He knows that I know and he has tried to kill me twice. He has vanished somewhere, but I’m sure he will try again.”

Across from him, Thor’s jovial expression has frozen somewhat, but his attention still rests solely on Tony. He nods once to show he has understood and does not make a move to interrupt.

“If you take the job, I need you to keep me safe from whatever goons my godfather hires next, and -” Here, Tony hesitates, wondering whether he can simply admit his fears. “And from the Avengers.” He does not think they will come after him, but he is not going to take any chances with that.  

“Of course,” Thor says as if it is as simple as that. “You point, I shield.”

An earnest nonchalance clings to Thor that does wonders to put Tony at ease. And the way he appears so utterly comfortable in his own skin separates him from Steve, who always appears driven, needing to take one more step, one more fight.

Usually, Tony trusts his gut instinct. That is what made him trust Rhodey at MIT and hire Pepper. Where Steve and the Avengers are concerned, the soul bond has made things difficult because he is not quite sure what exactly he feels. Now, however, he thinks Thor is a catch, no matter who recommended him.

Smiling, Tony says, “All right, you’re hired. Care to start right now?”

Thor is visibly startled, and the curiosity in his eyes becomes more intense when he looks at Tony. “As far as job interviews go, this one was rather unusual,” he says, slowly as if testing the water. “You did not ask me a single question about my abilities.”

“I did my research.” Tony shrugs. Facts are easy to check. Morality, on the other hand, is more difficult. Trying to lighten the mood a bit, Tony adds, “And incompetent people don’t look like you do.”

Tony does not exactly mean Thor’s physique, although he is nice to look at, but the calm he radiates, the simple determination.

Thor takes it with good humour, smiling in a way that makes him appear even safer. “Do you mind if I quote that in my resume?”

They shake hands before Tony calls Pepper in who will do a much better job of discussing schedules with Thor. Tony does not necessarily need anyone following him around in the tower, but he will have to get out in public far more often than he is comfortable with just to do some damage control where the company is concerned. There is nothing more counterproductive to appearing calm and competent in an interview about Stark Industries’ future if Obadiah keeps creeping up in the back of his mind, making him wonder when he will be stabbed in the back next.  

Much to his own surprise, Tony feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He has never fancied the idea of a bodyguard, loving his independence too much and being too prone to get into stupid situations, and perhaps too stubborn to let anybody help.

This could be all right, though. It is only temporary. And it will keep his friends off his back, will allow him to leave Happy at home, who would otherwise never agree to let Tony go anywhere unsupervised.  

On the way back up to the penthouse, Tony takes out his phone and sends a text to Steve.

Got myself a bodyguard so you can call your goons back home.

He is not sure why he does it, especially since he does not think that Steve will really stop looking out for him. It is another olive branch, proof that he listened to Steve’s concerns. Few people are in his corner, and he feels like he needs to keep them close.

His phone chimes when Steve’s answer comes in. I only want you to be safe.

That is what Tony thought. It does not matter. With some luck, Natasha’s services will not be needed again. People are looking for Obadiah, so he will not be able to hide forever.

Tony’s task now is to get his life back on track, to make something worthwhile of this mess. Perhaps he should invite Bruce over to pick his brain a bit. Tony is tempted to try to miniaturize the arc reactor again. Having another brilliant mind on board would surely help. Bruce has also seen him at a very low point in his life, so Tony feels like he does not have to pretend so much with him. He needs a break, he knows that. Since he cannot afford to just shut everything out for a while, he needs to do the next best thing and gather his allies close.

In the end, he puts the phone away. Bruce is not his friend, and right now, Bruce’s loyalty still lies with the Avengers. Once Tony does not have anything to fear from them anymore, when Obadiah is behind bars and the company is under Tony’s control again, he might invite Bruce over, offer them a platform to interact with each other that has nothing to do with their history but with what they can do with the future.

For now, he has to put his mind on putting the pieces of Stark Industries back together. There is no time for experiments. The arc reactor is a dream, but Tony needs facts. He has to sell his board of directors on the public on something more substantial than the possibility of green energy in the far future.

Tony is smart, though. If he can get his mind to stay off Obadiah and Steve for long enough, he will figure something out.

---

It is never quiet anymore in the tower. Just a few days have passed since they have opened their doors to the police, but it already feels like Tony’s territory has been taken from him. Even when he does not see any officers or tech specialists, he is met with wide-eyed or questioning or angry glances from his own employees. And that is ignoring the board, which has more or less loudly wondered about Tony’s state of sanity for throwing out on of their own like that.

Perhaps Tony simply feels strange because he is usually more invisible than this, perpetually locked inside his workshop instead of being out and about in the tower, actually meeting with people himself and being on time for it. It is not as bad as he always made it out to be, mostly because it helps to take his mind of the personal issues following this crisis and because he is far too restless to allow himself to fall into an actual working binge in the workshop. He needs to build, but he cannot deal with the rather vulnerable mental state he is in when he stumbles tired and hungry to his bed after a day or two of working nonstop.

His office, which he has never used much, has a nice view, too, although Tony does not have much time to look at the city below. He has never been one for paperwork. Even that is better than telling the same people the same things over and over again. Everybody seems to be out for blood right now and Tony cannot get his wounds to close.

A knock rips him out of his thoughts. It is late, already dark outside, but Tony guesses he has never explicitly told anyone he does not want to be disturbed.

The door opens and Thor sticks his head in. He should have gone home already, but he never does before he has not delivered Tony safely to the penthouse, even though he knows that JARVIS never stops watching inside the tower.

Informing Thor about JARVIS has been a necessity, but Tony thinks he is not going to regret it. It also makes Thor’s job marginally easier.

“Agent Coulson wants to speak to you,” Thor says, keeping his tone carefully neutral. His expression, on the other hand, seems to say that he will get rid of the agent if Tony wants him to.

A small smile steals itself onto Tony’s lips. Only a few days into their acquaintance and he is already certain that it was a good decision to take Thor on.

“Send him in.”

Coulson is with the FBI. Tony is not sure when they got involved, but the fact that Obadiah, on top of less interesting charges like embezzlement and bribery, sold weapons to enemies of America apparently makes this a matter of national security. That means that even more watchful eyes are combing through every aspect of Tony’s life, but for now he does not care if that also increases their chances of finding Obadiah.

Thor sends the agent in and, after a questioning look at Tony whether he should stay, closes the door behind him and leaves Tony to be picked apart in another interrogation.

“Agent Coulson,” Tony greets and gets to his feet to offer his hand. Then he gestures at the visitor chair and waits until they are both seated again. “Did you find anything?”

“No,” Coulson replies. In that mild-mannered tone of his, he adds, “I just have some more questions for you.”

