#but it' very hard to set aside my DA childes

[gurorori]

i will talk ab source. part 1 is prolly childhood? I REACHED TAG LIMIT

[wangxianficrecs]

Casual Happenstance by Belzime

Casual Happenstance

by Belzime

T, WIP, 9k, Background Wangxian

Summary: After breaking up with ex-fiance Meng Yao, Nie Mingjue moves into a new apartment and gets pulled into friendship with the toddler down the hall and his single mother, Jiang Yanli. - “Are you going to stand here and argue with me or are you going to move out of the way so I can set this down?” Her face brooks no room for challenge. “Good, now step aside.” She sweeps past him and finds a space on his countertop for it. “There.” She turns around, hand brushing over Baxia’s head as the dog circles her knees. “Do you have any food allergies? Anything you can’t eat? You’re not vegetarian? Are you alright with spices?” ‘A little odd to ask after you’ve already bullied me into taking it,’ he thinks and says instead, “I eat just about anything.” He watches her relax and realizes she'd been worried, “Oh good.” She says, “I tried to make it a little more mild than usual; last time I made this soup I found out my brother-in-law was vegetarian and has terrible acid reflux. My A-Xian wouldn’t stop laughing, knew the whole time no shame or sympathy for not telling me!” Kay's comments: A very cute and fluffy modern AU with a friendship that I haven't seen explored in fanfic often: Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli! Nie Mingjue has recently broken up with Meng Yao and Jiang Yanli is Jin Ling's single mother in this. Jin Zixuan is alive, but there is drama, which I love, because yeah, I want to have Xuanli explored as a broken relationship too!) So, Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli! They strike up an unlikely friendship and Nie Mingjue helps out with Jin Ling and there's also some background Wangxian. Very adorable story! Excerpt: He knows her ex is a horribly awkward person, he assumes he knows where they live though Yanli has said he’s never been there. He isn’t going to do anything. It’s not his place to intrude. He’s going to see Xichen, doesn’t want to be late when the man shows up chronically twenty minutes early. But he can’t help brushing a little too close past the man on the way to the elevator. The man startles, turning towards Mingjue and revealing himself. “Mingjue-ge.” The man says and he’s never been easy to read, but the slightly rushed way in which his name came out and complete lack of change in facial expression screams to a specific horror Mingjue has spent most of his life trying to decipher from a different face. “Wangji?!” He chokes out, betrayal punching deep below Mingjue’s diaphragm. Wangji is VERY gay and certainly cannot be capable of having a child only to abandon him? He’s adopting, for Gods’ sake! “Mingjue-da-ge!” another voice shouts as a body drapes itself around Wangji’s shoulders and back. “What are you doing here?” The new man beams. He drops something into Wangji’s hand and Mingjue watches as his best friend’s baby brother’s ears turn bright red when their fingers brush, face unmoving. “Wei Ying.” He greets and motions down the hall, “I live here.”

modern setting, jiang yanli, nie mingjue, modern no powers, pov nie mingjue, dog baxia, single parent jiang yanli, family drama, background character death, hospitalization, domestic fluff, fluff, past nieyao, past xuanli, child jin ling, trauma, neighbors, friendship, misunderstandings

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[jaimebluesq]

for the 3 things Jaime would never write? 1 - Guardian (Weilan) in YOHE (the closest of Wuxia we have) Crossover with MDZS (especially Sangcheng) 2 - Xue Yang getting to corrupt Xiao Xingchen for real, no tricks 3 - NHS knowing JGY's plans to kill Da-ge and actually helping him to do so Oh, dear Jaime, good luck on that ;D

I started reading this and went “yeah, I wouldn't write #1 if only because it's been over a year since I watched Guardian and I only remember bits and pieces, so I wouldn't write about it” and then went “Yeah, I'm not exactly known for writing the Yi City Crew except on rare occasions, and corrupting XXC normally isn't in my wheelhouse”... and then you hit me with #3! My instinct was to balk and go “no!!!!!!!!!! NHS would never! Damn I need to write a snippet for one of the others because the very idea of this one is traumatizing me!”... and then my brain gave me a scenario that I would write even as my heart breaks writing it. So yeah, thank you for making me cry :-p

Ironically as I wrote this, some themes from my previous prompt response came through - ah, but NHS & JGY, the trauma gifts that keep on giving.

