#and he is already in shock because the people in the modern world are shameless | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainydaydream-gal18 · 4 years ago

Text

(The Hobbit) Thorin x Reader: Dragonsickness and the Heart

(Author’s Note: Well, it’s spring, and usually spring gets me in a hobbit/LotR mood, so here we are. I actually wrote a shameless OC self-insert a few years ago, and decided to just take a section of it an make it a reader-insert.

Warnings: Thorin acts like a lil creep, but in the end he wouldn’t do anything to hurt reader.

While under the effects of the dragon sickness, Thorin says some things... You wonder if it’s the sickness talking, or perhaps it is his true feelings coming out.

Enjoy!)

You struggled with the dwarvish armor, finally letting it fall to the ground. It was much too big and clunky: you could barely stand in it! Thorin had given the order for the Company to armor up, but it didn’t look like it would be possible for you. The clank of metal sounded in the armory around the corner, and you let out an exasperated sigh. You had taken your chosen armor to an empty room to avoid the humiliation as you attempted to try the foreign material on. Even after you managed to finally figure it out, the weight of the metal was too much. You weren’t exactly in the mood for endless teasing on Fili and Kili’s part. Dwalin might even find it humorous and would never let you live it down.

Footsteps sounded around the corner, and you whirled around to come up with an excuse or explanation of some sort as to why you were hiding away like this. To your surprise, it was Thorin, all armored-up and looking…well…looking pretty good.

Even with everything that had happened, after how crappy of a person he had become since the dragon sickness took its hold, you were surprised to feel your heartbeat pick up at the sight of him. He entered the dimly-lit room, eyes flickering from you to the bulky armor lying on the floor. He flashed an amused smile that made you feel weak.

“Trouble?” he asked, pacing over with a raised brow.

“Uh, y-yes,” you mumbled back, unable to meet his intense gaze. You tried to remind yourself that this wasn’t him. He wasn’t himself, yet it didn’t stop your heart from doing flips in your ribcage. “It obviously wasn’t going to fit. I don’t know why I tried anyways.

“Because you’re you,” he responded with a chuckle, prompting a nervous laugh from you. He was being friendly, but there was still something off about him. His voice. He spoke in such a low and silky tone, practically laced with dragon sickness. It made you feel uneasy and not necessarily in a good way.

As Thorin took a step forward, you caught movement in the corner of your eye and flinched out of instinct from being on the road. He noticed and paused, holding his hands up to show that he meant no harm. He only meant to give you something, he said. When you nodded, he rounded the corner until he was out of sight. Moments later, he returned with a bundle of armor in his hands though these were different from the weighty pieces you had already tried. He handed you the iron shoulder plates first, and you marveled at the simple designs cast into them. They looked as if they’d been made just for you. Judging by the warmth in Thorin’s eyes, they had been.

“These should suit you better.”

You tentatively accepted the shoulder plates, fiddling with the leather straps that would hold them in place. You tried putting your arm through one loop as if it was a sleeve, but it felt wrong, so you tried a different angle, a different loop…

As if reading your mind, Thorin took and unbuckled it. “Here.”

You gulped as he carefully took your arm and put it through the correct loop. Each movement he made was slow and drawn out, and you wondered for a minute if he was doing it on purpose just to make your heart race. It wasn’t doing anything to help the situations of your one-sided love towards him. You resolved to accept the rest of the armor politely and go find another hidden room to figure it out on your own, but as soon as the shoulder plates were secure, Thorin proceeded to strap on a chestplate. Then he continued with a sort of metal shin guard.

“There,” he said finally, checking some of the straps to ensure they were in place. “You will be much better protected.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, releasing a breath. “Thank you.”

He gazed at you, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. “I will do all in my power to make sure you are safe.” Your eyes widened as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “You should know I have grown rather fond of you, _________.”

You remained still, absolutely shocked at the unexpected statement. It felt as if your body wouldn’t respond. Surely, he doesn’t actually mean what he says? It must have been some strange effect of the dragon sickness, right?

You had joined the Company early in the journey in hopes of changing the ending. You and Gandalf had an understanding that you would gain the Company’s trust and use your knowledge of Middle-Earth to ensure the line of Durin survived. From the moment you appeared on the dirt path in front of the Company in your modern clothes feeling lost and uncertain, Thorin hadn’t taken much interest other than to bark orders to you or spare a disdained glance at you and Bilbo at your “softness” when it came to life on the road.

Over time, you learned to place your trust in the Company and to do your part so they’d trust you- including Thorin. He and you had started to bond, especially in Lake-Town when you’d spoken to each other outside in the snow during the celebration of the dwarves’ return to the mountain. You even managed to make him smile a few times. You realized that as Thorin had begun to trust you, you trusted him not only as a leader but as a friend, and your affection grew beyond what you’d originally thought.

Still, you wondered if perhaps it was all in your head. Thorin had seen you as young and naive early on, but that was only because of your inexperience in the world of Middle-Earth. Things had changed. Perhaps they had changed more than you thought?

Thorin’s breath disappeared from your ear as he pulled away to circle aroundyou, the armor clanking with every step. You were frozen to the spot, but your lips managed to form words.

“What about Balin? You told him that you felt nothing for me and that you were focused on the quest.”

An eerie chuckle echoed from behind. “I told Balin what he wanted to hear. I told him that so he would not question me any further on the matter, but the truth remains…” His voice sounded right behind you. “I care about you.”

He was saying what you wanted to hear all along, and yet it felt so wrong now. This wasn’t the real Thorin, right? You could not possibly accept this declaration of feelings knowing that he would snap out of it soon enough.

“W-we should go join the others…”

His arm snaked around your waist, earning a gasp from you. “I love you, ________, and I want you to say you feel the same.”

“Thorin, I can’t. You’re not yourself. The stress of the Arkenstone and the battle must be affecting you.”

“My own kin has betrayed me. One of them has taken the Arkenstone. Please, do not turn away from me as well. Say you love me. Be my queen.”

You were left breathless by his words. He had released you from his hold and circled back around to stand in front of you. Thorin leaned in, eyes flickering to your lips briefly. It was beyond tempting. All you had to do was lean in a few mere inches, and you would feel his lips on yours. It was what he wanted, and it was what you wanted…

“I have to go,” you stated, putting some distance between the two of you. Thorin’s lips pulled down in a frown as you stepped around him.

“You’re making a mistake,” he called over his shoulder. “An offer such as this will not come again.”

You hesitated at the doorway, shaking your head. “Then so be it.” And then you left. You didn’t dare look back as you hurried down the halls to get as far away from him as possible. He was crazy. Insane.

And so are you for turning him down, a small voice screamed from within your mind. You could have been his, even for a short time. You could have had his love, even if it was twisted. His kiss. His embrace… It could all have been yours if you had just said so.

But it was wrong, and you knew it, to take advantage of his situation.

“Bilbo!” You halted when you rounded a corner and almost collided with him. “Where are you off to?”

He glanced around to make sure no one was near, holding a long rope coiled up in his hand. “I can’t just stand by and do nothing. I am taking the Arkenstone to Bard to use for bargaining. It’s the only way the people of Lake-Town will get their fair share. Hopefully, we will avoid war.”

“That’s a great idea. I’ll cover for you while you’re gone.”

“Thank you, ________,” he whispered gratefully. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

You pulled him into a quick hug. “Be careful. I’ll see you later!” You parted ways with the hobbit once more, him heading for the front gate while you lingered in the corridor. You felt so alone, standing there. None of the dwarves could understand the situation.

It wasn’t the time to tell Bilbo what had occurred with Thorin. It would be yet another dark secret to weigh on you for now, along with the possible fate of the journey.

That night, the dwarves talked and laughed by the fire as usual. Even though they had all of Erebor to go off and choose a room from, the Company still liked to gather together to share a meal and camp out just like old times. Fortunately, Thorin never participated, spending his days and nights in the throne room. You joined the group, glad to have something take your mind off of the recent events. Bofur led the group in a few songs, Fili and Kili told jokes, Nori and Dori bickered and teased each other, Ori laughed along with Bombur, Bifur, Oin, and Gloin.

Balin and Dwalin were in a more solemn mood, but couldn’t help cracking a smile every now and then. At some point, the dwarves started sharing stories of hilarious hardship over the course of the quest.

“But don’t you remember the time in the beginning of the journey when we had to cross that river?” Bofur asked with a grin, earning a few bursts of laughter. “Quite a few of us took a plunge that day!”

“I lost a lot of supplies,” Bombur said with a nod.

“And what supplies you did have left was soaked!” Bofur laughed, slapping his knee.

“I do recall the stew being soggier than usual that night,” Gloin joked.

“Or what about the afternoon when _________ quite literally got sick of traveling?” A teasing grin spread across Kili’s face. “She jumped off of her pony to go throw up in the bushes.”

“Hey! I felt terrible that day!” you protested playfully. “Besides, it’s not like I had ever ridden a pony all day every day for weeks before.”

“The best part was that Thorin scolded her anyway for holding the Company up,” Fili chuckled.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I remember a time when you and your brother were supposed to be watching the ponies and nearly got us all eaten by trolls when we had to go find them.”

“Ooh, that’s cold,” Kili feigned offense, unable to hide the amused grin.

“You don’t miss a thing, lass,” Bofur teased.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, still smiling. No one asked about Bilbo, or wondered aloud where he was. The hobbit had been spending more time alone as of late, so it wasn’t unusual for him to not join them for dinner. He would return before dawn, you knew, but as each hour passed that evening, you became a little more anxious.

You managed to set aside your worries and let sleep overtake you. You fell into a deep sleep, and a certain dwarf king haunted your dreams that night.

#the hobbit x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #thorin imagine #the hobbit imagine #thorin x you #the hobbit x you #thorin oakenshield imagine #hobbit imagine #thorin reader insert #thorin oakenshield reader insert #the hobbit reader insert #the company reader insert #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin #thorin the hobbit #hobbit thorin

318 notes · View notes

translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

Text

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 7

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

TW for this chapter: Suicide Attempt

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - Panic in the Medicated Bath

Song Qingshi searched the warehouse all night and finally found old robes made of red ice silk. He dismantled the decorative formation above, handed it over to the valley servants, and asked them to modify them to look like inner robes overnight. Then, he quietly put them on the bedside of Yue Wuhuan along with the new cotton gown.

The next day, Yue Wuhuan was shocked when he saw this ice silk robe.

Song Qingshi has urged him up from outside the door: "Hurry up, let's go for a new treatment."

"Yes, Master." Yue Wuhuan knew that he had changed masters, so he didn't dare to think too much. He put on his clothes and went out in a hurry, feeling much more comfortable in this outfit.

Song Qingshi took him through the corridor and went to the alchemy room next door. This was originally a forbidden place in the Medicine King Valley. A place where the original body used animals and humans to experiment with various medicines. It was also the place where the valley servants were most afraid of entering. Song Qingshi complied with the "Declaration of Helsinki" and rejected any human experiment that violated ethics. Fortunately, when he took over being the Medicine Master, there were not many test items left by the original body. He immediately released what he could release and helped those that needed help, and then changed it to a treatment room. The remaining specimens and general teachers are placed in other rooms - these were the big treasures of medicine, and he would study slowly when he had some free time.

Yue Wuhuan was walking towards the alchemy room and found that more than one valley servants cast sympathetic glances his way, and he became a little nervous. After entering the alchemy room, when he saw Song Qing take out a medicine vat big enough to fit a person in, he became more paranoid.

Song Qingshi didn't notice his anxiety. He threw the various medicinal materials that had been counted ahead of time into the tank, then poured water and used the alchemical fire in his body to control the temperature. After the water in the tank turned red, he turned back and said: "Take off your clothes and get in."

Yue Wuhuan stood still, his eyes stiffened when he looked at him.

"Don't be afraid," Song Qingshi finally remembered that he had forgotten to explain. "The Prince’s Plume Expelling Decoction is a medicinal bath. It won't cause discomfort."

Yue Wuhuan hesitated for a moment before stretching his hand to the belt and untying it.

Song Qingshi turned around, sat down with his back to him, not peeking at him entering the bath.

Yue Wuhuan breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly removed his clothes, and stepped into the bloody medicinal water. The hot liquid medicine penetrated into the skin, causing a slight tingling sensation, but there was indescribable comfort. He took a deep breath, relaxed completely, and suddenly sank his whole person into the water. He didn't expect that the water would overflow because it was too full. It splashed on Song Qingshi’s neck, ears and hair. A pale red flower blossomed on his white robe.

For most Daoists, the robe was a very important thing and any damage would cause heartache.

Yue Wuhuan realized his mistake and sneaked out of the water quietly. He hid in the tank and peeked out, worried that he would offend Xianzun.

Song Qingshi didn't care what happened. He stared at the bluestone on the ground in a daze. After a while, he discreetly shook the water droplets on his hair.

Yue Wuhuan picked his words carefully and asked cautiously: "Master, will you turn around so that this slave can clean you?"

Song Qingshi lowered his head and looked at the bluestone more attentively: "You are bathing, you can't peek." In his world view, it was reasonable for doctors to check the patient's physical condition during treatment, but if the doctor peeks at the patient trying to take a bath, it was morally corrupt and shameless.

Yue Wuhuan pondered these words for a long time, and guessed: "Does Master dislike that this slave's body is too dirty?"

Song Qingshi shook his head and whispered: "You don't like being watched."

"Master jokes." Yue Wuhuan's eyes hardened, and he was silent for a moment, peeking out of the water. His long hair wet sat on his shoulders, just like a mermaid who just came out of the sea. His body was otherworldly, and his muscles were perfectly proportioned with no hint of fat. His waist was slender enough to be held with one arm, but there was hidden power inside. He leaned against the edge of the bath, approached Song Qingshi’s ear, blowing lightly. His phoenix eyes were extremely charming, the red tear-shaped mole was so gorgeous that it could charm people’s hearts, and his voice was as tempting as the devil. "What is there not to see on this slave's body? The people who have seen it. . . there were too many to count. They all say that the slave's body is very beautiful and defined, and it can stop a man in his tracks. It was made to be adored. . ."

Song Qingshi quickly interrupted him, repeating: "You don't like being watched."

After Yue Wuhuan watched him for a long time, he said hoarsely: "This slave doesn't care anymore."

Song Qingshi didn't know how to explain, but insisted: "You don't like it."

Can he refuse just because he doesn't like it?

Yue Wuhuan thought this was ridiculous. In the years when he was just sent to accompany guests, he was coaxed to say that he didn't like it and didn't want it. The result was only meant to find his weaknesses for their amusement.

He didn't like to be seen, so that meant he was forced to show the most unbearable postures to everyone in the square and at banquets time and time again.

He doesn't like saying those lewd things, so he was tortured by various drugs and instruments of torture until he learned to use his voice to add to the excitement. . .

Until he abandoned his sense of shame, gave up his dignity, and pretended to enjoy these things.

He had known for a long time that in the eyes of these stupid cultivators, he was just a beautiful toy, without emotions, existing just to be moulded into whatever his master wanted. He often wished that he could go mad and be stupid, like most slaves, and lose his ability to think. He could mindlessly live a dog-like life and using his body to please his master.

It's a pity that there was always a trace of clarity in his heart, coldly examining his embarrassing self, and then cutting him to pieces. . .

Maybe he had already gone crazy. . .

He couldn’t tell when the fire rose slowly. The temperature of the potion was getting hotter and hotter. Yue Wuhuan’s face also became hotter and hotter, but he couldn’t feel the scorching heat and dipped his head into the bloody-red potion until water flooded up his nose and he couldn't breathe. He didn't want to get up, hoping to just stay submerged forever so that the hot water could clean the filth off his body, preferably right down to his bones.

Song Qingshi noticed something was wrong from the quietness behind him. He turned his head and found that he had been distracted when they were speaking and did not control the Red Lotus fire well. The water temperature rose several degrees and it was so hot that Yue Wuhuan had disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Song Qingshi didn't move cautiously, got up and rushed over, reaching into the tank to get the person out.

The wet beauty was dragged into his arms. His eyes were closed and his limbs drooped feebly. His long curling hair clung to his fair skin, dripping onto the ground, making the Acacia Seal on his back shimmer. Song Qingshi's mind was clear. He quickly laid the person on the ground, confirmed he still had a pulse and started CPR.

Yue Wuhuan spit up water and opened his eyes. He was surprised to find that Song Qingshi’s face was so close to his. He could even see his own reflection in his clear, black eyes. Because of the heat from the tank, Song Qingshi's eyes were heated and red, with water droplets clinging to his long eyelashes. He looked like a naive and innocent boy, nothing like an ancestor of the Nascent Soul sect who had practiced for nearly a thousand years, deceiving and cheating death itself.

He hadn't recognized the other party's true identity by the river at the time. He had wanted to sympathize with a man who would never experience an unjust death.

Yue Wuhuan's thoughts became more and more chaotic. He curled up subconsciously, and all kinds of messy memories flashed in front of him. The tenderness in his chest and the remaining warmth on his lips made him a little confused between reality and his memories as if he had returned to when he was punished by his masters.

Scholar-Tyrant Song almost failed his class, so scared that his soul almost flew away. His movements were as fierce as a tiger, relying entirely on instinct. After Yue Wuhuan woke up, he breathed a sigh of relief. However, he realized that there were many ways to treat drowning in the world of cultivating immortals, and there was no need to use modern first aid at all.

He wouldn't be able to clearly explain this. . .

It was standard for medical students to perform CPR on a drowning victim. Regardless of whether it was someone beautiful or ugly, a child or an old man, he would do it without hesitation. Song Qingshi was a little embarrassed that he hadn't figured out the best first aid technique for the immortal world ahead of time, but he can worry about that later. He just had to figure out how to explain it.

Yue Wuhuan had lost the focus in his eyes. He slowly unfolded his body, no longer covering it up, like a fish that was forcibly dragged ashore to die, preparing to be slaughtered.

Song Qingshi quickly turned his face away, closed his eyes, and apologized honestly: "I'm sorry, I made a mistake with the temperature of the water."

"It's not Master's fault," Yue Wuhuan's eyes were open, but he couldn't make out anything around him. He was listening, but he couldn't understand what was being said. He repeated his standard answer, "It's my fault, it's my fault. . ."

This is the truth that he had paid a heavy price to learn and had been instilled in him over and over again, always reminding him how to live.

"Wuhuan, you are so beautiful, you were born to be played with."

"Wuhuan, it's your body that seduces men, so it must be abused."

"Wuhuan, it's because you are so aloof that it makes me not want to stop."

"Wuhuan, you are a monster born for sex."

"Yue Wuhuan, it's all your fault."

. . .

"My fault, my fault, my fault. . ." Yue Wuhuan kept repeating numbly, "It's all my fault."

Because he was the wrong that existed in the world.

Song Qingshi took off his robe and put it on Yue Wuhuan, and suddenly realized that the mental state of the person in front of him was very fragile, as though he were caught in a terrifying trap. He thought for a while and gritted his teeth. He stretched out his hand to slap him but hesitated, so he got up and brought a bucket of cold water next to him. He used the freezing technique and poured it down suddenly over his head. Yue Wuhuan was shocked by the cold, and his mind cleared somewhat. Song Qingshi took the opportunity to give him the Tranquil Mind Spirit Calming Pill to take.

"Master?" Yue Wuhuan came to his senses, a little confused.

"It's okay." Song Qingshi took the towels and clothes he had prepared earlier, wrapped him up layer and layer like a dumpling, and then gave a rational explanation, "You were hallucinating because you almost drowned."

Yue Wuhuan nodded blankly.

Song Qingshi determined that he had wrapped the dumpling tight enough. He stopped, satisfied, and ordered: "Wear more in the future."

Yue Wuhuan looked at him and asked anxiously: "This slave can wear more?"

Song Qingshi eagerly educated him: "Autumn is coming soon. It's going to be cold. You must wear more to avoid catching a cold."

"Thank you Master for your pity." Yue Wuhuan responded softly as soon as he was sure that he was not toying with him. He clutched his clothes tightly. For some reason, he suddenly remembered that when he first entered Golden Phoenix Manor, he was forced to take off all his clothes and was reduced to being a plaything.

Now, this seemingly deceptive man had personally helped him put on his clothes piece by piece, as though he were trying to convince him of something. . .

Because the medicated bath had been interrupted, the effect had not been fully achieved.

Song Qingshi busied himself adding water to the medicine tank and re-adjusting the temperature.

Yue Wuhuan sat quietly on the ground watching him work for his sake, lost in thought. Suddenly, he later realized that the never-ending burning sensation in his body had died down. He moved his body slightly and was surprised to find that the sensitivity caused by drugs had also greatly decreased, and the friction of the cloth was no longer causing him discomfort.

He tried to find an answer, but couldn't understand it. He finally plucked up the courage to ask, "Master, what is the purpose of the Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction. . .?"

"Huh?" Song Qingshi stopped and froze for a while. He found that he had again fallen into the scholar-tyrant's bad habit. His mind was moving too fast. He always felt that others would understand as long as he gave a name or an answer, regardless of whether others were following his thoughts or not.

Song Qingshi was a good academic who knew how to accept his mistakes and correct them. He reorganized his words several times in his mind and chose the simplest explanation, "Your body has been corroded by many drugs, so it causes great discomfort. The Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction can be used to remove the drug residues in your body. This medicinal bath needs to be taken five times, and the last two times will be taken with Muscle Generating Flower and Snow Toad Cake added to help repair the old wounds. When that happens, it might be itchy and uncomfortable but we can't use anesthetics. Don’t worry, you just need to endure that stage, and the body will return to its original state. . ."

Song Qingshi couldn’t bear to say it: Those people didn’t care about whether Yue Wuhuan lived or died. All kinds of aphrodisiacs were used uncontrollably on him, causing conflicts of various drug properties in his body and residual excess. If the drugs had continued to be used, he wouldn't have made it another few years.

"I was overdosed on drugs. . . Yes, they thought I was boring," Yue Wuhuan wrapped his clothes tightly around his frame, reluctant to let go. He hesitated for a long time but decided to control the unwillingness in his heart and explain clearly what Song Qingshi would figure out sooner or later. He was so confused that he once again forgot how he was supposed to address himself, "Master, without the medicine, my body will not respond to men. You won't be able to find pleasure in me. I-I'm not used to those things, only with the help of drugs. . ."

Song Qingshi interrupted his incoherent speech: "Don't do things that make you uncomfortable."

"You don't need to be nice to me." The more Yue Wuhuan opened his heart, the more fear he felt. He was like a bewildered child, desperately saying, "I have nothing, the only thing I can give you is this body. . ."

Song Qingshi realized that he wasn't in a good emotional state right now and turned away. He knew he should do psychological intervention now, but the words in his heart that he had practiced thousands of times all disappeared the minute he opened his mouth. He couldn't say anything sweet and comforting. He was clearly extremely upset, but in the end, his thoughts could only be condensed into two words: "You have."

The Yue Wuhuan in his heart was the kid who had practiced his swordsmanship under the peach blossom tree, the boy who dreamt of becoming a cultivator with a mortal body.

The Yue Wuhuan he saw in his eyes was a soaring phoenix in the heavens, the brightest star in the night, but with its wings broken and covered in dust.

Song Qingshi walked step by step, firm in every step.

Yue Wuhuan tried to force himself to calm down, but he couldn't stop his body from trembling, and he wanted to retreat.

Song Qingshi squatted down on his knees and looked meaningfully into his eyes.

Yue Wuhuan felt that he couldn't retreat.

Song Qingshi promised word by word: "I will and return to you whatever you had before, and I will give you everything you want."

Yue Wuhuan's breathing became short. He still couldn't understand what this promise meant, but he understood the seriousness and determination in Song Qingshi's eyes. He asked carefully: "What do you need me to do?"

Song Qingshi asked: "Don't try to commit suicide again, okay?"

Yue Wuhuan thought for a long time and finally nodded.

#mistakenly saving the villain #mistakenly saving the villain translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel #song qingshi #yue wuhuan

41 notes · View notes

terresdebrume · 5 years ago

Text

The Witcher - Favorite Reads Masterpost

So, the previous one was getting really super long and Tumblr refused to save the latest update three times, which I’m taking to mean I’ve reached some kind of length limit. In view of that, and with a poke to @nyliekeo who asked to be tagged, here’s the second volume of my Witcher fic-reading adventures!