Coulson looks like he has been born in that suit and that bland expression of polite disinterest. Contrary to most of his colleagues, he does not wear a visible weapon, does not posture or appear dangerous. He still exudes an aura of authority. Tony is not sure what to make of him, but he knows he will have to watch his words.

“We’ve already gone over everything,” Tony says, swallowing his impatience. There is too much he needs to keep secret to be comfortable with being questioned. “And Ms Potts is your official liaison for the duration of this investigation.”

Tony wonders how he can speak so calmly about the matter. He guesses years of having to act in public have some advantage. Inside, however, he is still raw, hurting constantly.

“Ms Potts isn’t going to be able to help me with this.” Coulson’s tone does not change, but Tony’s back automatically stiffens a bit. A promise of danger lies in the air. That Coulson circumvented Pepper and came here after dark, when it is more likely that Tony is alone, speaks of more problems coming his way.

“I have a meeting coming up,” Tony lies and keeps his face neutral. “So we need to make this quick.”

The corner of Coulson’s mouth creases into a small smile, gone again very quickly. Tony cannot even begin to question whether that is a good sign.

“I’ll be blunt then,” Coulson says, his gaze growing sharp. “Last week you were in the hospital. Why?”

Tony grows very quiet for the fraction of a second, even while clinging to his slightly bored expression, hoping his hesitation is not visible. Whether or not he visited the hospital should not be object of this investigation. It has nothing to do with Obadiah. Well, it does, but the police do not know that, and for good reason.

“We filed a report,” Tony says and cocks his head to the side dismissively. “There was an accident. A hit and run.”

For a moment, Coulson does not say anything but simply watches Tony. Then, with the same nonchalance as before, he asks, “That was the evening before you submitted your evidence against Mr. Stane to the police?”

“Yes,” Tony answers. He does not like where this is going.

“And it was also just a few days before you hired additional personal security?”

Tony stares. “Yes.”

Across from him, Coulson nods like he has known the answer all along but is still satisfied to have gotten it.

“Do you fear for your safety?” he then asks, the perfect picture of innocent professionalism like he has never had any ulterior motives for coming here. This still comes too close to an accusation for Tony to let it go.

Tony leans back in his chair, shoulders squared but arms open, showcasing that he does not have anything to hide. “I’m going to be in the spotlight quite a bit. People didn’t like me when I was making weapons.” He shrugs like he does not care. “They like me even less now that I’ve stopped and they know why.”

Rumours have gotten out. Of course, they have. A thing like this is impossible to keep quiet. A rogue CFO selling weapons to terrorists? Tony Stark, who the media loves to hate even without a fresh scandal, being possibly involved? Everybody wants a slice of that cake.

Coulson nods like he accepts that very reasonable answer. “Is there a more personal reason?” he then asks with deceiving calm. If Tony did not know better, he would think there is a glimmer of amusement in Coulson’s eyes.

“Like what?” Tony barely keeps himself from snapping. He is too close to the matter, to prone to making mistakes.

Shrugging, Coulson takes his time, although it is obvious he is ready to pounce. “It just seems too much of a coincidence. The accident, your godfather going rogue, a new bodyguard.”

He trails off, not quite expectant but very sure of himself. It is tempting to give in. Tony could just admit that he does have reasons to be afraid of Obadiah because an attempt on his life has already been made. Two, even. While it would certainly be satisfying to tell them exactly what kind of person Obadiah is, it would also raise questions Tony is not willing to answer.

Tony cannot quite tell when protecting the Avengers has become part of the plan. In the beginning it was merely a decision not to report the kidnapping. Now, however, he is actively keeping any and all information about them out of the reports. He likes to think that is not just because Steve is his soulmate. He owes Natasha, too. He does not want to harm Bruce. He has become far more entangled with them than he could have foreseen.

“What are you insinuating?” Tony questions, straightening in his seat just enough to show his displeasure about Coulson’s line of questioning. It still feels like Coulson can see right through him.

“Are you afraid that Mr. Stane is going to harm you?” Coulson rephrases his question, gives it a completely reasonable note as if he is not digging for things Tony has not told them but is honestly concerned for Tony’s safety.

Tony does not trust just anyone. Even less so now. He does not believe that Agent Coulson does not have a hidden agenda here. They probably think he has been involved in the weapons trading. They want him to compromise himself. Perhaps they are already impatient about not finding Obadiah and want to at least get him.  

“It is clear that I don’t know at all what he’s capable of,” Tony says, allowing some regret into his tone. He never takes his eyes off Coulson, though. “But no. I don’t think he’s waiting for an opportunity to sneak in here to kill me.”

Not missing a beat, Coulson says, “He could hire someone to do it.”

The breath gets stuck in Tony’s lungs as his heartrate climbs suddenly. His outward reaction is as practised as it is unfazed, a slight raising of his eyebrows, a small shrug, not a muscle twitching out of place.

Inside, he wonders what Coulson knows, whether they have unwittingly betrayed something. He has not even told Pepper and Rhodey any specifics about the Avengers. No names, not that he has the means to contact them and has done so. If Steve thought they were compromised, he would have surely called, either to warn Tony or to lay the blame at his feet.

Coulson cannot know anything. So Tony breathes, giving no sign how hard it is, and says, “I like to think that he wouldn’t.”

Coulson’s expression remains jovial, not at all surprised. He is not done, Tony knows that before he even opens his mouth again. “The hospital record says that you had several broken ribs pre-dating the car accident.”

This time, Tony does not suppress his reaction. He leans forward abruptly, not enough to appear spooked but showing his agitation. He is allowed to be angry at a violation of his privacy. Tony himself is not under investigation here. He has never had any illusions that they would not look into him too, but his medical records have nothing to do with smuggling.

“You have no right to access my medical history,” Tony says sharply. Full cooperation is apparently not enough when the national security is in question. If not for JARVIS, he would be worried about what other information the FBI might have gleaned from Stark Industries’ servers or his personal ones.

“It is if it pertains to the case,” Coulson replies, still sounding unflappable. Tony’s accusation does not seem to bother him at all.

“It doesn’t,” Tony says, intent on pushing back. Since he does not want them to dig even deeper, though, he adds, “It was a lab accident. It shouldn’t surprise you that I like to blow things up.”

Lab safety has never been much of a concern for Tony, but the truth is that, if he got injured, it was mostly during nights out with too much alcohol and too many strangers wanting a piece of him. Or, before that, thanks to Howard’s carelessness or bullies at school. Tony knows what he is doing in his workshop, and he has JARVIS and the bots watching over him. Coulson does not need to know that, however.

“Do you often get caught in the crossfire?” Coulson asks in a purposefully gentle tone, almost as if he cares.

Some part of Tony will always want to give in to that, but he knows better than to trust an FBI agent charged with sniffing around in his business.

“I appreciate your concern,” Tony says in a dry tone that makes it clear he does not, without ever changing his polite expression. “But I would prefer if you kept working on finding Stane.”

