#and it's not for lack of any other continent's lack of understanding neither

[jessielefey]

Iunno, it's my post but I still think that's giving them too much or maybe the wrong kind of credit.

With the scattershot approach they were taking, they'd kinda have to hit on *something* that works, whether they knew why or not. You can accomplish a lot with accurate observations but inaccurate explanations. Infinite monkeys doing an infinite amount of live trials and all that, you just need to stir the potion for six hail marys, it doesn't matter if you think that puts the god in it or it's just a measurement of cooking time.

I'm way more fascinated by how close the miasma theory was, from that angle. More incomplete than incorrect even. But that's post anything resembling plague doctors, even given the excessively over-broad historical window covered by my (badly structured, why god must this be the post I'm remembered for??) initial rant. These dudes were still in the "ugly bags of unbalanced waters" stage of european health cracktheories at best.

Apparently I badly want to go on my “stop making fun of plague doctors, they were ahead of their time and doing the best they could with the primitive equipment they had available” rant.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Got any trans HCs for the amphibia trio? I love the many different interpretations I've seen from this fandom

I don't know about specific headcanons, I know I'm considering making Anne trans in RiAAU but I haven't decided yet.

In one hand: it would be interesting to think how she deals with her first periods because, well, amphibians don't have those, and Hop Pop assumes she's dying (she doesn't tell anyone else because she's so embarrassed). Not that he tells her that, but it really freaks him out. He thinks she has some sort of internal damage, and it's only after months of research that he finds out about some rare mammalian species, such as a few monkeys and rodents, that experience the same cycle Anne goes through. The whole point of this is that it makes Anne feel even more out-of-place. She doesn't remember her world or her parents, only that she came from "somewhere" (possibly another continent) full of people of her species, and she wonders if things would have been easier if she grew up with her biological family. I mean, surely this would be easier. It just serves as a reminder that she knows nothing about her species, not even its name, and she has no idea of how her biology works or what is good and bad for her or how long she'll live or what changes she'll go through.

.

BUT, on the other hand: Trans Anne. Let's start with the obvious: amphibians don't have penises or vaginas and they reproduce externally, meaning they like... release eggs and sperm in the water and they mix without the involvement of either parent, meaning no one knows what the cultural significance of a "penis" or a "vagina" tends to be in most human cultures. As a literaly 3yo, Anne probably didn't have an extensive understanding of s.ex and gender, and it wasn't like the clothes she showed up with told Hop Pop much. She just knew that, as time went on, she found herself relating more and more to the female frogs of Wartwood, and she almost subconsciously began to refer to herself as a girl. There wasn't any big coming out moment, more like a point in which, after months of ambiguity (this kid kept using different pronouns for herself) she just settled on some good ol' she/her and began picking somewhat girly clothes when Hop Pop took her to the market.

It's not like the concept of trans people doesn't exist in Amphibia, it's just that Anne didn't realize that was her situation until, at least, meeting Marcy, and noticing the differences between them. It's not like either of them had ever seen another human from up close, so they didn't know what to expect anyway. Anne's only encounters with Sasha beforehand had consisted on magical girl swordfighting in the sky and whatnot. Certainly not enough to discuss their unique biology, which is something Marcy is very excited to discuss, since she's never met anyone with her same "condition" before, and she wants to know everything, so she uses her as her little rat lab whenever she has the chance. Even then, since she also lacks all knowledge of human s.exual dimorphism and its cultural implications, she doesn't associate anything about either of their bodies to any specific gender that could possibly be asigned to anyone based on biological feautures. Since Sasha remembers the most from Earth, she's probably the only one who could maybe possibly remeber her mom or the kindergarden teacher saying something about "the difference between boys and girls", but by the point she's in speaking terms with Anne, and by the time she realizes their bodies are different, she doesn't really care.

That's not to say Anne doesn't experience dysphoria or that she never undergoes any kind of physical transition. It was probably around the time her voice started to change during puberty that she realized her case may be kinda unique: neither Marcy nor Sasha's voices have changed that much, she can tell even though she only sees Marcy in person like once every 3 years and all the words she exchanges with Sasha consist of death threats and insults. Plus, there's a clear difference between """male""" and """female""" voiced in frogs too. She doesn't want to sound like a man! She doesn't want to be anything like a man! Men are gross! Sorry Sprig, Hop Pop, but it's true. Men are icky icky yuck yuck and Anne is a girly girl. She doesn't want to turn into Stumpy! Or Buff Loggle! Oh, no, is that her future? She commits the triple mistake of 1) sending a letter to Marcy that same day, 2) knocking on Maddies' door promising her firstborn if she can save her from turning into Stumpy, and 3) she becomes obsessed researching mammalian biology in the archives. Bad decision. Bad bad. She's discovering things to feel dysphoric about she never even knew existed! Did you know mammalian mothers feed their offsprings with "milk" that comes from their "mammary glands"? Did Sasha and Marcy have those? She hates herself a little for checking out Marcy next time she sees her and she realizes that, indeed, in the past years she's grown a pair of those that Anne does NOT have. She notes that both she and Sasha are pretty much hairless. She used to think hair was a normal mammalian trait! That weasel that tries to eat the frogs every winter sure is covered in it!

Maddie shows up to her door with a bunch of new spells to try out, happy to have a willing subject. Most embarrassingly, Marcy starts doing her own research as soon as she gets Anne's letter and sends her all her discoveries, and now Anne feels mortified because Marcy knows about all the bad bad very bad changes she's going through (Marcy, for her part, is just fascinated by the nature of their "condition").

It takes a bit, but after a few very frenzied weeks, Anne comes to understad what's going on: her species had certain level of sexual dimorphism and she just happened to have been born with the supposed "sex" usually associated with "men" as a social category. When Hop Pop finds out, he burst into laughter. Oh, it was THAT all along! Anne made it sound so complicated, but it was just the same things he went through when he was younger, just the other way around ("Say what now Hop Pop?")! A few curses here and there and she won't have to worry about these so called "mammary glands" and "hair" anymore, though in the meantime, as Maddie perfects a human-friendly curse, she gets turned into all sort of different creatures. By the time it's done, she just wants to feel like... herself.

It's true that there are some things about her body that make her feel weird, like they don't quite fit in, but there are others she only worries about because she compared herself to Sasha and Marcy, which wasn't fair to anyone involved. Did she really want to fundamentally change parts of her body because of insecurities she developed last week over a book about lemurs? Then, a second set of fears come in: what will happen when she goes back to her place of origin? Because she does want to find her birth family. Will they recognize her, if they're looking for a boy? Will they think she's lying if she claims to be their daughter? If she changes only a few things but doesn't "go all the way", will people there think she's a freak? Will she ever be able to fit in with those of her species?

Does she really care so much about what other people think? She just wants to be herself. Some of the changes she's been going through are making her feel less like herself and more like she's being turned into a tax collector from Toad Tower. Those things have to go - her voice, for example. And she wants a more femenine silhouette (she may or may not show Maddie photos of young Mrs. Croaker as a reference). She wants a softer face. She's seeing her face changing in the mirror and she doesn't like it. She wants it to stay round and soft, not to grow hard and sharp or big and rough. She's not so sure she wants those "mammary glands". It's not like she ever thought about having kids, and the whole "breastfeeding" thing just seems gross, but after her research, and finding out she could have kids with, I don't know, maybe Marcy one day (a thought that makes her blush), she thinks it may be a good idea. She'll consider it. Maybe later. Her genitalia... well, she's used to what she has now. It already took her like 10 years to fully figure out what it was and how it worked and starting over with a whole new set just feels like too much work (also, the babies, the potential babies with Marcy). Frogs and toads have neither "penises" or "vaginas" so there's not a lot of information, and based on books about lemurs and her own empirical experience, comparing herself to other mammalian species isn't too useful. She'll leave it the way it is. She'll see if there's anything else she wants to change later, or if she wants to go back on something.

Marcy is surprised next time Anne visits Newtopia. In her letters, she described this strange transformation in excruciating detail, but seeing her in person now, holding her face in her hands, all she sees is the same Anne she's always loved.

A few more ideas:

HEADCANON: in Amphibia, two people of the same "s.ex" can reproduce through magic, which means there has to be a concious effort and intent. The external fertilization process there's no such thing as a pregnancy, and there's no such thing as s.ex. All reproduction is intentional, which means there's no need for abortion either. There are processes to destroy fertilized eggs and embryos, but they look completely different from human abortions.

Amphibians may perform acts resembling s.ex for pleasure or fun but they look different from human s.ex and have no relation to reproduction.

Andrias is the only person in Amphibia who knows enough about humans to know how they reproduce (a process he finds repulsive). He never tells Marcy, of course, though once she becomes queen, she finds his secret library and his hidden tomes on "alien biology", some of which talk about humans. He's also the only one who knows humans can have children on accident, and that Anne is the only human in Amphibia who could cause something like that to happen (he reads all of Marcy's correspondence). He knows his daughter is very close to this weird farm girl penpal of hers, and even though she's still a child, he worries for her future and the future of the crown. This new discovery could land the crown in the hands of a dynasty of aliens if he's not careful. Is it weird that he spends so much time worrying about his 12yo daughter getting pregnant from another 12yo? Yes, yes it is, but he already controls every aspect of her life, it's not like he's going to stop at her sexuality, future, real, or imaginary.

Man now that I wrote it all down, I think this option is more compelling than the first. Maybe I WILL go with this one.

[boomgun]

Edelgard and Memory

You ever think about how Adrestia is the most ancient of the three nations featured in Three Houses? It ought to have the most history to tell, the most stories of the past recorded. Revanchists canonically exist in Adrestia, they probably try to weaponize the lengths of their (recorded) history to justify wars against Faerghus and Leicester! However, that is neither here nor there. I am setting up how ironic it is that the nation with what one could call the longest memory of the three is led by the one lord of the trio who is an amnesiac.

It is something the writing of the game does not directly bring up, but it is something you can pick up in a number of characters around Edelgard. Dimitri has a better memory of Edelgard's childhood than Edelgard herself does, Dimitri likely has more memories of Anselma, Edelgard's mother, than Edelgard does. Monica has a perfect memory, which is ironic given how much she idolizes Edelgard and painful given Monica and Edelgard knew each other prior; Monica might also know more about Edelgard's past that Edelgard herself can. It sort of comes up in the C support between Edelgard and Hubert too; Edelgard brings up the first time they met, Hubert applauds her capable memory, and then Edelgard snaps a bit telling Hubert to not patronize her because she can barely recall the memory.

Given how much time they must have spent observing Arundel and likely Edelgard by extension, as one needs to have an observation period to pull off replacing a highly important public figure, does TWSITD have a better idea of Edelgard's past than herself?

There is something here that connects to how Thales took the rest of Edelgard's memories in Azure Gleam, but that topic is a can of worms tied to more cans of worms that I do not wish to unpack.

I think it is why Edelgard is tied to the concept of the future. It has less to do with Edelgard having a greater insight on the matter than Dimitri or Claude and more to do with Edelgard's inability to perceive her own past; the future is all she has left. Edelgard probably has no capacity for nostalgia, not because she cannot be sentimental or idealistic (she very much is those things) but because you kind of need memories to begin with to yearn for a return to them and Edelgard has few memories left. It is likely why Edelgard complains about outdated traditions so often, there is a chance that post-experimentation a lot of the traditions and culture of Adrestia she was introduced to in her childhood got sent into the memory hole. Discussions of the past, both personal and institutional, probably just remind Edelgard how much she is lacking in any experience on the matter. Edelgard is the sovereign of an ancient empire, an institution tied to much of the history of the continent, and she has a fraught relationship to the very concept of the past. Edelgard has a hard time understanding why others have issues letting go of the continent's old institutions and beliefs, why they would fight for them even, because it is very easy for her to let go of something she has no ties to anymore.

Just food for thought.

[caliburn-the-sword]

more scarlet thoughts and reactions

reading chapter 14 it inexplicably occured to me that a japanese man is the emperor of the ENTIRE asian continent. fuck my lack of media literacy. yep i finally see why everyone is upset about asia being monolithic and homogenised in this series now. this makes me SO uncomfortable even knowing the context that each continent came together during peacetimes. yikes reeks of colonialism and imperialism

i'm at least a lot less mad at kai in chapter 14. practicality rather than outright disdain for cyborgs and lunars. usually i would be upset at love lost, but he's doing what he must to save his people and i can respect that as much as i'm like OH NO POOR CINDER. glad he's got his head on straight now and not being a close minded dick

please for the love of god don't tell me that the thorne and scarlet thing is one of those mate pair things but like scifi version. between him losing control at the fight and the foreshadowing in the article that scarlet read it seems highly likely. please don't do this to me i'm begging on my hands and knees don't make me go through this again. the only time it was tolerable was aurora rising

i also went back and reread thorne's intro because i was drop dead exhausted when i read it the first time around and i think that accounts for a lot of my annoyance and also not reading between the lines properly. doesn't outright hit on her or shows any REAL interest other than making a game out of it. he doesn't ACTUALLY want her and isn't a groomer. idk what's happened to me because i used to LOVE flirty characters when i was younger but now it seems no matter what i see them and just instantly dislike for whatever reason. while i don't outright h a t e thorne anymore he still kind of bothers me. whatever

safe to say i absolutely love scarlet to death right now. i feel like she didn't get as much of a save the cat moment as cinder did in her first chapter. i mean she DID in a literal sense when she gets up on the bar counter and defends cinder, but that's just being a Good Person and being a good person isn't exactly a personality trait, compared to cinder getting to be snarky in her first chapter. i think THAT is what was off to me when i read her first few chapters. but now that scarlet's personality has been able to shine i love her just as much as cinder. she's awesome and i love her

i ADORE the way marissa meyer writes women. cinder, peony, iko and ESPECIALLY scarlet are all such girls girls. i love them to death. i could go SO in depth about despite her being a bit white feminist (intersectionality problem which she fixes right up in renegades which i loved) marissa was SO good for this ESPECIALLY considering this is 2012. like some could easily write off cinder or scarlet as not like other girls but NO you are doing them a DISSERVICE and not understanding the INTRICACIES. i could write an entire essay about how much miss marissa meyer slayed when it came to representing women but this is neither the time nor the place. maybe next time.

"alpha male" STOP. immediately jail. first of all that was a myth debunked FOREVER ago. second of all, cringe. it's giving omegaverse. makes me want to put my head through a wall

omg he's a former gang member. this is literally giving wattpad mafia werewolf x reader but it's funny so i'm letting it slide

okay the interaction between iko and thorne was actually surprisingly touching. small tiny part of my stone cold heart has warmed towards him. perhaps he'll grow on me. also glad to have iko back i missed her dearly <3 the book didn't feel the same without her

oh no. scarlet has i can fix him disease. ik that she's meant to be little red riding hood but at this moment she seems more like belle teaching the beast but instead of reading it's what zucchinis are fksdhfsdkh

"Not much older than she was" STOP. okay. this is an Important Character. ding ding ding alarm bells are going off in my head for nondescript dimples guy (sidenote: yep he's from the gang)

not ANOTHER set of characters skipping quarantine lmao this is so accurate considering how covid went. since they're gonna jump the train i bet he's gonna have to hold her or something (sidenote: I WAS RIGHT MWAHAHAHAHA)

wow i don't remember any mention of michelle benoit from maybe-rapunzel. that now explains why granny's been kidnapped

of course wolf has pointy fang teeth. i can definitely see some simps going wild over that (let's just see how long it takes for me to become a simp and if so you have my full permission to make fun of me)

(after getting shot) "When you greeted me with a gun on your doorstep," he said, "it's nice to know you meant it." EVERYONE PACK UP AND GO HOME THAT WAS PEAK ROMANCE RIGHT THERE. same energy as emma pulling a knife on hook first time she met him. i'm severely delulu

(sarcastic voice) wow! scarlet is at the very least quarter lunar! didn't see that one coming at all,,,,,

it's actually hilarious how everyone is related lmao this is just like ouat. we've been hearing about tanner from book 1 and surprise surprise!! he's scarlet's gramp. not only is cinder the lost lunar princess but the evil queen is her aunt and also princess winter is her cousin. who's gonna be related next

[long-distance-love]

Hello you two! Apologies if something similar has been asked in the past, but I would love your advice on how to continue feeling connected to your long distance partner when both people are going through times of stress.

My partner and I have been together for nearly 8 months (long distance the whole time, but we have been able to see each other quite regularly which has been a huge blessing). He’s based in California and I’m in New York, so it’s quite the distance while still being in the same continent. Currently, we’re both dealing with extremely stressful situations in our individual lives, so neither one of us is able to be as present for each other as usual. I completely understand that this does happen from time to time, but I’ve been struggling with a lack of connection. Do you have any advice on how to bring this up with him or on ways to remain connected even when we’re both struggling?

I love him so much, and I know he does too. I feel that what we have is really special, so I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work. But any advice would be majorly appreciated, and thank you in advance. <3

Hey Nonny,

Thank you so much for your question! 💕 Benny and I actually talked about this ask all morning as we had breakfast, it was a bit more on the difficult side because we had a new question for every bit of information you gave. Since the answer turned really long, I'll continue under the cut.

Our greatest debate sprouted around the following sentence of yours: "(...) but I've been struggling with a lack of connection." So this is where I'll start. You're asking for advice on a relationship issue, and yet you've used singular first person pronouns. Now this could have been a mistake, but you've said the same thing in the beginning too. So what we think the issue here is very simple - communication. Or a lack thereof. You need to tell your partner exactly what you've just told us, because he needs to know and you need to talk about it. If he loves you and doesn't want to lose you, he'll be more than happy to try and compromise to meet your needs better. Try to bring this up at the least stressful moment possible though, because when you're both at your worst, then the best way to connect in our experience is just to show up for each other (i.e. videocall) and distract each other.

Try being assertive. Do not point fingers. Tell your partner how you are feeling. For instance: "Lately I've been feeling a little alone because of our lack of communication. I don't blame you, because I know you're really stressed as well lately, but I'd like to feel closer to you. Do you think we could talk more?" (If your partner has an anxious attachment style or doesn't like conflict, reassure him immediately and tell him that you love him and you're not accusing him.)