(Pretty much all Geraskier, because I’m only a multishipper in the sense that I have many ships across many fandoms.)

Volume 1

Last updated: April 10th, 2020.

Non geraskier fic

Her Current Is Pulling You Closer - TheMarvellousMadMadamMim

Specs: 1 900 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Eist/Calanthe - Swimming, shameless flirting

Summary: After nearly three years of marriage, Eist Tuirseach realizes there are still things to learn about his wife.

Becoming Water - Orockthro

Specs: 3 456 words - Mature - Trans woman!Geralt, curses, happy ending

Summary: When Geralt was a child his mother kissed his forehead, wove flowers in his hair, and let him dance around the campsite they shared with the other druids. He loved dancing, the way his body moved and flowed; he was like water.

And then she left him in the road, spilled water on his feet, and a faint trail of dust where she and the cart were no longer. And a man came and took Geralt and made him into something new.

“Were you short? Waifish? Did those witcher mutagens turn you into, you know, the hulking sexy man that you are? At least they gave you such male perfection, what with the stubble and the jaw and the--”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

(Or, Geralt is cursed with a female body during their travels. Only it's not so much a curse as a gift she didn't know she so desperately desired until now.)

of cockroaches and men - Potrix

Specs: 1 442 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Yennefer & Jaskier, Getting to know each other, BAMF Jaskier

Summary: As if being stuck waiting for her supplier in this sorry excuse for a town full of narrow-minded, superstitious simpletons isn't already frustrating enough, the first familiar face Yennefer spots when she walks into the grubby tavern is that of her least favourite bard.

Or, alternatively; sometimes you misjudge people, but there's nothing some badassery and booze won't fix.

all cooped up - alittlebitmaybe

Specs: 4 205 words - Mature - Polyamory, Pandemic 2020, Non-explicit sex, instigator Yen

Summary: Geralt's old university roommate, Jaskier, needs a place to ride out the pandemic. Geralt and Yennefer conveniently have a couch and Geralt, inconveniently, has a crush.

Cover it over and write it out - TheArcheologist

Specs: 3 214 words - Mature - Dyslexia, implied child abuse, Dandelion is a noble

Summary: There is something Geralt has noticed, after traveling so long with Jaskier. It is nothing major, nothing world ending or even warranting bringing up, but it is there, nonetheless, a funny little habit he can’t unsee.

“You’re better at this stuff than me, Geralt, you read it.”

Geraskier fics

pride - Besully (Briar_Elwood)

Specs: 737 words - Teen & Up - Trans Jaskier

Summary: Geraskier Week Dealer's Choice

He only manages to get the shirt untucked from the bard’s trousers when Jaskier’s smile disappears, and he scrambles backwards, holding the edges of his shirt down.

Do It Again - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 6 771 words - Explicit - Time Loop

Summary: By the twentieth time Geralt has gone through the loop, he decides to just throw himself off the cliff’s edge after Borch.

He wakes up to his twenty-first attempt.

“Fuck.”

Interlude; The End of All Things - TabbyCat33098

Specs: 3 496 words - General Audiences - Growing Old Together

Summary: Geralt realizes Jaskier is growing old and tries his best to return the rest of Jaskier's life to him. If only Jaskier would cooperate and take it.

How much longer will Jaskier be content with weathering the elements and contending with the uncertainty of mercenary work? How long until Jaskier realizes that in devoting himself to crafting a legacy for Geralt, he has forgotten to create a legacy of his own?

After all, he does not have a wife or children, for their nomadic lifestyle is conducive to neither. He has no home to return to between stints with Geralt, whether a sprawling mansion vaunting his wealth or a comfortable cottage replete with souvenirs from his varied exploits. How many experiences has Jaskier sacrificed because some contract or irate nobleman drew them elsewhere? How many untouched fields of snow has Jaskier never seen; how many harvests at Novigrad has he yearned to celebrate from halfway across the Continent—

“You’re staring,” Jaskier points out.

“You wanted to go to the Kovirian coast,” Geralt responds.

a tapestry of scars - splendidlyimperfect

Specs: 7 688 words - Mature - Modern AU, Birpolar disorder, self harm, references to previous suicide attempt and car accident.

Summary: Jaskier comes into Geralt's life on a sunny afternoon in May - wide smiles and baby blue eyes; breathtaking stories and half-written song lyrics. He's mesmerizing and full of life, and Geralt can't look away. But sunshine doesn't last forever, and when Jaskier disappears, Geralt learns that beautiful things have dark and broken pieces, and even damaged people can help fix them.

Summer Mornings - The UnamazingTrashKing

Specs: 3 241 words - Mature - Fluff

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are sort of a couple. They definitely wake up together and talk about spending the rest of their lives together.

An Incomplete Happiness - BlossomsintheMist

Specs: 22 497 words - Mature - Serious injuries, injuries recovery, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension

Summary: Jaskier is traveling with Geralt when a hunt goes badly wrong and Geralt ends up injured. Geralt soon realizes that the bard can take care of Geralt better than he'd realized, in his own way.

Hide Behind The Mound of Dead Bards - Bones (Doctorbones)

Specs: 17 296 words - Explicit - Temporary character death, Graphic depiction of violence

Summary: Jaskier is really bad at two things: shutting up and staying dead. Luckily, he can do both at the same time...for a while.

faith in transience - unconscious

Specs: 12 532 words - Explicit - Monster of the week, Service top Jaskier, attempted mind control.

Summary: “I learn stuff about you to enrich my songs, thanks very much.” Geralt starts.

“Like what?”

Jaskier strums a chord. “Plenty of things. You always ask the contractor if they want the head or not instead of just showing up with it, because you don’t want to shock people. You eat normal amounts of food when eating in public, instead of your usual awe-inducing giant amount. You sleep more when you’re hurt, but that’s the only way I’d ever know. You’re a bit weird about your potions and you count them a lot.” He glances up and grins. “Shall I continue?”

A handful of contracts go sideways. Recovering is easier with Jaskier there.

when midnight breaks their sleep - SummerFrost

Specs: 16 736 words - Mature - Modern setting, polyamory, polyamory negociation

Summary: The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

"It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

he, who i love - kinneyb

Specs: 1 279 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Summary: Jaskier looked forward to these nights the most; he was playing in a rundown tavern in a small town near the coast, coins gathered at his feet, knowing that at any moment Geralt would come bursting through the door.

He spun on his heels, strumming his lute with nimble fingers, the mark of a practiced player.

Jaskier had thought he’d reached his peak when he was younger. He had been proven wrong, of course, practice truly did make perfect. He was getting more attention than ever, and only half of it probably had to do with his new songs, all depicting the Witcher’s love story with a bard of the human variety.

He never directly mentioned himself, but the people had made the connection fairly easily, anyway.

Near the Coast - IantoPace

Specs: 2 164 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Dresses

Summary: Geralt finds out some of the feminine things Jaskier likes. This is inspired by the images of Joey Batey & Madeleine Hyland in the woods wearing each other's clothes.

Shoot First, Ask Questions Later - Ladivviniatravestia

Specs: 3 427 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Defining the relationship

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier fuck, then try to define their relationship. Too bad Geralt has no idea what he really wants and Jaskier has been hiding something.

parry, riposte - plutoandpersephone

Specs: 5 230 words - Explicit - Established relationship, competence kink, power dynamics

Summary: "How about it?"

Geralt looks at Jaskier like he’s just started to speak in some long lost, foreign tongue.

"You want to take me on in the sword ring?"

Jaskier challenges Geralt to a bout in the fencing ring. They both get more than they bargained for.

The Coast - NinjaSniperKitty

Specs: 1 856 words - General Audiences - Established relationship, overly protective boyfriend!Geralt

Summary: Geralt takes Jaskier up on his offer to get away and go to the coast for a while. While Geralt sees danger hiding everywhere along the coast, Jaskier hasn't been to the sea in years and only sees a good time!

Sweet, Silky, Soft, and Shiny - Girl_in_Red_Crossing

Specs: 3 251 words - Mature - Inappropriate use of candy

Summary: Just a couple of bros, sucking on sweet things... sharing silky things... lying in soft beds together... (kissing)...

The Witcher Wolf 2: Geralt’s POV - im_fairly_witty.

Specs: 15 338 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Animal transformation

Summary: It's been two weeks since Geralt drove Jaskier away from him on that mountain top and Geralt's been doing his best not to think about it by accepting every contract he comes across. But when a job goes badly he find himself cursed into the form of an injured wolf and is then saved by none other than Jaskier himself, who has no idea that the animal he's taken under his wing is his own witcher. Geralt must now try to alert Jaskier to his real situation and adjust to his new life traveling with the bard, learning several hard but very much needed lessons along the way.

Shadowplay - sospes

Specs: 26 539 words - Mature - BAMF!Jaskier, Espionnage

Summary: Geralt returns to Oxenfurt on a bright May morning to find flowers laid outside Jaskier's rooms and a fresh grave in the cemetery.

Except, as Geralt is about to learn, in Jaskier's world things are never quite what they seem.

An Old Man’s Tale - NotebooksandLaptops

Specs: 1 448 words - General Audiences - External POV, Old age

Summary: At the edge of the village, in a house surrounded by wild-flowers and weeds - re-built from its former crumbling foundations – there lived the Old Man. He’d earnt the rights for the capital O, capital M off of the rest of the villagers barely a week after he’d moved into their humble world. For he had not grown up here, like everyone else did. Yet he settled and settled as if he had always been there. He wandered the cliffsides, the beaches, the streets. He strung shells together and gifted them to the ladies of the village with a wink that betrayed the charming young man he once must have been. He bought the little ceramic pots Alicja sold on the market, and he filled them with weeds as if the weeds were flowers worth showcasing. And – most importantly – he sang.

-///-

Or, Jaskier settles in a costal village towards the end of his life.

For The Joy Of It - vvitchering (Witchering)

Specs: 848 words - Teen & Up Audiences - self esteem issues, body image

Summary: After spending years on The Path together, Jaskier and Geralt finally settle down. Jaskier notices one day that his new sedentary lifestyle has changed him in ways he fears Geralt won't accept.

The Silence Between Heartbeats - anarchycox

Specs: 7 969 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Jskier knows Geralt better than anyone

Summary: Geralt faced off with a sorceress, only instead of her magic killing him, it stole his voice. But this should be an easy fix, he knew many women who could heal this. But that would mean anyone noticing something wrong. He knew he was quiet, but seriously, did no one wonder why he wasn't saying a single thing? Months he traveled silent, no one noticing and it was driving him mad.

Until he runs into Jaskier, who notices immediately that something is wrong.Because of course it is Jaskier.

Who else in the end would it be, who properly saw the White Wolf?

tailored - jeannie_tangerine

Specs: 4 874 words - Explicit - Geralt has a kink and Jaskier is absolutely into it.

Summary: in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt has a kink and is more than glad to indulge it.

oh darling please be mine - kickassfu

Specs: 749 words - General Audiences - Introspective, fluff

Summary: Geralt’s head turns to him just as he’s jumping into his arms. Obviously, he catches Jaskier, in his very strong, very big arms. Still probably processing what’s happening, Geralt’s body is tense, unmoving. Jaskier doesn’t care.

New Monsters Stories - Kathkin

Specs: 20 209 words - Explicit - Urban fantasy, mutual pining

Summary: “So do you have a name?”

“Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

Professor Pankratz - martistarfighter

Specs: 1 147 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Sumary: “Come teach my class with me tomorrow.” He whispers in the witcher’s ear. He’s sporting a neatly trimmed beard these days, and it tickles Geralt’s neck in the most tempting way.

Geralt chuckles dryly, but the lack of an immediate quip tells him that Jaskier is serious. It’s a little scary how often they can read their minds by now.

“Don’t think so. You’re the teacher, Jask. I’ve got nothing to tell them.”

“But you’re the reason I’m still alive and teaching in the first place. Besides, you can just sit there, look pretty and answer some questions. My students have heard a lot about you, they’ll adore you.”

As someone pointed out, there's too much 'witcher watching out for his idiot' and not enough 'the witcher is a himbo who loves his college educated bard husband, who is qualified to teach' content out there. So I'm fixing it with a self-indulgent ficlet!

and i plan to be forgotten when i’m gone (yes, i’ll be leaving in the fall) - Stockholm_Syndrome

Specs: 18 083 words - Mature - Discussion of assisted suicide, discussion of suicide, depression, curse, no MCD

Summary: “That was more emotional than I expected.” He finally said “I didn’t think I’d have time to share this with you, and I.” Jaskier interrupted himself, as if unsure if he should continue. “I suppose I didn’t think it would upset you so.”

“Jaskier” Geralt growled, not able to express how ludicrous that idea was.

“Yes, I suppose I was wrong there.” Jaskier replied with a helpless shrug.

---- Or, Jaskier is cursed to turn into a monster. He doesn't think this is important information to mention.

Chopsticks - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 12 175 words - Explicit - Piano teacher!Jaskier, friends to lovers, modern setting

Summary: “Yennefer sent me a check for eight lessons for you,” Jaskier said the following weekend, wearing a beige button-down with--

“Does your shirt have owls on it?” Geralt asked, caught somewhere between amusement and horror.

Jaskier looked down and tugged on the front of his shirt as if he had to remind himself what was on it. He beamed at Geralt. “Yeah! Do you like it?”

“Not particularly.”

The smile swiftly disappeared.

“It’s not terrible,” he amended, stepping back to let Jaskier inside the apartment. Then Jaskier’s initial words sank in. “Wait. Yen did what?”

Hanging up on Yennefer was always a mistake.

what’s in a (pet) name? - janie_tangerine

Specs: 1 415 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, pet names

Summary: "So," he clears his throat one evening, having just rinsed Geralt's now clean, soft white hair, and damn how he wishes the man would just take care of it somewhat decently, "I was wondering."

"What?" Geralt says after he doesn't go on for a bit. It didn't sound particularly annoyed. Right on.

"This is a very broad question, but I was just curious, no need to answer if you don't want to -" Jaskier starts, having learned that giving the man a way out is always a good bet.

"Just get on with it, won't you?"

Jaskier clears his throat, leans down, puts his elbows on the rim of the tub. "How do you feel about pet names?"

Or: in which Jaskier has a question for Geralt. It doesn't get answered the way he had assumed.

As Long As You Were Mine For A Little While - whisperedstories

Specs: 12 815 words - Explicit - Friends with benefits, mutual pining

Summary: It starts with Jaskier offering a helping hand when Geralt needs to let off some steam. The thing is, Jaskier likes taking care of Geralt—however he can—and Geralt lets him, so he just keeps doing it.

And as long as they never talk about how he's in love with Geralt, they're both happy with the arrangement, right? Right.

Of Debt and Debtors - sp_oops

Specs: 5 136 words - Explicit - Semi-public sex

Summary: Two bros, chillin' in a ta-vern, five feet apart ‘cause they—fuck, they really missed each other, not that Geralt will ever admit it—and anyway, in a minute here, they're gonna have to get closer than they ever thought possible. (Or, sometime after Episode 6, they meet again, Jaskier’s in trouble again, and Geralt saves them. Again.)

This One I Shall Choose - DorkMagician

Specs: 3 751 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Quiet pining, the exact moment Geralt falls in love

Summary: Geralt falls in the river fishing for a djinn and winds up soaked. Jaskier sees the opportunity to do as his mother told him a long time ago and takes the first step when he offers Geralt his handkerchief.

Skin Deep - Sospes

Specs: 8 935 words- Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, getting together, non consensual tattooing, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced childhood abuse

Summary: “What’s that?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier blinks. “It’s a tattoo,” he says. “Have you never seen a tattoo before, Geralt?”

Geralt fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I know it’s a tattoo,” he says. “What’s it a tattoo of?”

They say there are 5 ways to show your love (and I don’t know any of them) - Mayathelittlebee

Specs: 5 989 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, humor

Summary: May be if Geralt stopped being so dramatic for a moment he'd finally realize that loving Jaskier is not as hard as he thinks.

I don’t mind if I’m with you - janie_tangerine

Specs: 11 152 words - Explicit - In which Jaskier has to quelle his murder instincts concerning how much Geralt’s life sucks

Summary: or: five times plus one in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt is missing on good life experiences and promptly sees to fix it.

Fill Me Up - Mysticmajestic

Specs: 402 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Romance

Summary: Geralt only knows how to give, and give, until he's empty. What is he to do with Jaskier, who only wants to give back to him?

Little Things - QueenForADay

Specs: 3 315 words - General Audiences - Domestic fluff, Ciri ships it

Summary: In the first few months of knowing the Witcher, he experienced first-hand how shut-off Geralt could be with the world around him and those within it.

At some point, and he can’t pinpoint where, that shroud started to slip away. He saw how much Geralt could, and does, actually care. It’s as fierce as the way he fights.

They spend a great deal of time watching each other; when they finally fell into a bed together, they spent most of their nights learning what the other liked, mapping the plains of skin and muscle underneath the other.

But it’s the other things, the little things, that Jaskier thinks about the most.

O, Empathy - almostnectarine

Specs: 32 624 words - Mature - Body swap, friends to lovers, questfic

Summary: “How did you manage,” asked Geralt, with infinite patience and only a desire to know the facts, and not at all a little meanhearted glee, “to insult a sorcerer while his tongue was down your throat?”

“Don’t make me recount the entire sordid affair, Geralt,” said Jaskier, with a surprising note of desperation breaking through his gruff monotone. “I’m already having a rather shit day and all I’ve done so far is wake up.”

“In my body,” said Geralt.

“Yes,” said Jaskier, with the insolent cadence that was unmistakably Jaskier’s, but in Geralt’s voice, emerging from Geralt’s face and frame.

“And I’ve got yours,” said Geralt, from Jaskier’s.

and for that love to be with men - sebviathan

Specs: 6 734 words -Mature - Emotional constipation, self discovery, self acceptance, geralt is a whole ass gay man who doesn’t know what being gay is

Summary: Something's not right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it—living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of black glass. If I fell through the floor I would keep falling.

The enormity of Geralt's desire disgusts him.

at last, at last, at last, oh I thought you’d never ask - elegantwings

Specs: 15 040 words - Explicit - Arranged marriage, slow burn, trans!Jaskier, in this house we love Yennefer of Vengerberg

Summary: Geralt is given firm instructions from Vesemir: He is to get married to a Redanian noblewoman in the hopes of improving relations between witchers and the rest of the world. Once the ceremony is over, he plans to drop his new spouse off at their new home and carry on with his life as he always has. Little does he know, his future wife is not a woman, and not so easily left behind. He's not really sure he'd like to get rid of Jaskier, either. Over the next several years, they learn to navigate their new relationship, first while Jaskier completes his degree, and then when Jaskier insists on accompanying him on the road. And no matter what anyone else has to say about it, Geralt is absolutely not in love with his husband.

it’s what my heart just yearns to say - chasing_the_sterek

Specs: 1 071 words - Teen & Up - Slice of life, Jaskier: what if I found a way to make Geralt admit when he needs things

Summary: "If you could have one blessing," Jaskier says, eyes lit green by the fire between them, "What would it be?"

Geralt looks at him. The whetstone is smooth and friction-warm in his palm, edges rounded from use. It's been with him for a long time: almost four years.

Jaskier has been with him for even longer, but he's never done this. Geralt squints at him, but only thing different to this morning is the yellow firelight changing the colour his eyes appear.

"What," he says.

not a goodbye, a thank you - Potrix

Specs: 2 915 words - Mature - Graphic depiction of illness, near death experience, talk about death, found family

Summary: Somewhere further in the courtyard, Lambert yells out a colourful curse while Ciri cackles maniacally. Eskel is taunting the former through his laughter, and Vesemir’s voice joins in with barked commands and corrections once the clang of steel against steel continues. Somewhere above them, on one of the balconies overlooking the yard, Geralt can hear the scratch of quill against parchment as Yennefer works on her correspondence, interrupted every now and again by the tapping of nails against an inkpot.

He realises what’s wrong an instant before everyone else grows suddenly, eerily still; Jaskier is quiet.

After Summers of Fasting (I Feel Hunger At Last) - Artemis_Unbound

Specs: 3 793 words - Teen & Up Audiences - A six pack you can see is not a good thing, Jaskier tricks Geralt into Not Being Starving anymore, Love confessions

Summary: Defined six-pack abs are a sign that someone has been starving and dehydrating themselves, not a sign of incredible strength. It's just not healthy.

Jaskier sees Geralt shirtless for the first time, sees all that defined musculature, and is Horrified. He's slept with enough warriors and soldiers to know what that means. And he decides, this stops now.

Tunes Without Words - foxy_mulder

Specs: 22 021 words - Mature - Self-esteem issues, past abuse, miscommunications, misunderstandings

Summary: The plan is this:

He will note all the things that annoy Geralt, and he will stop doing them, and then Geralt will want him around. It will work.

It has to work, because Jaskier cannot be left behind.

The Path Not Taken - sospes

Specs: 40 149 words - Mature - Extraordinarily bad misunderstanding, Idiots in love, Explicit sexual content

Summary: Jaskier comes across an injured witcher in a backwoods town, months after the events of the dragon hunt. It all just sort of escalates from there.

#The Witcher #Geraskier #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #My Posts #Witcher Fic #Fic Rec #Masterpost #100n #150n #200n

254 notes · View notes

crimes-and-gelato · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Never Empty of You Pairing: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian Rating: Teen Audiences Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029869 Summary: Taking his tray of coffee and plate of sandwich, he searches for a place to eat his meal while he waits for his shijie, Jiang Yanli. That’s when he sees him. The guy he’d manage to get acquainted with for the last few days they’ve accidentally run into each other in the café. Lan Zhan. Fortunately, Wei Wuxian remembers his name. or the one where Wei Wuxian has been cursed **

‘I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you everyday.’

-Lemony Snicket

The café is bustling with people for their brunch on an early Sunday afternoon. And Wei Wuxian should have expected this since it’s the weekend — and he forgot somehow — but still he can’t help but be put out about it since he favours this café so much. Not just because he often gets free cookies from his barista friend, Wen Nings.

All of the tables are taken, especially the ones on the outside since it’s one sunny Spring Day and everyone seems to want a patch of sunlight after the heavy pouring earlier last week. To be honest, he’s quite tired of the rainy weather as well. Water ghouls and ghosts are the most exhausting things to fight. Slippery little shits.

Not to mention the frigid condition they have to work with. It’s hard to move in wet clothes and how the cold somehow clings much closer to your skin, seeps deep into your bones. He’s not looking forward to more night huntings in this rainy season. But someone needs to accompany Jiang Cheng, his little brother.

Taking his tray of coffee and plate of sandwich, he searches for a place to eat his meal while he waits for his shijie, Jiang Yanli. That’s when he sees him. The guy he’d manage to get acquainted with for the last few days they’ve accidentally run into each other in the café. Lan Zhan. Fortunately, Wei Wuxian remembers his name.

He plasters a smile, feeling lucky that he won’t have to wait for so long for a table to clear up and heads to the other man’s table. It’s a four seater table, but somehow no one had asked to sit with Lan Zhan. He guesses it’s because the man looks frigid to most people: golden eyes all sharp, stony beautiful features, lips on a constant thin line. Wei Wuxian has nothing bad to say about him, except that he’s ridiculously cool which is a great envy.

Plus, when Wei Wuxian didn’t have a cable to charge his phone, Lan Zhan graciously offered his own cable. You really cannot judge a person by their exterior. Since then they’ve exchanged a few greetings here and there, they’ve managed to introduced themselves to each other, talk a bit about the weather sometimes, mentions their families and their jobs but not in details, just little informations; so you can’t really call it friendship, even when he somehow wants to.

‘Lan Zhan,’ he greets, grin all too big on his face, he knows, but he can’t help it. He feels calm around this man despite everything shit that’s happening in his life right now.

Lan Zhan looks startled to see him, putting down the scroll he’s reading.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t even comment on the scroll because who the fuck in their era would read a scroll? But of course, Lan Zhan does because he’s old school like that; he’s a historian, for crying out loud.