It still hurts to call Obadiah that, but Tony forces himself to whenever he is talking to the police. It would not do to give them reason to suspect he is still too attached to the man they are prosecuting.

A small smile appears on Coulson’s face, climbing all the way up to his eyes. It is as much a show of amusement as it is an acknowledgment.

“We simply want to make sure that you are safe.”

“I am,” Tony responds firmly, the lie rolling off his tongue easily. When he senses that Coulson does not believe him, he adds, “I’m the one who came up with most of the weapons Stane sold illegally. It would make no sense to kill the golden goose.”

Spite, revenge, defiance – Tony can come up with a dozen reasons why Obadiah would want him dead without even considering their personal relationship. He keeps that to himself though, not thinking for a moment that Coulson is not considering the same. He did not think Coulson would be so blunt to say it, though.

Yet, Coulson keeps his eyes on him, his mouth still slightly upturned. “The game is up now,” he says, not making it sound like a threat but a simple fact. “He doesn’t have much to lose.”

Privately, Tony thinks that freedom is a lot to lose, but he simply shrugs like it has not occurred to him that he is in danger. “He would have to come out of hiding to kill me, so I’ll trust you to notice and stop him or whoever he might hire.”

It will not be that easy, but this is the best he can offer the FBI at the moment. Or ever, really. He will be glad to see them go once this is over.

“We will,” Coulson says and gets smoothly to his feet, although he looks like he did not want their conversation to be over already. Then he reaches into his pocket, and Tony blames it on his tiredness that he winces at the movement. “Let me leave you my card so you can call me in case there is something you want to talk about.”

Coulson noticed his almost-flinch. There is no way he did not, considering that his eyes narrow briefly, and he slides the card over the surface of the desk between them slowly.

Picking it up, Tony studies it to avoid looking up at Coulson. What was he thinking? That Obadiah bought out the FBI and Coulson was coming in here to shoot him right in his office? He really needs all of this to be over.

“Thank you for your efforts, Agent Coulson,” Tony says, managing to sound nonchalant.

They shake hands again, and Tony accompanies Coulson to the door. It is unusual, but he wants to make sure that Coulson actually leaves instead of lingering or talking to Thor. Their conversation consisted of a lot of unspoken things and Tony will have to go over it again once he is alone to make sure that the FBI is only suspicious and does not know things that are none of their business.

Outside, Thor perks up the moment the door opens. He manages to look genial and attentive at the same time, as if sitting outside Tony’s office is not boring.

Together, they watch Coulson leave. Only when they are alone does Thor speak up. “Are you all right?”

If Tony attempted to smile right now, it would probably come out mangled, so he simply nods. “Yes.” A look at the clock makes Coulson’s visit appear even more suspicious, considering it is long after normal business hours. “You should go home now. And I should probably try to sleep.”

Thor stands up and gathers his things, shrugging on his jacket. “Let me escort you upstairs then.”

Tony wants to protest, to say that he can find the way to the elevator and his own home just fine on his own. Thor was hired for a reason, though, and Tony, judging on his reaction to Coulson simply reaching into his pocket, apparently does not feel safe in his own tower, even if he would not admit it out loud.

With a nod, he starts walking. “Let’s go.”

Exhaustion is tugging at him, making his legs heavier than they should be. Maybe he will even manage to sleep a night through for once.

[scripted-dalliances]

Faithless Fairy Tale

Title: Faithless Fairy Tale

Word Count:  5432 words

Summary: Laura and Sweeney get a happy ending. (Canon up until the last episode.)

Author’s note: I haven’t posted to tumblr in six million years and it shows by the fact that I still don’t know if I even posted this right, and if I mess up I’m sorry and just tell me. All of this is Neil’s and it’s pretty obvious I’m only playing in his sandbox. *There are a few direct lines from the book, between Laura and Shadow, freakin’ important ones I hope they one day put in the show.

Despite what one might presume given…well, his everything. Mad Sweeney does better in the company of women than he does men. Sure, he can drink and fight with the lads, take the piss and make them do the same with a dirty joke, but when it comes to the grit of his bones and silence of the night, its women that make him feel more at ease.

Its just the nature of his being really, women believe in the likes of fairies and leprechauns more easily than men. It is their kind that want something a little bit wild and uncontrollable, and free. Its really only a woman who could understand and appreciate a dual nature. Not good nor evil, not nice or mean but ever changing in opinion given the direction of the wind.

Men. Men wanted firm rules. Give and take, all the details finely written down like a bloody equation.

I pray this much, I sacrifice this much and in return by this time I shall have received my list of demands or else some other bloody God gets my belief.

Men wanted Gods of War. Gods that kept their dick hard and Gods to take away their pain.

Leprechauns were by nature then, seen more as little devils. Annoyance that were more likely to steal and trick them than to help.

So its hardly a thought given to him, that when all settles down. When the three of them fall into a routine of travel; making pit stops every five hours it seems to either piss, eat or pray, he keeps closer to the bitch dead wife rather than the Genie Rubber.

“Why are you on my side?” Laura bitches, the second he sits down. The worn red seat of the ancient Waffle house is at best, a fucking bench with a whisper of a pillow above it. His weight makes it whine and crack, like a living beast about die.

“Shut up and order. Oh, that’s right you can’t because you’re dead, so how about you shut it anyways or else you can go back to the cab and rot.” He bitches right back, only to get her tiny fist shoved into his side. Clearly she is holding back, as he does not fly across the room, but it does make him keen like a whelp and curl up to protect the rest of his insides. “Fuckin hell!”

“Tell me to shut up one more god damn time, Ginger minge and I swear I will give you a very unwanted vasectomy with a fucking fork.”

Across the table, Salim with his wide doe eyes and soft heart begs them to stop.

“Please, we are in public.” He says, like he is their mother and they are just two rowdy kids as opposed to what they really are. A 6'5 leprechaun and 5'1 dead woman about to fist fight in a Waffle House at three am.

It continues on like this, him without thought keeping to her, even when she breaks his bones and insults everything about him seven ways from Sunday. Like she’s got a stick up her pert little ass a mile long and just as wide with his fucking name on it.

He can’t say he doesn’t probably have a matching one with her name on it.

He pays no mind to it, but of course she does.

“Is it the gay thing?” She questions  apropos of nothing. They had been sitting, watching Salim pray on the side of the road from within a little coffee shop. Its shit, the coffee but they have amazing doughnuts that Sweeney eats several of.

“What is?”

“Why you never seem to want to be near Salim.”

He tilts his head toward her, “I’ve just spent three days stuck in a fucking mini piece of rolling shit with the man, with hardly a breathing inch between us. If I was any fucking closer, I’d be inside the bastard, and it’s my fucking name he’d be thanking five times a day.”

She waits a beat before answering.

“So do you want him to be? Are you jealous because of the God thing or the sex? Or is it a weird combo where you are just a repressed homophobe with God Issues?”