Being transparent and open about both the comfortable and the uncomfortable things is a practice you might want to integrate into your relationship, as well as the practice of showing up for each other (i.e. reassurance of love, questions about their day and mood). I understand it's very difficult if you've fallen out of practice with this, because right now you're both in a rough patch, but if you can get into this habit now, then you'll always stay in it.

As for the things that stress you out, you need to work on them. You need to have a solution planned, even if it's a very long term solution. If you think it affects your relationship, you need to talk about it, and I cannot stress this enough. Having a plan in motion already alleviates some of the additional stress your problems have on your relationship (i.e. I didn't get better immediately when I started therapy, it took me half a year, but I was doing it and to some extent that mattered as well).

And as a bottom line, here's a little reminder. Communication is a two-way street. A relationship is a two-way street. You can never feel connected to someone unless they want you to feel connected to them.

We hope you'll both feel closer to each other soon. We can tell how much you love him, and we hope he loves you back just as much. 💕

- Benny & Danny

Benny's bonus observation: Why aren't you living together? You've been together for a relatively long time, you live in the same country, you're in love. Stress, and life in general is much more bearable when the one you love is right beside you. Maybe it's time to think about that as well.

[animezinglife]

I have a suspicion that the way they feel each other's emotions and thoughts is very different than how Feyre and Rhys and Nesta and Cassian do. I've wondered more than a few times--especially after he tugged at the bond the first time--if they aren't extremely intertwined physically.

Lucien genuinely likes Vassa--I've always thought his relationship with her was similar to how things used to be with Feyre. If Elain feels any warmth and admiration in him while he's talking about her, she may misinterpret that or grow angrier about the bond itself.

It could be a combination of that and stress from either the lack of ability to have a normal holiday without talk that reminds her she's in an entirely new world now. Maybe she's even had a vision she can't talk about where Vassa and Jurian are concerned, and how Lucien's tied up in that conflict.

I almost think of it like Feyre and Rhys's daemati exchanges, but with feelings rather than full-fledged conversations. Who knows what she's been launching at him? She feels something she can't handle every time she's around him, and I think it might be a mix of her own feelings and his (and that amplifies everything to the elevens).

I think he likely felt her desperation when he decided to go to the Continent--yes, he trusted her visions about Vassa and the armies, but I think there was an element of what Elain was feeling that made its way into him. That he felt it physically from her.

The time he pulled at the thread of their bond? Overwhelming in ways we don't even yet understand. He was being cautious, careful, and curious--yet it clearly shocked them both and completely overwhelmed her. Maybe this is because Elain is newly Fae and simply didn't expect it/know what it would feel like, but it makes me wonder if she was more horrified that she projected something into Lucien--thoughts, emotions, feeling--that surprised him too and made him blush. Or, that it's just the shock to them both at the depth and intimacy of it even when neither is the goal.

If they're interacting through it, I wonder if it's not just a flood of feeling through each other--emotions Elain is highly accustomed to forcing down and hiding (a safety mechanism for her). Even Feyre only found iron bars and flowers that hadn't bloomed.

Elain is used to being closed off--being social as a human doesn't at all mean she was being open with people.

She physically, emotionally, and perhaps mentally cannot be around Lucien, and that scares her.

Plus, we all love him, but I imagine he would be quite overwhelming in general to be around no matter how cute his personality. He's intelligent, elegant, well-traveled, impeccably dressed, and oozes capability. He's so good-looking even the king of Hybern felt compelled to comment on it. Feyre, who views him completely platonically, can't look at him for five minutes without noting some element or another about how attractive he is.

He's also got that look in his eyes and way about him that tells you if you so much as misstep, you're going to love every "bad" and "improper" decision you ever make with him.

If this intertwined emotions/feelings theory plays out, it makes me wonder too if Elain can't feel the dormant power in him others can't, and she doesn't know what it is beyond it being completely overwhelming.

Lucien would be a lot, especially if you've led yourself to believe so long you were only meant to be pretty and pleasant company. Some accessory to a wealthy man.

If you opened yourself up to Lucien--who already is offering his hand and giving you the option of taking it--your world just got a whole lot bigger and opened up to infinite possibilities for what your life could be.

Lucien sees things others can't, and I fully believe that goes beyond physically seeing. He feels Elain in every way she's absolutely not comfortable with yet, and he sees her fully. She can't hide from him or wear a mask without him seeing through it.

Lucien considered my question. “Vassa and Jurian are two sides of the same coin. Mercifully, their vision for the future of the human territories is mostly aligned. But the methods on how to attain that …” A frown to Elain, then a wince at me. “This isn’t very Solstice-like talk.” Definitely not, but I didn’t mind. And as for Elain … My sister rose to her feet. “I should get refreshments.” Lucien rose as well. “No need to trouble yourself. I’m—” But she was already out of the room. When her footsteps had faded from earshot, Lucien slumped into his armchair and blew out a long breath. “How is she?”

I was wondering: why would Lucien stop midway from answering Feyre’s question, frown at Elain, wince at her, and then say that it wasn’t solstice talk, prompting Elain to stand up and walk out?

I know that there are theories where Lucien felt her pain, realizing that he was being insensitive. I actually had the longest time thinking that Elain really doesn't like or is apprehensive about Vassa, perhaps feeling jealous that Vassa got to spend time with her father and now her mate (sue me, I like the I-thought-you-were-a-bitch-at-first friendship).

But what if it really is just… Lucien unwittingly picking up on Elain thinking or feeling that it isn't very Solstice-talk and repeating it? Elain gets up and leaves because the creepy bond is being creepy and not letting her hide anything. Lucien slumps back down into the armchair like, "Welp, I fucked up. Again."

Mainly because of how after the conversation, we had this little exchange:

A pulse down the bond, as if in answer. Everything all right? I let Rhys see and hear all that had been said, the conversation conveyed in the blink of an eye. I’m sorry to have caused him trouble, Rhys said. Do you need me to come home? I’ll handle it. Let me know if you need anything, Rhys said, and the bond went silent. “Checking in?” Lucien asked quietly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my face the portrait of boredom. He gave me a knowing look, continuing to the door and grabbing his heavy overcoat and scarf from the hooks mounted on the wood paneling beside it. “The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her.”

Now, how did Lucien know that Rhys was checking in on Feyre? He spends most of his time split between the three different areas, and he hasn't been living at the townhouse since after he returned. As much as I would love to give credit to Lucien for being just that good at picking up on body language and subtleties, there is that issue of him being made unaware of how bad things got between Tamlin and Feyre.

So, perhaps he gives Feyre a knowing look because he and Elain do check in with each other quite often.

After all, Mor did give Feyre this advice:

Mor drank deeply from her glass. “Stay out of it. She’s not ready, and neither is he, no matter how many presents he brings.”

[v-hope]

One Way Ticket

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader (ft. Yeontan bc Family)

Genre: Flufffff, established relationship, long distance relationship (not for long), and like, slight angst at the beginning if you squint your eyes and do a backflip

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Long distance relationships are never an easy thing, and although you and Taehyung had managed to make it work for four years and were used to not seeing each other that much already, he couldn’t help but feel like his birthday was ruined at the news of you being stuck at the airport due to a bad weather flight delay. However, although things didn’t quite go to plan, it only took for you to arrive two hours before the day was over for it to be his happiest of birthdays so far.

A/N: Hellooo, well, obviously this is for my man’s birthday 🥳💝 This story takes place in my Red Flags series’ timeline since one of you requested it and I thought it would be really cute, but you don’t need to have read it to understand what’s going on here. I hope you guys enjoy! please let me know your thoughts~

“You were supposed to be here today” Taehyung reminded you, unconsciously tightening his hold on the phone as his low voice did a good job at letting you know just how upset he was.

You sighed, that alone letting him know you weren’t having a good time with said fact that was just not happening anymore either. “I can’t control the weather, love…”

Now, he knew that. Of course he knew that. But right then, he really fucking wished you did control the weather. That way you wouldn’t be stuck in another continent still due to a snowstorm that had delayed, if not cancelled, all flights that week — a stupid snowstorm that was keeping you away from him for longer than you should have.

It was a joke. It had got to be a joke.

That was what Taehyung kept telling himself throughout the whole phone call, and continuing to believe —to wanting to believe— so even after you hung up.

You were supposed to arrive that night. That had been the plan all along. All his schedule he had rearranged so he could make sure that particular night he would spend with you. Just you and him. Since the very next day, also known as his birthday, he would have to go to rehearsal for BTS’ presentation on the 31th like every other year, he was looking forward the most to this night. He had it all planned out. Your flight would arrive at 8pm, he would pick you up and then the two of you would have dinner together back at your —now— shared place. You would wait up until midnight, have some cake afterwards, and then stay up late so you could, well, catch up on a few coupley things you had been missing out on for a good while now. After all, you had not seen each other in nearly five months.

It was funny, how he used to always say he would never be able to do long distance relationships when he was younger, yet here he was now, four years —and going strong— into one. It was hard as hell, he could not deny it, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way, not as long as he got to be with you in the end. And at the end of the day it was all worth it, for you had finally graduated uni back home, managed to find a job in Seoul, and were now moving in with him like the two of you had agreed on a long time ago, once you realised you were most definitely sticking together for as long as your lives allowed you to. So, even if he had to wait a little longer to see you, this time it was different, for you had only gotten a one way ticket, and he would never again have to drop you off at the airport and cling on to you like his life depended on it, somehow being harder for him to let go of you as the years went by.

Nevertheless, it sucked. Right then, it really fucking sucked. Five months had gone by without seeing you already and turns out he would now have to wait one or even two more days than planned? Bullshit. And that if he was being optimistic, because he swore to God he would lose his shit if you had to spend New Years Eve on a plane, alone. Not like you were spending it together to begin with either, since he had that thing to attend to, but you would at least have a good time with some of the friends you had made during the time you had stayed in Seoul for your uni’s exchange program, and who had now invited you over to a party you had oh-so-excitedly told him about.

That night, Taehyung went to bed late. Still wanting to believe with everything in him you were just pulling a prank on him like you loved to do every now and then, and that you would walk through the front door anytime with that tired face of yours after the long ass flights to Korea he was so used to by then ��� the same exhausted face that would light up as a bright smile took over your factions instead at the sight of him.

However, that night, you did not make it home. What you did make it to instead, was to be the first one to congratulate him on his day. Over the phone, yes, with the airport’s background noise and not in person like he had wanted to, yet there you were being once again the first one to do so, at exactly 00:00. And somehow, that alone was enough to make him happy before going to sleep. Not as happy as he would’ve been with getting to sleep with you in his arms, of course, but happy nevertheless.

He did not lose faith, though. The next morning, as he got ready to head out to rehearsal, he kept glancing at his apartment’s door over and over, still waiting for it to burst open anytime and for you to walk inside right after.

When that didn’t happen, he looked forward to the moment his members brought him his birthday cake as they waited in the dressing rooms for their turn to rehearse. Now, the guys hadn’t told him they were bringing him cake, but after all these years it was pretty much a given. And it would only make sense that you were there, right? Whether it was bringing the cake to him as everyone in the room sang the traditional birthday song to him, or showing up as a surprise right after.

Once that didn’t happen either, he couldn’t hide his disappointment anymore — still being grateful to everyone else for trying to make his special day a memorable one, yet not being able to fully enjoy it without you there. Even falling in the cliché of wishing for you to be there as he blew out the candles. That was truly all he wanted, after all.

And once his schedule for the day was finally cleared up, his last hope was walking into the apartment that night and seeing you already there waiting for him.

Again, that didn’t happen.

Biting the inside of his cheek as he walked into an empty apartment, although Yeontan was there to excitedly welcome him back home and had managed to bring a weak smile to his face, he couldn’t help but feel his eyes well up with tears. Telling himself over and over how stupid it was to be upset over something neither of you could control, he contemplated calling you for a few seconds, shaking that thought off with a tilt of his head and deciding to go take a hot shower instead. No matter how bad he wanted to, if he did call you, he knew for sure he would end up being even more upset than he already was, and then you would end up being upset as well, and that he did not want.

Not even bothering on drying his hair later that night, he changed into his pyjamas and called Tan to go keep him some company like it was usual by then. Watching the fluffy dog make himself comfortable on the mattress, Taehyung turned the lights off so he could get into bed for once and for all — wanting nothing but to sleep that day off so you would hopefully be there by the morning. Although it would no longer be his birthday, he wished he could at least get to spend some time together before he had to head out once again.

Before he could completely doze off, however, he felt Yeontan snap up from his sleep and effusively wave his tail from side to side as he ran to the closed door of the bedroom. Letting out a tired groan, Taehyung glanced over at the clock on his nightstand, staring at the number ten on it for a second before he turned the lamp on and fixed his eyes on his excited pup.

“I already fed you,” his voice came out hoarse at the lack of speaking, catching Tan’s attention for a second there before he was back at barking at the door. “Don’t tell me you want to go to the b—”

That’s when the sound of a key making it inside the front door’s lock caught his attention. And, you see, only two people had a key to the apartment. One was his, of course, and the other one, much to his excitement right then, was yours.

Not even having time to catch his breath, he jumped off the bed and opened the bedroom’s door, watching Yeontan sprint down the already illuminated hallway as you had just turned its lights on — a huge smile parting his lips at the sight of you, not being able to hold back a giggle of his at the way you had panicked and closed the door harder than you had intended to, so Tan wouldn’t be able to run out of the apartment.

“Tan-ie bean!” you excitedly greeted the pup first thing as he reached your side.

Struggling to move past your suitcase, you managed to kneel down to pet the cute ball off fluff with one hand as you held the other one as far up as you could, holding a strawberry cupcake with a single candle on it that you had already lit up right before coming in — maybe not your brightest of ideas.

Staring up at your boyfriend, who was still on the other end of the hallway, you smiled brightly and stood up straight as he came closer. “Happ—”

Before you could even finish what you had initially planned to sing and had by then settled for cheerfully chanting instead, Taehyung had already pulled you into his arms — unintentionally blowing out the candle as he had rushed over to you way faster than he’d like to admit.

“I missed you” he mumbled, wrapping his arms tighter around your figure and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he felt his heart at ease.

You smiled sweetly, wrapping your arms around him as well —being careful enough not to stain his designer pyjamas with the cupcake’s icing— and pressing down a small kiss to his shoulder.

“I missed you, too” you cooed, hearing him giggle when you planted a kiss on his neck this time.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting on a plane already?”

“Because I thought I would get here before you came back from rehearsal and I’d surprise you. You know, wait for you with dinner and whatnot…” you pouted. “But then of course I had trouble with my luggage and got here way too late. So I got you a cupcake and a candle instead!”

Taehyung giggled at the way you had ever so cheerfully said that last part, pulling slightly away from your body so he could glance at the cupcake in your hand you had just raised up in a victorious way.

“You could’ve just showed up barehanded, said ‘happy birthday’, and I would’ve been the happiest”.

“You interrupted me when I was about to tell you ‘happy birthday’, though” you huffed over dramatically.

Letting out a light laugh, he securely cupped your face in his warm hands and rested his forehead on yours, smiling blissfully as ever at how close he was able to have you right then, at how he was able to feel your warmness in his hands after all those months. “You can say it again now”.

“But you already blew out the candle” you pouted, bringing the treat closer to him so he could see your point.

“I guess this is the moment my wish comes true then”.

“You didn’t even get to make a wish, you idiot” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, I did” he nodded his head determinedly. “Earlier today. And not to brag about it, but it already became true”.

“Was it perhaps for me to arrive today?” you coyly batted your eyelashes, earning a very visible roll of eyes from him.

“Cocky, aren’t we?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, taking a step back from him and his hold. “I can always go back home and send your actual wish ov—”

“Yah,” he stopped you as you dramatically turned around to pretend to leave and Yeontan followed right after, pulling you back to him by your wrist. “I didn’t spend pretty much my entire birthday wishing for you to get here so you can leave me just like that” his eyes turned softer, yet still held that playful vibe in them. “Besides,” he pulled you closer, this time by your waist. “Funny how you said ‘go back home’ when this is your home now, baby” your heart skipped a beat at his remark, appreciating the way he looked up and puckered his lips as he pretended to fall deep in thought. “Hm… Maybe I misheard”.

You giggled at the way he had copied your overdramatic ways, bringing your free hand up to sweetly caress his cheek. “My bad, love”.

Taehyung smiled, with that boxy smile you fell in love with years ago, and nodded softly to let you know it was alright. “Can I get my birthday kiss now?” he murmured, ever so faintly brushing his longing lips against yours. “I’m kinda dying over here”.

Shaking your head in amusement as you laughed, you bit your lower lip. “Just kiss me already, you dork”.

So he did, not even dreaming of wasting another second before his lips hungrily crashed against yours. He had missed you like crazy, he always did, but right then, as your soft lips were pressing on his and your hand made its way from his cheek to the back of his head, entangling your fingers in his still damp hair, he realised just how bad he had craved your touch, how bad he had craved you.

Having him deepen the kiss, you couldn’t help but take one step back as you had lost your balance — his hand being quick to bring your body right back to press against his, later resting on your lower back to keep you steady as his other hand firmly cupped your cheek.

“Happy birthday” you mumbled against his mouth when you had pulled away to catch your breath, feeling the corners of his lips curve up before he pressed them to yours once more.

“It is now” he hummed, drawing tender circles with his thumb on your chin and not being able to hold back a giggle when it was you the one to steal a kiss from his mouth right then.

Your breath hitched when you felt his hands made their way down your body, letting out a squeal when they grabbed your thighs and picked you up without a warning — your arms wrapping tightly around his neck and legs around his waist as his hands were firmly placed on your ass to keep you from slipping down while he walked the two of you out of the hallway and into the living room, having Yeontan run past you two and go lie on the couch.

“Yah, I just got here and you’re already going for second base?” you teased him with raised eyebrows.

Taehyung shook his head, cockily raising one of his own. “I’ve earned my right to all bases a long time ago, I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

“Don’t get too cocky, Kim Taehyung” you warned him as he sat you down on the edge of the counter, being careful enough not to knock down one of the pictures of the two of you that were neatly displaying on it. “I might revoke all your rights”.

“You wouldn’t” he daringly squinted his eyes. “Not on my birthday”.

You threw your head back, letting out a loud laugh and placing the cupcake down on the counter before you went back to his eye level. “Only under two hours until it’s over, so...”