Sometimes, he wonders if Lan Zhan believes in the supernatural since there are lots of history books about them. The West has their stories of witches, whom they burned at the stake; there are records about monsters in other countries as well. But that’s not really the best topic opener, right? How weird will that make him seem.

‘Do you mind?’ He gestures to the empty seat. ‘There are more people today and ��’

‘Go ahead,’ Lan Zhan replies immediately, cutting him off. He quickly fixes his scroll to make room for Wei Wuxian’s things on the table. In his hasten, he almost knocks his coffee cup over.

It’s the first time Wei Wuxian see him get flustered. He kind of feels bad about it now. Maybe Lan Zhan is not used in sharing table with people he’s not close with.

‘Uhm… You can tell me if this is making you uncomfortable,’ he assures him, ignoring the sad twitch in his chest. ‘I’m sure a table will clear up in a few minutes.’

‘No.’ For a second Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Zhan’s about to reach out to him, hold him in place to stay. ‘I mean,’ Lan Zhan clears his throat, ‘this is okay.’ He stares at Wei Wuxian with conviction. ‘I don’t mind. Not at all.’

‘Thanks,’ he replies, putting his drink and food on the table and taking the seat opposite to Lan Zhan. ‘I’m suppose to meet my sister but couldn’t remember what time she said it will be. I guess I got here earlier than our arranged time, and I have also forgotten my phone.’ He laughs deprecatingly. ‘I forgot a lot of things these days. And today seems to just be my most unlucky day.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Lan Zhan says sincerely, almost pained like he’s the one going through Wei Wuxian’s day.

He places the smile back on his face, uncomfortable seeing the other man upset on his behalf. It just doesn’t sit well with him, no one should make Lan Zhan unhappy. Ever.

‘Thanks. But it’s okay.’ He shrugs. ‘Things just happen sometimes. It’s no one’s fault. Although, people did say I was born under unlucky stars, which explains all the series of unfortunate events in my life.’ He sips from his cup. ‘But I think, everyone makes their own fate in the world, right? That’s why we have this life. It’s up to us how we live it.’

He really should stop talking like some cryptic fellow. Not that there’s anything normal about him since he hunts monsters and ghosts for a living. Who knew the supernatural phenomena in the modern world doesn’t cease with the course of time?

‘Mn.’ Lan Zhan nods, staring with those earnest golden eyes.

‘I’m sorry for disturbing you with my nonsense.’ He smiles, face slightly heating up on his sudden outburst. There’s just something about Lan Zhan’s gaze that gets under his skin. Not in a bad way, but in a good way which somehow is more worse.

‘I don’t mind.’ The Historian smiles, small but soft.

Wei Wuxian almost chokes on the piece of sandwich he’s chewing. It’s clearly unfair for Lan Zhan to be this attractive and to have him throw around smiles like those. It’s not safe for anyone’s well-being. He clears his throat and takes another sip of his coffee, looking at everywhere except meeting Lan Zhan’s ardent’s gaze.

Being known as someone who’s shameless, it’s the first time for Wei Wuxian to feel this unsettled around someone. It’s usually the other way around. He takes another bite of his sandwich, surreptitiously peering at the man over his lashes in some hope for answers as to why Lan Zhan has this effect on him.

‘You’re married,’ he says, surprise by the silver band on the man’s fourth left finger, but more importantly, shock with the dejection lacing in his voice. If Lan Zhan notices, the man doesn’t show, only traces the ring with his other hand.

‘Yes,’ Lan Zhan answers, elated but there’s a hint of misery he tries to hide. His golden eyes pierces into Wei Wuxian’s for a second before he avoids his gaze like he’s afraid of being read. ‘Loving him was the best choice I’ve made… Not that I can fix the time I’ve decided to, or which part of him made me fall so completely that I was already in the middle before I knew that I had started.’

A tight grip wraps itself around Wei Wuxian’s heart at the sudden confession. He didn’t expect it, let alone be the receiving end of them with Lan Zhan’s full attention on him: intense and warm at the same time. It’s like looking at the sun and not knowing whether to look away or bask in its heat.

There’s a lump on his throat that resembles envy, or it’s probably an evolve longing that had been sitting in his chest for some time now. Nevertheless, he pushes it all aside and plasters a smile.

‘That sounds very romantic.’ He clears his throat again to get rid of the unwanted obstruction in his windpipe. It’s probably a rouge sandwich piece that he almost choke on a while ago. ‘What a lucky guy.’ He sips his coffee again so he doesn’t add anything absurd like: I envy him.

Another trace of that small, soft smile paints Lan Zhan’s lips again. And Wei Wuxian aches to taste it, but he can’t; reminds himself that he’s better than that.

‘I’m the lucky one,’ Lan Zhan says. ‘And maybe that’s the reason why this is my burden to carry.’

Wei Wuxian wants to ask what the man meant, but Wen Ning arrives with a slice of Sriracha Sweet Milk Chocolate Tart. The barista smiles at the both of them.

‘I didn’t order that,’ he tells his friend, knowing Wen Ning’s probably saved him a sliced of his favourite dessert when their chef makes it.

‘Oh no, Wangji-ge actually ordered this one,’ Wen Ning informs. ‘This is the last slice actually.’ The younger man looks abashed. ‘I forgot to save some for you. It’s quite popular these days.’

‘No, it’s ok—’

‘You can have mine,’ Lan Zhan offers.

He turns to the him. ‘It’s okay,’ he assures. ‘I have it all the time. You enjoy it.’

‘I really don’t mind.’ He pushes the tart towards Wei Wuxian.

‘You don’t have to.’

‘I insist.’ There’s that small, gentle smile again and Wei Wuxian’s heart does this thing again like it’s about to rattle inside his ribcage.

This could go on forever, Lan Zhan looks like a stubborn fellow. And as much as it would be fun to volley the tart like this, it wouldn’t be good for Wei Wuxian’s sanity. Just how much more can he take of those sincere smile without coughing his heart out and offering it to this quiet, sweet man?

‘We can share it,’ Wei Wuxian decides, taking small dessert fork and cutting the tart in half. ‘There,’ he announces, proud of his messy handiwork and realising that Wen Ning has left.

‘I really don’t mind,’ Lan Zhan repeats, taking half of the tart and putting it on Wei Wuxian’s empty sandwich plate. ‘It’s your favourite dessert. Not mine.’

Lan Zhan ceases halfway, abandoning his action and pulling his hands away from Wei Wuxian’s space.

‘What did you say?’ He stares in astonishment at the man across him. He doesn’t remember sharing this information. Clearly, they haven’t discussed this topic, he’s certain. And Lan Zhan’s deer caught in headlights reaction tells Wei Wuxian everything he needs to know. ‘How do you know? Who are you?’

‘Wei Ying.’ It’s carefully spoken, like it’s safe in Lan Zhan’s lips, like it’s home there.

No one has ever said his name like that. He always prefers Wuxian because people tend to mock him by using his birth name like it’s a curse, sometimes dripping with sarcasm or disgust.

But Lan Zhan mutters it with reverence and adoration, it literally steals his breath because the last time someone spoke his name like that it was his late parents. And it’s been a long time since his heart felt this warmth of being seen and loved.

‘Wei Ying, please.’

A blurry set of memories passes by: a soft hand running through his hair while humming a song as he buries his face into someone’s soft clothed thighs, a kiss on the forehead with his name on their lips at the promise of breakfast, him pulling someone’s hand hurriedly as they tell him to be careful, a sound of someone quietly sobbing his name.

The chair’s legs make an awful groan as Wei Wuxian abruptly stands, rattling the contents of their table. He must have looked like a spook animal.

‘I can explain,’ Lan Zhan pacifies, hand in the space between them like he wants to close the distance but doesn’t do so. ‘Wei Ying.’ He sounds pained.

‘Shut up.’ He doesn’t yell, but it’s not quiet either. The harshness of his voice folds Lan Zhan into himself like he’s been physically punch; Wei Wuxian regrets it. But he can’t. He can’t stand the idea of Lan Zhan saying his name like that — like it aches, like it hurts to say. He gets it from everyone else, but not Lan Zhan. Not when he knows how beautiful his name could sound from those lips, coated with care.

He catches Lan Zhan’s devastated expression before he sets off to leave. Wei Wuxian knows that the grief he saw on Lan Zhan’s face will be added to his collection of nightmares.

His flat’s quiet, different from how his heart is racing and his ears are ringing. There are messy thoughts, and brief images that passes his mind which he could not remember. And weeks ago he made a joke about being forgetful these days when Jiang Cheng scolded him for being late.

But now, he thinks it’s not his normal case of forgetfulness. Something is amiss and he should uncover the truth quickly.

His phone rings on the coffee table. He ignores it as his memory takes him back to Lan Zhan’s pained expression.

God, he’s such an asshole sometimes. Maybe he should have let Lan Zhan explain. The man has been nothing to him but nice and polite. And it might have helped him understand why there are gaps in his memories lately.

But is he ready for the revelation if he did stay and demanded answers?

There’s suddenly a loud series of knocks on the door that pulls him from his thoughts. A part of him wants it to be Lan Zhan, which is surprisingly disturbing because he doesn’t know the man, and somehow the man in question knows him, quite intimately if those glances are anything to go by.

Is he somehow attracted to problematic people after all? Did he also forget that one thing about him?

There’s another series of knocks followed by a, ‘Hey, Wei Wuxian, open up!’ It’s Jiang Cheng’s voice. Three more loud banging. ‘If you don’t open up, I’m going to break your door!’

‘A-Cheng,’ his shijie’s soft scolding passes through. ‘A-Xian, please open the door. We have something to tell you.��

Getting up from the floor takes effort, he’s not even sure how he got there. Not that he remembers making his way home from the café.

‘A-Xian,’ shijie’s relief voice welcomes him as he opens the door. She immediately pulls him close into an embrace and he can’t help but sob at her sturdy presence, both physically and metaphorically.

Wei Wuxian clings to her like she’s the last solid ground he can stand on while everything around him crumbles. He’s never felt this lost since he was five, the very earth underneath his feet swallowed up by an abyss of uncertainty and nothingness.

He can’t imagine not knowing her and Jiang Cheng. They’re the only constant in his life after his parents’ tragic death. And later on his Uncle Jiang and Madam Yu’s death. These days he can’t even remember his mother’s face, but he’s got shijie and Jiang Cheng to share stories about the sound of her laughter, her corny jokes, and her soft reminders.

Life always take and take and take from him. First his parents, and then his Uncle Jiang. And because of their way of life, coming from a lineage of cultivators, he hasn’t kept anyone close. The three of them never had. They’re the only family they have.

And if he’s forgetting, will he also start to forget shijie and Jiang Cheng? Will he forget that they’re his family? Forget that there are people waiting for him. Forget that he’s got a home now.

Forget who he is.

Forget who he is and wander back to the streets like when he was five, newly orphaned and fighting with stray dogs over scraps of food.

‘I’m forgetting.’ He sobs into her arms, as she helps him sit on the couch. ‘Important things. And people.’

‘It’s going to be okay, A-Xian,’ she assures, rubbing soothing circles on his back. She always smells like lotus flower, a comforting scent that takes him back to easier times. ‘A-Cheng and I will help you.’

‘You know?’ He looks up to her, face all wet from crying.

Shijie only nods, cupping a his face softly. ‘We’ve told you twice so far, and somehow you still forget.’

Panic rises in his throat. Twice. They’ve explained this to him twice and he doesn’t remember. He tries to search his memories for hints that at least he can recall small bits of what he’s been told before. Only to come up with nothing.

Nothing. He can’t find anything.

‘It’s just a matter of time before we fix this,’ Jiang Cheng promises through gritted teeth, hands balled in tight fists. ‘That bastard Su She managed to hide quickly after putting this curse on you.’

‘Su She?’ The name sounds familiar but he can’t remember why.

‘Yeah, that defected traitor from GusuLan Sect,’ Jiang Cheng explains. ‘Lan Xichen said they’re already looking everywhere, but that rat had planned his revenge intricately which makes it difficult to locate him.’

‘Revenge?’ This is another news to him. Well, everything is.

‘You don’t have to worry about anything, A-Xian.’ Yanli squeezes his hand. ‘We’re going to find him soon.’ Her other hand that’s cupping his face starts to wipe away his tears. ‘Lan Wangji isn’t giving up. So are we. And so should you… You have to remain calm and safe, okay? That’s what you need to do.’

‘I think you need to come back home with us,’ Jiang Cheng says, leaving no room for arguments. ‘It’ll be safer for you to be around someone else while we solve this case.’

They haven’t lived together in years, Wei Wuxian remembers. His shijie is married to Jin Zuxian, a shipping company mogul who also came from a bloodline of cultivators although their clan had focused more on business rather than the supernatural world.

Jiang Cheng on the otherhand is currently living with his fiancé’s in the Lan’s traditional home in Gusu, Lan Xichen is running their family’s ancient bookstore under Lan Qiren’s watchful supervision. Wei Wuxian dreads the idea of seeing Old Lan Qiren every day with the senior’s strict house rules.

‘Uhmm… I don’t think Lan Qiren would appreciate my presence in his home,’ he reasons out, he’s not going to admit Lan Qiren’s 3,000 house rules scare him. ‘Maybe I can stay at Huaisang’s or Wen Ning’s.’

‘It’s good that you still remember that,’ Jiang Cheng jabs. Yanli scolds him silently with her eyes. Their youngest is always the best at stabbing someone where it hurts the most. He huffs. ‘Maybe you could stay with your husband.’

‘A-Cheng,’ their sister chides.

Husband. The word sounds so foreign but also not. Wei Wuxian doesn’t understand why it feels like that despite being surprise, once again, by this new information.

‘I’m married?’ He looks from one sibling to the next. His questioning gaze lands on his shijie last because Jiang Cheng is looking away, berated and guilty. ‘I’m married,’ he repeats to himself, can’t wrap his mind around it. ‘To a guy.’

Shijie squeezes his hand with both of hers. ‘Yes. And he’s a wonderful man,’ she assures genuinely. ‘You love him. And he loves you, too. So much.’

He can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. He remembers seeing his shijie’s pain in loving the arrogant peacock when they were teens, and promising never to love someone like that, never to give someone that power to hurt him. Then, there’s that darkness that follows him around ever since he was young, taking away everyone he had ever loved. Somehow there are still days he thinks he’ll wake up with his shijie and didi gone, just like everyone else. That’s his curse, Madam Yu said so as well.

Who could have been so unfortunate as to marry someone as tainted as him? All these years, he’d kept everyone at arm’s length, afraid that they’ll get corrupted with his misfortune. But someone was idiot enough to tolerate him?

Love. Not tolerate, a part of him whispers.

‘How come I don’t remember him?’ he asks, trying to find an image memory of him dressed in red decorated in gold. He should at least remember that, right? But all he recalls is his shijie’s wedding day, even Jiang Cheng’s engagement party. ‘Why can’t I remember him?’

There’s shijie’s soft assuring squeeze again. ‘It’s the curse.’

‘What?’

‘Su She cursed you to forget Lan Wangji,’ Jiang Cheng continues, still looking away to hide his grief underneath his angry tone. ‘That bastard wanted to hurt Lan Wangji, and used you… because he knew that you’re Wangji’s breaking point.’

Wei Wuxian squeezes his eyes shut because his heart is suddenly heavy with feelings he’s afraid may spill through tears. He’s not even sure why he’s affected this much when he doesn’t even know this Lan Wangji person.

But hasn’t he dreamt of being loved like that? Selfish as it may sound. He’s never been someone’s precious person before? The kind that could break someone. And now, he realises that he’s not very fond of being someone’s breaking point.

The siblings agreed that it’ll be safer and better if Wei Wuxian stays with his husband. It may trigger back his memories as well. Not that they’re optimistic about that one since only Su She’s blood could undo the curse.

Wei Wuxian insisted on waiting for Lan Wangji alone since he doesn’t want to worry his brother and sister too much as he tries to mentally prepare himself in embracing his decision. So, he paces back and forth in his living room with no lights on as he waits for Lan Wangji to pick him up to be brought home.

Home. Wei Wuxian’s home. Or used to be, but he can’t remember. Can he still call it home, then?

He looks around at his bare flat as he paces. The emptiness should have raised his suspicion that he hasn’t lived here in a long time. But he’s been busy forgetting and night hunting, and people occupying his time as if they’re trying to rattle his memory or trying to make him forget to question the little things he found weird after waking up from his accident two months ago.

That accident wasn’t a normal accident at all.

He runs a hand through his long hair. He needs a haircut, he thinks, trying to stir his mind into mundane thoughts rather than panic about meeting his husband he has no recollection of.

Maybe he should have asked shijie or Jiang Cheng to stay. Or for them to drive him to Lan Wangji’s house.

His home.

But he’s not a child. He doesn’t need coddling. He’s known these things happen to people like them who are cultivators. And especially, to him who’s born under unfortunate stars.

He wonders what kind of person Lan Wangji is, and why he let Wei Wuxian live by himself.

Oh, god, he thinks, what if he actually secretly hates me that’s why he isn’t with me? Why he left me to fend for myself? And his shijie is wrong about Lan Wangji loving him. Even that Su She could be wrong as well and he’s not actually Lan Wangji’s weak point. And Lan Wangji is just too happy to get rid of him without the messy bits because those Lan folks are always so polite.

His pacing fastens as his thoughts goes from one negative reason to the next. No one stayed before, so why would Lan Wangji do as well? Especially now that Wei Wuxian is a mess.

The sudden door bell makes him jump, and then frozen as he stares at the door. Maybe if he doesn’t move Lan Wangji would just leave and Wei Wuxian won’t have to know if he’s abandoned again. He can pretend he wasn’t.

‘Wei Ying?’

That voice sounds familiar and safe that Wei Wuxian unconsciously takes a step towards it. Maybe it won’t be that bad to be soothed by that person, who says his name like it’s precious.

‘Wei Ying?’

He takes another step. Then another. And then another till he’s by the door.

‘Are you okay?’

He touches the door faintly, afraid that the person on the other side would feel him reaching out and leave.

‘I’ll be right here, okay?’ A pause and a soft thud. ‘Take your time.’

Unable to restrain himself from going towards this person who promised to stay, who’s patient enough to wait for him, who says his name like it’s precious, Wei Wuxian swiftly unlocks and opens the door.

‘Lan Zhan.’ This once again is news to him.

The other man’s eyes are surprised and sad, but hopeful. ‘Wei Ying.’

‘It’s you,’ he mutters with disbelief, recollecting his conversation earlier with Lan Zhan about the man’s husband, who turns out to be him.

Loving him was the best choice I’ve made…

Someone choose him. This person choose him: messy, unfortunate, loud-mouth, annoying Wei Wuxian.

I’m the lucky one… And maybe that’s the reason why this is my burden to carry.

Lan Zhan. Sweet and kind Lan Zhan felt lucky to have him. Lan Zhan doesn’t blame him for being his weak point. Lan Zhan stays despite the darkness that follows Wei Wuxian around. Lan Zhan soldiers on and stays. Lan Zhan doesn’t leave.

He reaches out, hand slightly trembling as he grasp Lan Zhan’s upper arm to assure himself that he’s not dreaming, that someone did stay.

Lan Zhan feels solid underneath his palm. Warm. Real.

‘You’re really here,’ he mutters.

‘Mn.’ Lan Zhan nods, eyes never stirring away from Wei Wuxian like he’s afraid he’ll also leave.

They must have looked sappy and idiotic.

‘But why didn’t you stay?’ he asks, remembering his confusion from before. ‘After I woke up and lost all my memory of you?’

‘I thought it would be best for Wei Ying,’ Lan Zhan explains, voice cracking just a bit. He takes Wei Wuxian’s hand from his arm with his free hand and holds it with both of his hands, putting it against his cheek. ‘I didn’t want to part from you. Ever. But… for the next few days that you can’t remember me, you hurt yourself trying to.’ He sounds so dejected. ‘You went as far as to Empathy yourself and ended up fainting.’ He squeezed his eyes shut like he’s in pain simply by remembering the memory. ‘After that you went to coma for three days, and I decided it’s not safe for you to try to remember by yourself.’

Wei Wuxian’s heart aches at the sight of Lan Zhan’s worry and sadness. Lan Zhan doesn’t deserve to hurt like this.

‘It’s easier if Wei Ying doesn’t force himself to remember me,’ he tells Wei Wuxian, both of them recollecting their interactions at the café. Is that why Lan Zhan is always present in the coffee shop, because that’s the only place he can meet Wei Wuxian? ‘Wei Ying is unharmed and happy if he doesn’t worry about the curse.’

‘But what about you?’ he can’t help but ask, cupping Lan Zhan’s face when he notices the dark circles underneath the man’s eyes. Lan Zhan immediately leans into his touch, all stiffness gone replaced by weariness and relief.

‘Wei Ying is more important,’ Lan Zhan replies, taking a step forward as if he can’t help himself but be next to Wei Wuxian. ‘As long as Wei Ying is safe and happy.’ Determination fills his gaze, but tenses once again as if he’s restraining himself. And maybe he is because his touches sound like longing.

Wei Wuxian’s going to be honest and say he’s not sure how to love someone like Lan Zhan, or how to love at all. But seeing Lan Zhan’s tender yearning makes Wei Wuxian want to learn how so he can wrap this man with everything soft he can offer that sadness will never be able to touch Lan Zhan again.

He wants to promise that everything will be okay, but he’s not sure if that is true. Nothing is sure. He’s not even sure he’s going to be okay. But he wants to be, if that will lessen Lan Zhan’s burden.

‘I don’t want you to be unhappy to make me happy,’ he tells Lan Zhan, pulling his hand from the man’s face and putting it on his shoulder. ‘We can both find common ground. Maybe I can stop trying to forcefully remember you, as long as you can take me not being able to… It’s not fair to you, I know. But please don’t send me away any more.’ He doesn’t blush as he tries to look anywhere else but Lan Zhan, who is surprise. He pulls his hand completely, feeling weird and tingly by their contact when they’ve touched more intimately a while ago. ‘I like being around you… I−I… Wha−What I meant… What I meant was that, it might be good for me to be around you. To help me remember.’

Wei Wuxian’s brave enough to peek a look at Lan Zhan’s reaction to his statement. He expects to be met with anger actually, having promised nothing but still wanting to take and take from this generous man.

A small gentle smile graces Lan Zhan’s lips, liquid gold eyes swimming with adoration and relief. ‘Wei Ying being around is enough for me.’

He can’t help but echo the smile. ‘Okay.’ Relief floods him as well. ‘I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.’

‘Forever,’ Lan Zhan confesses so genuinely it makes Wei Wuxian’s breath catch.

He wants to disperse the tightening emotion in his throat at the ardent declaration with a chuckle but all he can do is stare at this beautiful man with unwavering adoration that Wei Wuxian doesn’t feel like he deserves, but nonetheless he will try to be.

‘I hope you remember that vow when I annoy the shit out of you,’ he jokes instead because he might say something else like promise the same thing. And technically, he knows he has when they got married, but he has no memory of that. He can’t be too cruel to Lan Zhan and pledge something as heavy as forever when he doesn’t know him completely, when he doesn’t know how to love Lan Zhan like it’s the only thing in this messy world he’s certain about. He wants forever but the kind that they both agreed to and understand, the one they’ve promised together wearing red and gold surrounded by their friends and families.

Lan Zhan pulls him into a hug. ‘Is this okay?’ he asks, a hint of worry in his voice that he might be pushed away.

Wei Wuxian nods on Lan Zhan’s shoulder and wounds his arms around the man’s waist. He buries his face on Lan Zhan’s neck as he welcomes the smell of sandalwood. The scent settles him somehow, his brain whispering home.

‘As long as Wei Ying is Wei Ying, I’m always your Lan Zhan,’ he continues and melts into Wei Wuxian’s arms.

He embraces him tighter, liking the weight and warmth of Lan Zhan. ‘Lan Zhan?’

‘Mn?’

‘Why does everybody call you Lan Wangji?’

Fin.