“…What the fuck.” He whispers in ancient tongue. “Did they pickle your fucking brain, dead wife?”

“Just an observation.”

“Oh. Is it now? JUST A FUCKING TERRIBLE ONE.” He roars, the patrons of the shop sleepily look over but ignore him after a second. He shoves a doughnut into his mouth and chews through his anger. “I ain’t jealous, Gods are fucking high horsed pricks. Fuck the lot of ‘em. And I ain’t got nothing against any bloke who can take it up the arse with a smile, not my slice of cake but you don’t live as long as I do and not get curious.”

Laura smirks, as if he has confirmed something for her. Like a child, he has the sudden need to steal it from her and horde it.

“-and before your pickled brain can get too many rotted ideas. No. Salim isn’t the ugliest bugger I’ve laid eyes on, but he isn’t making me twitch down below.”

“Gross.”

“So are you, dead wife.”

She rolls her eyes but continues. “So what is it then? You always seem to hang out with me, and we both know its not my winning personality.”

Sweeney takes a sip of the shit coffee and looks out the window to Salim. “Does it matter? Maybe I just want to keep track of you. You and my coin.”

“That’s not it. For one, we both know if I wanted to lose you I could. Two, you can’t keep track of shit, example A.” She gestures to herself, “-and its weird.”

“Is this your shit way of saying you don’t want to be friends, dead wife? And here I thought we were on our way to braiding each others hair and trading friendship bracelets.”

“Fuck off.”

“Heaven above, you have no idea how much I wish I could.” He sighs deeply, wishing he had such a choice. That she didn’t have his coin, that she didn’t look like-

But she does. She fucking does and maybe that’s the part of it. Laura Moon is the haunting mirror of Essie, the color of their hair different, and skin not as freckled but there she sits. Just as mouthy and unwilling to bend against the course of nature as ever. The only difference being that Laura did it out of pure stubborn will, where Essie had done it out of faith. Faith that had brought him with to the new world, and just looking at Laura reminded him of that fact. Made it feel like there was a hole in his chest, missing something vital.

The worst part was that, given different circumstances he wouldn’t have minded. In another reality, where she had a beating heart and no husband to chase, he would have chased that feeling. Stupid as it was, as mean as she could be. He would have tried to fix the feeling with crass words, rough sex and shades of affection. Try and figure Laura out, what she believed in and try to make her believe in him, as a lover or a man.

He thinks in a different life, he would have been happy to try.

-but they aren’t in that world. No, instead she’s dead as a fucking door nail and he’s just the unlucky tool that did it. Her piece of shit husband the reason why, even if he didn’t know it.

Instead, the hole in his chest just gets infected by guilt. With what feels like several bleeding centuries of it. From the loss of Essie, to the own sad truth of what he has become and even if she is a cunt, Laura hadn’t deserved to become a pawn in some God’s half assed plan. She wasn’t meant to die, scraped across pavement like roadkill with a man’s cock in her mouth.

“Come on, he should be done soon.” She says, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Sweeney nods, finishes his drink and follows her out. Salim is just packing away his rug and hat as they approach the cab. Laura making a beeline for the passenger seat (is if her tiny legs could somehow beat his stride if he put his mind to it.) And he once again attempts to shove his frame into the back seat. As always he fails. Curled up, with his knees bent, his boots still push against her seat.

If he was in mood. He’d kick it.

Kick it like a fussy toddler on a six hour flight.

-but decides he likes how his balls are attached to his body and keeps himself in check.

+

They lose Salim, the cab and the helpful buffer between within seconds. In hardly a days drive from that, Sweeney finds himself face first in a fucking window with an red, white and blue popsicle up is his arse like it’s fourth of the fucking July.

And his coin.

His fucking coin had, by the grace of gravity knocked right out of Laura’s corpse. His problems solved, he had it back. Not freely given per say but his once more never the less.

But then he looks down at her; once more smeared ungracefully and undignified on the road, this time dry and hollow. Her chest split open, showing him the pale white curve of bones that protects her heart and lungs. She is flayed open, and he should want nothing to do with her.

Still he does not walk away.

He roars, stomps and loses his god damn mind. All in his ancient tongue, all but lost to time, to the heavens above.

He isn’t evil. He isn’t.

(He puts it back, because there is a hole in his heart, a renewed sense of self and it’s the biggest middle finger to fucking Odin he can think of. He doesn’t want a new start, doesn’t want to be absolved of this sin and mistake, he wants Laura to have her revenge, even if it means she’ll probably wring his neck. Even if it means his own death. He’s done being a fucking coward.)

He puts the coin back into her and they continue their journey.

+

“What do you believe?”

“Everything.”

Death has done a lot of damage to Laura Moon’s insides. She feels empty, like there is a growing hole in her chest -but not physically. No, physically she can feel the cold, the dry pull of limbs as they move with every step. She can feel the odd heavy weight in her guts, of fluid never fully drained and of maggots growing. Making it feel like she has to puke or shit, but not really. She is in her body, she feels it, but it’s obvious to even her that the decay is setting in.

She thinks about Mad Sweeney and his stupid words. Yer meat will slide off your bones

She hates that his words manage to stick, place a bit of fear in her. She hates that even for a second, she believes him.

-but the truth is, she is coming apart at the seams.

Can there even be a resurrection if she’s a pile of moldy meat?

Laura watches Easter break out the big guns, watches in passive disillusionment as the woman draws life out and back into her, like breathing. Watches as she seemingly turns into a bundle of brightly colored flowers as the Earth turns hollow and dead as Laura herself; and all she can do is feel is pissed off. A Goddess of this power, who could have brought her back to life, can’t. All because she wasn’t just dead. No not just murdered.

She was a fucking sacrifice. A lamb slaughtered for an uncaring God.

So she politely clears her throat, to get their attention.

“I’d like to have a word with my husband.”

Shadow smiles up to her, like she’s a gift for all of three seconds,before his expression falls. As if remembering something.

(And it pierces her heart, like a bullet, because she isn’t stupid. It doesn’t matter what those gods of death had said. He’s not grateful for her return, he’s not able to forget or forgive her sins. He isn’t her puppy any more. Confessed by the man himself.)

Wednesday takes one glaring look at her, and then to Mad Sweeney behind her and butts in like he’s reading from a dramatic play, “Might have to take a rain check on that m'dear. As you can see, things are heating up, might not be too good for you…considering your,” He pauses, eyes going over her appearance, as if he can taste the rot on her, “-let’s say delicate condition?”

“I’m dead, not fucking pregnant you asshole.” Laura spits out.

“Laura-” Shadow attempts to call out to her; but he does it in that stupid soft voice of his, the one that she’s so familiar of. The one that is to calm her, to gently tell her to reign it in and not start a fight. He’s used it at her family’s dinners whens he got to mouthy with her mother over something stupid, and it’s the last straw. 