“You wouldn’t” he repeated confidently.

“What makes you so sure, old man?”

Shaking his head in amusement and deciding not to comment on the taunting name you had just called him, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk that was curving up the corners of his lips as he leaned in. “I just know”.

Not even trying to play it hard anymore, you met his lips in the middle, humming contentedly when he placed his hand behind your neck so he could take control over the kiss he was not quite willing to let go of yet. And neither were you, which is why your eyes remained closed and your lips slightly puckered up —clearly wanting more— when he suddenly pulled away one minute later.

“Okay, now tell me my birthday present!” he demanded.

Still being too stunned by the intoxicating kiss he had just given you, it took you a second to open your eyes after hearing his muffled yet excited words against your lips — eyes locking with his excited ones as his hands unconsciously rested on your thighs.

“Oh, it’s in my bag!” you jumped up once you managed to understand what he had meant. “Let me go get it”.

Although your words were meant for him to move aside so you could get up on your feet and rush over to the forgotten suitcase on the hallway, Taehyung did not move an inch — if anything, tightening the hold of his hands on your thighs to keep you from going anywhere.

“Not that one”.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “The cupcake?” you offered, earning a light laugh from him, along with a small shake of his head. “Sex? Because I know I was just threatening with revoking that right, but since it’s still your birthday, I mean...”

Taehyung laughed wholeheartedly, once again shaking his head no as he brought his face closer to yours. “Although I would love that and will take you up on that offer later,” his bold words managed to bring some heat to your cheeks. “That is not what I meant”.

“What did you mean then?”

“Just want you to tell me something...” he hinted, gently caressing your sides. “How long will you be staying, baby?”

You rolled your eyes when it finally hit you what he had meant all along. And you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at how such simple things were the ones that made him the happiest. “Well, considering I only got a one way ticket over here this time,” your heart sped up at the way his smile grew wider at the sound of that. “And that the rest of my stuff will arrive here in a few days… I’d say I’m staying for quite a long, long time”.

“How about forever?” he smiled brightly.

You giggled, tilting your head up in anticipation as you felt him lean in to press his mouth on yours. “I like the sound of that”.

“I love the sound of that” he agreed, pressing another kiss to your smiling lips.

And you truly did, for although you were leaving everything behind, your family, your childhood friends, your culture... it was easy as long as you had him. And even though you knew there would be times homesickness would hit you like a truck, especially when the time came and Taehyung would have to go on tour with his group, you were ready to start your new life here with him. You had already lived here once for a year, after all, the only difference being you now got to live with your long term boyfriend, and, of course, that you wouldn’t have to count down the days until you had to go back home and away from him anymore.

“Everything alright?” he wondered, catching up on the way you had momentarily spaced out.

“Mhm…” you were quick to reassure him with an eager nod of your head. “Now eat your birthday treat before I do” you threatened, grabbing the cupcake that had been lying next to you all along and bringing it up to his face.

Taehyung chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck that was sweetly followed by another one. “But I have my birthday treat right here…”

Although flustered by both his words and the way his lips kept peppering soft kisses all over the sensitive skin of your neck, you stood your ground. “Pretty sure I’m your girlfriend, but oh well”.

He chuckled once more — before you could react, dipping one of his long fingers on the icing and spreading a good amount of it on your lips. “Now you’re both”.

You didn’t really get to fully laugh at his playful antics before the sound of it was muffled by his mouth sucking on your bottom lip, his fingers holding onto your chin to keep you from pulling away as he deepened the kiss — making sure to remove every last trace of icing on your mouth before he slid his tongue into it.

Breaking the kiss for a brief second for what he thought was to catch your breath before bringing your already swollen lips back to his awaiting ones, he found himself letting his jaw drop when you opened your mouth not to kiss him once more, but to bring the infamous cupcake up to it and loudly bite down on it.

“Yah, that is my strawberry cupcake!” he called you out — although trying to act mad, having a hard time hiding his smile at the way you had just covered your full mouth as you laughed whilst trying to chew right then.

“You weren’t eating it, so…” you shrugged.

Before you could take another bite, however, he grabbed your wrist, quickly moving it up to his mouth instead and shoving the entire baked good into it in just one go.

Petrified after what just happened, you stared at your now empty hand — amazed by the way he had managed not to bite into your fingers with how fast and forceful his mouth had been, before your eyes fixed on your full-mouthed boyfriend as he struggled to chew the whole thing down.

“Mine” he stated, not minding to cover his mouth as he was almost done with it already.

“I tend to forget how big your mouth actually is” you admitted, mindlessly sucking the remains of icing from off your fingers.

Taehyung scoffed, rushing to swallow down so he could properly speak. “You out of all people should know what my mouth can d—”

“You know,” you cut him off before he could pronounce that last letter and bring his cocky point across. “Booking a return plane ticket sounds really tempting right now”.

“Oh, yeah?” he tauntingly raised one of his eyebrows, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter and making you wrap your legs around his waist. “Good thing from now on those return tickets will bring you right back to Seoul”.

That was what made him the happiest. After all those years of buying ticket after ticket, all those years of having to drop you off at the airport so you could go back home, all those years of having to wait for endless months just so you could see each other for a few days, all of that, was over now.

From that night on, this was your home. You, him and Yeontan, and of course, the eventual additions that would be made in a couple of years.

And that was the best part. No matter where you travelled to from now on, you would always just go visit abroad and return right here, back to him — never again being almost about to miss his birthday, for you would both go to sleep and wake up right next to him during all the upcoming ones, just like he had ached you to do every single day ever since you got together four years ago.

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties - here is part 6! We are officially halfway through this fic! Part 6 sees friendships blossom, situationships struggle, and cheeky intercontinental facetime chats! I hope you all are enjoying it as much as i am! I love hearing from you after you've read it! Love always, Steph xx

Part 6 | parte sesta

warnings; a couple of tugs on the heartstrings (in both the best and worst ways)

word count; 2301

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 06/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Amelia had been back in Turin for a week or so, settling back into her city apartment had been more difficult than she anticipated as she was now alone for the first time in more than 2.5 months. It wasn’t very often, but sometimes she did miss the companionship of having a boyfriend. She missed someone to have breakfast with, to watch movies under the covers, to bring to official events. She still did all of these things, with a date, that was a friend, that sometimes maybe crept beyond the friendship zone and into the we shouldn’t be doing this but it feels so good zone.

Fede was someone that hung around Amelia like a fly to sugar. She enjoyed the attention most of the time. She appreciated his friendship, wisdom, talent and intellect. He could hold a conversation, talk to her about the arts, sell her the dream. She even didn’t mind it when they did cross that line a few times. Long afternoons and even longer nights spent wrapped up together in his bed sheets, her bathtub, his kitchen, her lounge room...you get the point. It was almost as though the two were in a committed relationship - committed being the operable word.

Fede wanted Amelia all to himself, and she was just that - available to him and for him whenever he wished, which was often. That’s what confused Amelia most, he didn’t want to label their situationship. He was happy to be ‘friends’ outside the four walls of their respective homes, but lovers when the curtains were drawn. She would maybe understand if he was elusive, always going out and on his phone but he wasn’t. He spent all of his time with her, there wouldn't have been enough hours left in the day if he separated those he spent with her from those he spent alone.

The Juventus players noticed this behaviour early on, seeing a noticeable difference in the way their number 33 paid attention to their tactical sessions. How he was turning up to the training centre early, with an extra piccolo for the english member of their coaching staff. Federico claimed he was helping Amelia brush up on her Italian, but having an Italian-born mother who insisted on sharing her culture with her kids, meant she was pretty much fluent in the language before arriving in Turin. His teammates weren’t stupid and neither was she.

This was the one area of her life where Amelia felt comfortable to go with the flow, she didn’t need to prepare or overthink anything to do with the charming Italian boy from Firenze. She let him take it at his own pace, she was in no need to rush. She let him take her home to meet his Nonna, she spent quality alone time with his dogs when he’s running late from training, and that’s a rare occasion being that it’s normally her there after him and he hangs back to drive them both home.

Everything was progressing at his pace, and the moment Amelia just asks for some clarification on the situation, he would get visibly stressed. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And for a long time he could, he had Amelia's attention and affection at Juve, he even had it during their european campaign. At the end of the tournament, when they all broke up for their summer breaks, Fede conveniently waited until their final round in the shower, if you know what i mean, before pulling her into bed and having a heart to heart with her.

Amelia thought that she was finally getting the clarification that she was after, which in a way she did. Fede spoke whimsical words about how she makes him feel wanted and understood, and in turn he told her about the affects he knew he had on her. It was a conversation that would turn Shakespeare to a pile of rose petals. In the end, he told her that he wanted to continue what they had just how they had been doing it. And so, that's exactly how they left it. No labels. Friends outside of the four walls of their apartments. That was all Amelia needed to be able to enjoy her family holiday in Mykonos, guilt free, not missing the man that became the equivalent of her shadow.

The constant company she had in Mykonos compared to what she was experiencing in Turin made her more eager to return to work than she had previously. Of course, there are group chats and facetimes and phone calls throughout the days that kept her occupied, but she was missing the boys and her brother. Her friendship with Kyle was back to its old ways, memes being shared across the european continent, long phone calls to talk about their problems. Kyle knew all about the Fede x Amelia situation, Amelia having given him the sparknotes version over a wine filled zoom session one evening that same week. Their pre-seasons hadn’t gone back yet so they were able to indulge in a bit of vino, guilt free.

She was surprised about the constant contact, or lack thereof, that some of the boys had maintained with her. Ben Chilwell hadn’t once messaged or instagrammed the girl, despite being active in their group chats and liking her holiday pictures on instagram. He even made the rookie error of liking a picture so far down on her instagram, there was no way to explain his need for being there. She messaged him a couple times, assuming he just got busy with whatever he was doing, but there was radio silence on the other end.

A friendship she was surprised had blossomed so well, considering their flirtatious start to life, was with that of Jack Grealish and Tyrone Mings. There had been more facetimes than she could count between herself and the two villa boys. Whether it was Tyrone telling her about a book he had finished that he thought she would enjoy, or Jack asking her how to cook dinner, maybe even them both cooking dinner together - of course she had to have a later dinner to be able to do so, with the time difference and all...and there was no way Jack was going to be having dinner an hour early “athlete’s schedule an all tha ya’know” he would smirk down the camera, brummie accent on full display.

She met Tyrone through Jack, he facetimed the girl for outfit advice one night before going out with the tall defender and the pair hit it off. Both giving Jack the fashion advice he needed but didn’t want to hear (a Gucci two piece tracksuit set is never the answer). Tyrone immediately noticed a certain attention to detail being applied by his fellow number 10, to the tactics that were being put forward by the girl that was far too good at her job. His training was improving, his set pieces having a certain amount of flare. There was also a lack of attention being paid from Jack to other girls. Instead, much preferring to spend the evening at home watching the same netflix series as Amelia so that he could discuss it with her the next day, or better yet, at the same time.

As pre-season had commenced, Amelia had been applying the same tactics that she developed (and that obviously worked) throughout the European campaign to her Juventus club level. Having faith in the four men that were with her and the Azzurri to ensure that their other teammates were completing them accurately. It appears that her skill was widely recognised, having a few missed calls and voice messages left from English telephone numbers that she was yet to listen to. In all seriousness, she was nervous to listen to them. Worried that they would make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. A wise person once told her that you shouldn’t make any decisions whilst you're at the top of your happy, or the bottom of your sad. You should make important decisions when your life is at its constant. It's very easy to accept things that you wouldn’t normally when you're at the peak of your mood, just as easy as it is to forget the bigger picture when you're down. Who knew Kyle Walker was so wise.

“So, i’ve got a bit of a dilemma” She spoke down to her facetime camera one evening in early August.

“Hit me with it darlin’” Jack spoke back to her, getting his dinner utensils out so that they could cook together again. He didn’t like not being prepared for her tutorial, he got stressed if she added pepper and his pepper was still in his pantry. Each afternoon, when it was agreed upon what they would be cooking together that evening, she sent him a list of what he would need out on his bench to complete the meal.

“I’ve missed a few calls from English teleco numbers this last week or so”

“Ok? Do you think they’re scams? You’re beautiful Amelia but I don't think it's actually an Egyptian prince on the other end that wants to offer you 250k in exchange for your paypal info…”

“Ha ha very funny - that was one time ok and he wasn’t a Prince, he was claiming to be an investment banker and wanted to help me start up my portfolio-ANYWAY JACK I WAS 16! God just forget I even told you that story” Amelia barked down facetime, now pausing what she was doing to point at the British boy with her wooden spoon, the same way her mother would to her when she was being cheeky. All she was met with was boisterous laughter.

“Nah i’m only joking, continue with your story.”

“I began to listen to the start of one and it was a talent acquisition manager for one of the premier league clubs, offering me a job” Amelia said as she continued to stir her pasta. Tonight they were making penne arrabiata. She received no reply from the boy. Looking down to her camera to check the call was still active, she saw him looking at the camera with a serious expression.

“Are you going to tell me what the problem is before I start to get excited that you’re going to be living within driving distance from me? Oh god i’ve just realised - was it from Villa? You could be even closer than I imagined” Jack started to ramble, getting over excited with the prospect of being so close to the girl that he could physically hang out with her, instead of virtually.

“Jack calm down, I didn't listen long enough to find out what club he was from. I have 5 more just like it waiting in my inbox.”

“What's the problem then Mils?” Jack could see the girl had apprehension written all over her face.

“I’m just nervous that they're going to tell me everything I've always wanted to hear. That they’re going to make me an offer I can't refuse and I have to leave my life here.” Their pasta was ready to be dished up now, so the girl poured herself a glass of red wine and got herself comfy on her couch.

“Come on, play the messages and i’ll listen to them with you, be your voice of reason,” Jack offered the girl.

“I should probably call Tyrone, you’re just going to reject every club that isn’t Villa.” she laughed before switching facetime to her laptop, moving to the floor of her lounge room and resting her elbows on her coffee table. With the phone near the screen of her mac, she began to play the messages.

_____________________________________________________________

“Hi Amelia, Shaun here from Newcastle United-” “As if you’d waste your talents at Newcastle”

“Jack! That's horrible! At least i know i already look good in the black and white striped kit”

“No, not happening. Next”

“Amelia, Hope you don’t mind but I got your number off of one of my players who knows you. Long story short, we have a position here are Arsenal” “Bloody Bukayo, needs to keep his silky mitts off ya”

“Jack, give it a rest or i’m calling Tyrone”

“Amelia White, Greg here from Aston Villa Football Club” “Get in Greggles!! That's it, stop listening, you’re taking this one”

“I need to listen to them all Jack”

“So, you’ll consider Villa?”

“I’ll consider all of them”

“You’d really go to Arsenal? Aren’t you a Spurs supporter? Shocking stuff”

“Ok maybe not all of them”

“Ciao Amelia, Mario here from Chelsea Football Club - I’ve heard nothing but good things about you. We could really use you here at Chelsea next season. Give me a call when you get a spare moment to discuss the opportunity”

“What? Nothing to say to this one, Jack?”

“Nah, sounds ok. You deserve to showcase your skills at a big club like Chelsea. And besides, you’ll have Jorginho there to look after you. Come on, next one”

“It’s the last one actually”

“Amelia, we’ve got a fantastic opportunity here at Manchester City for someone with your skill set. It would be a massive advantage to have your tactical insight to the game coupled alongside the fantastic leadership we’ve already got at the club”. “Holy shit, Pep called you himself? Kyle Walker really knows how to pull strings when he wants something”

“I am overwhelmed”

“Hey, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Sleep on it, talk it over with your family. Speak to Jorgi, I know you’re close with him. And just let me know when you decide to pick Villa so i can start house huntin’ for ya”

“Night Jack, speak soon”

“Sleep tight darlin’, speak to ya tomorrow”

Part 7. | settima parte

[susandsnell]

There's something kinda scary seeing so many white feminists buy, hook line and sinker, into Midsommar being this empowering #girlboss movie about cathartically getting rid of your abuser... while forgetting how the cult she's joining are OPENLY RACIST AND WHITE SUPREMACISTS

Yeah?? Like the thing is Midsommar is top-tier horror because it fails to be just one thing and thrives on its own moral ambiguities. 

On one level, it is a narrative of sublimating your grief (an especially gendered expectation for women who are already seen as hysterical and overemotional) for the sake social acceptance versus the need to have the ugliest parts of yourself not only acknowledged, but empathized with. On another, it’s about the catharsis of a breakup. You want Dani to get away from her lousy relationship. And you want her to have the support and family she needs so badly but has lost. You want her to be heard and listened to, even if all that come out of her are those horrid, tortured screams that can only come from that deepest part of grief. You want to see her comforted, both physically and emotionally. And you want a bit of vengeance for her with what a supreme jerk Christian is. It’s also a wildly funny (and validating!) condemnation of academia and the types you encounter there, and the alternate entitlement and heavy relativism of grad students. On this level, the allegory is an extreme one for toxic situations.

But on another level, it’s also about what happens when the wrong people get a wind of your vulnerability and meet your needs in order to gain power over you. Dani is obviously scouted and chosen from the very first by Pelle and the cult because she has all the qualities they prize - emotional/psychological fragility wrapped up in a package of pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Her whiteness and Aryan-ness, compared to especially the people of colour who form the tour group, afford her the best treatment by the cult. And even then, what they do to her is nothing short of gaslighting and literal torture! For all that they praise her as their queen, she has no agency! On top of which, Christian’s fate is disproportionate considering his crimes are just...being a dick. As for the other members of the group, they’re specifically dealt with by the Harga in intensely racialized ways far worse than what befalls any of the white members. Even the pretty aesthetics hearken to the seductive propaganda of Nazis/Neo-Nazis; the idealized pastoral scene, the blondes in pretty floral gowns, the romanticized Nordic Pagan traditions. 

Ari Aster is an Ashkenazi Jewish man. He knew exactly what the fuck he was doing when he chose to set his film in Northern Europe in an Aryan-ideal cult. His Jewishness is all over the film, not just in the overal anxiety, but specifically in the deep trauma and terror associated with a wide variety of European societies in which we have been forcibly Othered, the idealization of said societies, and the horrors our people have endured across that continent, time and again, since the very beginning. When talking about the film, he spoke about his chief inspiration being the ease with which vulnerable people are drawn into white supremacist groups. 