#wangxian fic #wangxian week 2020 #wangxian #lan zhan #wei wuxian #lan wangji

13 notes · View notes

sartle-blog · 5 years ago

Text

12 Must-Read Novels for Art History Lovers

Maybe you’ve been experiencing “The Agony and the Ecstasy” of trying to figure out what to read next! If so, we’ve got you covered. Go beyond “Girl with a Pearl Earring” and “The Goldfinch” with these incredible novels about art and art history.

Disclaimer: Some of the links below are amazon affiliate links, meaning that at no additional cost to you, by clicking through and making a purchase of a book you like, you will also be contributing to the growth of Sartle.

1. "The Girl in Hyacinth Blue" by Susan Vreeland

If you loved “Girl with a Pearl Earring,” you’ll fall in love with this book, too. Starting with a troubled math teacher who is quite certain the work he hides in a cabinet at home is a genuine Vermeer, the novel traces the owners of the painting back in time in a series of vignettes that function as a living, breathing provenance. An exploration of the meaningful roles art can play in the lives of those who cherish it, this book is as thoughtful and gentle as the light that falls from the windows in a Vermeer painting.

2. "The Relic Master" by Christopher Buckley

A crime caper steeped in art and history, the story follows one Dismas, the official relic master to Frederick, Elector of Saxony, and Albrecht, the soon-to-be Cardinal of Mainz, in the year 1517, when Luther has shattered faith in the Church and relics themselves begin to be called into question. He and his friend, none other than the preening Albrecht Dürer, get swept up in a scheme to make a copy of the Shroud of Chambery. The novel, like what one imagines 16th century Germany to be like, is earthy, humorous, and occasionally quite brutal. But it’s witty and shameless (“To Hell with Purgatory!”) and a perfect Renaissance romp about the intersections of art, piety, and politics.

3. "The Parable of the Blind" by Gert Hoffmann

A strange and haunting tale that looks at the painting of the same name by Pieter Bruegel the Elder, the novel is told from the perspective of the blind “sitters” for the painting on the day that Bruegel painted them. As they journey across a landscape of unseen people and obstacles, they wonder where they are going, why they are being painted, and why anyone would want to look upon them permanently when people turn their heads away in real life. Riddled with black humor, the novel is a picture of suffering and existential woe à la “Waiting for Godot,” and will linger in your mind long after you read it.

4. "The Muse" by Jessie Burton

Don’t be deceived when the cover calls this book a “Simmering romance” because it’s far more than that; it’s a meditation on artistic integrity and ownership wrapped up in a story of relationships that reads like a thriller. The novel follows two storylines that intertwine masterfully. In one, a Caribbean ��migré trying to make her way in 1960s London dreams of becoming a writer but gets a job at a prestigious art institute working for the mysterious Marjorie Quirk. In the other, an English girl living in rural Spain in the 1930s yearns to become an artist and falls under the spell of the countryside and painter-turned-revolutionary Isaac Robles. It’s a vivid tale of love and loss, ego and creativity, that is a marvelous follow-up to her first novel, “The Miniaturist” (which you should also definitely read if you haven’t already!).

5. "Modern Art" by Evelyn Toynton

Inspired by the lives of Lee Krasner and her husband Jackson Pollock, this novel follows Belle Prokoff, an aging artist from the New York School, who has outlived her much more famous husband and spent her last few decades guarding his albeit troubled legacy. As she faces her own mortality and hires a grad student (who is also in love with an artist) as a live-in helper, Prokoff is forced to confront ghosts from her past when a nosy biographer comes sniffing around for dirt on her husband. Adroit and piercing, the novel asks what do you do with yourself after you have poured all of your being into someone else? And what does sacrificing yourself in that way do to you? Toynton tackles themes of suffering and artistic integrity with elegance and wisdom.

6. "The Moon and Sixpence" by W. Somerset Maugham

This classic novel follows a turn of the twentieth century English artist named Charles Strickland who abruptly abandons his family and life as a stockbroker to devote himself entirely to painting. Completely impoverished but in desperate pursuit of beauty, he studies in France and eventually ends up in Tahiti, where his artistic genius flourishes even as he suffers from leprosy. If this sounds reminiscent of the life of Paul Gauguin to you, you would not be mistaken--Somerset Maugham was inspired by the very same, only his version of the artist is by turns both more and less brutal than the real man. The Moon and Sixpence is a prime example of a kunstlerroman, a novel about an artist’s growth, painting the artist-hero as a necessarily anti-social being whose creative side can only flower in isolation and rebellion against social norms. While it’s not a perfectly accurate image of Gauguin’s life, and while the narrator espouses some outdated views about women and people of color, the book raises questions about genius and legacy that are still relevant today.

7. "Sunflowers" by Sheramy Bundrick

If you liked “Loving Vincent” or are just fascinated by the work of Vincent Van Gogh, then this novel is for you. Told from the perspective of the prostitute named Rachel unto whom Vincent famously bestowed part of his mutilated ear, the novel gives life to Vincent’s happy but troubled years in Arles. Many of the people he lovingly painted are presented in the flesh, from his friends like Joseph Roulin to the perfectly nasty Gauguin, whom readers will find reason to hate even more than in the “The Moon and Sixpence.” At its heart the book is a love story, but it’s punctuated by moments of both joyous artistic creation and those of the darkest depths of mental illness. His romantic self, a side of Vincent we don’t normally see, is explored with great sympathy. Written by an art historian, the novel is convincing and well-researched, and even includes a list of all the paintings referenced in the back.

8. "A Month in the Country" by J. L. Carr

In this slim, poetic volume, a young Englishman recovering from a broken marriage and shell shock after the Great War finds himself spending a summer in a Yorkshire village, where he has been hired to uncover a medieval mural in a church. By night he sleeps in the church’s belfry, and by day he befriends the locals, bonds with another veteran whose been hired to uncover a medieval grave, and falls in love with the Vicar’s wife, all while working steadily at uncovering a medieval judgment scene. Tiny revelations--in the begrimed mural at which he’s chipping away, in his own wounded heart, and in the hearts of those around him--make up the soul of this placid yet powerful book that is a hymn to the healing power of art.

9. "I Always Loved You" by Robin Oliveira

With such a title this book might easily be dismissed as a typical romance, but it is actually a rarer thing: a story about love between two people that may never have been returned by either party. Namely, it chronicles the fraught and querulous relationship between Mary Cassatt and Edgar Degas. Set in a glittering and rain-washed Belle Époque Paris, the novel follows Mary Cassatt as she struggles to establish herself in the art world until Degas takes her under his wing. Her successes and sorrows over the years unfold alongside the drama of Degas’ vision loss and the grief-stricken love affair between fellow impressionists Berthe Morisot and her brother-in-law, Edouard Manet. Aside from being a vivid look at the politics of the Impressionist circle within the Parisian art world, it is also an eloquent tale about the struggle of artistic creation in the face of constant doubt, harsh criticism, and heartache. You can learn more about the puzzling relationship between Cassatt and Degas here.

10. "Portrait of an Unknown Woman" by Vanora Bennett

This novel follows Meg Giggs, the twenty-three-year-old ward of Sir Thomas More, at the eve of the Reformation in England. The More family, which will soon be torn by political, religious, and courtly strife, is visited by Hans Holbein the Younger, who paints their portraits multiple times with an uncanny ability to capture the hidden truths of their hearts. While More’s humanistic ideals become warped by anti-heresy fanaticism even as Henry VIII grows disenchanted with the faith More fiercely protects, Meg finds herself increasingly drawn to the German artist who embodies a more earthy, compassionate form of Humanism. While Bennett occasionally plays fast and loose with history (like the identity of the sitter in Holbein’s portrait of the titular name, for one), overall the book is richly drawn and well-researched. Even better, her descriptions of Holbein’s painting process for such enigmatic works as The Ambassadors is highly compelling. The dangerous times in which he lived, as well as a taste for symbolism in the Tudor world, meant Holbein had to couch the truths he perceived in iconography both subtle and complex, and Bennett illustrates this well.

11. "The Secret Book of Frida Kahlo" by F. G. Haghenbeck

This colorful and spirited novel was inspired by a mysterious notebook found in Frida Kahlo’s house in Mexico City that was full of handwritten recipes the artist had collected over the years. A complex woman, Frida was quite the cook, and this novel explores the prominent place food had in her life, with recipes at the end of each chapter. Throughout the course of Frida’s tumultuous time on Earth, her marriages to Diego Rivera and her affairs with lovers from Georgia O’Keeffe to Leon Trotsky, she is haunted by a vision of death, whom she calls her Godmother, and whom she meets the day she almost dies in a trolley accident as a teenager. In Haghenbeck’s capable hands, Frida’s veneration of the Day of the Dead, her existential feminist fire, and the emotional intensity of her paintings come alive with surreal imagery and the imagined taste of Frida’s fabulous food on the tongue.

12. "I Am Venus: A Novel" by Barbara Mujica

Told from the perspective of the unknown model who posed for what is arguably Velázquez’s most beautiful work, The Rokeby Venus, this novel follows Diego Velázquez’s rise to prominence in the Spanish court. Court life under Philip IV is depicted as a splendid bubble of contradictions: lavish and luxurious yet plagued by bankruptcy, lascivious and self-indulgent, yet clinging to a sober sense morality. Of course, one of the things that tantalizes most in this book is the mysterious production of the Venus painting, painted when feminine nudity on canvas was a punishable offense. However, Mujica also takes special care to chronicle Velázquez’s efforts to elevate art as a gentlemanly endeavor in a country where painters were regarded as mere tradesmen. (Seriously, before him, being an artist in Spain was the WORST.) Furthermore, she gives a voice to the women who surrounded him in his family and social circle, painting a broad picture of Spain itself through their experiences and hardships. This novel is evocative and compelling, and a perfect read for lovers of the Baroque artist.

As Vincent van Gogh once said, "It is with the reading of books the same as with looking at pictures; one must, without doubt, without hesitations, with assurance, admire what is beautiful." May you discover beauty and joy in all of your reading adventures!

By: Jeannette Baisch Sturman

4 notes · View notes

kris10tisme · 6 years ago

Text

The Blazers: Mean Girls AU

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17867279

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13213575/1/The-Blazers

"I hate LA"

It's the first thing she blurts out to her brother upon entering the kitchen in the morning.

"And a good morning to you too sis, protein shake? He says while extending out his arm out to her while holding out a glass.

Katara gives him what some would call the stank eye.

"Great, you've already adapted one of Los Angeles' prime LA'isms, proud of yourself? We've literally have only been here two weeks!"

"Hey it's very warm here. Warm weather means more sleeveless shirts. More sleeveless shirts means more arm exposure. I can't walk around with flabby arms, so I need to quickly adapt to the LA ways."

"I think bony is a better adjective to use when describing your arms."

But Sokka carries on like he hasn't heard her, slurping away at his liquidated soy. Katara lets out a huff and moves to walk to their cupboard to get out some breakfast cereal.

She hasn't taken kindly to LA since moving here two weeks ago. The culture shock has hit her by storm.

She's moved from a city that was primarily rainy, snowy, and cold with a population of 800; to a city that's dry, literally fiery, and warm. and has a population of a whopping four million.

Growing up and spending the first sixteen years of her life in Yakutat, Alaska hasn't readied for well… all of this.

Within two weeks she’s had to buy a completely new wardrobe, a wardrobe that is better suited for the warm weather, rather than the frosty weather she grew up accustomed to.

She's used to knitting her own sweaters, mittens, and scarves, and now she figures she’ll probably have to resort to knitting skimpy crop tops if she takes in consideration the weather and culture.

All in all, she hasn’t settled in to her new life well. She envies Sokka, he’s loving it here. Her brother is the type of person who turns lemons into lemonade. He makes the complete best of any situation he’s put in to. He’s quick to adapt in any situation he’s thrown in to.

Katara is the polar opposite. She’s always loved and valued where she’s come from. Growing up in a small town, completely isolated from the world has never made her upset. Quite the opposite actually. She loved being from a small tight knit community, a community where families and neighbors grew up together in harmony, bonds that spread between families through generations.

Yakutat was a town where you earned your keep, whether it be by hunting, knitting, fishing, everyone made a team effort to ensure everyone lived comfortably.

This type of comradery completely nonexistent in LA from what she’s observed in her two weeks of living here and in film and pop culture. Here, everything is a game, everyone here is in it for themselves, looking to climb the social hierarchy. She finds it reprehensible.

Granted, she hasn’t properly met anyone here yet, but she can only imagine what her first day of high school has in store for her. Which is why she is in such a crabby mood.

She takes a look back at Sokka and sees him slurping up each last droplet of his protein shake, and the sight makes her slowly lose hope in humanity.

**********************************************************************

Sokka pulls the pick up truck into the school parking lot, a parking lot that’s filled with ferraris and convertibles.

Katara refuses to feel shameful about it though. She reminds herself again that she’s proud of her humble beginnings.

She steps out of the truck, processing her surroundings. She notices how many students there are, which reminds her how insignificant her presence must be here. In Yakutat everyone mattered, it was weird to not make eye contact with someone a give them a greeting.

She approaches the entrance of her school with Sokka, keeping her head up high and proud. She won’t conform to the social norms, she will not walk around with her phone in her hand all the while not taking note of her surroundings.

She’s gotta admit to herself that she’s scared shitless, but at least she’s not in this completely alone. She has her brother.

She turns her head to look at her brother for support and finds him missing. She panics. Did he get lost already? Is he in trouble. She’s always been overprotective of her brother. She always feels like she has to compensate for the lack of maternal figure in the household.

She moves her head swiftly from left to right scanning the hall for her brother. She spots him and he's… flirting?

He’s standing in front of some bulletin board, his arm raised and he’s leaning against the board, standing before some girl with short light brown hair. She’s giving him a smug smile in response to his flirting.

Katara lets out the biggest eyerolls of eyerolls. She is irate.

Just who is he to completely abandon me on our first day, for the first pretty girl he could get ahold of! I was so worried about him!

She inwardly muses.

Forget him, she thinks. She can take care of herself. Just a sixteen year old girl who’s never been to a school that didn’t include grades K-12. It's not like just because she’s only ever encountered about a dozen other people in her age group doesn’t mean she’s gonna find it difficult making friends here. She’s got this!

She holds her head high and saunters off into homeroom. She refuses to be intimidated by this city and its inhabitants.

I won’t let them win.

**********************************************************************

The day is toppled off with her being completely mortified in front of her entire homeroom classroom.

The school's principal found it necessary to make a little visit to her homeroom and have her introduce herself to everybody.

He mentioned that Katara came from a very small town in Alaska, and she was of inuit descent. She’s pretty sure three quarters of the class had no idea what that meant.

He also thought it would be a good icebreaker for Katara to share with the class about her culture, he broached the subject by saying “Tell us about your “people.”

She tried to explain a bit about what it’s like back home while also trying to get the point across that she wasn’t some foreign oddity.

Katara made it known to the class and that stinkin principal that Alaska was in fact IN AMERICA, and yes; English is her first language.

She explained how she would go fishing back home and hike, as she spoke with the dullest tone, knowing that these teens couldn’t give a flying hoot about her or where she’s from, but also to spite this ignorant man they call principal!

He seemed unimpressed by the activities she listed, given that they’re pretty much the same things people do here.

He dismissed himself, and implored the homeroom to make Katara feel welcome and help her adjust. He was met with silence.

And to top it all off, her homeroom teacher HAD to mention that she heard from her ancestry DNA test that she was 14.9% Native American, and asked the class if they too had some inuit ancestry.

The whole thing got derailed within minutes when some students found it necessary to strike up a debate about their confusion about why Native Americans can’t be called Indians.

The rest of the day followed with Katara being as lonely as can be. There’s not much socialization going on while in class. Katara was only approached once the whole day and that was because somebody asked her to borrow a pencil. They never gave the pencil back.

Gym class was hell, the girls locker room was beyond anything Hollywood movies could ever prepare her for. The fumes from all the different types of perfumes of lotions rang through the air, mixed with a bit of what she could assume was weed, and Katara couldn’t go two seconds without choking on her breath. Bras and panties were thrown all over the place. Lewd conversations were rang through her ears, conversations about breast sizes and sexual organ sizes seemed to be the focal point of conversation amongst the girls in the locker room.

Katara couldn’t believe her ears. Did these girls have no shame? To talk about this stuff so brazenly and openly boggled her mind.

It was safe to say that she didn’t make any small talk with anyone in that locker room. She’s never felt more alone.

Fortunately, she and Sokka shared the same lunch period. She was still immensely pissed at Sokka for ditching her first thing in the morning, but due to how lonely the day has been for her, she decided to let it slide just this once.

She ate lunch with Sokka and the girl he was flirting with this morning, whose name she learned is Suki.

Meeting Suki was the only highlight of her day, she was warm, welcoming, and seemed to see through her brothers B.S, but at the same time didn’t mind it.

She was curious and asked them questions about their background without being woefully ignorant and offensive about it. She shared with them some tips about how to survive the modern high school experience, tips Katara took into consideration, while Sokka just gawked at her.

She beckoned Suki goodbye when the period rang, and Suki invited them to have lunch with her again tomorrow. She just hopes Sokka’s shameless ogling doesn’t get in the way of this potential friendship.

She ends the day on a positive note, with Marine Biology being her last class. She loves Marine Biology, she loves marine life, the water, everything about the ocean she’s completely in love with. It’s the closest she’s felt to home the entire day.

The bell rings for dismissal and she’s the first one out the door in her class. She can’t stand to be in this school for another minute. She figures its too much exposure therapy for one day.

She scrummages through the halls making her way towards the exit, she’s almost there…

All of a suddenly she is picked up off her feet, someone grabs her from her lapel and places her down gently in front of the lockers on the side of the hallway.

Initially she is too stunned to speak, but when the shock wears down she moves to open her mouth and lambast whoever did that when she’s met with an index finger to her lips.

The rude finger to her lip isn’t what stops her from sticking up for herself, it's the sheer empty silence she’s met with. She also notices how the hallway is split apart, like everyone's making way for the grand entrance of some important person.

She’s so thrown by the way everyone is reacting right now that her anger dissipates, and she finds herself tiptoeing to see over people's heads so she can get a clearer opening at the scene in the hall. She wonders if some type of moviestar is making their way through the hall. She’s ashamed to admit that she can’t withhold her own curiosity.

She’s able to catch a glimpse of what's going on in the hall. She sees three girls strutting confidently down the hall. The one in the middle obviously leading the charge.

She has jet black hair tied up in a single topknot, with the two single tresses shaping the side of her face. Her eyes honeycoon gold, shiny, looking like they could pierce you and turn you to stone if you looked into them for too long. Her lips are full and glossed to perfection. She’s smirking, her face is all knowing. She knows she’s got this whole school groveling at her, with minimal effort on her part.

Katara takes note of the people staring at the sight before them. They seem to look more petrified than enamored by the sight of whoever this is. And weirdly, Katara can’t blame them. This girl seems… untouchable.

Her other two cronies follow suit. One of them also has jet black hair, but her hair is neatly pinned into two buns at the sides of her head. Her face is anything but smug, quite the opposite, she looks placid. Like the attention everyone's giving her holds no significance. The other one is practically skipping down the hall. She's’ the only one wearing a full smile, she has the longest braid Katara’s ever seen. The braid bounces from side to side due to the jovial skipping.

What a weird mix of girls. Katara thinks to herself.

They’ve now made their way out the doors of the schools exit. It felt as though to Katara that they were sauntering down the hall in slow motion based off how many observations she was able to make about the three girls in a five second interval.

Everything has seemed to gone back to normal, the middle of the hallway is not cleared out anymore, and everyone seemed to snap out of whatever trance they fell under.

That was the weirdest, trippiest thing Katara has ever experienced in her sixteen years on this earth. She’s never seen human beings grovel so openly about other human beings.

Katara overhears a few conversations when she makes her way out of the schools exit.

Did you hear that Azula is rumored to be cast in the new Steven Spielberg movie as a vampire? Gosh, that’d be the perfect role for her!

Did you hear Mai’s father is going to run for mayor?

I heard Ty Lee slept with over a dozen guys this summer!

Apparently Zuko and Mai are off again!

That's the last sentence Katara listens to before snaps out of the weird fascination she all of the sudden got for the people in her school.

She considers it lapse of judgement and moves on to the exit and out to the parking lot to wait for Sokka to take her home before this place can further poison her mind.

#zutara #Zuko #katara #azula #avatar: the last airbender

17 notes · View notes

rydain · 6 years ago

Text

Author's Notes from a Modern Brutale - Liberties of Adaptation

Tip of the iceberg canons are fun as hell for me to write for because they allow for such freedom of personal influence in sorting out their unstated specifics. I prefer to go more interpretative than compliant, building on the broad strokes of personality and chemistry and setting that strike me the most - bringing in the particulars that fit my greater vision, shrugging off those that don't, and giving a good yank to the author's strings as needed. As the Chips Fall toward their finale, I figured it would be fun to look back on some particulars of development for the cast and the manor that brought them all together.

Here there be spoilers, both for my series and The Sexy Brutale, if you wish to settle in for a long look behind the curtain.

Tequila

The glass shattering siren from modest means is drawn along the lines of a Deep Southern belle or a Texan pageant queen. Her roots wound up a ways north for me, though far enough in Appalachian coal country to be within that cultural ballpark, thanks to My Old Kentucky Home - just too perfect a song for the hope and homesickness of leaving town and country behind for such a foreign world of glamour. Kentucky's patchwork of dry counties also has special relevance to a particular paint can banging uncle I saw fit to imagine as an ace moonshiner.

I wrote Tequila as a rising star rather than an established one to explore the challenges of fitting into that new world - the polish of fashion and posture and speech and presence, the countless social norms learned on the fly but perhaps never fully internalized. The sense of impostor syndrome thus resulting, the conflict between pride in what she had earned for herself and the fear that she was only this far ahead because of Lucas - and that without him, she would only go right back to where she was. I made the two of them official beyond the canonical winking and nudging because she seemed too well stuck on him for an unrequited crush. This also got her across the pond early in her career for the challenges of culture shock and self-doubt outlined above.

Willow

Canonically a purveyor of curiosities and wrangler of eldritch horror, Willow was a tough one to develop within my idea of modern heightened reality. With her creation of charms and a mention of voodoo, I reimagined her as a consultant and adviser with deep family roots in the faith, and her second sight as an instinctive bent toward conversation that amounts to effective cold reading. This involves communication with spirits who Willow would have a literal sense of speaking to - especially Baron Samedi, lwa of death brought to mind by her skull motif, who can assist with the transitions of loss experienced by Tequila and others at the Brutale, and is very much the type to get handsy with lovely ladies.

Willow established her career in New Orleans' French Quarter near the voodoo shops of Rue Royal, inheriting a small townhouse from a beloved aunt who mentored her in such traditions. Word of mouth and within walking distance, her ecosystem supports a frugal lifestyle based on folkways and homesteading skills learned growing up in the bayou - which, along with an understated modest aesthetic, gives Willow a sense of having stepped out of time. This is a point of compatibility with Tequila and her focus on the classic jazz age and the Great American Songbook, modern music along similar lines, and subtly updated vintage style to complete her timeless presence. More fundamentally, both of them work with the emotional texture of everyday lives - stories that Tequila embodies onstage and Willow seeks in her clients with a guiding hand toward a rewrite.

Greyson

I gave Mr. Yolo Swaggins a hand up toward reformation catalyzed by the shock of a prison sentence he subconsciously courted to kick his own arse toward a clean break. This made for a focus on conflicts of the legitimacy Greyson wants so badly to earn. As a professional, he needs to work with difficult types like Thanos, who values traditional university education and thinks his secrets to be well beyond what he sees as inferior intellect, and Clay, who Greyson could bond with over a rude sense of humor and understanding of each other's cynicism - in turn, sharing respect and eventual friendship rather than begrudging acceptance for Redd's sake. Greyson continues to wrestle with temptations of larceny and proving himself to be beyond them, ultimately rejecting the torment and manipulation of a treasure hunt - Lucas' cruel generosity of playing to others' vices for his own amusement. Which Redd plays his own part in, saving Greyson in the psychological sense rather than physically hauling him out of trouble - helping to reinforce the stability Greyson is already working to develop, and that he gravitates toward Redd to share in.