She will not stand by and let him protect this asshole god from her wrath.

She starts walking down the steps, hears Sweeney follow, and makes her way to the group. Intent on ripping them all a new hole, physically and mentally. First Wednesday, then Shadow and then maybe the rest of them too. Sweeney as well. Fucking everyone.

-but she gets about a foot away before Wednesday gives her a smirk.

“What is it that you really want, Laura. Your man or your life? What are you really afraid of? Death or being alone? What is it that you believe in, that makes you chase Shadow?”

“Fuck you, I want both, I love him. His love brought me back!”

The old man’s devil of a smile, grows wider and she can see his two colored eyes sparkle with amusement. He is laughing at her. It makes her want to break every bone in his body, slowly.

“Did it?” He questions, looking back at Shadow curiously, “Did you?”

Shadow, looks like he’s a deer caught in the head lights. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and Laura’s rage turns into dust. The bright light he seems to effortlessly shine with starts to dims. Flickers like a candle in the wind and all she wants to do now is cup her hands around it, protect it.

Please. Please don’t go out.

“I…I gave her the coin, but I didn’t-” He admits slowly, confesses each word with a stutter before it all comes out. “I didn’t know it would bring you back Laura.”

The light goes out.

He gave her a gift he didn’t mean to give, it’s not his love that keeps her on this plane of existence, it’s a fucking mistake. She’s been following him blindly, just like Salim and his Jinn, just like him and his Gods but here she is. Before him, and the truth is a little less like heaven and more like the hell she probably deserves.

She doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“He killed me Shadow,” She spills the secret with a lot less gravity than she thought it deserved, but now she’s not even sure he’d care. “He might have ordered Ginger minge over there to do it, but it’s him that wanted me out of the way. It’s him that sent you to prison. That ruined my perfect plan. He is the reason our lives went to shit.”

Shadow glares -there’s just enough righteous fury in his eyes to make the light flicker back on, but then Wednesday is once again talking and swaying the breeze.

“Am I?” He questions, and Laura goes to kick him.

“Shut the fuck up, with your stupid questions. Yes, yes you are!”

-he moves out the line of her kick too fast for her to track.

“Ah. So. It was me then who planted that dangerous plan to rob your place of work?” No. That was Laura. Fed up and bored with her life once more. “It was me, that asked you to get Shadow involved?” No. That was Laura again. “It was me, that after a year and a month…a baker’s dozen of months, that caused you to start fucking Robbie? That pushed you to bend over and suck his dick?”

Her own words, phases and classless tone comes back to haunt her. She doubts that Shadow told the bastard any of this, and knows that it’s just him. As a God, reading her sins like they are printed on her face. The truth of her actions, that still would have damned her even if she was still alive. That was all Laura, screwing herself over.

“Tell me. What would have happened if you had lived that night. If you hadn’t of died.” He opens his arms, looking to the crowd now as if they have the answer. Everyone is silent, old gods and new, even Shadow. Laura feels suddenly, like she’s on the chopping block. Like she’s once again, sitting before the God of Death, and being told to weigh her heart against a pure white feather.

She already knows the answer.

“Tell me Laura Moon -Laura McCabe. Who used to try and suffocate herself in a hot tub with bug spray when no one was looking, when her husband didn’t make her feel any more -what was your life going to be?”

It’s in that moment, that Laura realizes she’s too dead to cry. There’s nothing to give, even though there’s a growing crack in her being. Wednesday’s rips her apart, with his accurate accusations. Spilling not her blood, but her secrets. The one she never thought she’d ever have to share.

“Oi, you fucker!” A voice finally rings out, Sweeney’s roar. He dares to venture into the fray. Pointing a finger at the Norse God, “You are on trial here, not her. Whatever her life might have been, good or fucking terrible, that was her right. It was her fucking life to live! You bastards,” He glares out to all them watching and sneers, “Old Gods. New Gods. Fuck the lot of you. Same pricks, different fucking names that’s all. All greedy, all selfish. When was the last time any of you did anything fucking productive? You scramble and you fight, and you demand worship, like any of you deserve it. Well, surprise. You fucking don’t. None of ya, and all this is,” He waves his arms out, striding forward to Wednesday to spit directly into his face, “All this bloody is, is a war to find out whose the bigger cunt to a bunch of dumb mortal motherfuckers who don’t fucking need you.”

Sweeney laughs, “They never have, and that’s why they forget. That’s why, you can suck the life out of his whole damned planet-” He points to Easter, with a grin , “Like a toothless whore, and it won’t matter. They’ll just assume it’s nature. It’s the planet dying. They’ll fuck off to space before building you an alter, love. And maybe they’ll have their gadgets and their little stories on the box, but once again they’ll be focused on survival. Those things will be pushed into dark little boxes of the old times, won’t they?”

“He’s…got a point.” Techno Boy Wonder says in reply, he isn’t exactly eager for this war. He just wants his kicks, his slice of pie and then honestly, to fuck off and mind his own business again. “Why are we fighting them. Like really. If it doesn’t matter if they win or lose, then what does it matter if we fight? This is twenty-first century. No one is going to start plucking out eyeballs for the old geezer unless they’re already crazy.”

Media is slower to reply, but even she softly admits, “And then they’re nothing but mad men. Delusional. Cults do have a nasty habit of burning out before too long…”

-and just like that. The tides and winds are changing.

“There won’t be a war.” Media decides. Grabbing her hat off the ground. “Too much trouble. This was…impressive.” She says to Easter, “but he’s right. Without our meddling, they’ll figure it out. Call it something else. Cover it up and forget it.”

-and just like that, Media and Technology Boy leave.

Easter too, sullenly walks back into her home. Her earlier joy fading with every step.

It’s not a fitting end, but it’s an end never the less.

+

There’s a fight of course, a violent one, but it’s just between Mad Sweeney and Odin. Laura breaks it up by slicing Odin’s head off with his own blade. Just as he was about to snap Sweeney’s head off.

It’s not really important, because honestly, Laura doesn’t want it to be.

He’s better left forgotten.

+

“You didn’t mean to bring me back.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to see me.”

“It wasn’t that,” Shadow hesitated, “No. I didn’t want to see you. It hurt too much. At first I just thought…I don’t know what I thought, but looking at you, it hurts.”

Laura bows her head, it’s not surprising. This talk with Shadow. It’s simple and blunt, like a hammer doing it’s job, and nailing in her coffin once more. It’s time to bury what is between them, because it’s pretty clear even if she wasn’t dead, their marriage was.

“I want to bring you back. I don’t want you dead.” He tells her, but it’s not with passion as so much guilt. He wants to right a wrong, not get her back. Not fix things because he wants to be with her.