The Harga might carry the aesthetics of femininity, but this is precisely part of the deal - cults will always draw someone in with innocuous and appealing imagery, particularly in fulfilling that which they feel they’re lacking. In Dani’s case, the loss of a sister in particular, and the suffocating patriarchal control of her boyfriend made her the perfect victim who’d go running into the arms of sweet, understanding, beautiful women. The fact remains however that their arms were open to her because she looked and thought like her. If she looked like Connie, or if Connie had just been through the same traumatic losses, neither would have been picked to be May Queen. 

Dani did not need the Harga, she needed serious therapy and good, supportive friends (like her female friend she called on the phone towards the beginning). She could’ve left Christian without having to become the plaything of white supremacists. Her smile isn’t a triumph - Florence Pugh herself says she’s so psychologically broken that she has no clue what she’s even looking at when the temple goes up in flames. Feminism? I think not. 

[milehighmechanic]

feralego​:

        Tipping his head to the side, a frown begins to chip away at the bright, excited expression Reldriz had worn just moments before. This is not what he’d expected from this conversation, and his disappointment unfortunately takes precedence over the gravity of the potential situation. If what the stranger is telling him is even true.

         But it’s not for a lack of care for his people. Reldriz has lived an incredibly sheltered life. His tutors had, of course, given him lessons in the basics of what’s left of their recorded history, but he’d never pressed for more information as his sister–first in line for the throne–had. He’d simply taken his lessons at face value, never realizing that everything might not fit into such easily digestible lesson plans.

         So what’s being said does not immediately raise the alarms in his head. He does not see history on the brink of repeating itself, because he’s not familiar enough with it to do so.

         “Perhaps Halla Major has experienced another infestation of fersto,” he ponders aloud, working through the most obvious reason why the inhabitants of the larger continent might need such weapons. “They are fearsome beasts, and have taken out entire settlements in the past.”

         But before he can think of any other, more nefarious reasons for the supposedly clandestine deals, skepticism chases that train of thought off the rails.

         “Are you not a member of the ship’s crew yourself?” His frown deepens, but excitement remerges suddenly, sparking a flash of technicolor over his cheeks. “Oh! Perhaps you’re a stowaway!”

         The stories he’d imagined a member of a trade ship’s crew could tell are eclipsed by the new possibilities. A stowaway, hopping between planets like an interstellar outlaw would surely have even better, more colorful tales. Narrow escapes and passionate flings and stolen goods. But–

          “Why should your word be believed over theirs?” He surprises himself with the question; is proud of himself for coming up with it. The prince folds his arms over his chest and straightens his neck, hoping some shimmer of his mother’s strength shines through in his mimicked posture. “Either you are one of them, or you are someone who stole aboard their ship in secret, or under false pretenses.”

         Oh, if only Inalis could see him now! Maybe she would think twice about calling him foolish for not understanding her intellectual pursuits. He is his mother’s son; he can think of his feet when the need arises.

         “Neither of these scenarios put you in a good light, my friend.”

       Tony’s expression flattens. He reaches, somewhat desperately, for his patience. This clearly isn’t going to be easy. ( When is it ever? ) 

      Naive. That’s the first, most obvious impression. He wonders if he was ever that naive. Before Howard sent him off to boarding school, maybe. ( Before Yinsen opened up his eyes to the reality of his business. ) 

      Which is why this hurts. This youth----- while far more iridescent than Tony ever was, somehow he feels like a painful reflection in the mirror. With a situation that’s so similar ( or is Tony just jumping at shadows? Projecting his own guilt, seeing echoes of his own life everywhere. It’s not even his life any more. )

      This guy sounds far too excited by the prospect of a stowaway, skin brightening and shimmering in a way that would be distracting in any other circumstance. Tony’s not sure why it would MATTER if he was a stowaway, if his intel is correct. If he’s trying to stop people getting hurt. Why the fuck should the Hallans care if Tony was a stowaway on a ship that’s nothing to do with them? 

      But he keeps a lid on that outrage, swallowing down that temper, because he doesn’t want to even imply that this prince is correct in his assumptions. Instead he does his best to channel Pepper’s calm no-bullshit attitude, and looks up at Prince Reldriz squarely. “I was hired a few stops back as a temporary crewmember. I overheard them talking about this job a few cycles back. And maybe I should have turned a blind eye, because they are literally my only ride off this planet. I mean, what the fuck do I have to gain from telling you any of this?”

      Tony shakes his head, rocks forward as he abruptly stops himself from taking a step closer. He can hear his voice raising again, getting riled up in a way that surely isn’t going to help. But he thinks of Obie’s voice in his ear, his weapons in the hands of terrorists. He thinks of Yinsen, again, and this, this is the promise he’d made in blood and sand. Memories that make his words more vicious than they probably need to be. 

       “It’s up to YOU if you believe me or not, kid. But innocent people could get hurt because of those weapons. You want that on your conscience?”

[snakeboistan]

Just Out Of Reach

My exams are finally over so have some touch-starved!Nagisa 

Pairing: Nagisa x 3-E

AO3 LINK

Shiota Nagisa was a loner. He always had been for as long as he could remember.

When he was in elementary school, he was the weird kid - the strange girl-boy that hardly talked and no one could understand. His male classmates thought that he was too girly to take part in their games or join their conversations and whilst his female classmates didn’t mind his appearance that much, they knew better than to associate with him lest they too fall victim to the taunts and sneers that followed him everywhere, or the relentless bullying that inconvenienced him every breaktime. However, he didn’t mind - friends were a luxury he couldn’t afford anyway (his mother didn’t approve of him spending time out of the apartment, away from her). He would have his own fun by sitting himself down in his school’s library and bury his head in a book, getting lost in worlds that weren’t mean, or cold, or judgemental. Or he’d sit on a bench in the school playground, homemade lunch in hand, and observe his peers hug and high five and laugh together, whilst ignoring the strange pang of something that would curl in his stomach, wanting more than ever for something he could never have.

 Even during his first year of Junior High, when he met the red haired genius of a delinquent called Karma, he didn’t let himself indulge in what normal friends would do. Sure, he felt comfortable around the first friend he’d ever had (though the unnatural comfort was often overshadowed by the awe and admiration that he was allowed in the company of someone as brilliant as Akabane Karma) but Karma had his own walls, his own issues and lack of trust, so there was always that unspoken distance between them, that slight tenseness that lingered between every (very) rare arm that was slung over his shoulder. Though they walked side by side, it was never hand in hand. Though they spent every free minute together there were never any fist bumps or high fives or hugs (Nagisa wondered if Karma even knew what hugs were). Karma kept to himself and so did he - they both had boundaries that the other respected.

 Until, Karma left. And he was alone again. 

 And as much as he said that he didn’t mind it - as much as he told himself that he was used to it ever since he woke up that one day and his father was nowhere to be found, the shouts and screams of his parents having their nth argument ringing in his ears even though his house was pitch quiet for once - it hurt. So when he was sent to E-Class with his head hung low and the voices of his former classes whispering their disgust trailing after him, he looked at the grenade in his hand and knew that he had nothing left to lose.

  (So why did Koro-Sensei save him? And why did it feel so good? )

  (And why did that mucus-like membrane shrouding him make his chest heat up with a feeling he’s never felt before?)

  It was during their lunch break when it happened.

 Nagisa was sitting by cross-legged at the base of a tree, reading an article about an upcoming superhero flick, whilst a group of his classmates were throwing, hitting and bouncing a ball in a game that Yada had called ‘don’t let the ball touch the ground’ but Kimura dubbed ‘the floor is lava for the ball and not us’ (he’ll let the jury decide which title was better) when he heard some rustling above him followed by groans.

 “Okajima,” Maehara whined, “you hit it too high.”

 “I’m sorry okay,” Okajima said, “I didn’t mean to get it stuck in some branch.”

 “Don’t worry,” Yada smiled at him, “I’m sure that we can get it down if we stand on each others shoulders or something.”

 “I don’t know,” Kataoka frowned. She looked up, making sure to cover her eyes from the sun, at the cursed branch, “it’s pretty high up. It’s safer for us to go and get a ladder.”

 “No need,” Nagisa said. Unbeknownst to them, the moment Nagisa had gotten whiff of what had happened, he jumped up and, as silent as a serpent, leaped nimbly from branch to branch until he reached the one with the ball. He carefully plucked it from where it was nestled in a groove before making his way back down again, all just before Kataoka spoke. He threw it into her hands.

 “What the- how the hell did you even do that?” Maehara’s jaw was dropped, frantically looking between the ball and the branch it was (he swore) a second ago.

 “How did no one even see him?” Okajima whispered.

 “Thank you, Nagisa,” Kurahashi beamed with the intensity of a thousand suns and threw her arms around him in one of her famous bear hugs, laughing in that usual bubbly way she always does. Nagisa freezes mid-flinch, almost petrified at the sudden contact. An unfamiliar warmth starts to spread across his chest. It was nice and almost comforting, drowning him with bright yellows and gentle goldens - making him feel like he was special. It took everything in him to not melt into it, a keening noise stuck at the base of his throat.

 When his mother touches him, he feels the sharp talons of her nails digging into his skin. When she pecks his cheek or forehead, he has to stop himself from wincing at the way cyanide seems to burn him where her lips leave. In all honesty, he’d rather the sharp slaps and objects flying at him, at least those forms of pain where only physical and didn’t leave a confusing sense of dichotomy where his emotions that craved for the positive contact to linger battled where his fight-or-flight survival instincts screamed at him to scrub every single atom of her off of him. Touch was something he could neither afford nor understand. 

 If he wanted warmth, he’d wrap himself up in scarves and throw on soft jumpers; if he wanted to feel safe, he’d make sure to do everything he can to not trigger his mother into another eruption; if he wanted contact then he’d find his old plushies buried deep in the confines of his closet and embrace them in hopes that it would be enough. For him, the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling that void in his chest was when words of affirmation would wash over him (it’s no secret to anyone that compliments can render him unable to function)(but can you blame him when compliments to him are as rare as painite?).

 When Kurahashi let go of him to go regale Yada with stories from a nature documentary she watched the night prior, he’s still stock still, dumbstruck, from that momentary embrace. He wanted her to come back so that he could feel it again. He wanted to feel her arms around his body like a safe little cocoon. He wanted to submit to that sunshine-like comfort and never get out of it. He craved that warmth so much it hurt him - why did it hurt so much?

 It made him feel so wanted . And lov-

 Is this why people hold hands all the time? 

 Later that night, he crushed one of his stuffed animals against his chest as he wrapped his arms around his body. He wondered why his pillowcase had wet stains on it when he woke up the next day.

 (He ignored the answer that gnawed him at the back of his mind)

  The second time he felt it was during a ‘completely necessary class bonding sleepover extravaganza’ (as Fuwa had put it) at the Nakamura household. With the blonde’s parents out of the country to visit her older brother, she had her entire house to herself - a house that was miraculously large enough to house twenty-seven teenage assassins in training (as well the phones that contained ‘Mobile Ritsu’).

“I still don’t understand why we can’t watch anime,” Fuwa pouted from her position on the kitchen island, her One-Piece-themed-socks-clad feet kicking up and down as she took another spoonful from the bowl of snickerdoodle cookie dough she had nicked from Hara and swallowed it, “it’s practically a staple for every good sleepover.”

 “Because, Fuwa,” Nakamura drawled in reply, her own hands busy pouring popcorn into bowls, “none of us want to see you go full otaku during our relaxing evening.”

 “It’s nothing against you Fuwa,” Nagisa had cut in quickly, having had made eye-contact with Isogai and Hara as the three of them were washing and drying the baking equipment they were using (“‘You know we have a dishwasher right?” Nakamura had called in amusement) and their combined parental instincts had deemed it necessary to extinguish anything that could potentially start something (and knowing this class, mountains can be made out of molehills as quickly as Koro-Sensei can fly from continent to continent), “it’s just that we think it might be a good idea to have more variety tonight. Next time we have a class movie night, you can choose anything you want.”

 “I’m holding you to that, Shiota,” Fuwa pointed her spoon at him with narrowed eyes before sliding herself off the table and sauntering off towards the living room.

 “She’s not going to get sick, eating all of that raw cookie dough, is she?” Nakamura asked, staring at the doorway.

 Hara smiled at her, “don’t worry, we made the dough edible.” She gave Nagisa a head pat with a slightly soapy hand, “you can finish with that bowl you’re drying and help me bring these trays to the living room, ‘kay Nagisa?”

 Nagisa nodded bashfully, trying to hide the redness that blossomed over his cheeks in reaction to Hara’s hand making contact with his scalp.

  "What do you mean 'we should watch a horror movie'?" Isogai asked his friend.

 "Exactly that class prez," Maehara grinned at the brunette, "you can't have a sleepover without a few screams."

 "Nor can you have one without anime but here we are," Fuwa grumbled to herself.

 "But what if people get scared?" Isogai asked, as always being the Ikeman he is and thinking about others. Bless him.

 "That's the point," Nakamura chirped, "it's the perfect bonding exercise. Nothing can bring together a group of rag-tag misfits like fear."

 "But-"

 "Don't worry," Nakamura said, "we have Karma and Hazama with us. I can assure that whatever we see on the television will be nowhere nearly as scary as them."

 "True that," the class sighed as the two students in question gave eerie, self-satisfied smirks.

 "Not to mention that we're all assassins in training," Okano said, "no evil spirit or crazy murderer would stand a chance against us."

 "And if they do, we can just sacrifice Terasaka to them," Hazama piped up, not even looking up from her book.

 "HEY! WHAT THE HELL?!"

 "Yeah, Hazama," Karma smirked, "as if they would even want him."

 "OI AKABANE, WHAT'S YOUR DEAL?!"

 "Hey, Nagisa," Kayano turned to her friend as Karma stuck his tongue out at Terasaka, "what kind of horror movies do you like?"

 “I don’t know,” Nagisa replied, idly tracing the outlines of the cartoon sushi pieces that patterned his pyjama bottoms, “I’ve never watched any horror movies so I wouldn’t know what is good.”

 Maehara grinned at them from under the hood of his Pikachu onesie, “Then have no fear, Nagisa. As a movie connoisseur-”

 “I thought that title was reserved for me?” Mimura raised his hand with an arched eyebrow.

 “-I would be more than happy to educate you, my young padawan-”

 “-I’m pretty sure he’s older than you,” Okano pointed out.

 “On the art of Horror Movie Binge-athons,” Maehara declared, ignoring the interruptions and pointing at the blunette in a very Fuwa-esque way.

 So that was how Nagisa found himself on one of the couches, two scream-fests later, sandwiched between Karma and Sugino, watching the end credits of The Ring. From his perch, he watched in interest at the horror-struck faces of his classmates below.

 “Dude,” Kimura breathed out in fear when the screen turned black, a shaky hand attempting to comfort a very visibly distressed Okajima, who had the athlete in a bone-crushing hug from behind as he hid behind him, “I am never going to answer a phone again.”

 After a full ten seconds of silence, the smartphone that was lying in front of him lit up, and the Sonic theme song ‘Gotta Go Fast’ cut through the air like a knife. Kimura jumped about a foot in the air, screaming, whilst the others around him did the same. Muramatsu and Yoshida, clung tighter onto Hazama, yelling about how they were too young to die whilst Okajima and Okano began praying to the gods.

 “Karma, stop it,” Nagisa sighed without even looking at the redhead next to him. When Karma smirked and ended the call on his phone, thus terminating the ringing, he turned and raised an unamused eyebrow at a snickering Nakamura who was filming the entire scene on her own phone. The blonde winked at him and raised a peace sign.

 “I know what we should watch next,” Yoshida said after a while and took the remote. He began to scroll through the movie suggestions on the screen, “Coraline.”

 “Isn’t ‘Coraline’ a kids’ movie?” Kataoka furrowed her eyebrows as she eyed the cartoonish movie poster on the television.

 Coraline was not a kids’ movie. It was a horrific abomination of nightmare fuel dolled up with pretty colours and a talking cat. At least with the other films they had watched that night, he was able to stand - jump scares don’t really work on someone that’s constantly on edge and no CGI generated creature of the supernatural could terrify him as the very real harpy that he shares a roof with. At most he stiffens up or just trains his eyes onto the kernels of popcorn that get sent flying whenever Okajima gets particularly frightened. He usually just tries to deconstruct the story from a logical standpoint, making sure to point out to himself the plot-holes to enhance the fact that it’s nothing more than fiction (instead of making these comments out loud like Sugaya and end up having a brigade of throw pillows assaulted onto him). However watching The Other Mother, who spoke with a honey-sweet tone but had that distinct aura of ‘threat threat threat’ made him feel more chills than watching the disfigured Samara Morgan crawl out of a television and murder people and whilst the revelation of her true colours weren’t completely unpredictable, it didn’t and the fear and acid crawling up his stomach.

  ‘You may come out... when you've learned to be a loving daughter!’

  ‘How dare you disobey your mother!’

 It was after watching that vile woman drag Coraline into that dark chamber and locking her inside it when he couldn’t take it. His frozen facade and almost petrified posture just broke. He lurched, fumbling for the blanket draped over his legs and pulled it up so that he could cover his head and buried himself under it. With his knees drawn up under the covers, he focused on controlling his breathing and trying to steady his shaking hands and starting-to-blur eyes in an attempt to push away the unpleasant flashbacks hissing around in his head like a viper. Suddenly out of nowhere, he felt a hand gently circle his wrist. He tensed, heart rate speeding up in a panic, before his skin registered the familiar feel of polyester - the material of Sugino’s red sweatbands (wait, does he even wear them to sleep? ). When he had physically relaxed, the- Sugino’s hand slowly and carefully - giving him ample time to pull away - moved his own and away from his legs and then interlocked his fingers between his. The skin on skin contact at the base of his fingers had caused the same warmth he had felt with Kurahashi spreading across his entire arm, stopping at his chest and swirling around like a mixture of comfort and elation, like he had just drank a cup of steaming milk tea. He steadily curled his own fingers downwards, letting the tips press down against the baseball-lover’s knuckles. The only response he got was a tight squeeze in return - not hard enough to sting but still grounding in a sense.