Greyson's considerable ego - once a force behind the more elaborate and higher risk schemes he took part in - is now fed by his infiltration and analysis of locks and safes and security systems, his determination to be better than the epithets granted by his criminal record and prove his naysayers wrong with a glorious display of upright professional competence. Of course he's not above ripping off some scam or another, but Clay does appreciate the unofficial backup.

Redd

By way of this adorable cartoon and followup ask from @frayed-symphony , Redd likes to read. I extrapolated this into university study of literature and a keen sense of wordplay including all the best worst sorts of puns - an embrace of his awkward streak implied by those untucked shirttails and the Old Habits dance lyrics fail. He works through dense classics with the analytical focus of his piano playing, and he gravitates toward biographies and memoirs of infamous figures who lived much larger lives than his Good Boy nature and risk aversion would ever allow. This fascination also influences his attraction to Greyson and his intrigue of Lucas' employ and the Brutale itself, which Redd feels some desire to properly belong to beyond his initial goal of performing piano. Lucas takes a certain interest in Redd as well, wondering what hidden fatal flaw must reside in someone so upright and considered. Redd doesn't have anything nearly as spectacular as the likes of Greyson. Rather, there are natural disadvantages to his polite reserve - hesitation to go after various personal and professional goals, struggle to provide emotional support to Tequila out of discomfort with that messy and potentially prying sort of talk. Redd needs to learn from someone like Willow, with her well developed emotional intelligence, that he's overthinking the matter like so many others.

Redd plays a strong supporting role throughout my work. Favorite characters tend to do that, and he strikes me as a backbone of the Brutale anyhow - a highly capable, dependable, and well liked linchpin of the casino and music hall. His performance career had a good nudge from Greyson, who convinced Redd that he deserved to take the spotlight instead of feeling that it would be unseemly to ask - seizing a chance as he saw it rather than enduring in silence with that stoicism so clear in his game counterpart's somber expression.

The Rockridge bros lift because of shameless personal bias, because Redd needs to get his cage bending strength somewhere, and because I love the imagined contrast of their training - Redd lifting with meditative focus, Clay forcing himself through the most brutal of circuits because it's not a real workout until he's cursing in a lake of sweat. GO HAM OR GO HOME

Clay

With his responsibilities as head of security and care for Trinity beyond their good-natured trolling, Clay came off as a lovable roughneck rather than someone far more abrasive. He and Redd were implied to run the casino together on various occasions, so I imagined that he shared a close bond, mutual protectiveness, and a measured share of bickering with his much gentler brother. Clay is perceptive about scams and the people apt to run them and just as myopic about Redd's romantic proclivities because whatever happens in the flat - and not very often for either of them - tends to occur when they're on opposite shifts. Redd has good reason to know that Clay is accepting - and he is, beyond his initial frustration that of all the blokes in the world, why did it have to be a flashy, arrogant ex-con strutting around on every last one of his nerves? - but he also thinks it would be something he'd feel a need to explain, which of course he can't. This all let me play that eventual talk for laughs and brotherly bonding with just a fun fleeting touch of embarrassment.

Clay has an intense nature and a self-punishing, self-destructive streak that fueled both his prize fighting career and alcoholism. Despite being the older of the two, he long since felt that he lived in Redd's quiet academic shadow, which caused him to give up on himself in various ways that he regrets. Trinity helps Clay to see his life, lumps and bumps and all, as experiences that tested him and left him better for the wear.

Trinity

Trinity first tried sculpting out of stubbornness to prove herself so capable, especially as her overprotective parents thought it would be nigh impossible. She took off well enough that her well off family willingly supported the study of working with expensive materials, the extra tutelage required to do so by touch, and her life in general until her work became steady enough to rely on. Annoyed at the fussy mores of her stuffier relations and the wealthy sorts who commission her, Trinity finds Clay's blunt and unfiltered nature refreshing. Her part time assistant, who helps with tasks beyond the capabilities of touch or muscle memory or adaptive technology, has a sense of down to earth polish and similar head for eloquent vulgarity.

After her in-game rescue, Trinity encourages an already trolleyed Clay to do shots. Rather than think she was bringing him down, unwittingly or otherwise, I see her as a hedonist who overestimates others' ability to compartmentalize. It's just a party - what's the harm in a bit of excess? Rather than feed Clay's alcoholism, Trinity helps him out of it - genuinely appreciating him just as he is, which inspires him to appreciate himself just the same.

Canonically, Trinity and Tequila are stepsisters in some official sense of the term. In my AU, this particular connection would have been difficult to make naturally because they grew up so differently, separated by an ocean and levels of financial means. In the game, the stepsister relationship implies a closeness between the two, gives Lucas a means of introduction to Tequila after admiring her from afar, and piles on the horror when Trinity finds Tequila's body in the laundry chute. The same sort of closeness arises, with found sisterly implications and all, as Tequila is adopted into Trinity's circles by way of her friendship with Redd. Tequila meets Lucas through the posh New Orleans parties she is hired to sing at and thus needs no other connection to him.

Lucas

So here we are in this hopeful world of competence and agency and self-actualization. And then there's Lucas - who I couldn't stand to leave as enough of a knobhead to not only pull an insurance fraud scam in the first place, but contrive it into a flagrant courting of disaster that I don't see myself ever forgiving his canon incarnation for. Then perhaps a magnificent trash fire as opposed to a dumpster inferno, so let's have at him, shall we?

My Brutale can be saved and is heavily implied to be. For that, I planted some seeds of Lucas' sense and a slow trend toward dialing back the worst of himself. He shows a capacity for analytic thought in his artistic patronage, biting poetic wit, and often successful divining of others' deepest desires. He keeps a modest office and cultivates a friendship with Willow, first seen as a quaint curiosity and soon respected for her straightforward insight and steadfast way of pitting such against his own. Lucas wants to do better on some level, but is welded to his identity as a master of ceremonies and peddler of overindulgence, as a grandiose gambler who very much meant to make a bad bet or three because he wound up with a better one eventually and a good story in the bargain. He gravitates toward people with stories of their own, and who have vices he finds amusing to play with, or who fascinate him - and perhaps somewhat frustrate him - because he can't figure out their downfall.

Lucas' issues are more of psychology than cash flow, and able to be turned around before his ledgers go fatally red. Before the worst can happen, other personal losses show Lucas the need to put real work into himself and his dealings - to fight his compulsions toward high risk propositions and assorted impractical excess, to face his failures of neglect and mitigate their fallout.

Eleanor

In the game, Eleanor is an archetype of purity whose forgiveness is meant to redeem Lucas in the player's eyes. I meant to parlay her cheeky macabre quirks into an endearingly oddball artist with an anthropomorphic sense of humor and a larger than life sense of whimsy, fundamentally compatible with Lucas and apt to help him toward his senses. Eleanor is as intrigued by the Brutale's legends as Tequila is tired of their absurdity, breezy and casually polished as Tequila struggles to play the lady of the manor in structured couture. They meet on neutral terms to be naturally contrasted but not cruelly so, and very much without tired tropes of romantic rivalry.

Lafcadio

A symbol of repentance for sins, canonically a separate character as per the origin comic, which made me very happy because he's interesting to envision as an actual person beyond some idealized facet of Lucas’ personality. In my take, Lucas admired Lafcadio's ability to walk away from the Brutale as it was dragging him down. They both preferred to tell the story as the spectacular bet from the comic - a fateful game of roulette - that Lafcadio arguably came out on top of by ditching this liability. This echoes the theme of rock bottom arse kick that my Greyson gets well ahead of time, and canon Lucas doesn't until it's far too late.

Lafcadio and Willow both intrigue Lucas with the depth of their respective faiths. They bond over their insights into their host and desire to inspire him toward better, though Willow is limited by never having seen the Brutale in its prior incarnation, or Lucas at his worst. In my narrative, Willow works behind the scenes by helping people unearth their own deeper truths and provide emotional support to others, mirroring Lafcadio's role in the game - though he will go on, offscreen as this might be, to likewise mirror the Willownage of Lucas that needs to continue.

The Sexy Brutale

Loath to commit the British equivalent of dropping a small city of a warehouse store on top of Tequila's old trailer in Closplint, Kentucky, I researched stately homes for inspiration toward location and overall aesthetic. I later learned I could have handwaved one within brief vague driving distance of any city, and perhaps in the city itself. Still I'm most confident in my sense of veracity when I can point to a spot on a map to rebrand. In this case, Somerleyton Hall, within train commuting and day trip distances of various points of interest, and with an appealing style and a clock tower that sealed the deal. As did its 19th century transformation by a private entrepreneur - which, in my alternate reality, would have been supervised by a master builder named Gorecki, whose descendants continued on with his upgrades and maintenance of the manor. Its adjusted name is Somerthwaite after the meadow surrounding it, thanks to a jaunt down the rabbit hole of Anglo-Saxon geographic nomenclature to ensure I wasn't trying to bollocks the manor on the edge of an active volcano.

British manor houses are so varied and eclectic that a place like the Brutale seems more matter of course than bombastic fantasy. Casinos in the UK were all private clubs until recently and can certainly carry on as such, and any property can house the owner's particular interests. To balance homage with my sense of historic floor plans, I kept the common areas of interest with some remodeling - great hall, casino, theater, music hall and practice rooms, library, conservatory, gardens - and closed off the south end of the west wing as Lucas' private quarters. The basement is for utilities and storage, the uppermost floor for guest rooms both rented and bespoke for close friends of Lucas.

#the sexy brutale #as the chips fall #tequila belle #willow blue #greyson grayson #redd rockridge #clay rockridge #trinity carrington #lucas bondes #eleanor sixpence #lafcadio boone #writing #meta

8 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years ago

Text

Shameless Season 11 Episode 8 Review: Cancelled

https://ift.tt/3eE88UY

This Shameless review contains spoilers.

Shameless Season 11 Episode 8

“You can’t cancel history. It’s already happened.”

Shameless is always looking to the future even as it considers its past. This reflection is typically a source of calm for the Gallaghers, but this season has been all about removing these characters’ familiar landmarks and comforting touchstones, whether it’s the dismantling of physical institutions or the metaphorical loss of old memories and a version of Chicago that no longer exists.

Shameless season 11 presents the future as an intrusive and frightening force, but “Cancelled” finds a way to have pride for the future by allowing it to celebrate the past. This is an episode where characters literally throw out pieces of their past while they prepare to move as others relitigate high school bullies and congressional speakers from yesteryear. “Context matters” is the underlying theme at the core of “Cancelled,” and when it comes to the Gallaghers there may not be enough context in the world to keep them “uncancelled.”

There are a lot of fires in “Cancelled” that need to get put out and the biggest one is the serious legal trouble that Lip might be in. Lip’s foolishly reckless behavior over the past few episodes has been incredibly frustrating, but it’s almost just as irritating to watch him continually fail upwards. Lip makes zero of the right decisions here while other people happen to clean up his messes and he smirks his way through the tension. It’s a testament to how there are still people that care about Lip, but if he doesn’t stop abusing this goodwill then he’s going to find himself in even bigger trouble than before.

It’d be one thing if this series of mistakes straightens Lip out for good, but it doesn’t seem like he learns anything from this close call. It’s actually depressing that Lip and Tami aren’t even a year into their “marriage” and they need to resort to mid-life crisis crime shenanigans like they’re Jimmy McGill and Kim Wexler just to get a buzz. And are they seriously discussing murdering Brad? Because I have no idea if Shameless has reached that point. A two-year wedding anniversary is traditionally celebrated with cotton, but in their cases that may be their prison jumpsuits.

Lip continues to narrowly skirt the law, but some of the most interesting material from this season of Shameless has involved Carl’s ascent on the police force as his own personal morals brush up against those of the brass or Chicago itself. Carl finds himself doing more mental gymnastics than ever before when he’s transferred over to vice and dropped into an extremely heightened world. Carl’s new vice partners look and operate like they’re out of some slick CBS action procedural and it offers Carl a taste of the exaggerated image of police work that surely filled his brain as a boy.

Each of Carl’s assignments have tested his moral compass, but now he’s immediately offered the perks and public image that he’s viewed as an end goal. It’s always nice when Carl’s instincts kick in and he does the right thing. He seems to finally reach a point of temptation and the problem that he finds himself in is already compelling before it directly sets him up to hurt Vee and Kevin’s dispensary at the Alibi Room. Carl is left in murky territory, but he continually protects his family and loved ones throughout the episode. Kevin and Vee may be oblivious targets through much of “Cancelled,” but the wedding that the two get to celebrate, with Vee’s mom in tow, is also another highlight that makes this episode work just when it feels like it’s getting too crazy.

Characters like Lip and Carl make some difficult and dangerous decisions, but they’re at least operating with some greater good in mind. Debbie on the other hand is basically just a living id at this point and it’s becoming progressively exhausting to watch her selfish choices. Debbie chooses to flee from all of her responsibilities, which is treated like a liberating reward, but it’s unearned and at the tail-end of a strong of irresponsible behavior all season.

Debbie casually ruins several lives over the course of an afternoon and just keeps moving on to the next person when things turn sour. Everyone else’s responsibilities like work or marriage get pushed into Debbie’s face and not once does she think about Franny or the damage of her escapist behavior. What’s perhaps the worst part of all of this is that Sandy helps Debbie out and is willing to put all of this behind her, yet it’s Debbie that chastises her and still holds the moral high ground. It’s disgusting that Debbie doesn’t see the fault in her ways and this denial is only going to lead to a more destructive future for both her and Franny.

Shameless Season 11 Episode 7 Review: Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake

By Daniel Kurland

It’s quite the shock to see better family values present in the Milkovich family than the poor example that Debbie sets this week. The Milkovich family has always been intensely crude and unrepentant. This roughness is supposed to be their appeal, but they’re characters that I’ve always struggled to connect with on the same level as the Gallaghers. Terry’s recent debilitating situation has allowed for some much needed empathy within the Milkovich family.

“Cancelled” concludes this painful streak in the family with an exceptionally tender moment where Mickey feeds Terry and it’s possibly the best scene between them in eleven seasons. The two maybe, kind of, sort of share some affection for each other and it’s one of the stronger sequences from the entire season. It’s a nice moment that they can share together before his new nurse suffocates him to death.

Terry’s kindness towards his father during what turn out to be some of his final moments naturally conjure a lot of feelings that feel like a dress rehearsal for what’s ahead for Frank and his family. Frank’s dementia is contextualized through an innocuous naming contest for Liam’s school that becomes a platform for much broader character insecurities. In many ways this final season of Shameless feels the most socially conscious and rooted in events and trends that are present in the real world.

This has largely worked in the show’s favor and it never feels like the message gets too treacly. Frank and the other patrons at the Alibi Room function as a surprisingly competent Greek chorus that sounds off on the latest issues that are dominant in society. “Cancelled” gets into a thoughtful discussion on cancel culture and how many old figures will fail if they’re held up to modern standards. There’s a fantastic aside that even Gandhi is too problematic to get a school named after him based on the current rubrics of scrutiny that are used.

The name change at Liam’s school prompts this debate, but it’s emblematic of Frank’s larger desire to hold onto history and tradition as more of his memories and mind fail him. It’s a touching way for Frank to externalize his internal fear over what’s going to happen to him before he’s ready to share his diagnosis. Frank’s crusade to rename Liam’s school after the Gallagher family and in his honor is a little on the nose, but it honestly works. It’s the right kind of sentimental turn and I would have even preferred if this mission took up several episodes and culminated in the end of the series rather than it just being a temporary distraction.

Frank doesn’t succeed in his goal, but his actions do manage to open his family’s eyes to how he needs them during this trying time. It’s a brief scene, but the impact is felt and it actually looks like this dose of reality might sober up Lip and Debbie. Liam slowly cluing into Frank’s dementia before it’s made explicit is also heartbreaking and it’s one of many emotional moments that Shanola Hampton absolutely kills as the episode’s director. She does an excellent job with what’s a very tonally frenetic installment of the series.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“Cancelled” is an exceptionally strange episode of Shameless that’s full of some of the most emotional scenes from the entire season as well as some seriously bizarre dramatic turns that make it feel like there’s a murder quota that these episodes need to satisfy. Overall, this episode works and the moments that stick out are so unusual and unexpected that they strangely need to be respected on some level. There are four episodes left in Shameless and the characters finally feel unified and ready to address an unknown future.

The post Shameless Season 11 Episode 8 Review: Cancelled appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/38EdbAJ

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

0 notes

avaantares · 7 years ago

Text

Tag game - Torchwood edition

Tagged by: @humany-wumany-stuff

Rules: Always post the rules. Answer the 11 random questions posted for you. Create 11 new ones and tag 11 people. Let the person who tagged you know that you answered.

1. When did you start watching Torchwood and what (or who) got you to start watching?

I was actually a bit late to the party, since my personal history with Doctor Who is... complicated (and waaaaay too long to relate here, though I’m happy to share the story if anyone ever gets really bored). The net result is that I didn’t catch up with New Who and, by extension, Torchwood until long after Torchwood had finished its TV run. I think it was 2014, maybe? (Sadly, I’d already been spoiled for most major series events, so I didn’t get to experience the shock and dismay of those who watched when it was new.)

I started watching because yes please, more Captain Jack Harkness, thank you. But I stayed for Ianto Jones.

2. What is your go-to episode to watch when you’re feeling down/bored and why?

You know, I really don’t have that kind of relationship with television. I watch TV so rarely (by which I mean I went for 13 years without even having TV and didn’t miss it), and I have so little free time in my schedule, that I don’t tend to rewatch shows unless I’m 1) showing the series to someone new (which I’ve done with Torchwood) or 2) looking for specific costume references (which I have also done with Torchwood).

That said, I think KKBB probably packs the most pure, shameless entertainment value, so if I really needed a Torchwood fix I’d probably go for that one.

3. Which of the TW villains/aliens/whatevers did you find the scariest and why?

I think Torchwood’s storytelling was at its best when the team wasn’t facing camp alien monsters, but rather dealing with concepts and issues rooted in our reality. Suzie Costello was a decent person, slowly warped into a serial killer by the things she’d seen and done. Out of Time touched on aging and cultural disconnect and loss. Meat was about exploitation. Children of Earth used aliens as a frame to explore political corruption and the abuse of power. Those stories were much darker and stayed with me longer than, say, a poorly-CGed “fairy” with improbable dentition. (Apologies to The Mill, but those effects... weren’t scary at all.)

4. If you had to pick 2 characters to do a BF audio, who would it be and what would it be about?

Ianto Jones and Norton Folgate. Probably having to join forces to save Jack, or something. I don’t even care what the plot is, I just want a full hour of catty insults and cutting dialogue between those two. SO MUCH SASS.

5. What is your favourite fanfic-trope to read/write?

To read? Probably slow burn, but it has to be done really well. I also enjoy emotional H/C, if it’s believable and not just abusing or woobifying the characters.

To write? The pen-dulum (ha!) swings liberally between angst and dry humor/snark. I also have a tendency to get characters into really heated, emotional arguments, possibly because they’re all so stupidly repressed and it’s nice to see them let loose once in a while.

6. If you could assemble your own TW team (post-CoE) with canon characters from the extended Who-niverse (any show related to DW), who would be in it?

So this is basically just a list of all my favorite companions, right?

Core Modern-Day Team:

Martha Jones - brilliant medic; worked for UNIT; saved the world a few times. Won’t take guff from anyone.

River Song - Jack’s equal in every way, only far more likely to shoot you. Tolerates even less nonsense than Martha.

Zoe Heriot - super genius from the future who can calculate pretty much any mathematical solution in her head faster than a computer. Adorably perky, but not afraid to hit bad guys over the head.

Sara Kingdom - by-the-book former Space Security officer. The one who would constantly be reminding Jack that he’s in violation of Torchwood code #439.27 subsection A. Also handy with a blaster.

Ianto Jones - because of course he’s still around, why wouldn’t he be?

Victorian Team:

The Paternoster Gang (Lady Vastra, Jenny, and Strax) - They’re pretty much doing Torchwood’s job for them already. so why not?

Jamie McCrimmon - 18th-century Highlander. Only barred from the main team because if Jack actually had a young, athletic, kilt-wearing man on his regular team, he’d never get ANYTHING accomplished (also, Ianto would probably have to intervene due to Olympic levels of workplace sexual harassment).

Consultant:

Sarah Jane Smith and K-9 - journalist-turned-suburban-mom who still saves the world on a weekly basis, and her robot dog. She doesn’t really approve of Torchwood (that’s actually canon!), but helps out when they need it.

7. A question you would like to ask the actors on a panel (assume they are all present :p)

Since we know that the storylines and character arcs were often in flux as the series was being written, what grounding concept or idea allowed you to keep your character’s portrayal consistent throughout the series?

8. If there was another season and they would do a crossover with any show/movie/book/whatever of your choosing for 1 episode, what would it be and why?

This is a little bit cracked, but someone recently posted about a Dirk Gently/Torchwood crossover, and I think, with enough suspension of disbelief, there’s actually some potential there. I mean, except for the conflict of Samuel Barnett being in both series. (Though I could see some good material there, too...)

Apart from that, it’s already been, er, “established” that Sherlock and Doctor Who/Torchwood exist in the same universe (oh, Arwel Wyn Jones, did you know the chaos you were unleashing?), so... why not?

9. If you were to find out tomorrow that Torchwood is real and Jack is leading a Torchwood team in your home city, how would you convince him to let you join them?

Oh, man. Would I want to? I mean, what are my odds of survival?

I am (among other things) a professional animal trainer with some certification letters after my name, so I would probably just point out that they really need someone to train their pteranodon so it stops eating livestock and pooping on all the war memorials.

10. How would you recast the original Torchwood team? (Jack, Owen, Tosh, Ianto and Gwen)

Hmm, I’m not sure I would. The characters are so closely tied to the actors in my mind, I can’t picture anyone else playing them. I can only come up with alternate faces if we port it completely out of context. So here’s my completely ridiculous Golden Age of Hollywood Torchwood cast:

Jack - Errol Flynn (dat jawline, yo)

Owen - James Cagney

Gwen - Barbara Stanwyck

Ianto - Marlon Brando (young Brando. Not Jor-El.)

Tosh - Miiko Taka? (This is a hard one to cast in that era, because Toshiko’s Japanese heritage is so significant to her character, but there were so few headlining Asian actresses during the GAoH. Or... well, even today, for that matter.)

11. If you could pick any author to write a Torchwood novel, who would it be and why?

Are we excluding fanfic writers? Because if we’re going to talk novel-length Torchwood stories, I could name a few that are more consistent and true to character than the official ones... *sidelong glance at @gmariam321*

But while we’re dreaming of impossible things, how about Douglas Adams? He wrote for Doctor Who, and his own books spanned the bizarre (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) and the tragic (Last Chance to See), so I think he would bring an interesting perspective to a bunch of alien hunters trying to save the world from their glorified sewer in Cardiff.

Also, potential sofa cameos.

In all honesty, I was going to do the 11-new-questions-and-tag-people thing, but it’s now 4:59 a.m. (ZOMG1 what am I still doing awake at this hour?!) and I really, really need to turn off the computer instead of thinking up creative new asks. So I’ll just open this up to anyone who hasn’t yet been tagged and offer them the same questions @humany-wumany-stuff posed!

#torchwood #ask thing #fandom

6 notes · View notes

moonraccoon-exe · 7 years ago

Note

That must be hard when fem!iggy (blind) gave birth with her child 😭😭

(This is one of the entries on the “newest” half of my inbox, but I couldn’t resist this one either, hnnnfdgndfg)

Ah, yes, the story of the moment lady Ignis gave birth and the encountered feelings among the expected joy.

It happened a few years after she and her friends had managed to defeat the Chancellor at age thirty (when the prince was twenty-eight). The light returned to the world, and the reconstruction of Insomnia, Accordo, Tenebrae and Niflheim started. The King’s Shield and his Royal Adviser, if not free from all their duties seen as they still had a life of serving the now ascended King Noctis, at least were now free from the pressure of the World of Ruin and a decade dedicated to be prepared for the moment when the True King would return. So, in a world of peace, the Shield and the Adviser married a year after the light returned to the world.