She is, of course hurt by this fact. Splinted between knowing she’s lost such a good man because of her own stupid fault and the growing sense of fuck it, you never really wanted him, did you? You were bored with him before you died, before he went to prison. You were just holding on to something you didn’t deserve, a Goddess with a single mindless devotee.

“I love you,” She said, dispassionately. “I know you loved me. You spoiled me, gave me everything…and it would have been enough. Should have been.” Admitting it is easier in death, because what does she have to fear? Wednesday was wrong. She doesn’t fear the nothing that comes after death, and even when she was with Shadow she was alone. Laura doesn’t fear anything, just as she doesn’t believe in anything. All she wants is something in her life that doesn’t make her feel like she’s dead. She wants to feel her blood pumping inside her veins, not just because her heart is pushing it but because something is causing it to. “I wasn’t unhappy with you Shadow, I was unhappy with life, and I suppose in a way I guess that does include you even if I never thought of it like that. It’s only in death that I can admit that to you without holding back. And that’s the truth of it. I was always holding back.”

“You could have shared. I would have-”

“You would have told me you loved me. You would have told me it’s okay. Maybe taken the step to get me to a doctor, who would have medicated me to hell and then I would still be this. Dead on the inside.” She points out, “I’m not a nice person with a lot of issues. I’m broken, Shadow and that’s just who I am and you’ve always been too good of a man to say so. That’s why I think…I think I followed you, I believed in you. Or rather I wanted to. I mean, I don’t believe in any Gods or that shit…but I knew you were a good man, and you could do something. Anything to fix me.”

“…You still don’t believe? After everything you’ve seen today?” Shadow asks her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. Easter had all but disappeared into her rooms. Leaving the trio to themselves. Sweeney was recovering in the living room while they had gone off to talk.

Laura shrugged, indifferent. “Nah. I mean. Ginger Minge out there said it didn’t he? Doesn’t matter what they are or aren’t, they’re still pricks. And anyone can be a prick, so it stands to reason anyone can be a God. Seems kinda like that’s a shit existence any how.”

Shadow cracks, smiling just a bit. “I suppose it does…but what about you? You’re still dead, Odin might have been the only one to bring you back…”

“Actually, I’ve got a theory about that.”

+

“Let’s make a deal.”

Sweeney attempts to open his eyes, but really his face is bruised and swollen he only manages to see out of one. And all he gets for his trouble is the smug mug of the bitch dead wife. He frowns.

“Fuck off.”

“I mean it. Let’s make a deal, Lepercunt.”

“I also mean it. Fuck off.”

She pinches the skin between his wrist and his hands, causing him to scream so loud the house windows rattle.

Laura smiles. The bitch.

+

It goes like this.

“I’ll believe in you if you believe in me.”

“That’s not how it fucking works, dead wife.”

“Oh yeah?” She questions, standing before him. Despite being half his fucking height, she manages to make him feel nervous. “How does it work, because I’m going out on a limb in saying that you’ve got no fucking clue. Hell, I’ll gamble and say, none of you dickwads do.”

Maybe. But he doesn’t tell her that. Just glowers and mutters under his breath in another language how he can’t believe his fucking luck. Lack of luck.

“You told me you were a king once. Don’t you want to be one again?”

Sweeney stays silent, giving her any words is like selling his soul. Maybe he owes it to her, but fuck her, he’s not giving it without a bit of a fight.

“All you need is someone to believe. Really believe, and maybe a new story right? A reinvention. A rebirth.”

He catches on, what she is selling ain’t new, but fuck him…it sounds good.

“A resurrection.” He adds.

+

There is a new story.

One of a man, of a bird, of a saint and a trickster. Who came to America on broken wings and lost his crown, his coin and belief. (Oh yeah, Americans love a good immigrant story, of someone who lost everything and got it all back, Laura laughs.)

A hundred years, give or take, he spends wandering like a curse. Each road familiar, each day a repeat of the last. He makes deals with the devils, with the angels and even the ghosts but none of them change anything for him. All his pain, all his luck good or bad, doesn’t matter. It’s fleeting and he starts looking for an end.

He finds the end in a girl.

He murders her, leaves her dead on the side of the road because a mean ugly God told him to. Told him this was an important piece to bury, to shove out of the way for the grand end the once king was looking for.

-but the dead girl, she doesn’t stay where he puts her. She leaves the comfort of her grave, she tracks the sun and the moon until she finds him and once she finds him, she puts her hands around his throat and demands life.

The man who was once a bird, whispers to her he has none to give. None to share. All he has is the name of the God who wanted her dead. The girl takes it, though no heart in her beats or blood in her veins and she has nothing but luck of the damned on her side; she finds that God.

Hidden behind the shadows of the moon and sun, he stands and judges her.

In any other story, she and the trickster would be punished. She would have been struck down for her disobedience. For thinking she could get her way, just because. The trickster would have been killed, just like he wanted.

In any other story, neither of them are heroes and therefore their story ends with death as punishment. The bitter lesson of what happens to the boys and girls who don’t follow the rules.

-but that isn’t this story.

In this story, the girl doesn’t have a drop of fear in her and so she spits in that God’s eye. She blinds him, steals his blade and cuts him right out of the sky. The girl, who is just a girl and nothing more, kills a God.

She sheds her death, her mortality and becomes a God Slayer; something feared by those who rightfully should, and unknown by those who don’t.

It’s in her new embrace, that she brings the faithless man’s story to an end.

Because now he believes.

So she gifts him with a new crown, one of bronze and steel. She gives him wings not of a bird, but of hope of a new world. She takes his heart as payment, but fills it with something stronger than just faith.

She fills it with love.

+

“That’s a bit sappy.” Laura muses. Bright and warm, more so even before all this. Next to her, Sweeney fiddles with some precious trinket -that he promptly shatters between two fingers. He is still getting used to having his strength back.

The God of Death, Anubis as she now knows looks up from his brother’s book. Where their new story is written. Ink fresh to the point it’s still semi-wet.

“Gods and mortals alike, like a good love story.” Is all the man says. He is not pleased per say by the events. He still feels like he’s been cheated, after all. Laura McCabe should have died and vanished into the nothing of the world. It had been his job, and for whatever reasons, that had not come to pass. Not by his own lack of powers, but because the budding of hers.

She’s not a God. She is not holy or known enough to garner attention of mortals…

but she is something new.

Free of the restrictions dealt by most, she is a story now. Told between Gods like a promise. She can not be killed, she can not be reasoned with or bribed. She is an end and a beginning and there is something simple and absolutely terrifying about that truth.

All she needs is Mad Sweeney; not because of love, but because of everything else. He is now the start of her story as much as he is the end. He makes her, unmakes her and cycles between the two. He is her murderer as much as he is her savior. Without him, there is no life, no death and no story.

Doesn’t mean she’s nice to him, though. Why would she?

“Come on, Fire Crotch. I want Burger King.”