 Okay.

 He was okay, he can do this.

 It was during the climax of the film, when Coraline confronts that button-for-eyes-wearing she-devil, when Nagisa abandoned all inhibitions and pulled on the hand intertwined with his own, simultaneously pulling Sugino down and bringing himself up so that he could wrap his arms around the black-haired boy. His uncharacteristic actions even shocked himself but all of his usual anxiety’s of forcing his problems on others were pushed back by the voice in his head saying ‘safe safe safe get closer closer ’. With his eyes squeezed shut so tight they almost hurt, he felt something wet roll down his cheek and so he tightened the hold he had on his best friend. Sugino reciprocated, one of his own hands gently cupping the back of his head, fingers burying past silken blue hair, so that he could very lightly bring the other’s face closer and tuck it underneath his chin. Now normally, Nagisa would have combusted with embarrassment at being so close to another student, especially in such a public setting like this, but right now he felt like nothing more than some primal urge begging him to soak in as much of that embrace as possible. To be selfish for once and just stay as close as he can even if it means he dies there. To let himself be vulnerable for a change. The movie, those memories they all washed away and he felt nothing but safe….

  The next morning he woke up with his head on someone’s shoulder, a fluffy blanket raised upto his chin. He blinked the haziness out of his eyes to find himself in front of inky locks.

 “You alright there, Nagisa?” Sugino looked at him with a smile. Oh he was already up. That’s new.

 Nagisa’s eyes widened, his face erupting with redness as the events of the previous night replayed in his inner-theatre like those epic fail compilations Karma likes to laugh at. He jumped back to the other end of the couch, as far away from Sugino as possible.

 “Oh god, Sugino, I am so sorry,” Nagisa whispered as loudly as he could without waking up his still snoozing classmates, “what happened last night was so weird and I put you in such an awkward position and I’m super sorry I swear that will never happen again and you must’ve been so embarrassed honestly you should've just pushed me off when I fell asleep I really wouldn’t have minded this was so weird and-”

 “Nagisa, chill,” Sugino moved closer and placed a hand on the rambling boy’s shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards with slight amusement, “it’s cool. It’s normal for people to get scared during horror movies - it’s kind of the reason why they were made, you know. Besides if you looked really distressed and if I couldn’t do anything to help you then why are we even friends.”

 “Yeah but-”

 “No buts,” Sugino cut in, “you’re always ready to help others so don’t be surprised to find otu that others want to help you.”

 Nagisa sighed. He looked up at the other boy with a slight blush, “well, um, thank you. For that. It was really nice of you.”

 Sugino’s hand squeezed on his shoulder and he felt that familiar thrill shoot down his arm as the taller smiled, “no problem, Nagisa.”

 (“Next time we decide to do a bonding activity,” Fuwa says during breakfast as she’s munching through a honey dripping pancake, “we should all go camping.”

 Collectively the class shuddered, their minds being filled with visions of Fuwa holding up a chainsaw on full speed and running around like a mad woman, of fire enveloping a forest and demolishing a once peaceful campsite and dark grey mushroom clouds puffing out like an ashy eruption, “no thank you.”)

  For some reason he finds himself in these sort of situations more and more. Like when he feels himself clinging closer to Okano when she bridal carries him up the mountain after he had injured his leg during a training exercise (which is interesting because normally being in such an unmasculine position would make his insecurities flare up like crazy); or when his arms tighten around Karma so much that it feels like their bodies are going to fuse together when the red head piggy-back carries him during a race; or when he just sighs in contentment when Maehara slings him over his shoulder instead of flailing around like he usually would when the brown-eyed boy declared that he was studying too hard and ‘offered’ to take him karaoke singing with everyone else.

 In the back of his mind, he feels like the amount of affectionate touches he receives have almost quadrupled in size -  there hasn’t been a day where he hasn’t gotten either a head pat, friendly noogie or side hug. There was even a tickling incident that led to his male classmates dogpiling him (because in 3-E the A in PDA can also mean aggression).

 No one comments on it though.

 It’s almost like Irina-Sensei’s comment about the students of 3-E having ‘some creepy hive mind’ is actually true.

 (That comment actually lead to the class planning via group chat to speak in monotonic unison in front of her for an entire half an hour just to mess with her. It worked.)

  “I still don’t understand why you people like drinking this leaf juice,” Fuwa scrunched her nose at the ceramic cup in her hand. Due to the pleasant weather, Kanzaki, Kayano and Okuda decided to have a tea party and Nagisa being the tea lover that he was was more than happy to accept their invitation.

 “Hey,” Kayano glared at her, making a shooing gesture with one of her hands, “Group four only.”

 “Kayano,” Nagisa said firmly, “she can stay if she wants.”

 “But she’s disrespecting the tea.”

 Nagisa shook his head and sighed whilst Kanzaki giggled into her cup.

 “Listen Fuwa,” Kayano rounded on the female otaku, “whilst I stand by the statement that pudding is the closest thing to perfection humanity has ever created and I would sell this entire class for a lifetime supply of pudding cups without a second thought (“Say what now?” Nagisa backtracked), a cup of nice warm tea can truly heal your soul. It’s science.”

 “That is true,” Okuda piped up, gently pushing her glasses up, “a cup of hot anything in your hands mimics human warmth which is said to have calming properties. So it basically means that warm drinks can mimic the need for human care and touch.”

 ‘ Well ,’ Nagisa blinked, thinking back to the mountain of tea bags that reside in his bedroom’s dustbin, ‘ that explains a lot. ’

 “So if you guys ever feel too single,” Fuwa laughed and gave them double finger guns, “you know what to do.”

 Whilst the rest of his company gave responding giggles, Nagisa felt a tug on his elbow and let it go limp to allow the greenette sitting next to him to tug it downwards. When he felt her link her pinky with his he turned to look at her to see a sunny beam directed straight at him.

 And he smiles back.

 Because he’s not alone anymore.

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Chapter 10: Storge I

SFW Version Here

Summary: There is some discussion of Kabbhalic lore in the beginning but this chapter and the next focuses mainly on the parental relationships Julius and Aika present. They certainly feel their age.

Notes:

- Ive split another massive chapter in half sighhhh. This is 5279 words and I’ve written 7.3k already but I still haven’t reached the ending I wanted so I just split it.


- I know Yami and William haven’t made an appearance yet but they will. This chapter will shed some light on how Julius and Marx’s relationship and how proud he is that Marx grew up from an antsy young boy in his squad to a dependable young man by his side.
-There’s like 2-3 sentences where its NSFW but besides that, nothing much sorry folks ajskjlk

Tagging: @thoughtfullyrainynightmare​

Aika observed the dirty grimoire with one part apprehension and one part excitement. It was the first time she encountered a devil-possessed item without any supervision. A weg magic user that had come to Spade Nation War College as a guest speaker to her class had shown her how to recognize and deal with Devils. They were often best left alone in their sealed states whether they were friendly or not unless you wanted to make a pact. Though Aika’s curiosity was piqued, she had no interest in any other Devil except for one specific one, but he wasn’t heeding her calls or summons so she had lost any interest in becoming a host, especially considering the downsides.

There was no doubt there was a devil in there. She could feel the familiar mana from the Underworld. Aika cracked open the spine and stared in shock at the familiar writing. It was the same runic scripture from her own grimoire. She flipped through pages, skimming them. They all spoke of multiple different swords. Now, she had lightly studied grimoire magic over the years for fun because she found it fascinating how the countries in the Four Suits continent determined their borders purely based on the symbol on the grimoires. So she knew the basics such as checking the grimoire to see if anyone’s mana was connected to it and it wasn’t. This means that she could keep it and study it. If she took off her gloves, she could even make contact with the devil if she wanted to, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Aika looked up at her protégés as they stared warily at the book in her hand.

“What are your thoughts on this grimoire? What is so unusual and exciting about it?” She asked testingly. They needed to discern what it was from their own knowledge.

“Well, according to Clover Kingdom mythos,” Ellie began. “The three leaves symbolize hope, faith, and love. In the fourth leaf, a formation which occurred 500 years ago with the first Wizard King’s grimoire, contains luck. But according to legend,” she paused as she took a deep breath. “In the fifth leaf, there is a demon.”

“Do you think there is a demon in this grimoire?” Aika asked lightly.

Evan shivered before he answered, “There is definitely a devil in it. It reeks of the Underworld.”

She snapped the book shut and squinted at the anti-bird. Still strange how it was still here.

“Yes, you are right there is a devil in here,” she confirmed. They all tensed.

“What should we do? Should we kill it?” Jayce asked, his voice slightly shaking.

“No,” Aika shook her head and she crossed her legs again. “You don’t kill devils unless absolutely necessary.” She opened her backpack and stuck the grimoire carefully in it, willing it to be placed on top of her research table in her not-so-little study space in her loft.

“What?! Why?!”

“Because the very existence of devils obscures most of God’s Light and allows reality to exist. Killing them is counter-intuitive. You only kill them when they are unshackled and out in the human realm. This devil is very neatly sealed in this grimoire so no worries,” Aika explained as she smiled demurely. Their panic was quite amusing, especially when they are noticeably frustrated with her nonchalant attitude.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” Ellie asked carefully.

“Very.” She put the tea set away. “Now, if that is all, you may stand at ease.”

Their shoulders slackened and Ellie slinked over to her side and sat down next to her with a sigh.

“I can’t believe we are still brushing over the devil,” she murmured as she rested her head on Aika’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry. When I have recovered, I will make sure the devil is safe before I take you guys to interact with it.” She carefully patted Ellie’s mass of white curls.

Evan sat in the armchair to her right as Jayce picked up a book from the stacks around them and flipped through it.

“I’m in no hurry to talk to a devil, ” he began as he absentmindedly traced the pages in the book. He snapped it shut with a wicked grin. “But I do want to know everything about you and the Wizard King.”

They all rolled their eyes at his theatrics. Aika shifted in her seat, quickly categorizing information that she was willing to share and details that were better left to herself. She found that this method was better than completely shutting herself out from people as per her first instinct.

“What exactly do you want to know about the Wizard King and I?” She asked as she wrapped her arm around Ellie. “There’s a lot to know.”

“Ooooooh,” Jayce plopped down in front of her like a kid at storytime and gave her his brightest smile. “How did you two meet? How did you get so close? ” He winked. Even Evan, who was usually understanding of Aika’s reluctance to share information, leaned forward as she braced herself to tell them the barest details at the very least.

She told them about her first encounter with him that night and the captain’s meeting and the assassination attempt at her home.

The three listened to her story and watched in great interest as Aika grew more and more animated, an easy smile gracing her face and a twinkle in her eye as she spoke of the Wizard King. It was fascinating to see their boss grow less and less reserved as time went by and what little time she had spent with the King had sped the process up. The more she smiled, the younger she seemed, happier, more carefree, and very undoubtedly in love.

Aika grew more somber when she talked of today. They knew of her condition and how it was dangerous to spend too much time around her. It was why they valued the time they spent with her so much. It saddened them to hear about how she had to reject him so many times when she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“But if it truly doesn’t affect him…” Aika’s gaze fell to the side. “Then I may have a chance.”

At love. She left unsaid, but they knew. They knew her well.

“There’s always an exception,” Ellie whispered soberly. “And if his words are to be believed, then he may be it.”

They all stayed quietly for a moment, and as if to herald the end of the storytime, Evan, Ellie and Jayce’s stomachs growled in unison.

Aika was the first to laugh. A tinkling kind of sound like windchimes swaying in the summer wind. They quickly joined in after the momentary shock, a sort of happiness bubbling in their chests to see her smile so freely after all these years.

“I’ve made flat bread and curry for dinner. Would you two like so—”

“Yes!”

Aika chuckled and opened her backpack. Ellie dove headfirst without warning and Jayce soon followed. She carefully helped Evan step into it as the anti-bird perched on top of him again. As he disappeared into the void, Aika set her backpack down next to the sofa in an innocuous spot. Satisfied, she climbed in and closed the flap above her. Light brighter than the study flooded her vision. She kept her loft well-lit and tidy for the most part so she was fine having guests today. Aika heard a faint “wheeee” as Jayce slid down the pole to get to the bottom floor.

When you walk further into the living room that first greets you, there was a L-shaped railing that overlooked a spacious opening to the bottom floor. There was a break in the railing for a spiral staircase and a pole which Jayce had always loved to use.

The anti-bird she had allowed into her home flitted around, exploring the open kitchen to her right and the rooms in the hallway adjacent to the railing. Evan and Ellie were already setting up plates and utensils on the table in the dining area.

Aika walked past them with a tired smile and quickly heated up curry and bread with the firestone on hand and a touch of her Time magic. She placed them carefully on the table just as Jayce launched himself into his seat. It may be rather late in the night, but he was still full of boundless energy.

Ellie helped serve the food and Aika muttered a small prayer before they dug in.

“There was something off about the Wizard King, wasn’t there?” Ellie remarked innocuously. Aika looked at her curiously. She motioned her to elaborate as she spooned some curry.

“I stood where you two were, er, standing and the remnants of your mana felt like they were the same yet completely different.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a heartbeat, if that information means anything to you.”

“He’s not the undead. He certainly has a lot of mana,” Evan added.

“Is that why you are pursuing him while still keeping him at an arm’s length, Miss?” Jayce asked suddenly. They all looked at him in shock. He looked uncharacteristically serious. “You could never resist a mystery after all.”

Aika stared at him evenly and his gaze never wavered from hers. Anger initially shot through her at his words but she held her tongue. She couldn’t be mad at him for discerning part of the truth. She was known for her lack of patience but she had lately been trying to better herself and she asked for the three infront of her to help her in this. Ellie and Evan were patient with her when she lost her temper while Jayce was the only one with the courage to test her, keep her on her toes so she wouldn’t one day explode.

“That’s not completely true,” she finally answered. Julius’ smile replayed in her head and she felt a lot calmer, a little happy even.

“I do genuinely like him.” She looked down at her plate. Her breath stuttered when she remembered his laugh, his eyes, the way his soft hair threaded between her fingers. Aika couldn’t help the smile that crept up her face.

“I must admit, he is the only one that makes me laugh and smile like that.”

“And what are we for doing all that too? Chopped liver?” Jayce snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest childishly. She rolled her eyes at that.

“You guys make me smile in a way mother smiles when her children do stupid things,” she quickly retorted. “Or when they make her proud—”

“You think of us as your children?” Ellie interrupted breathlessly.

Aika gaped at her for a moment. She had accidentally let it slip hadn’t she? It’s been too long since she had to be so careful and alert and she was losing practice. And she was especially close with these three so her guard was completely down.

She hesitated before she answered, “Well, yes—” Ellie hugged her arm tight and Jayce was suddenly behind her, arms wrapped around her neck. Evan stayed put in his spot but his shoulders were hunched as he smiled shyly at the plate in front of him, a pleased blush high on his tanned cheek.

“We’re glad you think so.”

Aika stiffened at the sudden touch. Did they really want to be that close to her? Then it hit her. Of course they thought of her as a mother. They were orphans, she had rescued them from their various dangerous situations, taught them valuable lessons, protected them, gave them means to better themselves.

Oh.

She relaxed in their hold. She had more than one child, didn’t she? “I—” I love you guys. She wanted to say, but the words were lodged in her throat. She had a severe aversion to that particular sentiment. It saddened her that she couldn’t comfortably say the words she wanted to say.

Jayce slinked back into his seat and they continued eating.

“If he makes you happy in a way nobody else does,” Evan spoke first, changing the subject for her sake. “Be as careful as you want to be before you get together.”

Ellie hummed in agreement with him. “But you also have to make it clear that while you are keeping him at an arm’s length, that you still like him, or he would take your distance as disinterest.”

“We want you to be happy, but we just hope you just don’t get hurt like last time.” Aika smiled gratefully at all three of them. They were no longer children. They were wise beyond their years and people she could depend on.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely and cleared her throat with a blush as they giggled.

They thanked her for the food and helped wash the dishes before they all climbed out, ready to turn in for the night.

Ellie, Evan and Jayce wrapped Aika in a group hug, coaxing a joyful laugh out of her.

“Good night!” They exclaimed in unison before they shut the door to study behind them.

When they left, Aika grinned and buried her face in her hands. Her whole family died when she was just sixteen and she had wandered this plane of existence for decades, making friends along the way but they all had their own lives. She forcefully planted her feet in Clover Kingdom to protect it but along the way, she had found a family again. Her uncle, aunt, her daughter, whatever Arthur meant to her, Ellie, Evan and Jayce.

She felt an indescribable giddiness as she activated her Mana Hands spell to rearrange the stacks of books around her back into their places on the shelves. This was what she was looking for all these years. She didn’t even need Julius. This was all that she needed. –

Julius closed the door behind him and shifted the painting back into place so it was covered. He leaned his head against the canvas as he exhaled.

There was an unmistakable force pulling them towards each other every single time. First, that night, then the Captain’s meeting, that moment on the battlefield, then today again.

What in the world was wrong with him? Never in his life had he felt so lost. His whole life that he only ever needed magic and the power to do good in this world but what was this squeezing sensation in his chest?

“One month,” she said. One whole month. He thought about the way her eyes lit up at the Captain’s meeting, the palpable relief when she realized there were no hard feelings, the intent way she looked at him when she slipped off her blindfold.

Julius pressed his hand to his mouth as a blush suffused through his cheeks.

Oh, he was down bad.

He had always kept these sorts of interactions at an arms-length. One-offs were fine but what was so different about her? He just became Wizard King yet she consumed his thoughts. He was supposed to be thinking about the future of his kingdom not—

‘She held you like no other.’ His voice whispered in his head. ‘You have always protected others but you felt warmth and safety for the first time in the crook of her neck and her tight embrace.’ No one had ever dared to hug him and touch him like that. No one had ever kissed him so sweetly, and with that same mouth called him a “good boy” and made him see stars.

His hand clawed at the painting behind him as he pressed his legs together.

Julius let out a breathy laugh.

This was not the time.

He stared at the voluminous stack of papers on his new desk. His desk as Wizard King. He felt the crushing weight of that title again for the second time that day. He walked up to it, his fingers lightly tracing the edges as he stepped onto the side where he had rarely ever been.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He looked around the corner less office, cold and empty in every way. There was no fireplace, only torches that lined the walls.