And year and half later, the news made it at first only in their intimate social circle, and quickly spread through the capital city, only to be spread all over the kingdom and from there to all around the globe, and it was cheered mostly by all the Lucians: the news that the living legends the Shield of the King of Light, Lord Gladiolus Amicitia, and the Adviser of the True King, Lady Ignis Scientia, were to be parents.

Both Gladio and Ignis had planned it, and they had started trying only months after their wedding, but each time it resulted in the same: negative. Negative after negative after negative. Both had themselves tested, and none seemed to have any medical problems of infertility. None known, that is; while the medics assured Gladio was fine, Ignis did show a few troubles, but nothing they had ever seen before.

Gladio blamed the Chancellor and the ring of the Lucii. He claimed that the fact that Ignis only showed scars on the face did not mean there could not have been other damages they did not know about, internal one included. They were not a hundred percent certain of how the ring or the Chancellor’s magic worked, so the events of Leviathan could have damaged her more than they were aware of.

Still, they did not lose hope. Gladio never pressured her, but they tried if she asked him. And that was how a year and half after marrying, their goal became a reality.

Iris Amicitia, new head of Crownsguard now that Cor was head of the new generation of Kingsglaives, was first to know.

It had been a month since the night that Ignis assumed was the one successful intercourse that resulted in her pregnancy. It had been wonderful; Gladio had been especially gentle with her, had pampered her all throughout the moment with a rain of sincere and soft kisses all over her face, shoulders, arms and all of her body, he had taken a few moments to kiss her tummy and blow raspberries on it claiming that ‘maybe your tummy’s just stubborn; I’ll convince it with my charm’, and he had held her in all moments as they made love, had praised and admired her when she took the top, held her and kissed her all the time when he retook the top so Ignis could ‘just focus on feeling good, I’ll do all the job’, and he never stopped reminding her how much he loved her.

Ignis had experimented a few symptoms only, and so few and tiny that they were easily shrugged off as just a normal, spontaneous and fleeting nausea or just that the Cup Noodles had done bad to her stomach once. But, like every time they tried, Ignis got a test to see if it was positive this time. Modern tests could have told her only two weeks after the moment of pregnancy, but she had been scared at first; scared to try it once more and, for the thousandth time, hear that it was a negative.

Gladio was always the one who would take the test and read it for her. But Ignis was exhausted of putting Gladio through this torture; having him read what she thought was her failure, hear that little hint of disappointment in his voice that, even though she knew was not disappointment in her but rather the situation, felt like her own fault nonetheless. She was exhausted of raising his hopes every time she handed him the test and have it all collapse when he always said ‘Negative’.

That one day, with a little grain of hope that maybe the spontaneous nausea and the one bad stomachache night were a little more than they seemed, and both scared of telling Gladio and wanting to surprise him later in case it would be what she hoped, she had gone to her sister-in-law. Iris did not always spend the night at the Amicitia manor, what with her own apartment, but that one morning, Ignis took her chance not knowing how longer it’d be before Iris would be there, and shyly and a bit fearfully approached her.

The adviser felt a little silly, fearing so much to hear the one word she had heard for so long by now, and for once she felt like what the world had always expected from her when she was much younger and that she never gave them; a fragile princess about to cry in the need of a hug.

She was sat at the edge of Iris’ bed, hugged to her tonberry plush toy, after having handed her the test. Her sister-in-law waited a bit, maybe checking to make sure she knew how to read the symbols on the test.

And that’s when Ignis, expecting the entire opposite, could not and did not know how to react to this new scenario.

‘Positive.’

Prompto was there to film Gladio’s reaction when they told him. They told him that they had a gift for him. The four friends, the King, his Shield, Adviser, and Crownsguard Prompto shared dinner together, all alone, because while Gladio was oblivious to it, the other three knew that the couple would really enjoy of intimacy.

After dinner and laughter, and after some teasing and an eager Gladio like a child during winter celebrations, Prompto started filming and they handed him a little package. He showed some playful and faked disappointment at the little size of the package, and as falsely and playfully he ‘nagged’ Ignis for not buying him something bigger (because they had clarified that ‘well, it’s not a gift from all us; Iggy’s who’s got the surprise for you’).

Gladio laughed when he saw the tiny green blanket. He took it from the gift paper and started asking if this was one of Ignis’ sarcastic gifts “from the once that you called me a Big Baby? I don’t fit here! What am I supposed to do with a blanket this size?”

All that Ignis did, off-camera, was to smile and tell him ‘Well, make a guess’.

It took Gladio only a few more seconds. He was laughing after what he thought was a joke, while unwrapping the tiny blanket to see it full size. It was only as large as most of his forearm, but as the laughter faded, his smile also started fading. At the same time it did, a gleam of recognition and understanding started growing in his eyes, at first tiny, and bigger with every second that passed, blanket in hands and eyes scanning it.

A few seconds later, Gladio’s smile was entirely gone and he stared at the blanket as if though he had just read on it that all the people he loved were about to die; shocked, and as if terrified. His eyes started gleaming in a very literal way this time. And, a few seconds later, he looked up.

“…Ignis” he called in a very, very tiny whisper, broken and shaky. He was looking at his wife with the most pained expression that any of them had ever seen on him since Ignis’ injury all those eleven years ago. Gladio’s mouth opened and tried to gesticulate, mute, shocked, and his eyes were full of tears. “…are you…pregnant?”

The last word was so tiny, even tinier than the already tiny whisper he was already speaking with, that he mouthed it more than he actually said it, and he lost the breath afterwards, but he didn’t take the eyes off his wife.

Ignis can’t be seen in the video, but she, eyes full of tears as well, only puts the head down and whispers a very little and breathless ‘Yes’ while nodding; she had thought she had gotten over the overwhelming feelings, as she already had a whole morning and evening aware of this, but apparently she was only beginning to feel the real weight of it.

Gladio said nothing afterwards. What he did was to breathlessly gasp like he was suffocating, put a hand to the table and the other up to his mouth, and he dropped the head lightly, and he started trembling and crying. It was absolute silence except for Gladio’s little pained whimpers that say he’s trying to control himself but it takes more of his might than he has. He trembles and cries, and sometimes he cleans his eyes with the tiny blanket, but he ends up covering his eyes with a hand, and sobs, crying more and unable to say anything.

In the video you can see the Shield doing nothing but tremble on his spot, sniffle and cry, some noises, and then Iggy appears to sit at his side, to hold one of his hands and then to bring him into a hug. Gladio hugs her back immediately as if it had been a reflex, and as soon as Ignis first hugged him he let out a shameless sob and started properly breaking into tears.

It was no secret that Gladio had always wanted to be a father, ever since he was a teenager. His condition, of course, was for the kid or kids he would have to be only from the one only true owner of his heart and life, not anyone. And ever after a few years of being with Iggy, he knew she was the one, respected her when she said she did not want any, respected when she switched to ‘only needing time’, and then it was only silly to think about having any kids when they had to spend ten years not only fighting to survive but also searching for a way to save their king while also preparing themselves for the final encounter. Not to say that they did prepare for the one dark scenario where they would not survive said final encounter, not wanting to leave their child with no parents.

And then, free from that risk, with all the struggles to get Iggy pregnant, after three decades of life always wanting to be a dad, of course Gladio would react like that. He knew he may be overreacting and that others would just laugh it off, but that night when he was told he was going to be a dad, he was entirely sleepless, not out of fear or the shock, not even joy, just out of love. He spent all the night caressing Ignis’ belly; there was no bump there, no movement, the creature was still only a tiny fetus, but it was there and that was enough to him. He was going to be a daddy, and it was Iggy who carried with his child. Gladio was ecstatic.

Which, needless to say, made of him the most overprotective and loving of husbands all during pregnancy. Ignis had always playfully complained ever since they became a couple back when she was nineteen that Gladio was ‘too clingy’. You should have seen him along the nine months, oh my god. She used to say that she ‘carries with Gladio more often than I’m carrying the baby’. The man pampered her twenty six hours a day, breaking through the logic of time because what was time compared to his love for his wife and their kid!?

Gladio went on through life as the proudest daddy-to-be to have ever existed. He always showered the belly with kisses and spoke to it long and good, he always caressed it at nights (unless Iggy asked him not to, the nights she felt too physically sensitive), he attended to every single one of Iggy’s food cravings no matter how weird, pampered her when she felt sick or exhausted from symptoms, and took oh gods so many photos of her through pregnancy, the belly each day bigger and more beautiful, like her.

Gladio would always adore hugging her from behind, hands flat on her belly, round and big, and rest the chin on top of her head, closing the eyes, and adoring of this hug, because he was hugging not only Iggy, but his entire family that way. He always brought Iggy’s pregnancy to conversation, with his family, his friends, his co-workers, and even with people he did not even know.

‘That’s nice and all, sir, but do you want fries with this or not?’

Iggy was spared from her job as the King’s adviser three months before the child would be born. Gladio was spared two months before the scheduled date. You should have seen the Baby Shower a month prior to it; they had this game where the proud parents opened the gifts and Gladio tried guessing who gave it to them. For each mistake, Iris would draw something on his face with a marker. It was hilarious to watch the strong and imponent Gladiolus Amicitia squirming and childishly complaining under his sister’s wrath with a marker.

And then the day arrived. While Gladio overreacted and insisted Ignis stayed in bed all day, she always reassured him that even though the day was close it did not mean she had to stay in bed 24/7; she was pregnant, not agonizing. So, it happened while Iggy was drying the dishes that Gladio was washing; a little huff, a hand to the belly, and Gladio froze in the spot just staring at her.

“Oh, gods…” Ignis breathed out and turned to look at him. “I think the baby’s coming.”

Gladio took her to the hospital, and, indeed, the baby was coming. The poor Shield, he had witnessed the Fall of Insomnia at age 23, he had traveled across all Lucis fighting for his and his friends’ lives every day during months, he fought a god of war on his own, he survived in a city during war in ruins where two gods fought, almost lost his dearly beloved in his own arms, he traveled into the heart of the Empire, survived a hoard of daemons, ten years of endless night and more daemons, he even fought an Astral and defeated it…but, the poor thing was a nerve wreck in the moment Iggy started with contractions. He was a paranoid mess, not knowing where to go, what to say, looking around everywhere, talking in either almost yells or little murmurs, he was like a terrified kitten among chaos. Not even Ignis was as nervous.

It would become hilarious after the moment had passed, though it was not as funny while living it, this of helping Iggy through the contractions. Due to the same reason of a little more troubles than the average to get pregnant, it was only natural the contractions would affect her a little more than the average too. She had claimed all over the eight months since she was conscious of the news that she had done all that Gladio did too, hence giving birth would be ‘a child’s game to me’.

Well, there’s Iggy, with hoarse loud groaning while clawing at Gladio’s skin or gripping at his hand so tightly the Shield swore for a week that his bones were broken. The poor woman did struggle during birth, and had to go on with natural rather than surgery.

It took quite a while, and the closer she was to giving birth the worse the cramps and contractions grew. At some point Gladio had to round the bed and offer her his other arm because the first was already bruised enough and he could not stand more of her accidental wrath on it. Iggy was already sweating even before the baby had started properly coming out at all.

Gladio stayed with her all the while, and, despite his own panic, his fatherly and lovingly instincts rose naturally, and he kept shushing her, cheering on her, congratulating her for the strength and always cheering for her that she could do it, that she was doing phenomenal, that he was proud of her, and he kissed her face when he thought it appropriate.

Giving birth was some troubles, too. It’s a very natural thing, so it’s supposed to be easy, and Iggy is a tall woman with wide hips, but it was still some troubles with the contractions and the cramps. The pain got a bit too bad, even with medicines already helping, and she once (but only once) stopped pushing, exhaustedly letting the head swing to a side (towards Gladio), and she whispered to him that she could not do this.

Gladio, however, was only triggered deeper into his lovingly instincts and he continued cheering on her with the most concise and appropriate words that worked best on her, little touches, and always holding her hand, even when Gladio himself was a bit terrified. He was badly triggered into terror whenever Iggy showed some weakness in something; the woman was the bravest person that Gladio had ever known in his life, so the fact that she had said she ‘could not do this’, it was terrifying. But Gladio’s instincts of helping her were much bigger than the fear, and in the end he did a wonderful job at giving her the support she needed of.

And after all these troubles, ever since the struggles with only trying to get pregnant, the child was finally born. The priority to Lucian doctors, like it should be everywhere on Eos, is to immediately hand the baby to the mother; the trauma of abandoning their safe haven in the womb is shocking enough, so it’s absolutely necessary to place them on their mommy’s chest as soon as they’re born; that’s so they can hear her heartbeat, which is their constant and only real companion when in the womb, not to say the smell of mommy and her warmth and voice are the most they’re familiar with, so yeah, quite important (unless the baby needs some non-conventional medical intervention, of course).

It was a precious baby boy that cried so loudly the doctor and nurses were absolutely sure the entire hospital could hear him.

“…you can’t ever ask if it’s yours or not, Gladiolus Amicitia” Iggy said breathlessly, recovering from all the pushing and effort, hugged to the baby that screamed and bawled in roars. “Listen to him. He’s…definitely yours…”

Gladio did not catch it at first, but then he laughed. Well, Iggy had finally stopped cursing and threatening him (please understand her, raging out was only natural with the contractions) and was back at joking.

The doctors made sure that the baby was as fine as he could be, and then left them with some space while the little creature recovered, as well as the mother, who had lost a bit more blood than the safe measures but nothing that threatened with her life. And that’s how a rather shocked but happy Gladio was left with the newborn and a sweaty, numb, panting and completely exhausted Iggy holding him close.

Gladio was too shocked to react as he would later do when he’d exit the room and find Noctis and Prompto standing there, because part of him still could not believe it. Slowly and eye widened the entire time, he stayed at a side of the bed, very close, a hand to one of Iggy’s forearms since he could not hold her busy hand, and the other caressing her short hair. They stayed absolutely quiet, and the baby calmed down very quickly. His were the only noises in the room besides Iggy’s panting that softened and calmed with every second that passed; the tiny and timid baby whimpers quietened along his mommy’s breath.

All that Gladio was doing was stare at the baby and nowhere else. Such a strange concept, a newborn. It’s one of those strange things of the cosmos and life, how marvelous life was that it could allow this strange concept; a baby. An entire living creature with a very complex system…born from him and Iggy. This was an entire human being, who could think and feel and who had twenty individual fingers that he could move and an entire system of nerves and a very complex everything inside him that worked fine, with a very complex brain that worked faster than the speed of light and a pair of wonderful eyes that, while not yet, could catch light and adapt to it and a mouth and maybe he was just overreacting but it’s suddenly to him such a wonderful and very beautiful thing that’s far beyond his comprehension and suddenly the only word he can tag it of is ‘sublime’.

So he’s staring and nothing else, too marveled by this concept, and even more marveled at the idea that he did this and Iggy did this and this is their child and that he’s a father now, he’s a father now, dear Six, he’s a father now!! He’s a dad, he’s finally a dad, and this tiny little thing, soaked and reddish and tiny (‘so tiny, is this normal?’), already with a funny lock of hair, this tiny little thing, this is…this is his son. He’s a dad now, and this is his son, dammit!

Iggy’s hands hold him very carefully but firmly, like only a mommy could do, and he’s in realization of how much of a very, absolutely wonderful mommy Ignis would be to this tiny little thing, how she never needed to hold any newborn before to master this merely out of instincts and her natural protective and careful attitude, how much of a wonderful mommy she’ll be, and he drowns admiring her because she’s an excellent warrior, an excellent adviser, and now an excellent mommy too, is there something this goddess, who said yes to him and how is he so lucky, can’t do?

The little baby’s pressed to her chest, and Gladio’s not sure if he’s awake or not, as he still cannot open the eyes, and has gone very quiet. Gladio’s staring a lot, watching the way his tiny body moves with each breath, as if making sure he’s breathing, the tiny movements of his fingers, and it’s marvelous.

After a very long while of caressing Ignis’ hair and staring at the baby, Gladio is taken out of his shock and he turns to look at her. She’s been very quiet all the while as well, but there where Gladio has been smiling, she looks rather…upset.

His first thought is that she’s exhausted, and damn she is exhausted. She’s holding the baby and caressing his back very, very tenderly with a hand, but her blind gaze is lost in nowhere, her good eye is teary, and there’s no smile on her face. It’s like she’s not there, absolutely lost in either thoughts or her feelings, and moving the hand without noticing. The sweat’s gone, but a few of her locks of hair are still a little damp. She looks wrecked and so exhausted.

“You did wonderful, Iggy” Gladio murmurs to her, still smiling, and moves some of her hair away of her forehead. His first reflex was to tell her ‘I wish you could see him’, but he swallows the words before they’re out and changes them, not making a big deal out of it. “He’s…precious…”

Ignis smiles for only a moment, a tiny and slightly forced smile that leaves as soon as it arrived, and she doesn’t reply, not even with a nod. She’s still not focusing her blind eye anywhere, and when she blinks, a tear rolls down her cheek. Gladio looks at her, not sure he understands, and his smile starts disappearing. Slowly, his expression transforms from confusion to concern, staring at her, and seeing her drop another tear.

“…hey, Iggy” Gladio calls in a tender murmur, and moves a hand to her face to catch a tear midways down her cheek, cleaning it away. “Are you alright? I know you’re exhausted, but…you also seem…a bit upset…”

The adviser quietly sniffles once and her good eyelid flutters a bit, and she lets out a tiny breath, as if getting prepared to say ‘It’s nothing’ but not saying it. Gladio gives her some moments, caresses her face to clean the shy tears, and she lowers the head a bit.

“…I am so sorry, Gladio, my dearest” Ignis whispers to him with the voice broken. She knows it’s useless coming up with excuses to him, so she doesn’t even try. “…I am ruining the joy…”

“Do you want to talk with me about what’s bothering you?” Gladio asks her as tenderly as he’s been speaking to her during this small conversation.

It took Iggy a long pause while she thought about it and while, honestly, she gathered the strength to not feel like a bother and just open up to him. She’s been with Gladio for more than a decade, and she knows him since they were kids, heck, this is the love of her life, she can trust him and she knows it. But it’s still quite hard for her to speak it because, on a side, she doesn’t want to make him feel bad, and on the other side she fears that saying it aloud will make it hurt even more. So, as you can understand, it took her quite a while and great effort before she said it.

“…it’s just…” she murmurs with the voice broken and weak. She pauses and lowers the head a little more, blind eye still staring at nowhere. “…I wish I could see him…”

It’s the words but also the way they were given in such a fragile murmur, like a withered petal about to break, how the already painful phrase came out so weak and as the most fragile thread of a voice from such a powerful and strong woman…it absolutely breaks Gladio’s heart. He literally feels some pinch inside and his chest contracts as if the heart was really breaking inside him, and he understands.

Iggy doesn’t often complain about being blind. While it’s not something she’s happy with, she always says that it’s useless and only a bother to complain or feel bad about it because it’s not like it’s something somebody can ever fix, so she just lives like that. Not happy, rather just resigned to it, no complaints.

Except a few times. There were some chosen moments in which Ignis did admit, whether to just herself or to Gladio, that she does desperately wishes she could recover her sight, some chosen moments in which she does feel sorry about her injury. Their wedding, for example. While used to it, she sometimes still reminds Gladio how she misses to see his face and eyes when they make love; it was such an important thing to them, a particularly and especially significative thing to only them above the average ‘I want to stare at you during this’, something that’s a whole story on its own, it’s impossible that it doesn’t cross her head when they do it. His smile. His reactions, like the moment they told him he was going to be dad. The moment Noctis first worn the crown.

And now this.

“I know…he’s been alive for only a few minutes” she tells him and pauses to sniffle. “And I know he must look terrible; soaked, reddish, eyes swollen, maybe even slimy-looking” she smiles a bit, but the curve of her mouth remains sad. “Noctis would describe him as a ‘wet wrinkled potato’, perhaps” she used one of her own hands to clean her new tear, but it returns to hold the apparently sleeping baby. She sighs very softly through the nose, and her smile starts fading as she talks. “But he’s my baby. He’s the baby I had with you. Even if he was the most horrible and terrifying of sights…I’ve never wanted to see someone this badly before. This is my son, and I can’t even see him. I don’t often complain about it, but…right now, I do feel some…desperation to be able to see. Even if just one minute. Even if only one single minute so I could see him, even if only once…”

Gladio doesn’t know how to reply or if it’s prudent to say anything at all. Because he, like Ignis, knows there’s absolutely nothing anyone can do about her blindness. King Ravus, granted some of the Oracle’s magic after Lunafreya’s passing, had tried with not much success (it helped a bit, and she can see some shadows as if a healthy eye hidden behind the eyelid all the time rather than full darkness). This is not a “I’m sad because of this” “don’t worry, we can fix it like this” scenario. It’s a “I’m sad because of this unfixable thing literally nobody can do anything about”.

She’s resting the mouth against the baby’s head, and her hand still strokes his back very tenderly, sometimes the back of his head too. The tiny baby’s breathing calmly and heavily, fingers sometimes curling or uncurling on him, peacefully asleep and comfortable on his mama’s chest. Gladio looks at one and then the other in absolute silence, taking his time on each, and feeling bad for the woman that he loves with such a heavy burden on her. He considers that she has suffered far more than enough for a life; he wants Ignis’ happiness with absolute desperation and devotion, and he hates every time something makes her sad.

“I’m so sorry, Gladio” she murmurs after a while, still with shy tears escaping her one by one. “This was supposed to be the most joyful moment for us so far in our lives, and I’m…going sad all of a sudden, I’m so sorry…”

“No, don’t be” Gladio murmurs even softer than he had been doing until now, and he stands up from the chair to sit at the edge of the bed, softly and slowly and being careful to not cause her discomfort. He caresses her hair back and away of her forehead and he gives it a long-lasting and soft kiss. “It’s how you feel, and it’s okay. Thank you for telling me.”

Ignis swallows and closes the eye, trembling a little. It hurts, that Gladio is so understanding and always knows what to say, but it hurts in a very good way, because it lets her feel freely and not refrain. Gladio knows that she doesn’t need lies or to be reassured and told that everything’s fine; she just needs to express what she feels, not feel judged for it, know it’s fine, and Gladio also adds a ‘thanks’ only for telling him. Ignis never forgets how much Gladio loves her, but sometimes she re-remembers just how pure his love for her is, and it hurts in the prettiest of ways.

She, trembling a little and feeling some more hurt of the good kind that will clean the heart afterwards, nods in silence. Gladio smiles at her and gives her another kiss to the forehead, and says nothing, because he knows that’s just what Iggy wants; company, not nice words.

And that’s how they stay, an exhausted Ignis crying silently for a short but truly sad minute, holding the little baby, who stays peacefully asleep on her chest, and Gladio switching his attention between one and the other, caressing her hair or caressing the baby’s tiny arm or face with a finger.

After what feels like forever, and as Ignis eventually stops crying, after more and lingering silence and a proud dad staring at his baby or at who gave him the honor of being the mommy, Gladio knows it’s the moment that Iggy has stopped crying, so he caresses her face again, cleaning the damp paths of her cheeks.

“I guess the only option I’ve got is that you describe him to me from now on…”

“And I’ll gladly comply” Gladio smiles at her, and a hand comes to rest on top of the one that she keeps pressed to the baby’s back. “I’ll tell you each new thing that I discover about him as he grows, every mole, every birthmark, every color that I see on his hair or his eyes. I’ll describe him to you whenever you ask me to. All the days of our lives if you want me to.”

Iggy smiles and leans against the hand that Gladio kept on her cheek, softly closing the eyes for a moment.

“…right now he’s a newborn, so…there’s not much to describe, but…” Iggy’s voice is still a fragile thread, and she still sniffles from pause to pause. She still sounds sad, but she also sounds very exhausted, physically talking. “…for example…his…hair?”

Gladio takes some moments to look at him. He’s been smiling all this while. His gaze turns warm the more he looks at his baby, and he doesn’t take the eyes off him when he replies.

“It’s still a little damp…but…I think his hair is more like mine…”

He hears Iggy let out a little sigh.

“My baby…” she says as if lamenting. “Already with an ugliness point to himself.”