“They have shit fries, Wife.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Laura waves him off. A gold band around her finger catches the light. It’s a matching one to his own. A melted down version of the coin, split between them. Forged into rings by some God too afraid to tell them no, and given back to the other in a ceremony of marriage. Not a pledge or a vow to some other God, but to each other.

Laura puts her sunglasses on, and slides her arm between his. She’s strong enough to still throw him across the room, but now he’s strong enough to take it. She likes that. Seems fair.

“Come on, husband, let’s get the fuck out of here before I get bored.”

He laughs, “I can always throw you into the fucking river, wife. Try and drown ‘ya like old times. Would that amuse you? A little of tickle of death?”

“Little tickle of death? Sounds like a good name for your dick.”

His laughter turns into a bark, “We both know what I pack ain’t little, wife.”

They leave the funeral home, bantering like this all the way until Anubis can’t hear them any more. After which he sighs deeply in gratitude.

They exhaust even death.

[franklyshipping]

Sing Again...I Dare You ~ A Markiplier and Crankgameplays Ego Fanfic

WOOOO OKAY THIS IS THE VERY FIRST TIME I'M WRITING MAD MIKE, COURTESY OF A LOVELY @amazingmsme PROMPT, SO I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IIIIT! JUST AS A WARNING THIS DOES CONTAIN VERY INTENSE AND HARD TICKLING!!! LET'S DO IT!

You might imagine, that an ice cream seller who gets to have the privilege of providing happiness to children everyday would be a happy, jovial person themselves. They would have no reason to be a grumpy sourpuss, would they? Well....this particular ice cream seller, known affectionately as Mad Mike, was quite the grumpy sourpuss. His illegal dealings on the side of his main business kept him stressed, and the stupidly joyful sing-song theme tune that came with his creation was just the one thing he hated the most in the whole world. However....on a day like today, when he wasn't stressed or plagued by the song....he was amicable. He wouldn't grin to excess, but he'd have a calm smile on his face that was nice to see. This amicability....was not to last though.

'Heeeyyyy look who it is!'

Mad Mike froze in his tracks, now stood in the doorway to the living room with widening eyes....oh no....it was him. The one man who bugged Mike more that anyone, the one who teased him all the time, the one who never let him forget that damn song he was born with. Wilford Warfstache.

'IIIIIT'S YOOOU MAD MIKE! YA RUN AN ICE CREAM SHOOOOP!!!'

Wilford Motherloving Warfstache more like Wilford MotherFRICKANNOYING Warfstache, from Mad Mike's point of view. Everywhere Mike went, he would somehow come across the man, and every time that happened, he'd sing...the damn....song. Mike glared at the gleefully grinning Wilford, cheeks heating up as his intense embarrassment at the whole thing kicked in. The song always especially flustered Mike because of how goddamn giddy and giggly he was during it, and hearing those sounds come out of his mouth was just....it was just the most embarrassing thing for him. So, he did what he always tried to do, he tried to turn around to leave.

'Nopety nope....'

He muttered under his breath as he turned his back on Wilford....only to find that Wilford was now standing in front of him, shimmying, and blocking the doorway as he cried valiantly.

'HEEEEYYY! HOW YA DOIN' WOOO-?!'

'WILFORD SHUT THE HELL UP!'

Mike had jumped out of his skin and backed away with a growl, pointedly covering his ears and walking to the other side of the room as Wilford giggled heartily. Basically, Wilford loved embarrassing and riling up Mad Mike, he really liked the guy! I mean, anyone with the first name of Mad is already going to be in Wilford's top five of coolest people he's ever met. Also, Wilford was always a cheeky shit by nature, so he would only stop for a very compelling reason. Wilford scampered after Mike and pirouetted in front of him, whilst of course hollering and doing some jazz hands.

'WOOOOULD YA LIKE SOME ICE CREAM FROM MY SHOP?!'

Wilford waggled his eyebrows as Mike pursed his lips, stopping in his tracks. He couldn't do this. He couldn't go on living like this. Everywhere he turned, everywhere he ran, and everywhere he hid... he just couldn't escape it. Mad Mike had been taunted musically for the last goddamn time.

'....I.....am...so....DONE WITH YOU WARFSTACHE!'

Wilford's eyes widened with surprise when Mike stalked towards him, and he let out a little yelp when he grabbed him by his shirt and pinned him against the wall. Wilford could see that he'd really made him snap this time, he could see that fire in his eyes....and he loved it. Wilford smirked and whispered.

'This iiisn't the type ooof scenario for children...'

Wilford giggled and winked as Mike sighed and shut his eyes for a moment. When he re-opened them, he wore a look of utter, pleading resignation as he queried.

'....why? Why must you always do this to me?'

Wilford had to resist the urge to giggle at how totally dramatic Mike was being, but he didn't repress his giddy smile as he replied.

'Well to tell ya the truth old boy....it's ever so funny seeing you all riled and red-faced. I mean, have you seen yourself in a mirror? You've never looked cuter!'

Okay....now he let himself giggle as he watched Mad Mike scowl and snarl at him. All Mike could think was how arrogant and cheeky Wilford was, and he also figured that Wilford was probably used to wreaking havoc unchallenged with no consequences. Well....Mad Mike was going to change that. Why should Wilford go unpunished for being an irksome little cheek? Mike cocked his head at Wilford, narrowing his eyes.

'So...I take it that means you're going to keep doing it?'

Wilford giggled even more.

'Yep!'

'And there's nothing I can do to stop you?'

'Nope!'

Wilford's prompt, casual answers just cemented it in Mike's mind....he was going to teach him a lesson. Mike suddenly let a sadistic smile appear on his face, and his voice was....honestly terrifying in how it got so low and how it resonated around the room. It was chill inducing.

'Well that's where you are very, very wrong.'

Wilford had paled suddenly at Mike's demeanour, and for a moment though that Mike's true anger was going to bubble up and out of him at Wilford....well....that happened in a sense. As in, Mad channelled all of his annoyance through his intense, probing tickling of Wilford's stomach. He let both hands dig in, all his fingers wiggling into the flesh with a passionate incessantness.

'AAAAHAHAHA YOHOHOHU FAHAHAHACK!!!'

Wilford doubled over as he burst into shocked cackles, he had certainly NOT been expecting this. Wilford tried to push at Mike's arms, but soon realised that the ice-cream seller was a lot stronger than he'd first anticipated; plus, those wiggling fingers were doing a good job of weakening him. Mad Mike meanwhile, was smiling a very wide smile.

'Tickle, tickle, tickle you little shit. How does that feel huh? C'mon lets hear that voice of yours!'

Mike's teasing was utterly without mercy, filled with sadistic glee at finally getting his revenge on this flighty fiend. Wilford let out a great cry as is face burned and his legs shook with the effort of keeping him standing.

'NOHOHOHOHAHAHA LEHEHET MEHEHE GOHO!!!'