Why was the room so big anyways? It should have a few couches at the very least to have comfortable conversations over tea instead of the vast barrier that the desk was sure to put up.

Julius turned around and faced the view he used to envy as a Captain. The giant, arched windows looked out over the Clover Kingdom from its highest peak. The sun had set hours ago but the bright, purple glow of the wisteria trees at the base of the tower was both exhilarating and calming.

He took a deep breath and faced his desk. He ought to finish at least one stack of papers. He filled up the fountain pen with ink and sat down heavily. Julius began with the paper on the top. It was a report from the Crimson Lion Kings.

Well, that piqued his curiosity.

He had always dealt with his own squad’s affairs and some collaborative missions with other squads but he didn’t know the specifics of the internal affairs in each squad.

The report wasn’t from Leonardo, it was in fact from his son and the new captain, Fuegoleon. From the lengthy conversation he had with the Vermillion during the banquet, he could tell that he was a hardworking, young man who was eager to do his job. He also inferred from their talk that he didn’t particularly care for anyone’s class or background unlike his father so he had high hopes for the Crimson Lions to set a good example for the rest of the squads. The most recent reports were all about how the battlefield was being cleaned up and about the dead. He genuinely focused on his work for half an hour before slowing down.

He was so tired. So much had happened today and the words in front of him began to look like scribbles. Perhaps he shouldn’t have exhausted himself so much…

A knock sounded on his door, jolting him from his thoughts.

Julius cleared his throat and asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Marx, Lord Julius,” he called out, a little surprised he was actually in there.

“Come in.”

Marx stepped into the room, eyes alert as he examined the big office. When his eyes landed on Julius, they softened, happy that he seemed to be working.

“Are you working, sir?” He asked as he moved closer.

“Yes, Marx.” He smiled lightly. “May I help you with something?”

“No, sir,” He shifted his new cloak. “I was just making sure you were working, sir, and offer my congratulations once again.”

Julius set his quill down as he sat up straighter.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve worked so hard to get here and I am so grateful you chose me of all people to be your advisor, sir.”

A smile grew on Julius’s face as he regarded the young man in front of him. He was only 20 years old and Julius had only known him for the last 5 but he had a special place in his heart. He may not be a superb fighter but Julius saw his value in other places. He took Marx into his squad for his brilliant memory magic, his work ethic, and his unique ability to be the only person who could stand up to him and keep him in line. And now, he couldn’t think of a better person to make sure he didn’t stray his path.

“Of course, Marx. I know you will be the one to make sure I do my job right,” He added with a laugh.

Outside of family, Marx was one of the handful of people who was truly close to him and could stand up to him. Even as a 15-year-old magic knight, whenever Marx would find him trying to sneak away, he never hesitated to berate his captain and made sure he worked. With time, Julius had come to see that he was also a hard worker and was one of the few people who could successfully curb his propensity to slack off. If it wasn’t for Marx, he would’ve neglected his paperwork all together.

Yet, there was one more person who began to worm his way into his heart.

“Though, I have to say, there is one more person who you may see often as you work whom you haven’t met yet.”

“Sir?”

“She is a private consultant who used to work for the previous Wizard King and she had offered to work for me as well,” Julius explained as he laced his hands together.

“She?”

He raised an eyebrow at that. That was an unexpected remark. “Yes, Marx. She’s a woman. I hope you don’t have any issues with that.”

He threw his hands up as he shook his head. “No, sir. That’s not the issue. I just never heard of any women in particular that could be a consultant for the Wizard King.”

Julius laughed, slightly relieved that Marx wasn’t that kind of a person.

“You wouldn’t know her. She likes her privacy and used to only work in the shadows,” he explained as he cast his eyes down.

Marx observed his melancholic demeanor. Why does speaking of her make him feel so down?

“What’s her name, sir?” Julius’s eyes flicked up. “Her name?” He steeled himself for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on. “It’s Aika Tolliver.”

His eyes immediately widened in recognition.

“M-Madam Tolliver?”

Julius cocked his head at him. Madam?

“Yes? Do you know her?”

“Yes, my older brother used to be the head of communications in her company.” His voice wavered as he clenched his fists. “He was recently promoted to president. But why would she be a consultant to the Wizard King?!”

Julius was taken aback by all that he had just told him. Marx spoke very rarely of his estranged brother, Karl, and he never knew that Aika knew him. And what exactly does he mean why she was a consultant to him?

“What do you mean by that, Marx?”

“Sir, she has a bad reputation for using forbidden magic,” He whispered urgently.

Julius stared at him blankly.

“Yes, I knew that.”

“Y-you did?”

“Yes. A Wizard King sometimes needs a licensed forbidden-magic user to deal with some unsavory things. She is also an amazing strategist and has experience in warfare for reasons I am still unaware. ” He added quietly as he picked at his quill. “We’ve talked for hours about a lot of things.” A lot of things indeed. “And I know she will be crucial in the future.”

Marx was about to object again but quieted at the stern look Julius gave him. He sighed as he clenched his fists by his sides, his light blue hair tickling his cheeks as he bowed his head in acquiescence.

“I will try to keep an open mind, sir.”

“Thank you, Marx.” He looked down at the papers, his smile falling. “I will see if I could introduce you tomorrow. I’m assuming you haven’t met her properly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then that’s settled.”

He stood there quietly as he watched Julius sign a paper with a flourish. Marx knew the man a lot better than most people and he knew that Julius would be ecstatic that he was finally the Wizard King and maybe even goof off a bit but right now, he was much too somber.

“Sir, are you alright?”

Julius looked up, surprised he was still here. He was far too lost in his thoughts. He opened his mouth and stopped. Marx didn’t need to know about Aika. He rubbed the back of his head as he forced his best natural laugh.

“Yeah, of course I’m fine, Marx! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you would usually be more excited on finally achieving your ambitions and…you wouldn’t be working…”

…He’s right.

“Well, I have simply realized the weight of my new title and I suppose that is what is making me more serious.” That technically wasn’t a lie. Julius mentally patted himself on the back for that.

Marx grinned, a giddy sort of feeling washing over him.

“Does this mean you will finally be serious about your paperwork, sir?!”

That was not what he meant.

“Wait, no!” Marx’s expression fell. “I mean yes! Of course I will do my paperwork!” His advisor’s face could not look any more disappointed. He quickly needed to change the subject before he got lectured again. “Speaking of paperwork, I think I will feel motivated to do it if I’m in a better setting like a study, you know? There’s a Wizard King’s study and it’s desk is longer and faces the windows so I would have an amazing view to keep me energized. And I would also be surrounded by a lot of books and I would feel so studious and motivated!” 

That seemed to have caught Marx’s attention. He had never heard of study. “I would like to show it to you tomorrow and we could both explore it. Does that sound good?”

“But sir, you have to tour the squad bases and then you have to hold your first meeting with all the Captains—”

“We will explore the study after that, okay?”

“But then, there’s a lot of paperwork that—”

“Marx,” Julius addressed him patiently as he held his gaze. “Taking breaks is important, you know?”

“And all you want to take are breaks, sir,” Marx replied with an imperceptible roll of his eyes.

Julius laughed.

“I promise I will be productive!” – Aika threw her crimson cloak on, a cloak she had worn since her days with Mereoleona. She quickly examined her trousers for any odd wrinkles and stacked the needed papers for a meeting she had in 20 minutes.

She felt much, much better after speaking to Ellie, Evan and Jayce and Julius seemed like the type to be more casual about such things and not let them get in the way of work. She was rather worried it might because her Uncle told her that Julius gets distracted easily. She couldn’t meet up with him and talk today because she would be occupied, especially since she accepted Lord Silva’s invitation for tea.

Aika reached for her communicator to call for Ellie, but she tensed and quickly pointed her daggers at the person who teleported into the study.

“Mom!”

Her shoulders slackened and a tired smile softened her face as she dropped to crouch. Aika enveloped Holly in a tight hug as she giggled. She loved how her daughter smelled like roses and apples, though they smell the same. She pulled back and pressed light kisses on her cheeks and smiled indulgently.

“Hello, Holly. You are here to spend time at the CLK base right?”

“Yeah! Uncle Fueggy said I could play with the lions and I thought I should congratulate him for becoming captain too! I made biscuits and wore my crimson cloak.” She spun on her heel, showing it off.

“That’s really nice of you dear.” Holly led her mother to the sofas and motioned her to sit down. “Did you make any for me?” She murmured, amused as Holly climbed into her lap and made her wrap her arms around her tiny frame.

“I hoped to give you the leftovers if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine but what if there are no leftovers,” Aika asked, fake hurt lacing her voice.

“I have a plan to make sure there’s leftovers. Don’t worry, Mom,” Holly grinned and sighed contentedly into her mother’s chest. Aika looked down at her curiously, gently rubbing her hair.

“May I know what the plan is?”

“You really want to know?”

Aika let out a short laugh. Only her children could ever sass her like this and get away with it and she must admit, it was very refreshing.

“Yes, I really want to know.”

“Okay, so if Uncle Fueggy didn’t like them too much, you will have some left over. Obviously. But if he liked them and wanted to keep them, and give them to his squad or something, I’ll be like ‘I was going to save some for my mom, but oh well. I’m glad you liked them.’ And then he would feel really guilty and leave some anyways,” she finished with a proud smile.

Aika pursed her lips, tamping down the laughter bubbling in her chest. Holly caught this and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Is something wrong, Mom?”

“No…” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Have you simply thought of maybe just giving me one biscuit to taste or maybe simply telling Fuegoleon to save some for me?”

“What.”

“Yes, I mean it doesn’t have to be that convoluted because Fuegoleon is polite and wouldn’t say no to that and even simpler, giving me one biscuit now would be the simplest solution,” she explained with a laugh.

“Oh.” Holly buried her face in the crook of her neck in embarrassment. “You’re right.”

Aika laughed quietly as she rubbed Holly’s back. No one could make her feel as young and light as her daughter could and she absolutely loved her for it.

Holly peeked at the window between her mother’s arms to check the time. The moment she saw or felt the sun, she could instantly tell what the time was. But she let her jaw fall slightly when she saw an anti-bird perched on the lap. She had never seen one so close.

“Mom, is that a…” She pointed at the bird. Aika followed her gaze and found that the little bird from last night still here.

“Yes, that’s an anti-bird, but it also seems to be an anomaly.”

“Oh, you mean it doesn’t run away from us like other anti-birds?”

“I mean that bird is still avoiding me but seems perfectly fine with others.”

“Isn’t this a perfect opportunity to study how an anti-bird reacts to magic then?”

“What? No! It’s an anomaly so it doesn’t behave like other birds so it’s useless to study it, Holly”

“What about studying the anti-bird for its biology through the possession technique?”

The possession technique is a forbidden magic spell used in the study of animals to possess them and view how the world was from their perspective including the five senses and what instincts activate in any given situation etc. Possession magic only works on other species so a human cannot possess another human unless an attribute explicitly allows that. 

People have tried to use a possession spell on an anti-bird before but like the North and South repel each other, anti-birds have shown to dodge magic at abnormal speeds when magic was thrown at them even in containment. The ongoing theory was that anti-birds actually feel some measure of pain, most probably a lot, the presence of or when in contact with magic.

“An anti-bird’s biology was already studied by people with less magic and it’s no different than a normal bird’s. You don’t have to worry about it—”

The door leading from the Wizard King’s office clicked open. Aika paused as her heart skipped a few beats when she glimpsed the blond hair before the door revealed to the Wizard King in all his glory. She could never get used to that strange yet commanding-looking cloak he wore.

Julius met her gaze and they were lost for words for a few moments. Last night seemed like a fever dream compared to the clarity brought by the daylight. His eyes flickered down to Holly who broke the silence. “Good Morning, Julius!”

Notes: Holly actually plays a bigger role than intended👀👀

[lemondropsssss]

ok but imagine jaskier has to take geralt home to lettenhove for some reason.

and maybe ciri is there, maybe they’re on the way to kher morhn and they run out of food money and supplies and it’s not like geralt can take a contract what with his armor and swords under the ruins of cintra. and jaskier just looks at their tired wet cold faces and is like fuck.

im gonna have to see my family aren’t i. and so he takes them to lettenhove and his plan is to leave them at the inn outside the gates bribe the gaurds and then get food and supplies from the household staff he can trust and neither geralt nor his family would be any the wiser.

but the fucking minute he steps into town someone shouts “master julian!” and he’s totally fucked. it’s the old fletcher who worked in the castle when he was a boy, who had let jaskier watch his work even when he was supposed to be at his lessons. and it isn’t like he can ignore the man, he showed him such kindness as a boy.

so jaskier goes to talk to him while ciri and geralt share the same look of “master??? julian???” but then more of the lettenhove townspeople take notice and more and more want to come greet good master julian who was always such a nice boy, and isn’t it lovely he’s finally come home and is that his daughter isn’t she lovely

when the attention shifts to ciri geralt is immediately protective and on guard but jaskier seems comfortable with these people so he stops himself from audibily growling. just.

and jaskier extracts himself when he hears the tromp of booted feet and sighs deeply but steps in front of geralt to meet the soldiers. both his companions tense behind him but he just greets amrah with a cheery smile. the man gives him a slight bow and now geralt and ciri are completely lost because usually soldiers plus jaskier leads to geralt poking holes in people.

they follow the soldiers up the road to the keep. both ciri and geralt have questions. a lot of questions. so many questions. but when they both try to ask jaskier shoots them a warning look and shakes his head. he trusts the people of lettenhove, but there is a war on, and even the kindest people can be turned if their children’s lives hang in the balance.

there’s a young woman waiting in the yard when they arrive. she’s beautiful, long dark hair and a smile tucked away but close to the surface. jaskier bows deeply to her, ciri curtsies, and geralt inclines his head which is just about the same respect he offers anyone.

“you’ve returned. how delightful.” she does not look delighted. “you will follow me, and listen intently while i shout at you. your companions will be delivered to your rooms to await you”

jaskier looks about to argue but holds his tongue. he and geralt have a wordless conversation over ciri’s head before the witcher grunts and tilts his head in acquiescence and he and ciri follow the waiting servant.

they’re delivered to a set of rooms nicely decorated but lacking any kind personality.

“geralt what is-“

“I don’t know”

“but who’s juli-“

“I don’t know”

“why was that woman-“

“ci- fiona. if i knew i would tell you” geralt did not want to explain to his child surprise the concept of a kept man.

when jaskier comes back geralt does a cursorary scent, but the bard just smells like stress and his lavender hand cream. his hair stands up like it does when he’s been messing with it, but he looks no worse for wear.

“well. this wasn’t exactly what i had in mind when i suggested resupplying here”

“jaskier”

“yes dear witcher?”

“what. the actual fuck. is going on. if you’ve brought us to another house you’ve cuckolded-“

“what? you think? geralt! that’s my baby sister!”

of all the answers geralt thought he’d get, that wasn’t one of them.

“but you’re a bard”

“what, do you think bards just pop out of the ground fully formed? gods geralt, ive never known you to be thick. i told you we were coming here.”

“no, you said we were coming to lettenhove, you never said anything about a sister!”

“22 years and he still can’t remember my name. fiona, dear, do you remember how i introduced myself when we first met?”

“julian alfred pankratz, viscount de lettenhove, and the greatest bard who ever lived” ciri parrots from her place across the room, sprawled out on the soft bed.

“thank you dear. don’t fall asleep, we’re all expected at supper.”

“jaskier.” it’s geralt’s ‘tell me now or i throw you off the battlements’ growl.

“yes yes, fine. i left when i was very yong. technically i was supposed to return from my life as a wandering bard when my father died. you can probably tell i did not obey that particular order. vanya, my sister and the lady de lettenhove, took over day to day affairs some time ago and from what I heard was doing a fantastic job, much better than i ever could. so i just. haven’t come home.” he shrugs “the people were happy with her, she enjoys caring for them, and i don’t belong here. i wasn’t ever planning to come back but well. we are in desperate need of money and supplies if we’re ever to reach kher morhn alive.”

and geralt is geralt so coping mechanisms are limited when you find out that almost always desolate bard who’s floated around you for 25 years is also a fucking lord. so he copes poorly by crossing his arms frowning and not saying anything at all. because strange new lordling jaskier also has a reasonable point, which is distressing to geralt for a whole hoast of reasons he doesn’t himself understand.

so geralt agrees and they stay for dinner while supplies, including mounts for all three of them, are prepared. and if geralt notices vanya watching him he doesn’t mention it. he doesn’t smell fear off her, but people have plenty of reasons to watch a witcher at their table, so he doesn’t bregrudge her it.

they send ciri off to bed before the meal is done, the girl is almost asleep in her stew. jaskier and geralt excuse themselves shortly after.

“master witcher? a moment, if you please.” vanya’s low voice stops them, and after a silent exchange geralt lets jaskier leave them.

“is there something i can do for you, my lady?”

vanya smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“not as such. please, sit. no need to stand on formality here.”

so he sits stiffly, not sure why this woman would ask for him.

“my brother is a strange man. always has been. such an odd boy, always with his head in the clouds.” the smile on her face and affection in her voice are the only thing that stop him from growling at the way she speaks of jaskier. “he loves you.” that gives him pause. “you know it. he knows it. half the continent knows it and there’s a war on. tell me, master witcher. do you intend to break my brothers heart again?”

she’s smiling but her words are sharp, and they cut at geralt. their reunion after the dragon hunt hadn’t been what geralt had wanted. ciri had been with him, and geralt knew most of the reason jaskier had agreed to travel together again was the girl. they’d been off with each other ever since, dancing around the past without ever coming close.

“i don’t know what you’ve heard, my lady, but jaskier and i never had-“

“spare me, please. i knowmore about my brothers proclivities than any sister should ever have to.” again, the smile that didn’t meet her eyes “you’re a witcher, so any threat of bodily harm i make is a moot point. but hurt my brother again, and I am sure i could think of something very creative for you to endure.”

she gets up to leave but turns back. “ask him to sing you her sweet kiss. that should make everything clear, even to a man like yourself”

ciri is asleep on the cot in front of the fire when geralt gets back. jaskier is plucking mindlessly at his lute, but puts it away when geralt gets back.

“what did my sister want?”

geralt grunts but says nothing, going about getting ready for bed.