~ ~ ~

The boy rocked, stunned and speechless with tears falling down his cheeks, as his brother held him tightly. All around them, disciples and servants scurried about, some picking up debris, others bringing out buckets of water and mops to clean away the blood and viscera from the Unclean Realm's main hall.

One of the elders stopped at their side and crouched down. “Nie-gongzi- I mean, Nie-zongzhu. Perhaps it would be best if you were both elsewhere for this.”

He felt his brother nod against him and the next thing he knew, he was picked up and carried away to somewhere dark and safe.

“A-Sang? Talk to me, please,” his brother pleaded when they were away from listening ears.

“A-Die,” he sobbed. “He was going to- He killed A-Niang and then he was going to-”

“Shhhh.” His brother rocked him again. “He would never have hurt you.”

“This is why they say our family is cursed,” the boy muttered with his face pressed against his brother's robes. “It happened to Baba and it will happen to you and it will happen to me and I don't want to be cursed, Da-ge!”

“It won't happen to you, A-Sang.”

“But what about you?”

His brother sighed. “I will never, ever hurt you or anyone else we love. If I start slipping like Baba, I'd rather someone lock me in a room and leave me to die than to hurt you.”

...

It was with memories of a terrified child in the back of his mind that Nie Huaisang knocked at Jin Guangyao's door.

“Come in.”

Once the door had closed behind him, Nie Huaisang turned the lock so that nobody could enter. He wanted privacy for the conversation he was about to have today.

“What can I do for you, A-Sang?”

Nie Huaisang was too nervous to sit, and instead stood facing Jin Guangyao across the wide desk. “I know what you've been doing, San-ge.”

“What in heavens do you mean-”

“I know you're doing more than playing Clarity for Da-ge.”

There was a moment that Jin Guangyao was still, then his lips shifted into an easy smile. “I still have no idea what you mean. Have you been having strange dreams again? I could-”

“Don't lie to me!” He slammed his hand down on Jin Guangyao's desk. “You of all people, you know I'm not what people think I am. Don't treat me like I'm brainless.”

Jin Guangyao nodded and set aside the brush he'd been using to write letters before Nie Huaisang had entered. “So you know about Clarity. Have you told Da-ge?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. “Are you doing it because you want Da-ge dead, or because someone's making you.”

“Da-ge and I have our differences,” Jin Guangyao sighed, “but I'm not so petty as to want him dead for those. But when Jin-zongzhu wants his opposition dead, and has decided that this is to be my test of loyalty... I'm sorry.”

Nie Huaisang swallowed hard. “Was it his or your decision to use Clarity?”

“Mine. I thought it would be untraceable.”

“It nearly was, I suspect there are very few who would figure it out.”

The two young men stared at each other for countless moments.

“So, what are you to do with me?” Jin Guangyao asked, his body tense like a cornered fox ready to bolt.

“You need to stop this horrible music-”

“Of course, I-”

“-and find another method.”

Jin Guangyao blinked.

“What you're doing is making his worst nightmares come true. He was already going downhill after the end of the war, and he's been getting worse and worse since then. You're just speeding up the very thing he has feared most. Da-ge would rather die than have a qi deviation so bad that he would hurt someone.”

Jin Guangyao's mouth opened, then closed again. Then he lifted a finger. “Are you trying to trick me into revealing something? Because there really isn't more to it than what you've figured out.”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. With a steeling breath of air, he sat down across the other man. “Da-ge is dying no matter what... so let's make certain he goes with dignity and honour. And after that... we're going to kill Jin Guangshan, and we're going to make him suffer.”

[acrowamongsparrows]

A Crow Among Sparrows

A Witcher OC Roleplay Blog

“Gather round now,” came the calm voice of the bard as he pulled up a chair, a smile on his face as the patrons young came to sit before him.  He wore a thick blue coat that seemed to have seen many more seasons than lined his own face.  The green eyes bright with mirth but hiding a deep wild sadness that he obviously did his best to push aside. “Who here knows what a Witcher is?”

“A monster!”  One voice piped up with an agreeance of murmurs from the other children.

The bard tilted his head thoughtfully, listening to the gibbering of the kids before perking up as he pointed to one of them.  “You!  What did you say?”