Wilford writhed from side to side, squealing when Mike's fingers slipped under his shirt to skitter over and pinch at his firm flesh. Mike started chuckling as he crooned.

'Too weak to fight back? Well isn't that just soooo sweet....'

Wilford's laughter dimmed down to loud giggling as he gasped and writhed about, bowing his head out of pure embarrassment from all the taunting.

'N-Nohohohoho shuhuhut ihihit!!!'

Mad Mike narrowed his eyes, using one hand to dig into Wilford's side whilst the other cupped Wilford's jaw, so he'd HAVE to make eye contact with Mike as he addressed him.

'What did you just say to me?'

Wilford's eyes had widened as he struggled to keep hidden, but all in vain. He let out a mix of yelps and whimpers as his entire body tried to jerk away from Mike's attacking squeezes.

'NOHOTHING-ohmygohohod-ACK! NOTHIHING!'

Wilford gazed at Mike pleadingly, and shuddered with relief and caught his breath as Mike relented for a few moments. He wasn't completely heartless after all. Mike smirked as he rested his hands on Wilford's sides, watching the man gasp and be all red-cheeked and whimpery gave him the hugest amount of satisfaction.

'Poor little thing....I imagine you're too weak to even sing anymore....right?'

Mad Mike raised an eyebrow at Wilford who softly gulped, looking up at Mike with watery eyes and a nervous expression. He couldn't believe that he'd been so ruthless and merciless AND hat he'd taken him off guard like that....Wilford was impressed. He was impressed, and had more energy in him than he looked like he had....so Wilford of course....decided to push it all the way.

'H-Hehey....'

He trailed off, making Mike give him a little smile; Mike assumed Wilford was collecting himself for an apology. But ohhhh no.

'Dohohon't briiing your kids hehERE!'

Wilford had squealed once more as Mike's spider tickling restarted at his bare sides, and Mad Mike had quite the thunderous expression of rage on his face as he sneered and spoke through his gritted teeth.

'You're a defiant little prick aren't you?'

Wilford tittered, his tongue poking out through his teeth as he winked and giggled giddily. Wilford's cheeky happiness was covering up how extremely nervous he was becoming.

'Ahahahawww thahahank yohohou!'

The room was silent. Mad Mike had stopped his tickling and Wilford was nervously quiet in anticipation. Mad hadn't been certain if he was going to go this far, he'd been in two minds as to whether Wilford would be able to cope with utterly sadistic tickling....but now he was sure. Wilford had confirmed that not only could he handle it, from his goading, but he also deserved it. 

'Now you've done it.'

Mike was a good observer, and in his time around and observing Wilford Warfstache he had ascertained one primary fact. His most ticklish spot....was his hips. So he dug....right....in.

'EEEEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHHHHH!!!'

Wilford could find no words, literally. The tickling made him incoherent immediately. His legs made him buckle to the carpeted flooring and land on his back too, but Mike followed him effortlessly since he'd anticipated that. Mike smirked as Wilford writhed beneath him, and he gleefully massaged the man's hipbones with his thumbs as he purred.

'Do you have ANY idea how long I've waited to do this to you? How many times I've imagined it....dreamed of it....'

Wilford cheeks had reached the peak of crimson by now, his hands pushing at Mike desperately as he laughed and laughed and laughed. The mere notion of someone fantasising about tickling him for so long just flustered Wilford more than anything....it made him think back to the times when he'd seen Mad Mike spaced out when eating or relaxing. Would he have been thinking of clawing at his stomach? Making him squeal at the highest pitch possible? Digging into his nerves? Wilford shuddered as his mind ran away with him, only embarrassing him more as Mike's admission filled his brain.

'NAHAHAHAHA DOHOHOHON'T AHAHAHA SAHAHAY THAHAHAT!!!'

Wilford wailed as he bucked, squeezing his eyes shut as his crinkled dimples showed in the most adorable fashion. Mad Mike grinned, rather madly, as he cocked his head down at his victim.

'But it's the truth. This is my dream come true....honestly though I thought it was be much harder to take you down, and yet here we are! It's rather cute in my opinion.'

Wilford shook his head wildly, before shrieking and letting out a rather wild snort when Mike used his blunt nails to scratch and scribble into the very bowels of Wilford's hips; now THAT was ticklish hell.

'IHIHIHIHIHIT NAHAHAHAHA CUHUHUHUHUHUUUUU!!!'

Wilford was gasping through his laughter, eyes becoming watery as his movements started to slow down. Mad Mike knew he'd managed to get him good and proper.....so now...he let it all ease off.

'I didn't understand that so I'll assume you're agreeing.'

Mike was careful as he removed his hands, but still kept a gentle hold on Wilford's hips so his body wouldn't jerk too uncomfortably as it recovered. Wilford was sniffling and wiping his eyes, letting out a few little coughs, but nothing too serious which eased Mike's anxieties. Also, the fact that Wilford was still smiling assured Mike that he hadn't gone over what Wilford could tolerate. Wilford's body started to curl up, and so Mike slid off of him.

'Aha....n-n....ahah....M-Mihi-....ahaha....'

Wilford softly babbled to himself, giggling as he carefully hugged himself....Wilford had never EVER been tickled like that before. There was intense, and then there was Mad Mike. Wilford was more than okay though, he wasn't hurt; the man could handle a hell of a lot, so he was difficult to break completely. Mike had gotten close though....and that seriously inspired Wilford. Wilford looked up at Mike, who smiled and brought him into his chest.

'There, there.....there, there....'

Wilford shut his eyes as he rested against Mike's chest, the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat soothed his own as he soon got back to his normal state. Another contributing factor was how Mike carded through his thick locks of hair, and how his soft occasional coos melted in his ears. Eventually, Wilford found his own voice.

'I won't....s-s-sing your s-song....'

Wilford trailed off as Mike smiled softly....and then Mike ended up pursing his lips when Wilford murmured.

'...wh-when you're i-in ehearshot....'

Wilford softly giggled to himself, looking up at Mad Mike with a smile as the latter shook his head with a chuckle of disbelief. Wilford giggled more when Mike ruffled his hair and growled playfully.

'What on earth am I going to do with you?'

Wilford donned an innocent expression, which made him look even cuter due to his persistent rosy cheeks.

'G-Give me ice-cream to help my throat?'

Wilford fluttered his lashes, before squeaking when Mike booped him on the nose before gently helping him to his feet. Mad Mike could not stop smiling.

'Lucky for you I've just developed a soft scoop candy floss flavour....'

Wilford grinned, and soon they were sharing some soothing sweet treats, whilst also being soothed by one another's company. Though....every now and again....there would be a nice little song lyric....and they'd both laugh.

WOOOOO DONE AND DONE HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THE FIRST EVER MAD MIKE FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DO AAAA LUV YOUS XX