“loquacious as always my friend” but jaskier put away his lute and slipped under the covers. they’d taken to all sharing a room on the road, easiest to reach ciri if she had a nightmare and less coin spent on rooms for him and geralt.

“hmm” geralt’s questioning hum.

“yes?”

“what’s her sweet kiss?”

jaskier falters, his heartbeat increases, and geralt can hear him picking at his fingers as he does when he’s nervous.

“why are you asking me about a song i wrote? you’ve never done that, you don’t care about my songs.”

“what is it?”

but jaskier doesn’t answer. he curls up under the blankets, closes his eyes, evens his breathing. geralt could challenge him again but doesn’t. he extinguishes the candles and joins jaskier in bed, each man firmly on his side.

they don’t talk about it in the morning. jaskier is quiet as they pack. he kisses his sister goodbye, chats quickly with the household staff. then all three mount up with their full packs and new cloaks and they’re off.

geralt wants to ask again about her sweet kiss, and what vanya could have meant, but he doesn’t. saves that conversation for kher morhn. winter is long, and a mountain is as good a place as any to get something off your chest

[jaskierswolf]

The Witcher’s Companion pt. 6/6

Main Summary: Geralt is summoned to Lettenhove to deal with a fiend when Jaskier is eight. Young Julian promptly decides he will do anything for the chance to travel with Geralt and have adventures outside of his stuffy castle life. (Also on AO3/my pinned masterlist)

Jaskier lunged at Ciri with his sword. The girl laughed and spun away in a pirouette before counter attacking. He parried her attack and flicked her sword from her hand. She yelled in frustration and stamped her foot.

“Ahh. Stop doing that!” She growled.

Jaskier let his sword dance in the air as he picked her sword up. “Well, hold your sword properly and you wouldn’t drop it so often.” He teased.

Geralt chuckled as he came up behind them. Jaskier sheathed his sword and flung his arms around his witcher’s neck. “Geralt! You’ve come to join us at last, Vesemir finally let you down from the roof.”

“Hmm.” Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s neck, a habit he’d picked up after the incident with the djinn that Jaskier had never built up the confidence to ask him about. “You used to hold your sword wrong too.”

“Ha!” Ciri pointed her sword and the pair of them but Geralt used Quen to shield them from her attack.

Jaskier stuck his tongue out from behind the glowing bubble. Ciri smirked and threw her hands forward. They were knocked over like dolls.

“Aunt Yennefer says your witcher signs are child’s play!” She giggled. “And I am a sorceress!”

Jaskier groaned as he pulled himself up off the floor. “Why did we let Yennefer near Ciri again?” He asked weakly.

“Because she needed a magic teacher and Yennefer is the best.” Geralt hummed.

Ciri smirked and threw herself at Jaskier with her sword. He swore and rolled out the way. He just managed to draw his blade to block her next attack. “Monsters don’t wait for you to be ready!” Ciri shouted.

Geralt laughed as Jaskier defended the onslaught of her attacks. “Princesses do!” He argued.

“I’m not a princess!” She ducked under his sword and swiped her blade at his feet.

He jumped over the attack and spun round, pulling his dagger from his boots. Over the years he’d decided he enjoyed the dance of having weapons in both hands. Geralt had bought him a shorter and lighter main sword to allow for the development in his style, and he often fought with a dagger in his second hand.

He swiped at Ciri’s side with the dagger and her armour tore open, a red ribbon fell from the gap. It had been Yennefer’s idea. She’d been concerned about their training and general lack of concern for personal safety so she’d enchanted their training armour to mimic injuries whilst not allowing any harm to come to them, as long as their weapons were similarly enchanted at the time.

“Haha!” He grinned.

“Fuck!” She leapt back.

“Ciri!” Geralt warned. “Don’t swear.”

Ciri growled and spun round to attack Geralt instead. Jaskier rolled his eyes but allowed the young witcher girl to swap sparring partners. Yennefer had almost bitten their heads off when she’d seen them ganging up on the girl last week, even though she’d insisted. He sheathed his weapons and pulled himself up to sit on the wall.

Geralt used a combinations of signs and melee attacks. It was Ciri’s second winter with the witchers and she was lethal on the training ground now. There was no holding back anymore.

Jaskier watched the pair of them spar. He couldn’t take his eyes off Geralt. He never could, not when Geralt didn’t know he was watching him. They’d been travelling together now for twenty-two years. He’d known the witcher for thirty-four years and yet Geralt never ceased to enchant him. Sure he’d had his own adventures without Geralt, particularly in his twenties but none of them held a candle to the ones where Geralt had been by his side.

Geralt was quite simply the most interesting man that he’d ever known. He was Jaskier’s best friend and their companionship was something no one else ever seemed to understand. Of course, to other people Jaskier played the foolish bard. It was easier to be underestimated and it had gotten them both out of trouble plenty of times when their enemies had focussed on Geralt entirely, not realising until their throats had been slit, that Jaskier was also armed and highly dangerous in his own right. Of course Jaskier’s indignant nature meant that he often got them into just as much trouble. He’d lost track of how many times Geralt had pulled him from a tavern or manor after he’d tried to start a fight when someone had insulted Geralt or witchers in general.

Jaskier liked that he was useful to Geralt. It was one of the things he prided himself on. He’d done what he’d set out to do. He’d become a perfect travel companion to a witcher, and now he had a family in the witchers, in Ciri, even in Yennefer.

She was sort of that sister that you really hated but would kill anyone else who tried to hurt her, and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.  

Ciri screamed and Geralt fell backwards across the courtyard.

“Oh shit!” He hopped off the wall and ran to the witcher. “Geralt!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Ciri cried.

Jaskier cupped Geralt’s face in his hands. There was blood staining his silver hair and running from him nose. “Come on, dear heart. Wakey wakey!” He cooed.

Geralt groaned. “Fuck.”

“Ah there we go. See, princess, no harm done.” Jaskier winked at the young girl. “It takes a lot more than that to take down the White Wolf.”

“Jask?” Geralt slurred.

“Yes darling?” He touched the cut on Geralt’s head lightly, pulling the hair apart. It wasn’t deep and wouldn’t need stitches. Geralt’s witcher healing would be enough.

“Your turn.” He mumbled and passed out.

__________________________

Geralt woke up with a splitting headache and a dry throat.

He grunted and tried to sit up but Jaskier pushed him back down.

“Oh no. Stay down, my dear.” The bard sang. “You just got blasted by a fourteen year old girl.”

“I am so sorry!” Ciri cried. “I just panicked!”

“I told her you’ll be fine.” Jaskier smiled brightly with a tilt of his head. “But I must say I am glad to see those beautiful eyes again, dear heart.”

Geralt grunted and sat up, pushing the bard away from him. “I’m fine, Jaskier.”

Ciri was staring at him with wide green eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Just a headache.” He pulled the young girl into a hug. “I’m sure Yen and the others will delight in this.”

Jaskier laughed melodically and lured Geralt into smiling back at him. “Oh yes, and naturally I already have two verses of a new song written.”

Geralt growled and knocked his friend off the bed.

“Oi! Hey that’s not fair!” Jaskier pouted.

Ciri was laughing now too, all fears forgotten.

He hummed and smiled at the pair of them, his family.

“Oh, Yennefer’s calling me.” Ciri said with a tilt of her head. “I’ll you at dinner, Geralt.”

Geralt nodded. Once she was gone he helped Jaskier up off the floor. The bard fell onto the bed and against Geralt’s chest. “Two verses?” He asked with a low chuckle. “You’re getting slow in your old age, Jask. I would have expected three by now.”

“Old age?!” Jaskier cried and scowled up at Geralt. “I am forty-two! That’s hardly old, witcher.”

Geralt scoffed. “Forty-two and still trailing round the continent after a witcher. Not bored yet?”

Jaskier pouted. “Of you? Geralt, never.”

The bard hummed under his breath as he curled up against Geralt’s chest. It wasn’t unusual. After so many years of travelling together, sharing beds when money was low or when it got cold at night, they’d become used to a lack of personal boundaries.

Forty-two.

Fuck.

How many years did humans live for anyway?

“Jask?” Geralt hummed as he threaded his fingers through the soft chestnut hair.

“Hmm?”

“What will you do when you get too old to travel?” He asked.

Jaskier snorted. “I will get a cane, the type with a sword in, and you’ll have to carry me when I get tired.”

Geralt frowned. “I’m serious.”

“So am I!” Jaskier sniffed and raised his head to look up at Geralt.

“Don’t you want to retire?” He asked, remembering what Jaskier had asked him all those years ago before the fated banquet.

“Witchers don’t retire so neither will I.” Jaskier insisted with a smirk. “What’s gotten into you?”

Geralt hummed. “I hadn’t realised you were so old.”

Jaskier laughed. “Ah yes, well. I do look pretty good for my age.”

“You have me to thank for that.” Yennefer said from the doorway. She was smirking at them. “Took you long enough to notice.”

“Yen? What?” Geralt growled.

“Oh no. What did you do to me, witch?” Jaskier snapped, sitting up and peering at the sorceress suspiciously.

“I did what I was asked to do. I saved your life.” She raised an eyebrow. “Permanently.”

“The fuck?” Geralt asked.

Yennefer shrugged. “Your witcher seemed desperate, bard. I was feeling generous. I was wondering how long it would take you to realise though. Honestly, I thought you’d worked it out years ago. Unfortunately that does mean Geralt won’t be carrying you anywhere any time soon.”

Geralt stared between the sorceress and the bard in shock. “Hmm.”

Jaskier seemed equally flummoxed for once in his life. “I’m… immortal?”

“Of sorts.” Yennefer smirked. “As long as you don’t get killed. It’s an old spell, found in an old witchers’ keep. Witchers used to have companions, back before humans turned on them. The companions were meant to make the witchers seem more… approachable, less like the monsters people think they are. A witcher and their companion were linked by magic, prolonging the companion’s life to match their witcher.”

“So what, you just… linked me and Geralt?” Jaskier gaped.

Yennefer nodded. “I didn’t think it would work. The spell was only supposed to work if the pair already had a deep emotional connection, which as I am sure you both know, is supposedly not easy for witchers due to the mutations. It’s why the companions ceased to exist and the spell was lost. An old friend of mine found it in the ruin years ago. I never thought I would have the chance to use it, and then you walked in dragging a bloody bard behind you.”

“Hang on!” Jaskier waved his hands. “A deep emotional connection?”

“That’s what the book said.” Yennefer nodded.

“But Geralt barely acknowledges that we’re friends!” Jaskier pouted.

Geralt groaned and pulled his pillow over his face.

“Oh, Jaskier.” Yennefer sighed. “I can read minds. You have no idea!”

“Get out!” Geralt threw the pillow at Yennefer. She waved her hands and the pillow turned to dust.

“Fine!” She grinned. “I was leaving anyway. Ciri is waiting for me.” She strode from the room, leaving Geralt to deal with the mess she’d created.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked quietly. “Umm… is this alright? I know you didn’t ask for this. You probably thought you’d be shot of me in a few years.”

Geralt nodded and tilted his head. “It’s fine. Are you ok?”

Jaskier hummed. “Yes. Sort of. It’s a lot to take in, the whole immortality thing.” He said with a wave of his hands. “But with you? I suppose it could be alright. Just another adventure really, isn’t it?” Jaskier’s smile shone brighter than the sun, lighting up the entire room and warming Geralt’s heart.

Geralt nodded and Jaskier fell back against his chest with a contented sigh. Geralt felt himself smile.

Jaskier, the witcher’s companion.

Taglist: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @genkitaco @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato

[kirk-spock-in-the-impala]

Wanna write about Geralt thinking he’s ugly like in the books? Everybody else thinks he’s scary ugly but I want him to feel the softness of our love that says he’s a handsome lil baby boy. You don’t have to. I just love the way you write and bet you’d come up with an amazing story with his self deprecation as a theme

OMG YES I DO. the books are awesome, btw.

PROMPT FILL: GILDED LILIES (on AO3 here)

Summary: 

The world tells Geralt he’s a monster. Jaskier shows him he’s not.

CW: Geralt’s headspace; prejudice and xenophobia; deals heavily with finding oneself unattractive, so please read with care if you have issues with that.

Slightly canon divergent.

——————————

It wasn’t that Geralt wanted to be beautiful.  No, he understood that only sorcerers gained beauty along with their inhuman powers, but he wished that he could have remained unremarkable in his looks.  The distant memories of Geralt’s childhood told him he had once been perfectly average looking.  A dark haired, dark eyed boy of middling height and build.  Neither ugly nor handsome, he passed without comment wherever he had gone. 

 Among the boys at Kaer Morhen, looks were irrelevant to the training process, but even there, standing among boys ranging from Lambert’s strong, handsome features to the scarred visages of those struck by the pox in their youth, Geralt had felt neither confident nor insecure about his appearance.  He was so normal, so average, that the thought to consider his looks never cross his mind.

 The mutations changed that. 

 Not only was he one of the few boys to survive the Trial of the Grasses, but he was the only Witcher in history to receive additional mutations.  Because of that, not only did he have a Witcher’s characteristic, unnatural, cat-like eyes, but his hair had been bleached white, his teeth elongated, his features sharpened, his very bones thickened to accommodate the enhanced strength afforded by his mutated muscles.  The other Witchers had unnatural eyes that flashed in the darkness.  He was nearly as much of monster as those they hunted.

 Geralt understood the stark difference, the sheer hideousness of his appearance, the first time he left Kaer Morhen after completing his training.

 Before, where he had passed without notice, now villagers pointed, stared, and spat.  Gasps of shock, expressions of violent disgust, and whispers of “freak”, “mutant”, and “monster” dogged his steps.  On his first day, passing through the village at the base of the mountain below Kaer Morhen, he’d heard an elderly peasant woman whisper to her companion, “they’re making them uglier every year, ain’t they?  Those thrice damned mutant freaks.”

Compared to the havoc the mutations had wreaked on his body, the impact on his looks should have been insignificant.  But it still hurt.  Back then, he was young enough to still be idealistic.  To still dream of being a hero, a knight protecting the weak and vulnerable in the world. 

 But the decades that passed showed him that dreams were not for the likes of him.  The first time he saved a girl from bandits intent on stealing her virtue, he’d imagined she might be grateful.  And she had been.  Until she saw Geralt’s face.  Then, she’d screamed and thrown her shoes, rocks, dirt, whatever she could lay her hands on at him until he’d retreated. 

 Once could have been a fluke.  A terrified girl reacting to protect her life and her virtue from an unknown stranger.  But it happened again, and again, and again.  Travelers he saved on the road would chase him off once they got a look at who – at what – saved them.  Aldermen who contracted him would curl their lips and sneer when he showed up to accept the contract, giving him the barest of details before hurrying him back out of town to complete his task, the only purpose for which his existence was tolerated.  Villagers he’d saved from monsters would throw stones at him, chasing him out of town with vile words if he was lucky, and with pitchforks if he was not.

 Geralt knew from the other Witchers that prejudice was common, as was a certain lack of gratitude from those served, but none experienced the depth of vitriol that Geralt suffered.  Geralt had long since concluded that the difference was due to his appearance, his hideous, monstrous, inhuman appearance. 

 And so, he did his best to avoid human settlements.  He limited his interactions to the bare minimum required to complete his contracts.  He made sure to never raise his voice, to never show his anger.  He was unfailingly polite and soft spoken when he was forced to speak.  He kept his eyes averted and stayed in the shadows and corners of human settlements.  He entered villages only when absolutely required, and spoke to innkeepers and merchants only when his supplies were utterly exhausted.  He made sure to keep a supply of gold and precious gems on hand to compensate a healer in the rare event he couldn’t heal himself, knowing they would charge a premium for interacting with him, and even more of one if they were forced to touch him.

 After nearly a century living in the shadows because of his monstrous nature, Geralt was resigned to his lifestyle.  On occasion, in a quiet village that was more tolerant of him than most, he would take a chance and see if the tavern keeper would be willing to serve him.  Every once in a great while, they were, and he would sit in the farthest, darkest corner of the tavern to nurse his ale in silence, hood up and eyes down, trying his best to blend into the background.

 It worked well for him.  He’d get to enjoy his ale and he’d yet to have a problem with the other patrons, if they noticed him at all.

 But all good things must end.

 In Posada, on a bright, sunny day before heading out to complete a contract for a “devil” (it was not a devil, but Geralt suspected it might be a sylvan), Geralt sat in his usual dark corner, enjoying a surprisingly good ale.  The bard playing for the patrons crowded around the tavern’s large windows was as skilled with his lute playing as he was terrible with his lyrical composition, but Geralt let the words pass through his ears without listening to them, content to enjoy the music alone. 

 He was shocked to his core when the bard, having completed his set to a rain of bread and jeers, not only came up to him, but sat down.  Geralt immediately stood to leave, head down to hide his face in his hood, taking his half-full tankard with him, when the bard stopped him.  “I know who you are.”

 Geralt froze.  The tavern keeper knew, of course, but exposing his identity, his presence, could potentially cause a violent reaction amongst the tavern’s other patrons, who doubtless would want to clear him out of their space as soon as possible.

 “You’re Geralt of Rivia.”  The bard said, clearly pleased with his identification skills, and, fortunately, quietly.

 Geralt leveled a quelling glare at him before he could stop himself.  His face fully lit by the sunlight coming through the windows when he raised his head to do so.  He took a quick glance around the tavern, seeing they’d not been noticed yet, and stalked out the door, leaving his ale behind, his rare moment of peace shattered.  Luckily, he always paid in advance in case he needed to make a quick exit, so the tavern keeper let him go without comment. 

 Walking swiftly to Roach, he checked her tack before unhitching her from the post, leading her out to the road.  As he moved to mount, he heard light, quick steps behind him. 

 “Wait!”  The bard called out, lute banging on his back as he hastily stuffed bread into his shoulder bag, “I’m coming with you!”

 Geralt took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm, to remain soft, inoffensive.  “No, you’re not.”  He said, mounting Roach and turning his head away from the bard.

 “Yeah, no, I totally am.  Meeting you is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me, and I’m not going to let this chance pass by!”  The bard said brightly, moving to stand at Geralt’s left stirrup. 