It took Gladio a moment. He first slowly nodded, warm gaze and smile still there, and slowly his brain processed it. His smile faded and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. And then he turned to look at Ignis, puzzled, not sure that was a joke or not. Ignis looks serious and still exhausted, but there’s the ghost of a playful smile at the corners of her lips. Gladio still takes some moments. But, then again, that’s such an Ignis thing to do; not hide the sadness under jokes, rather keep the spirit so alive she can joke even when sad. Slowly, Gladio starts smiling.

“Ignis?” he calls. “Are you calling me ugly?”

“I’m not saying you’re ugly” Ignis replies, voice still quiet. “But there’s a reason everybody finds some relation between you and a behemoth.”

Gladio tenses the shoulders at that and raises the head a little, like putting the guard up, but he’s smiling.

“Th-that’s…that’s because I’m big and strong, not because I’m ugly!” Gladio complains. “Everybody desires me. I’m the hottest man on Eos. You can’t be serious.”

There’s a pause that lingers. Ignis doesn’t reply. Gladio’s smile fades and he blinks.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“All I’m saying” Ignis says, and while she still sounds exhausted, the sadness is slowly fading from her voice, “is that if the child must resemble one of us, I hope it’s me.”

Gladio lets out a playfully offended moan of disbelief.

“But I’m handsome like the hero of old stories!”

“I know, Gladio, dear, I’m not saying you’re not” Ignis tells him in a reassuring voice like this is a serious issue. “But I’m more like a goddess.”

“Wow, okay, I thought mood swings would go away along pregnancy.”

“I could start crying again if you want to, then.”

“No, I didn’t mean-!” a sigh. “Back at Sass Queen Iggy, I see.”

“I never renounced to the crown, dear, I only dropped it for a moment.”

As any response, Gladio laughs and shakes the head, but leans closer to her to give her yet another kiss to the face. She smiles as response and closes the eye while he kisses her. There’s a pause and no words are shared, and the mood changes again. The joking was only an intermediate, Ignis’ usual escape whenever she wants to get rid of the sad air but has no idea how to switch to neutrality, using a happy interlude in between. He’s still close to her face during the silence, and gives her yet another kiss.

“Thank you, Gladio” Ignis murmurs to him and Gladio breaks apart. “For all of this. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner to help me through this. You too did fantastic…”

Gladio smiles and rests the forehead against Iggy’s.

“And I certainly couldn’t have asked for a better father to my baby…” she whispers, eyes closed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be at peace being unable to see him…but, as son of the most wonderful man that I’ve ever known, I don’t need to see him to know he is and will be a precious boy with a heart as pure and warm and his father’s. That’s not seen; it’s felt.”

The Shield, currently not a Shield and only a dad (because now he is a dad!), smiles at her. He receives the compliment as more than just that, and feels moved, happy, loved. He kisses her tired lips, that barely react at all. Iggy’s been drifting into sleep ever since her tears stopped. No wonder she could pass out any second now, what with the huge effort she did to give birth to…this tiny creature; her son. Gladio’s son. Their son.

He still has a hand on top of Iggy’s, which is on top of the baby’s back. He feels it raise lightly, and hears the baby take in a deep breath mid-sleep, and it’s absolutely wonderful. He still has yet not felt the real weight of the overwhelming of emotion this brings to him, how much he’ll explode out of emotion later; his feelings are being reined in, because, on a side, he’s still touched by sadness about Ignis’ sadness, and on the other side he’s on protective instincts; the love of his life is physically paining and absolutely exhausted, and the tiny creature (his son, his baby, the new love of his life in another way that’s as beautiful and impossibly huge) is just minutes old and he by instinct wants to stay nearby as if to make sure they’re both safe, so the flood of emotion has to wait for later on.

Right now all he can do is keep caressing Iggy’s hair, sat at the edge of her bed, and stare at the so beautiful baby in her arms, how peacefully he sleeps, and how much, how desperately, frustratingly, impossibly much Gladio already loves him…

He had meant to reply to Ignis’ words, but suddenly finds it impossible. There’s a huge knot in his throat that’s been there longer than he realized, there’s tears in his eyes, and he feels so much joy for their baby, and sadness from Ignis’ own sadness, and joy from how much he loves his now family, and sadness from how a part of him, too, wishes Ignis could see the baby, even if only once…

Overwhelmed in emotions of all sorts, all that Gladio does is to keep the hand on the one that Ignis keeps to the baby’s back, feeling how that more fragile hand untenses and goes more and more limp with each second as Ignis drifts to sleep, and caresses her hair to help her find the so well deserved and so needed rest that she needs.

Gladio kisses her forehead when he finally hears her taking in a deep breath that lets him know she’s finally asleep, and continues to stare at the baby.

It’s hard. This issue about Iggy’s blindness. It’s always hard, but it’s especially harder right now. But that’s how their lives have been so far; hard.

But, just like how their lives have been so far, they always make it through, together, and love is something that’s never missing. And, to Iggy, a family is not built of what can be seen, but rather what can be felt, and Gladio has the most beautiful and purest of loves to give. What Ignis is unable to see, Gladio gives in the form of love.

So, to them both it’s a bit sad, maybe, but the little flaws won’t compare to the joy and absolute love that Gladio and Ignis give to each other, and, now, that they give to their son too, as a family.

*makes itsel cry*

Aah, this was very pretty to write. Thanks a lot, dear anon. I enjoyed it from head to toe and I hope you’ve enjoyed, too! ( ´ ▽ ` )

Support Coonie with a coffee, please? ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

#fem!ignis x gladio #oooh i didn't know that was a tag until i wrote it and the option popped up c:#momnis and daddio #i mean where is the lie about that tag #gladio's a soft and sensitive papa okay #he's just...SO HAPPEH #preggers fem!iggy must be adorable #imagine her in those loose shirts and dresses that preggo women use :')#iggy dressed in comfy that's so cute #also imagine her in her council attire while pregnant #hnnfngdf so formal and pretty #you can bet your ass the kid had the BEST DAMN PARENTS EVUR #protective mama iggy and playful papa gladio and the other way around #the kid is SO DAMN ALIKE to Gladio when he was a kid except for the eyes #amicitia blood is damn strong and ignis will often apologize to their son for 'making you as ugly as your dad'#it's always a joke of course #I JUST REALIZED THIS CHILD WILL BE THE NEXT AMICITIA SHIELD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL ABOUT THAT #also noct is alive because i couldn't imagine fem!iggy or gladio wanting to have a kid so soon after noctis' death so yah i had to make it w #work* so yeah also i want cor to babysit this creature someday / i am digressing and no space for tags i shall stop now #coon answers #coon's favorites #coon stories #coon writes #yay gladnis!

32 notes · View notes

believe-that-you-can-my-friend · 8 years ago

Note

Bughead writing prompt where Betty has a crush on Jughead and she gets jealous and he's entirely oblivious

Hope you like it!!! Thank you for requesting!!

“Excuse me, do you know where I can find JugheadJones?” four faces frowned at the odd question that echoed over their heads andstopped their previous cheerful chat on their usual lunch table, Kevin evenmentally counting them in his mind to be sure that all of them were present andnot anyone of their small group of friends was actually the one to be lookingaround for Jughead. Nope, Archie was to his side, Betty and Veronica across him;then who the hell was asking for Jughead?

It seemed that everyone had the same question and theyturned in unison to face the intruder, jaws slightly dropping upon recognizingher immediately. Stood over their table – theirtable – was Sabrina Spellman in all her Scandinavian glory, looking at themexpectantly with a tight smile and waiting for an answer.

Sabrina Spellman was the babe of babes in RiverdaleHigh, as all common jocks would state upon being asked, without even a tad ofeloquence. She had been transferred from Sweden, her birthplace, three yearsago and had brought a very saucy aura of Europe in their tiny school communitywith all her open-minded ideas and lifestyle. At her seventeen years of age shelooked like a model right out of a Victoria’s Secret’s catwalk with her sandyblonde waist-length hair, hazel eyes, rich cleavage and miles long legs. Girlsenvied her for her effortless looks and superb sense of style and as for guys,well, it was everyone’s wet dream. Even Kevin would jump right in if she wantedhim to, just for the experience of being with Sabrina Spellman. The girl wasdrop dead gorgeous and anyone could see that.

Looking like that and relishing in it, Sabrina alwayshad high standards; hanging out only with her fellow senior guys or the jocksor even older guys, more experienced.The fact that she of all people was looking around for Jughead Jones was frontpage material to say the least.

“Um, Sa-Sabrina, hi!” Archie choked on his sandwich,still in shock but a tad better than the other three that were staring with theirmouths opened. Their paths had crossed from time to time, because basically thegirl was living and breathing in the boys’ locker room. They had even gotintroduced once by Chuck Clayton but that was all their contact over the years.Archie was sure she didn’t remember him even though he still thought about herand her black tiny bikini once or twice in the shower.

“Hi…Archie, isn’t it?” she narrowed her pretty eyes inthought and smiled, making both boys smile back, totally under her spell.Veronica and Betty just rolled their eyes.

“You remember me?” the redhead blurted out, not quitebelieving it. “You remember me!” he announced in triumph this time with a hugestupid grin. “Thank you, I guess, wow—”

“Ahem!” Veronica cleared her throat harshly, cuttingoff his teenage hormonal outrage and sending him a glare, before offering afake smile up to the foreign girl. “You said you were looking for Jughead?” shenarrowed her eyes in disbelief.

“Who’s looking for me?” The man of the hour appeared,hands tucked inside his jeans and slouchy posture, raising his eyebrows at thesilence that greeted him before briefly glancing to the girl standing next tohim.

“I do!” Sabrina took it upon herself to answer; she knewher deal with boys. “Well, I read your article the other day on the paper aboutconsumerism and how modern world has turned us into ‘materialistic zoo animals’ and I was really impressed. Yourthoughts were so spot on.” She shot him a charming smile and both girls at thetable raised an eyebrow at how sketchy and desperate she sounded.

“Uh, thanks?” Jughead’s tone was more like a question,because first of all, Sabrina Spellman was talking to him for the first time –he wasn’t even sure if she was aware of his existence – and second, she of allpeople was interested in dealing with consumerism? Fred Andrews was barely amonth ago at her house building an extension to her already immense walk-incloset!

“I also write a few things of my own.” She went onunfazed by his obvious uneasiness, throwing her hair over her shoulder andresting her hip on the metallic table to have her solemn focus on him. “I’dlove for you to check them out and tell me what you think.”

Oh my God, yes!

DU-DE!

Kevin and Archie mouthed respectively behind her back,while Betty’s eyes grew wide in shock and was that anger?

Jughead just shook his head, ignoring his male friendsand their stupid drool over the popular girl’s looks. “I’m not sure how much ofa help I’m going to be. I tend to be a tad more sardonic than people canhandle.” He replied truthfully, not quite in the mood to have any interactionwith her. Archie face palmed, Kevin shook his head in a disappointed manor.

“That’s what I liked about you.” Sabrina flirted withhim with no shame at all and now it was evident to all of them, apart fromJughead of course. “And I can handle it. How knows? Made there’s a spot in thatnewspaper for me too and we can be writing buddies.” She shrugged and laughedlightly, sending him a look under her thick eyelashes.

Betty gasped with no sound at that, totally offendedby the lack of tact in that girl. Who did she think she was, barging insomething that it was hers and Juggie’s?

“Well, I’m not the one to decide that. The Blue &Gold is Betty’s proud achievement so she does all the new hirings, if any.” Jugheadsmirked at the girl sitting across him and she straightened her back proudlybecause he seemed to be looking at her more than Sabrina what’s-her-name.

“Yes and we are not hiring anymore.” Betty went toclarify maybe a little too harshly.

Sabrina turned to the four teens behind her briefly,sending a fake polite smile to her fellow blonde. “Too bad.” She flinched, andeven like that she still looked gorgeous; Betty shrunk back to her previousslouchy form. “But still I insist in you giving me your opinion. You seem likeyou really know what you are doing.” She turned back to him and went on withher shameless flirting, throwing sexy innuendo after sexy innuendo, but theraven haired boy didn’t get a chance to speak.

“Of course he will!” Archie interfered, shooting hisfriend a look when he shook his head no in a panicky manner. “Why don’t youswing by at the Blue & Gold after last period?” he played match-maker,looking out for his best buddy.

“I have cheer practice after last period.” Bettyreplied with an annoyed slash confused frown.

“That’s kinda the point, Bets.” Archie pointed outthrough clenched teeth and she opened her mouth to object but Kevin sent awarning shh and a meaningful look herway.

“I’m cool with that.” Sabrina smiled brightly, lettingher slender fingers caress down his arm in a seductive manner. “I’ll see youlater, Jughead.” She said with a tone full of promises and left, leaving theboys on the table fawning about her and the way her hips swayed and Jugheadlooking as perplexed as ever.

As for Betty, well, she had just gained her firstenemy.

The next day at free period was the same sceneryrepeated as yesterday, only this time three friends were watching and fromafar. Jughead had announced that he would go sit away at some bench of the highschool’s back yard to write but as soon as he opened the lid of his laptopSabrina Freedman was next to him bombarding him with million words per minuteand a series of seductive smiles.

Veronica and Kevin along with Betty were at thestudents’ lounge, the first two with their faces glued to the window, so tohave a front row seat to what was going on with the duo in question, whereasBetty was pacing back and forth behind them, wanting to look but also havingthat sickening feeling in her stomach at what she was going to witness. She wasminutes away from skipping cheer practice yesterday and go over to the Blue & Gold tocut their ridiculous rendezvous short but she was held back by a veryfrustrating Archie – and a fuming Cheryl, because no one was taking practiceseriously – so she was left there dragging her feet in the back with a grumpypout. Needless to say that she spent the night turning and fighting her covers,her nerves today being on breaking point.

“People say that they are together.” Kevin announcedin a hushed whisper, sharing the latest Riverdale High’s gossip with thebrunette next to him. “Rumor has it that she gave him a blowjob at the back ofthe parking lot yesterday evening after their meeting.” He went on in ascandalous voice and Veronica grimaced in appreciation.

Betty just flinched at the way too graphic details andstarted pacing more quickly, feeling her heart drop in disappointment for someweird reason. Jughead was her friend; shouldn’t she feel happy for him?

“Please, as if Sabrina Spellman would go for anyoneyounger than at least twenty-six.” Veronica snorted, looking straight ahead atthe pair that was now laughing at something. “Plus, since when people aretogether after a blowjob?” she wondered with a shrug.

“Can we please stop saying that?” the blonde squirmed in disgust. “It’s obviously a lie.” Shesaid it out loud in hopes to actually believe it.

“Oh, why not B?” her brunette friend addressed her,turning to look at her. “If Jughead is getting a little action, then good forhim. Lord knows, the boy needs it bad!” she chuckled.

“There’s a thigh grab.” Kevin announced in acontrolled fangirl voice, drawing the attention back to the window.

“From who?!” Betty snapped and rushed forward to pushtheir heads to the side in order for her to press her nose on the cold glassbetween them. It was from Sabrina, the girl rubbing lightly his thigh, andJughead sifted somehow uneasily but continued showing her something on hiscomputer.

“I spy with my little eye three losers pretending tobe spies.” The characteristic voice of Cheryl Blossom made the three teensjump. “Let me guess; Sabrina and that creeper, Jones?” she raised a perfectlyshaped eyebrow and curled her arms over her silk midnight blue blouse.

“How do you even know? Do you have cameras around orsomething equally chilling?” Veronica snapped back.

“Sweetie, don’t underestimate me.” She offered her afake smile. “The whole school is talking about them.” She went on uninterested,throwing some coins in the vending machine to trade for a cereal bar. “She’sboning him. Even if she hasn’t done it already, she’s definitely going to.Sabrina always gets who she wants.” And with that she was out the door, herheels leaving faint clicks behind her.

Betty never before in her life felt such strong needto start a catfight.

She was sulking. She was bitter and she wassulking. She didn’t know quite thereason; she just had a permanent pouty face all through the day and bloodpressure at the highest levels once somebody would mention either Jughead orthat blonde witch that had spelled her way to his bed, if the rumors wereindeed true. Betty had avoided any interaction with Jughead that day, not inthe mood to say a single word to him, their only hanging out being on lunchbreak during which Betty seemed to be only interested in fawning overVeronica’s boots and other girly stuff, having Jughead desperately trying toget her attention but failing. Betty hadn’t even spare him a single glance, shedidn’t want to; not when Archie was sitting next to him blubbing excited aboutthe romantic conquers of his best friend and asking for saucy details. Ugh,Betty truly believed that her seven years’ old self was indeed right; boys weregross.

She didn’t evengo to the Blue & Gold after school, meeting with Jughead and solvingmysteries like they had been doing every day of this passed month. Let him gothere, be alone and think about his actions, Betty thought, acceptingVeronica’s and Kevin’s offer for dinner at Pop’s. She could use the distractionand the much needed change of pace.

However, the sight she came across had her bloodrising to her head in nanoseconds. At his usual booth as Pop’s, Jughead Joneswasn’t alone as usual. Sabrina was next to him, practically lying on him andforcing him in a small space between her and the wall, the boy paying her noattention whatsoever but she was again talking and flirting non-stop.

“Oh, for the love of God!” Betty groaned and attractedthe attention of her chatting friends next to her, arms opening to her sides inexasperation and dropping with a thud sound of her palms against her thighs. “Irefuse to sit down for a rerun of that sorcery!” the blonde announced sternly,shaking her head and turning around to leave.

Veronica stopped her and caught her by the elbows,pushing her to move forward in the small dinner with her. “We’re about to learnsome brand new scandalous gossip about the hottest topic in Riverdale andyou’re passing on the chance? Nah-huh!” she whispered intrigued and passed bythe “happy” couple, offering them a grin – Betty just looking the other waysnobbishly – and Jughead momentarily cheering up upon seeing them enter, hopingfor them to drag him out of his misery but went back to slouching when Veronicapushed Betty to slide on a booth close to theirs, Kevin jumping on his seat inexcitement too.

“Why can’t we just go?” Betty whispered - yelled toher friends that paid her no attention but kept their eyes fixed on the couple.

“I really wonder what they are talking about.”Veronica whispered to Kevin who nodded in agreement, the blonde raising herarms in frustration before turning her head to the opposite direction, suddenlyfeeling nauseous and not in any mood to eat even her favorite Texas baconcheese fries.

“Is it just me or don’t they bring out a very sexy vibe?” the boy colored the word inhis usual intrigued manner, the brunette girl humming a yeah.

Betty flinched, seconds away from vomiting. “Please,can’t you see how miserable he looks?” her voice went an octave higher inannoyance.

“You call that miserable, I call it ‘I just got laid’glow!” Veronica laughed.

“They are not doing that!” Betty fumed, hands bailedin fists on the table.

“They totally do!” Kevin sent her a look. “You see thedress she wears? She wore that at the party that Jason Blossom lost hisvirginity to her and after she hadher way with Tim Griffins under the bleachers when Bulldogs’ won statechampionship last year. It’s like a pattern, or something.” Kevin explained ina secret whisper, Veronica bringing a palm to cover her amused gasp and Bettydropping her sad eyes to the floor next to her, feeling her heart break withevery word that came out of his mouth. Jughead wasn’t a plain fuckboy like all the others, he couldn’t be. Right?

“And can we take a moment to appreciate how this mini dresslooks on her? I mean that girl is some style guru for sure.” Kevin went on topoint out.

“Plus, she has a pair of some serious killer legs.”Veronica sighed in admiration and a tad of jealously for the girl’s perfect genes.

Betty let her eyes hesitantly do an once-over of her,regretting it immediately because she knew how Sabrina Spellman always lookedand especially in short skirts and mini dresses. Every girl felt envious of herbody type, even Cheryl Blossom herself. Then, hesitantly, she did a review ofher appearance; classic jeans – a tad bigger than her actual size because mammaCooper didn’t approve of anything skinny – modest floral tank top, blush pinkcardigan. Yeah, she would choose Sabrina over herself in a blink too. Shedidn’t blame Jughead for doing so. Wait, what? Was she actually going down thatroad?

“She’s not the right girl for Jughead.” She spat andadded a what seemed like to be an aloof shrug. That’s what she was going with,that was the reason behind her whole behavior.

Veronica and Kevin raised an eyebrow at each other.“Oh, really? And how come you express an opinion about Jughead’s love life?”the girl challenged with a tiny smirk.

Betty closed defensively her arms over her chest,awkwardly making paws with the sleeves of her cardigan. “I’m just looking outfor him; he’s my friend.” She didn’t sound convincing even to her own ears.

“Betty Cooper, are you jealous?!” Kevin’s mouth formeda big O, eyes shining in amusement and delight.

The girl in question opened her mouth to refuse butVeronica interfered.

“Of course she is!” she replied in a duh manner.“Finally B! I’ve been waiting for you to snap since that day that Gingertripped and accidentally fell on Jughead. You were giving them the eye for twodays just because he caught her by the waist in reflex so for her not to comecrashing down on his bag and beloved laptop.” The brunette shook her head atthe memory in amusement.

“I did not!” Betty spat like the girl had offendedher. She wasn’t jealous; well, maybe a teeny-tiny jealous because she reallywanted to feel his arms around her waist even by accident but that didn’t meanshe was growing like feelings for him? No, no that’s impossible.

“Whatever you say, bestie.” Veronica raised her handsin fake surrender. “But from the looks of it, Sabrina is indeed winning some groundagainst you.” She pointed her thump over her shoulder, Betty looking confusedup to the two of them, her green eyes nearly dropping off their sockets as shewitnessed her giving him a kiss on the cheek, before standing up and making herway to the restroom

Betty saw blood from anger and she shot up from herseat, making her steps quick and determined to his direction. She wasn’t goingto stand there while watching him joining her in the bathroom in any second. Jugheadsaw her approaching and his face lightened up but his smile fell upon seeingher threatening expression. Feeling suddenly nervous, he reached over for someleftover fries on his plate, trying to find some comfort in food.

Betty slapped his hand away with venom. “What do youthink you’re doing?” she demanded in a shaky voice.

“Finishing off my fries?” he gave her an unsure look.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me.” She scoffed. “I’masking what you are doing with her!”she forced the word off her lips, raising an arm to point behind her at therestrooms.

“Nothing.” Jughead shrugged, not quite understandingwhat was wrong. “She has some writer’s block and a very difficult theme for anEnglish paper so she asked my help for some reason.” He wasn’t sure why she hadchosen him of all people and, honestly, he was so ready to be done with it; hernon-stop bubbling was making his temples ache.

“Oh, please!” Betty flinched in a very unladylikemanner. “Can’t you see what she’s trying to do?”

“What is she trying to do?” he narrowed his eyes inconfusion. “Betty, seriously, what’s wrong?” Jughead sighed. “Did I dosomething, did I say something that I shouldn’t have? Because this whole weekyou don’t even look at me and now you seem angry, so please, whatever it is canwe talk about it?” the boy across her pleaded, really wounded that his favoritegirl was mad at him for some reason.

“Don’t you really know what’s wrong?” the blondefrowned in anger; seriously he couldn’t be so oblivious about the situationregarding the three of them and that aggravated her to no extend.

“Yes!” he exclaimed in exasperation.

“Did she give you a blowjob?” Betty blurred withouteven noticing it, her face getting warm in embarrassment instantly.

“WHAT?!” Jughead nearly shouted with a look full ofhorror. “No!” He blurted somehow uneasily, dropping his eyes on his lap inembarrassment too. He couldn’t even believe that such words had come out ofBetty’s mouth, let alone bring himself to picture him and Sabrina is suchrisqué interactions. Him and Betty, onthe other hand… The thought ran momentarily through his brain and hementally slapped himself for how inappropriate and disrespectful his teenagemind sometimes was.

Betty let the breath she was holding, somehow relievedbut now embarrassment for her outrage and choice of words was kicking more andmore in. “So, there’s nothing going on between you two?” she asked in a beaten,small voice.

“Of course not!” Jughead refused with an expression ofdisgust; how could she even think that they were an item? “That’s what got youcold and defensive all week? But why?” he wondered with a genuine lostexpression and Betty resisted the urge to roll her eyes at how oblivious hetruly was.