 Geralt heaved a sigh, looking down at the young man, and he was a young man, unsure whether he should be annoyed or pleased at his persistence in keeping Geralt’s company.

 The bard looked up, meeting his gaze fully for the first time.  “Wow, yeah, you’re gorgeous.” He said, staring up at Geralt with an expression Geralt didn’t recognize.  Gorgeous? Geralt didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. 

 He kicked Roach on, setting her off at a quiet walk toward the village gate.  Wouldn’t do to move any faster, no matter how much he wanted to leave this odd bard behind.  Faster meant more attention.  Faster was dangerous.

 The bard kept up, walking more swiftly in his fancy shoes than he had any right to, chattering away about anything and everything, from his latest doublet, to some character named Valdo Marx, to how pleasing Geralt’s hair was when the sun hit it just so.

 After a long hour of walking, followed closely by the young bard, Geralt arrived at the hill close to the site of the reported “devil”.  He stopped and dismounted Roach, securing her safely to a tree branch with ample room to graze. 

 The bard trotted right up next to him.  “So, where to next?  I’m Jaskier, by the way.”  He said, thrusting out a hand to shake.

 Geralt just looked at it.  No one had ever wanted to shake his hand before, but he wouldn’t play into whatever this bard – Jaskier – had planned by going off script. 

 He just moved on with his hunt, heading out to look for clues on his quarry’s location and identity, tossing a gruff, “stay with the horse” over his shoulder at the bard.  If he couldn’t get the bard to leave him, at least he could try and keep him safe.

 Jaskier didn’t listen.  Not then, not after they eventually escaped from Filavandrel, and not for the next several months he followed Geralt all about the Continent, sharing camp sites, meals, and the occasional room at an inn.  With Jaskier’s presence, one in every dozen innkeepers or so was willing to lend Geralt a room, with the understanding he was under the supervision and control of his human keeper.  When he was alone, asking for a room was a useless exercise.  Geralt wasn’t sure if Jaskier understood that or not, but he wouldn’t risk losing access to more frequent hot baths and comfortable beds by pointing it out. 

 The oddest thing about Jaskier though was not his persistence in following Geralt, but his persistence in complimenting him.  It was always “your hair is so soft” or “gods, your eyes are to die for” or “you’re so attractive, it’s not fair.”  More than that, more than those incomprehensible words, was the fact that Jaskier touched him.  Freely and often.  A pat on the shoulder, gentle hands combing through his hair while he bathed, a warm body leaning against his by the campfire.  People didn’t touch him.  Didn’t like to look at him.  And yet, Jaskier did.  Geralt didn’t understand it. 

 He knew he was monstrous; he knew he wasn’t fit for human companionship, and yet, Jaskier was seemingly unaware of that obvious fact.  At first, Geralt had thought the compliments and the touching were all a great, cruel joke to Jaskier, but months of exposure showed him that Jaskier was as genuine as he was foolhardy, and he held nothing back when he felt Geralt did something that deserve censure.  If Jaskier complimented him or touched him, it was because he wanted to, and that was beyond Geralt’s comprehension.

 Geralt’s confusion, his frustration with Jaskier not following the script, all came to head when they were preparing to attend a fancy banquet, hosted by one of Jaskier’s friends from Oxenfurt, which Jaskier had convinced Geralt to attend as his companion.  “I can’t just show up alone, Geralt!”  Jaskier had said.  “Besides, I can’t resist a chance to show off my lovely muse.”

 As Geralt bathed, scraping drowner blood out of his white hair, Jaskier flitted about the room, laying out finery for Geralt to wear, commenting how nice everything would look on him and how jealous his friends would be when they saw him on the arm of such a gorgeous companion

 Geralt couldn’t take it anymore.  “Stop it!” He growled, turning a frustrated glare on Jaskier.  “Stop saying things like that!”

 Jaskier froze.  He must have seen something in Geralt’s expression, because he immediately dropped the ribbon he was inspecting, one of his many choices to use on Geralt’s hair, and knelt at the side of the tub by Geralt’s left side. 

 He reached for Geralt’s cheek and Geralt flinched away, hiding his face behind a curtain of wet hair.  Tension thrummed through his frame and his posture was abjectly miserable, fists clenched around the edges of the bath, knuckles white.

 Jaskier frowned, uncertain where this upset was coming from, but knowing how reserved Geralt was, he knew the cause was substantial to create this strong a reaction in his normally stoic friend. 

 He reached out again and gently turned Geralt to face him.  Geralt flinched, but didn’t pull away. 

 Geralt’s eyes remained firmly down, brows drawn together, shame flooding him.  He’d shouted at Jaskier, growled at him like an animal, all over the little, innocuous lies Jaskier liked to tell himself about Geralt’s appearance.  If he was lucky, Jaskier would simply leave.  If he was unlucky, he’d be getting a visit from the guards.

 “Geralt?”  Jaskier prompted, concern clear in his voice.  “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

 Geralt’s jaw clenched, daring a glance up at Jaskier before averting his eyes again.  “Forgive me.  I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”  This time he did pull away.

 “No, you shouldn’t have, but I’m more concerned with why.  Have I upset you?  Hurt you?  Please, tell me.”  Jaskier waited, watching as Geralt’s eyes darted about, jaw clenching and unclenching.

 Geralt didn’t know what to say.  This wasn’t how things were supposed to be.  He had a role, a script, and Jaskier just came in and flipped the papers out of his hands, setting his own, improvised pattern instead.  Geralt didn’t know what to do.  What to think.  He just knew it hurt that Jaskier kept giving him glimpses of his childhood dream, a dream he knew was forever out of reach.

 But he had already behaved unforgivably, so he might as well get some information about Jaskier’s incomprehensible actions before he inevitably left.  Could serve him well in the future if he ever met anyone else willing to tolerate him for more than a few moments.

 Geralt drew in a breath and went for it, heart racing in his chest.  “Stop saying things that aren’t true.  I don’t understand why you do that.”  He spoke to the bathwater, unable to look at Jaskier.

 “Whatever do you mean?”  Jaskier asked, anxious to ease the pain he saw on his dear friend’s face.

 “You call me ‘gorgeous’, you compliment my hair, my looks.” Geralt shook his head, bewilderment evident in his tone.  “I know it’s not true, so why do you keep saying it?”  Geralt finally looked up, searching Jaskier’s expression, face lined with pained confusion.

 Jaskier’s heart clenched in his chest, aching for his friend, for the decades of suffering that simple ask revealed.

 He placed a hand gently over Geralt’s where it was clenched around the edge of the wooden tub, meeting Geralt’s eyes calmly.  Geralt’s hand jumped beneath his, but did not pull away.

 “Because it is true.  You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met.  And one of the most noble, to keep fighting to protect people who will never appreciate all that you do and all that you sacrifice.”  Jaskier said, firmly and kindly.

 Geralt shook his head sharply, looking away.  He knew what he was.

 Jaskier leaned forward to keep Geralt’s face in sight, thumb rubbing gently over Geralt’s clenched fist.  “What do you think you look like?”  He asked.

 Geralt scoffed.  “Like a monster.”  He stated it like the indisputable fact he knew it to be.

 Jaskier closed his eyes briefly, devastated to hear confirmed what he always suspected.  Geralt had no idea of his own worth, his own beauty, having internalized for far too long the fear and hatred dumped on him by villagers unable to accept that something could be different and still be worthy.

 Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s fist, reaching out with his other hand to turn Geralt’s face to his again.  Holding his chin gently so he could not look away, Jaskier said firmly, “there is nothing monstrous about you.”  Geralt huffed in disbelief, trying to avert his eyes, but Jaskier held him in place.  “Your mutations made you unique, gave you the ability to do your job, to protect all of us from the real monsters.  Your hair, your eyes, hell, even your teeth, they show the sacrifices you’ve made to protect our Continent.  From a purely aesthetic perspective, you are stunning.  But as a person, you are beyond compare.”

 Geralt stared, unable to respond, unsure of what to say in the face of Jaskier’s firm belief that he was worthy, that he was not monstrous to behold.  When he was young, he knew he was unremarkable.  After his mutations, he knew he was a monster.  Yet, Jaskier seemed equally sure that Geralt was neither of those things. 

 Jaskier saw the conflict in his friend’s face.  He knew that one conversation would not change a lifetime of conviction.  He gently leaned his forehead against Geralt’s, closing his eyes.  “One day, you’ll believe me, and until then, I’ll remind you every day that you are worthy, that you are gorgeous, and that you mean the world to me.”

 Jaskier pulled back, keeping his eyes locked with Geralt’s.  Geralt saw nothing but calm assurance in Jaskier’s eyes.  No matter how remarkable, how unprecedented his words, Jaskier believed them to his core. 

 Geralt didn’t believe them.  He had nearly a century of evidence to the contrary.  But if this one remarkable man believed him worthy, believed him beautiful, then at least in Jaskier’s world, Geralt didn’t have to be a monster.

[rumandtimes]

The Right to Remain Uninhabited

Luke McLean

An Open Letter to Stop Space Exploration

The exploration of space receives more attention that almost any other science fiction topic. Whenever the news cycle wants to find something ‘sciency’ they turn to NASA, or one of its government contractors such as SpaceX. Questions about possibility or cost float through the collective conversation about space. One question not asked is whether space projects should be allowed to go forward, irrespective of cost.

Ask any commentator on space and they will advocate travelling interplanetary space to extend the human capacity in the universe. Some even point out that humanity will be linked to the mortality of the Earth, or the Sun itself, if people can never leave the planet.

For the sake of knowledge and exploration, and the indefinite preservation of the species, space advocates push people towards leaving the atmosphere and into the stars. They never stop to ask if humanity should go to these places, not just if they can.

Assuming interplanetary, interstellar, and intergalactic space travel were quick, safe, and free, what would be the obligation of humans to go to these places? Or to stay away?

Some enthusiasts submit that life itself is important and if humans can spread any form of life anywhere, then that is a gain for the entirety of the universe, beyond just the human interest. The “astro-ecologist” approach falls into a pit of bias, and forgets a truth of the world around us.

Distributing life is a human interest, because humans are dependent upon other life forms. Seeding ‘barren’ locations with life as a first step to developing an Earth-like ecosystem far from Earth is not a neutral or objective practice — any less neutral than a fungus cultivating lichens (not fungus) in an inhospitable environment to prepare for the direct spreading of its spores.

Shooting bacteria into the orbit of a foreign moon in planning of the eventual human conquest of that rock on the backs of those bacteria one day isn’t beneficial to the moon or the microbes participating in that man-made experiment.

The failure to understand nature in ecological outlooks leans on the fallacy that life is more important than existence. Life is not in balance. Life is not in peace. Life is dynamic, and self-interested, and relentless. Yet life wanes in comparison to the power and majesty of the inanimate and inorganic world. The stars, the mountains, the wind, the heavens, the earth. None can be called “alive,” but that does not mean they are not important or deserve a place in the world.

By artificially placing the interests of the living organisms over top of non-living world, and therefore biasing the interests of organisms such as humans over ecosystems in space, advocates for exploration and colonisation beyond the Earth make an argument about the priorities of all of existence.

The hubris to suggest that planets such as Mars, moons such as Luna, and stars such as Sol are at a detriment because they are devoid of life betrays the destructive and consumptive habits lifeforms can bring to any environment. To accept the truth of existence is to accept that most of the world is not alive, and not attempt to impose a value on that.

Space analysts pass around a regularly used thought experiment, a paradox about the lack of life in the galaxy. If human life is at all representative of common life forms, and if the galaxy is billions of years old, then the galaxy should be teeming with life — the story goes — but it isn’t. This isn’t a limit of observation, because the very need to look closely proves that life is not easy to find.

Is there a flaw in the scientific models of the cosmos? Or did all these lifeforms die off? What does that bear in mind for humanity?

This paradox bases an assumption on a “progressive” model of biology — that lifeforms will become increasingly specialised and complex, and eventually develop technologies which become more and more sophisticated and wide-ranging. The second assumption is that the so-called “advanced” life either has a drive to explore the galaxy, or takes no interest in their surroundings.

Neither of these assumptions should be granted to the famous story. Such assumptions impose a recent and idiosyncratic outlook of certain human societies as a universal, not only onto mankind throughout all of time, but onto the vastness of the universe itself. More importantly than exposing a problematic bias, the assumptions take no account of the non-living world.

If life-centric scientists believe so much in the power of life, they have to consider the origin of life. All living beings originated from non-living beings, no matter how much scientists try to create an artificial starting point by searching for the “origin of life” or “the first replicating cell.” The inorganic bourns the organic, so to any degree the living have rights then so do the non-living.

Plants and ecosystems that do not have life, or that maintain only microbial life, have a right to remain in their equilibrium without a human presence. Humans have a desire to replicate themselves and consume their environment, which led to the consumption of every continent on the Earth.

Conservationists have already made the criticism that humans should not have the right to pollute other planets merely as an escape from having recklessly polluted the Earth. The rights of other planets go deeper; It may be that they should not have humans on them at all, even in the unlikely utopia of a sustainable and well-behaved state.

From a planetary perspective, Earth created life on Earth, so should any Earth-being be open to find a place on Mars, or Jupiter? Should a Solar being be open to inhabit another star system? Not as a point of nationalism, but as a point of balance and of right, what place does an Earthling have on another planet?

On Earth, any person has the right to live in any nation on Earth because all humans have equal right and inheritance of the Earth, on an individual level. Because no human presence is natural or in balance with the surrounding environment, all human colonies are equally as natural as each other, creating a more unified experience.

Imagine, however, if there were a place of natural humans, adjacent the human colonies that now span the globe. The species inhabitants of those colonies would naturally view the human invaders as a pest, an infection, that came to inflict harm and consume the resources of the planet. Just as a human population feels unease with the introduction of a new predator or parasite, the rest of nature may have something to lose if humans commit to take resources while failing to replenish them.

As a species, humans must rely upon predation for energy and upon parasitism for habitancy — that is to say, people cannot make their own food or find a place to live without killing or displacing something else in order to eat or relocate it — so the capacity to replenish is necessarily small, and permanently limited; Any species which could produce its own food or live in harmony with nature could no longer be called a human, as humans are defined by their predatory and animated characteristics.

The human bias to consume in the face of mortality is not an excuse to violate the right to be uninhabited, which has been deprived of much of the Earth, and which remains in most of the universe. Everything in existence has a right to exist, and the ecosystems around the universe exist beyond a definition of life. Humans have no place to divide the world between living (us) and non-living (them), nor do they have a place to make a determination that lifeforms have more rights and powers than everything else. The “non-living” world has much greater majesty, beauty, and power than the “living” world could ever imagine.

As scientists can not even agree on what a definition for “alive” versus “not alive” is, it ought to be considered that there is no real difference, as the organic and inorganic live as one in the world, and each have a right to their continued existence but for the violation of each other. The doesn’t mean tsunamis have a right to obliterate human cities, nor does it mean that humans can imagine they have inherent dominion over the universe. The paradox of life in the galaxy is not the perceived absence of alien warships, but the paradox that if everything has an absolute right to exist, then in essence nothing does.

The point is, that no one has an absolute right to determine the fate of another planet, and humanity certainly does not have an absolute destiny to colonise the stars. If it could be said that any human being has an absolute destiny, that would be: to find a group of friends, have children, and then die. This is the fate of all healthy human lives, not more and not less — a social life, a new generation, and an inevitable fate. Space is not a convenient escape from reality, as much as furious fiction authors and the few immature billionaires (usually borne from tech rather than energy, retail, or finance) make it out to be.

There may be some voices tempted to say the world is a free-for-all. That any advantage one can get over the other, or on the surrounding world, is a victory, as in the end all life will come to an end eventually. Those tempted to say that give into the same human bias, looking out into the great, unfathomable world and regressing back to the basic penchant for consumption and self-proliferation; they fall back into fatalism and surrender to vices. There is a difference in accepting the lack of a right to life and losing respect for all life as it is. Human life has value, but not an absolute value. The entirety of the universe cannot be expected to share the anthropomorphic focus on self-preservation and perpetual growth.

There is no meaningful difference between the words “consumption and proliferation” versus the words “parasitism and infestation.” People usually use the word “infestation” to refer to non-human animals or microbes, but those animals probably wouldn’t commit to such a human-centric bias. To them, a human body is nothing more than a host, not a prize nor a victim. There is no moral component for the infesters. They view the human body as an open landscape of energy, space, and nutrients; they have no capacity to even understand that the human as a whole is somewhat united and self-aware.

Humanity resents being infected with bacteria or invading animals because they represent a loss of control and present a likelihood of death. But to the infecting faction, what is death? A once fertile, inanimate field of resources become [ inviable / unviable ] after being consumed. At their scale, there may be no difference, while at the human scale people know that is not the case.

People, including space advocates and scientists, have no right that they can understand nature at the planetary scale — just as the bacterial or insect parasite has no right capacity to understand humanity at the human scale. To understand the rights of existence at the human scale, one must be human, or looking down on humans. To understand the rights of existence at the planetary scale, one must be on the planetary scale, or the galactic scale, or encompassing the universal. That is impossible, as humans have no more chance to embody a planet they inhabit as a roach or a mosquito has to embody a human it consumes.

As we cannot begin to fathom the world around us, we should not be so eager to consume it all in the fears of our own mortality. Existence has a right to exist, distinct from the terms of human consideration. What is the end goal of space exploration? To discover the origin of life? The meaning of life? To one day leave the Earth and spread Earth-based life to other planets? While unlikely to happen in the least anyways, it should be questioned immediately whether these objectives are actually benign, or have anything to offer those other planets.

The secrets of human purpose likely do not exist on Mars, or the Moon, or even in the deepest core of the Sun. Even if they did, what exactly would we learn that we could apply? At what cost comes the destruction of those worlds?

Some call Singapore a marvel of human achievement, a world onto its own, but there was a world before the skyscrapers, and a world remains buried under the concrete, swirling aside the boiling oceans on the coast. Will Mars be the next “achievement?” Sprawling farms and condominiums upon what is currently a peaceful and balanced landscape? Not everything can be expressed in human terms. Failing to understand that reinforces that humanity has no place infecting the world with its presence, as humans seek to exploit those worlds for their own sake.

The world has the right to remain. Existence has the right to exist. In terms of people eying the cosmos, space has The Right to Remain Uninhabited.