“Because she is jealous.” Sabrina’s voice came toconfirm the obvious. “But I made a move first, so, sorry honey but back off.”She faked politeness but her stare was cold on Betty.

“Excuse me?” the other blonde spat, turning to set herwith a cold glare herself.

“Oh you heard me perfectly. That boy toy is mine!” shepractically growled, Jughead shooting up from his seat and rounding his eyes inshock, not only because Betty had practically confirmed that she might hadfeelings for him – the very same feelings he had for her for ages – but therehe was as a trophy to be won between two girls. Was that even reality?

“We’ll see about that, honey.” Betty used her mostchallenging smirk and, without breaking their stare off, she fisted the frontof Jughead’s sweater, pulling him to her and crashing her bubblegum lips onhis, the boy gasping in surprise inside her mouth but he recovered quickly, droppinghis hands on her hips to bring her flat against his lean body.

Betty pushed him back with an audible gasp for air, lookingat a menacing looking Sabrina Spellman. “If your thin air filled head didn’tquite grasp that we can do that again as many times as you want.” She declaredin triumph and raised an eyebrow to accompany her satisfied smirk, Jugheadstanding next to her with a dumbfounded smirk decorating his lips.

Sabrina just turned her angry stare at Jughead.“What do you want me to say?” Jughead shrugged in his post-kissing bliss. “I’mdown, if she is.” He and Betty exchanged a smile, before Betty turned to shoother a ‘it’s time for you to leave’ glare.

The older girl just turned around in anger and left,slamming the glass door of Pop’s with venom behind her.

“Well, I know that you were referring to her but I’mhaving some trouble grasping this whole thing too, so how about a repetition?”Jughead cheekily asked and Betty shook her head at him, before cupping hischeeks and joining their lips in a sweet slow kiss, the two teens getting lostin the sensation and only barely hearing the faint cheers of Veronica and Kevinin the background.

#bughead #bughead fic #bughead fanfiction #betty and jughead #betty x jughead #jetty #riverldale fic #Anonymous #otp:sundaes & plaids #riverdaleships #mywriting

318 notes · View notes

jacintatveit · 8 years ago

Text

Michael Fassbender Interview: Vogue Russia January 2017 (Google translate)

Quiet European Michael Fassbender

Sex symbol of modern cinema is not going to move to Los Angeles and leave with his girlfriend, he appreciates the consistency of simple things

"Take me with you, I'm a stenographer! Anything is ready to do! "- Begged friends to know that I'm going to meet with Michael Fassbender. Never before did not arise so much willing to help me in an interview unselfishly. I and most breath when the suite London hotel Claridge's, I saw him - in a fishing sweater and jeans tucked into heavy brown boots, and he even smiled broadly and held out his hand, "Michael." I, unfortunately, sweaty palms.

Still no sweat! Not every day you see before you a man who played a role in three decades the most iconic paintings of recent years and claiming the title of one of the best actors of our time. However, Fassbender, it seems that he does not notice for themselves: it is easy to communicate and infinitely samoironichen. "We have to work hard and do not take yourself too seriously, then life will be favorable to you," - he says. It does not sound original, but honestly. It can be seen that Michael truly believes in it.

Success came to him in thirty-nine years ago, when he played in the film by Steve McQueen's "Hunger" Irish Republican Army activist Bobby Sanders, who died of starvation in prison. Fassbender then by example proved that the artist must be hungry: preparing for the role, he ate only boiled fish, nuts and berries and ten weeks lost fifteen kilograms. Phil received at Cannes' Palme d'Or "and the work of Michael equated to feat of acting, which are capable units like Christian Bale.

Michael joked that after the role he often invited for lunch, rather than casting. New York erotomaniac, a Spartan warrior, Byronic lyricist, a superhero from the comics, Steve Jobs - it seems nothing is impossible for Fassbender. "I work a lot," - he explains with a soft Irish accent, and it is something for which the directors of his love - for a serious approach to business. It was he who reads the script for two hundred times. He's studying his character to the smallest detail and is part of the image so that the Stanislavsky started.

About methods of work went legend during his studies at the London center of the drama. His classmate Tom Hardy recalls that all the students were shocked, as Michael was preparing for the role in a play by Sean O'Casey "The Silver Chalice", where he played football, lost in the First World feet. In just a few days before the premiere Fassbender even think to move on campus solely on the wheelchair.

"He - Marlon Brando our days - says director Steve McQueen, who shot Michael in the three paintings. - In his character so much tenderness and masculinity while, but in real life he is far from them - a humble boy from a good family. "

Fassbender was born in West Germany in a family of German and Irish. When he was two years old, they moved from the gray industrial Heidelberg in Killarney, beautiful town on the lake in Ireland. Parents Michael nothing to do with art did not have, though he says that his father, formerly a chef West & House restaurant - a true artist in the kitchen, and his mother, the restaurant manager, a lifetime love with cinema. "I even think that my mother married his father because of his last name, reminiscent of the director Rainer Werner Fassbinder, - joked the actor. - No relation to the ideology of the new German cinema, our family does not have. However, it all depends on how you are listening to: sometimes you can invent, and, if he was my uncle. "

His older sister Katherine was raised in Catholicism: Michael even served as an altar boy boy in the local church - for journalists as it is an occasion to make a joke like from a young parishioner raised such shameless, every second film flaunting without panties. "I will not hide: in the church I good enough sleep," - says the actor, assuring that his current looseness is not determined by the desire to present the perfect torso, and the depth and the meaning of inherited role.

Growing up, young people interested in music, wore long hair, T-shirts with the names of groups, Martens with ten holes and dreamed of playing heavy metal. One time they asked for to speak with a friend at the bar. "We were allowed to play during lunch, but it turned out that at that time no one wants to listen to loud music, so show quickly turned."

At seventeen he was in the drama club, organized by actor Donal Courtney, and now, when asked whom he owes success, he cites the first teacher, "others". Although many tried to dissuade him, especially his father, who wanted his son a more stable profession, as, for example, his sister Katherine, become a neuropsychologist. Studying in the heart of London's drama, Michael does not have any job bartender. "We had to make a living, which is more like survival. I can barely make ends meet, and the first time a studio rented an apartment for a couple with a Brazilian model. I remember there was a broken window from which terribly barrel ", - says Fassbender.

In the third year he was offered the role of Lieutenant Alexei Petrovich Fedotik staged Chekhov's "Three Sisters" - and he went on tour, he dropped out. Then came in the advertising of beer and airlines, and then in the TV series "Band of Brothers," produced by Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks. And after he met Steve McQueen, who proposed "Hunger." At the audition Fassbender seemed McQueen insolent. But how could behave differently?

Today, they are close friends. The ability to get along with the directors - one horse Fassbender. With the elderly, but does not lose the knack Ridley Scott he played ping-pong with cinephile Quentin Tarantino discussed the series "Private detective Magnum" who enthusiastically watched as a child. His filmography appear along with blockbusters and dramas such as "due west" debutant John McLean, received the prize at the Independent Film Festival at Sundance. Moreover, the actor agrees to a minor role, if only to help reveal young talents, and does not give concessions.

In 2017, we are waiting for a series of new products with his participation: "Weightlessness", "Alien: Testament", "Snowman" and - immediate - action adventure "Assassin's Creed", that fifth of January goes to rent. The painting, like the "Lara Croft", based on a computer game. Director - Australian Justin Kurzel, the main female role went to Marion Cotillard, together they have already filmed Shakespeare's play "Macbeth", enthusiastically greeted by the audience and critics.

Michael is not a gamer, but for the sake of filming had to become - fascinated by the universe of his games. In the film he plays the role of a criminal sentenced to death Callum Lynch has appeared in the XV century to relive the adventures of his ancestor, the Spanish assassin.

How would he describe himself? "Lazy - suddenly he says and laughs. - Well, the amendment - does not work. In any everyday things. All of these bills, receipts, which must be kept in order. " He still lives in the two-bedroom apartment in a working-class district of East London, which was bought ten years ago. "Probably I will move - shrugs Michael. - Maybe even out of town. I do not know". Is there a chance that Fassbender will live with Hollywood scale? He leans back, pointing to a luxurious suite, which is locked in the morning, trapped, for a number of interviews. "Los Angeles - a great city. But I do not see myself there in the near future. I am a European. I like it here".

He likes motorcycles, racing cars and surfing. And the most important thing in life considers family and friends, although so far only promises to myself to see more of his girlfriend, a Swedish actress Alicia Vikander, which, by the way, he met at work - in 2015 in New Zealand on the set melodrama "The Light in the ocean" and to regularly go-karting with a friend - actor James McAvoy. "I'm a good cook, and - suddenly he remembers, when it comes to the fact that in addition to working in life there are a lot of everything else. - And when I go to the store, still I read food labels and count calories. It's after the famine - in every sense of the word. They say that once lacked food always afraid to be without it again. "

Words on pictures: 1. "We have to work hard and do not take yourself too seriously - and life will be favorable to you. I'm lazy - do not work, of course, but in life exactly. "

2. It is called the Marlon Brando of the day: his heroes there and tenderness and masculinity. But in life it is a humble boy from a good family.

3. He likes motorcycles, cars and surfing, but the most important - family and friends. He promised himself to see more of Alicia Vikander and go-karting with James McAvoy.

Source: x

#michael fassbender #interview #not exact words #google translate #vogue russia

28 notes · View notes

michaelfassbenderlondon · 8 years ago

Photo

SUZY MENKES RUSSIAN VOGUE-via google translate

Quiet European Michael Fassbender Sex symbol of modern cinema is not going to move to Los Angeles and leave with his girlfriend, he appreciates the consistency of simple things DECEMBER 31, 2016 FIONA MACKENZIE JOHNSTON

Quiet European Michael Fassbender

MICHAEL FASSBENDER “Take me with you, I’m a stenographer! Anything is ready to do! ”- Begged friends to know that I’m going to meet with Michael Fassbender. Never before did not arise so much willing to help me in an interview unselfishly. I and most breath when the suite London hotel Claridge’s, I saw him - in a fishing sweater and jeans tucked into heavy brown boots, and he even smiled broadly and held out his hand, “Michael.” I, unfortunately, sweaty palms.

Still no sweat! Not every day you see before you a man who played a role in three decades the most iconic paintings of recent years and claiming the title of one of the best actors of our time. However, Fassbender, it seems that he does not notice for themselves: it is easy to communicate and infinitely samoironichen. “We have to work hard and do not take yourself too seriously, then life will be favorable to you,” - he says. It does not sound original, but honestly. It can be seen that Michael truly believes in it.

“We have to work hard and do not take yourself too seriously - and life will be favorable to you. I’m lazy - do not work, of course, but in life exactly. ”

Success came to him in thirty-nine years ago, when he played in the film by Steve McQueen’s “Hunger” Irish Republican Army activist Bobby Sanders, who died of starvation in prison. Fassbender then by example proved that the artist must be hungry: preparing for the role, he ate only boiled fish, nuts and berries and ten weeks lost fifteen kilograms. Phil received at Cannes’ Palme d'Or “and the work of Michael equated to feat of acting, which are capable units like Christian Bale. Michael joked that after the role he often invited for lunch, rather than casting. New York erotomaniac, a Spartan warrior, Byronic lyricist, a superhero from the comics, Steve Jobs - it seems nothing is impossible for Fassbender. “I work a lot,” - he explains with a soft Irish accent, and it is something for which the directors of his love - for a serious approach to business. It was he who reads the script for two hundred times. He’s studying his character to the smallest detail and is part of the image so that the Stanislavsky started. About methods of work went legend during his studies at the London center of the drama. His classmate Tom Hardy recalls that all the students were shocked, as Michael was preparing for the role in a play by Sean O'Casey “The Silver Chalice”, where he played football, lost in the First World feet. In just a few days before the premiere Fassbender even think to move on campus solely on the wheelchair.

Quiet European Michael Fassbender

“He - Marlon Brando our days - says director Steve McQueen, who shot Michael in the three paintings. - In his character so much tenderness and masculinity while, but in real life he is far from them - a humble boy from a good family. ”

Fassbender was born in West Germany in a family of German and Irish. When he was two years old, they moved from the gray industrial Heidelberg in Killarney, beautiful town on the lake in Ireland. Parents Michael nothing to do with art did not have, though he says that his father, formerly a chef West & House restaurant - a true artist in the kitchen, and his mother, the restaurant manager, a lifetime love with cinema. “I even think that my mother married his father because of his last name, reminiscent of the director Rainer Werner Fassbinder, - joked the actor. - No relation to the ideology of the new German cinema, our family does not have. However, it all depends on how you are listening to: sometimes you can invent, and, if he was my uncle. ”

His older sister Katherine was raised in Catholicism: Michael even served as an altar boy boy in the local church - for journalists as it is an occasion to make a joke like from a young parishioner raised such shameless, every second film flaunting without panties. “I will not hide: in the church I good enough sleep,” - says the actor, assuring that his current looseness is not determined by the desire to present the perfect torso, and the depth and the meaning of inherited role.

It is called the Marlon Brando of the day: his heroes there and tenderness and masculinity. But in life it is a humble boy from a good family.

Growing up, young people interested in music, wore long hair, T-shirts with the names of groups, Martens with ten holes and dreamed of playing heavy metal. One time they asked for to speak with a friend at the bar. “We were allowed to play during lunch, but it turned out that at that time no one wants to listen to loud music, so show quickly turned.”

At seventeen he was in the drama club, organized by actor Donal Courtney, and now, when asked whom he owes success, he cites the first teacher, “others”. Although many tried to dissuade him, especially his father, who wanted his son a more stable profession, as, for example, his sister Katherine, become a neuropsychologist. Studying in the heart of London’s drama, Michael does not have any job bartender. “We had to make a living, which is more like survival. I can barely make ends meet, and the first time a studio rented an apartment for a couple with a Brazilian model. I remember there was a broken window from which terribly barrel ”, - says Fassbender.

In the third year he was offered the role of Lieutenant Alexei Petrovich Fedotik staged Chekhov’s “Three Sisters” - and he went on tour, he dropped out. Then came in the advertising of beer and airlines, and then in the TV series “Band of Brothers,” produced by Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks. And after he met Steve McQueen, who proposed “Hunger.” At the audition Fassbender seemed McQueen insolent. But how could behave differently?

He likes motorcycles, cars and surfing, but the most important - family and friends. I promised myself to see more of Alicia Vikander and go-karting with James McAvoy.

Today, they are close friends. The ability to get along with the directors - one horse Fassbender. With the elderly, but does not lose the knack Ridley Scott he played ping-pong with cinephile Quentin Tarantino discussed the series “Private detective Magnum” who enthusiastically watched as a child. His filmography appear along with blockbusters and dramas such as “due west” debutant John McLean, received the prize at the Independent Film Festival at Sundance. Moreover, the actor agrees to a minor role, if only to help reveal young talents, and does not give concessions.

In 2017, we are waiting for a series of new products with his participation: “Weightlessness”, “Alien: Testament”, “Snowman” and - immediate - action adventure “Assassin’s Creed”, that fifth of January goes to rent. The painting, like the “Lara Croft”, based on a computer game. Director - Australian Justin Kurzel, the main female role went to Marion Cotillard, together they have already filmed Shakespeare’s play “Macbeth”, enthusiastically greeted by the audience and critics.

How would he describe himself? “Lazy - suddenly he says and laughs. - Well, the amendment - does not work. In any everyday things. All of these bills, receipts, which must be kept in order. ” He still lives in the two-bedroom apartment in a working-class district of East London, which was bought ten years ago. “Probably I will move - shrugs Michael. - Maybe even out of town. I do not know”. Is there a chance that Fassbender will live with Hollywood scale? He leans back, pointing to a luxurious suite, which is locked in the morning, trapped, for a number of interviews. “Los Angeles - a great city. But I do not see myself there in the near future. I am a European. I like it here”.

He likes motorcycles, racing cars and surfing. And the most important thing in life considers family and friends, although so far only promises to myself to see more of his girlfriend, a Swedish actress Alicia Vikander, which, by the way, he met at work - in 2015 in New Zealand on the set melodrama “The Light in the ocean” and to regularly go-karting with a friend - actor James McAvoy. “I’m a good cook, and - suddenly he remembers, when it comes to the fact that in addition to working in life there are a lot of everything else. - And when I go to the store, still I read food labels and count calories. It’s after the famine - in every sense of the word. They say that once lacked food always afraid to be without it again. ” PHOTO SOURCE: MILLER MOBLEY

#michael fassbender #vogue russia

9 notes · View notes

fredericksmeg-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Week One.

Here it is, my first official blog post of my study abroad semester. *confetti cannons* As of right now, I’ve been in London for a little over one week. I am full of potatoes and shame. This might be a long one, so buckle your seat belts.

If you don’t know me very well and you’re reading this: Hello, welcome to my mess of a life. If you already know me really well and you’re reading this because you’re genuinely interested in my life: I’m so sorry in advance. If you’re my parents and you’re reading this: Forgive me for how much money I’m spending right now (see above: shame). Also, Dad, Happy Birthday! If you’re my boyfriend and you’re reading this: Hi Will I miss you. If you’re my dog and you’re reading this: Sunday, I am so proud of you for learning how to read.

For the next 16 weeks, the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea will be my home. This is undoubtedly the most expensive property I will ever, ever live on. Kensington is a beautiful and clean bubble on the West side of central London. I live on the south edge of Hyde Park, and I essentially live across the street from the Royal Family (in Kensington Palace).

I live in a quad in the 6-person basement flat of our building with Natalie, Bri, and Jasmine. It’s nice and secluded. Our bedroom window is conveniently located in the front of the building, so we can hear all conversations of people leaving and entering, as well as lots of families queuing to get into the Dutch Embassy next door every single morning.

In the past week, I’ve been almost constantly in motion and have had about two minutes to breathe. I flew in with my dad and my uncle last Tuesday morning and spent a day with them after we arrived. We got back to our hotel, crashed, and then met up with Will Spangler (A note: there are 2 Wills in my life, and the most important difference is that I am dating one of them and not dating the other one. Use context clues. I believe in you.) to explore Soho via its pubs. I beat jet lag easily thanks to the numerous pints I consumed trying to keep up with my dad and my uncle.

The next morning we went to the British museum, a trip in which I saw the real Parthenon marbles for the first time and had a pathetic and very public little cry in the Duveen gallery. After that, I got to my program, where I unpacked, registered for classes, and went to Sainsbury’s for groceries in a pack of something like 9 people. After that, I headed out with Will (who lives in the same building as me) and an ungodly number of people in our program for some food and a beer. Honestly the first week of this program has felt eerily like my first year of college.

On Thursday, we woke up and explored Hyde Park for a bit until we had orientation at 2. After we were talked at for a while, we came back to our flat to change and get ready to go to the theater as part of the program. After a very upscale dinner at Pret, we saw The Play that Goes Wrong as the Duchess Theater in the West End. It was actually pretty funny, thankfully. When it ended, we decided to dedicate one night and one night only to a terrible chain of Irish tourist pubs called O’Neill’s. Naturally, it was in Chinatown, and featured a cover band that played Basket Case, All The Small Things, and I’m a Believer in a row. Now that I’ve had that lovely experience, I could not be happier to never go there again.

On Friday, we woke up for an earlier orientation, which was as exciting as it sounds. Around 1, I met my dad and our family friends (the Milnes!), who live about 45 minutes outside of London, in Borough Market for lunch at a place called “Fish!” It was delicious and it was really nice to see them, after probably nearly a decade. I hung around with my dad for a bit before I came back to Kensington for our relatively uneventful welcome dinner. After that a few of us headed to a pub and we just sat and talked for a while, it was nice. I am a big fan of pub culture.

On Saturday morning we had a bus tour of London, which I am always a fan of. We saw all the usual tourist stuff, good times had by all. We were dropped off outside of the Houses of Parliament, where we had tickets for tours later in the day. In the meantime, we went to the National Gallery (very briefly), got lunch, and walked to Buckingham Palace. Our audio tour of Parliament was actually amazing. I had been in the building before, but I watched the House of Commons meet as a guest in the upper balconies. This time, we walked inside the actual houses, which are the smallest, most ridiculously ornate rooms I’ve ever seen. I’m always amazed by the traditions in this country, and the audio tour was as good as it could have been. We came back to Kensington after our tours and flopped around, made dinner, and decided that we would trek to Shoreditch that night. Shoreditch is the “trendy” neighborhood of East side of London, and it supposed to have lots of great food and bars. We went to a bar that played exclusively 90’s music on Saturdays, which was a great time, and then we explored a few more to try to figure out where we’d want to come back next time. We ended up in a bar that played Build Me Up Buttercup. Blessed.

On Sunday I slept through all of my alarms and woke up less than 2 hours before a very formal afternoon tea, which was amazing (the tea, not the panic that I woke up in). I think I drank 6 cups of tea. I also had the most amazing macaron of my life. After tea we went back to our flat and bought tickets to go to the Harry Potter Studio Tour, because why would I ever pass on that. On Sunday night I met my dad and my uncle for dinner before they left to go back to the States, which was really nice but also sad. I am garbage at saying goodbye to people. Later that night we booked flights for our first trip! We are going to Amsterdam on the 19th.

Monday was the first day of classes, but I didn’t have any. I was incredibly lazy for the first half of the day, and then I went out to get some productive shopping on High Street Ken so that I have enough food to actually cook meals. Late on Monday night we went to Harrods, which was a complete maze and a work of art in itself.

And of course, yesterday I had 3 classes, each of which was 3 hours long. My first class, British Life and Cultures (everyone in the program takes some form of this course), was actually pretty enjoyable and I had a good time listening to my professor curse casually and tell us which pubs to go to. Next I had my required art class, which is about art archiving/collecting. We went to the Whitechapel gallery on the East side of London and saw exhibits by William Kentridge and the Guerrilla Girls, both of which were very cool. Kentridge’s exhibit was honestly kind of entrancing. He works with film and objects, and one of his works, The Refusal of Time, is 30 minutes long. I shit you not, me and Emily watched the whole thing and it was nuts. It’s a film with an insane score, and in the middle of the room there was a wooden machine that was rigged to make it imitate breathing. It was actually so great. Around 5, we hiked it all the way back to Kensington for our 6 - 9 pm class on British Media, which was mostly about the BBC; very interesting but so long and so late. We talked about Sherlock though, so I was into it.

Today we did so much. I woke up early, ate breakfast, and typed the majority of this blog. Emily, Bridget, Sarah and I went into central London later in the afternoon and walked around the Covent Garden area, checked out St. Paul’s and the Millennium Bridge, and then went into the Tate Modern, which is one of the coolest art museums I’ve ever been in. We grabbed a beer at a pub called The Founder’s Arms, which is situated right on the Thames and it was absolutely beautiful to look out at London at night. And now we’re just kind of vegging.

So. There it is. The First Week.™

If you want to follow my escapades geographically, let me direct you to this Google map, because of course I did this:

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1qDdsb_E9C_cO6K_ohuqzx0CH1JY&usp=sharing

The places I’ve been before (including my previous trip in 2014) are in red, the places I’ve been before and need to return to are in dark blue, and the places I want to visit are in light blue.

Final Thoughts (Tomi Lahren can eat my shorts):

I’m going to be posting on Instagram stories much more than Snapchat (mostly because I can save them in a better format and it’s overall much better quality). My username is megfred73, if you don’t follow me already (Shameless self-promotion, I’m the worst).

I also have to run an Instagram for my art class, which is going to be transportation themed photos. It’s all required, but if you’re into that my username is mfred_london.

As always, the ignorance of some of my peers absolutely astounds me. Saying “mind the gap” in a British accent on a quiet tube is not the way to go, especially if you’re going to be living here for four months. To go along with this, I am so shocked that American news is frequently front-page stuff over here. It is absolutely crazy how many more people here follow world events than we do. Example: most Brits followed the US election, the majority of people in the US did not follow the Brexit decision. And it is difficult to follow US news here! I woke up this morning and Twitter was on fire because our President-elect was in a pee-pee scandal?! How do Brits get used to this?

I am having a really good time. I am an anxious and easily overwhelmed human being and I have daily moments where I am absolutely terrified, but I just want to say, I am good. Everything is good.

That is about it. Until next week.

0 notes