The other children stopped talking and turned to look at a small girl who looked suddenly very shy as the red grew in her face to match her hair.  She tried her best to whisper and hide.

“Come on no, don’t be afraid.  Say it again.”  The bard insisted, his smile welcoming as he leaned forward.

Gulping hard she would speak louder now, her face growing more crimson by the second.  “They’re not monsters.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she looked at the other kids again and then back into the green eyes.  “They kill them.”

The bard nodded sagely at her words and sat up straight again.  “You are correct.  They hunt the monsters.”

“My da says they bring all the bad stuff,” a boy interjected.

“Bad stuff?  Like what?”  The green eyes gave the young girl reprieve as he turned to the boy now, arching a brow at him.

“Like..like...monsters!” The child hesitated at first being caught on the spot, the others giggling before answering the question as well.

“Vampires!”

“Wolfmen!”

“Skeletons!”

“Milkmaids!”

“Dragons!”

The bard nodded again as he mentally took in their words, tapping his chin in deep thought.  “Wow, that’s a lot of ‘bad’ stuff.  So how do you get rid of them?”

The kids stopped as they thought about it.

“You,” the crimson faced girl again hesitated but found herself emboldened by the bards calling her initially.  “You call a Witcher.”

Smile wide with bits of off-white teeth showing, the bard would look back to them as even a few of the older crowd were turning to watch now.  “Ah there you go now.  You call a witcher to deal with the monsters.”

“And then you toss em-,” a little began to the first bars to a VERY familiar song.

“Shh!” A nearby child ribbed him with a frown as the story was set to begin.

Rising up to his feet the blue coated bard would crack his neck and stretch his arms above him, ready to begin a long night of story telling.  “You all are very intelligent and well thought out minds for sure.  And you all seem to know your stuff on these monster slayers for I’m sure you’ve heard of the famous ones here.”

A plethora of nods followed as they watched him.  “Good so we can cut the backstory and dive right in the meat of it.”

The bard sat back again on his stool before leaning forward on his knees as he whispered.  “Let me tell you about a crow...”

Welcome to ‘A Crow Among Sparrows’, a Witcher OC roleplay blog.  Here I have decided to make my own tales adjacent to the tales of Geralt and other fan favorites from the Witcher series.  Along with the Witcher series I have used a lot of the ideas from the Ravenloft setting to add new characters and ideas to my own interpretation of the Witcher verse.  From the Vistani, to vampires, and all kinds of other dark creatures of the night I love to delve into the supernatural horror fantasy. 

Is it accurate?  No.  Is it ‘lore’ abiding?  Not really.  Do I use a lot of D&D stuff to add more fluff?  Yes.  Do I mix up a lot of my own canon?  All the time.   Do I enjoy writing about spooky monster hunting within an amazing settings?  Yes I do.

So I hope you enjoy what I put out there, maybe interact with your own characters, and we all hope that I keep going with this for awhile. 

Dramatis Personae 

Eldridge of Kovir

Duncan Waycrest

Janus Klaudin

Alfred Klaudin

original art from @sirenofdusk

[renee-writer]

Loved Her First Chapter 20

A/N This chapter cis a mix of @omgbarbiegurl and It's words. From' She stood in the doorway to' in the empty air' are her brilliant words.

AO3

The men are busy building Faith’s schoolroom. Their women want their children educated and, now that they have a learned woman, the Laird’s own daughter, here to do it, they want a place for it. It keeps the men busy. The women are equally as busy, with chores and child raising. Claire with her doctoring while dealing with early pregnancy, not easy at her age.

Jamie is soon able to lead his daughter to the cave turned schoolhouse. She gasps at seeing it. He kisses her and leaves her to admire it on her own.

Faith stood in the doorway of the cave, taking in her little Schoolhouse.

Her Da, Uncle Ian, Jeremiah, Ian, and Rabbie had all worked hard to bring it up to her, (apparently), picky standards.

There was a large white sheet suspended between two nails buried into the rock to use as a makeshift chalkboard. Her chalk would be the ash from the fireplace Ian and Jeremiah had built against the wall to keep everyone warm.

Slates had been purchased with pencils; split logs hauled into the cave would serve as benches.

Her desk was the best part though.

Her Da had built it with his own two hands, she could see and feel the love that went into it. Was it any wonder she had sobbed over it when he presented it to her.

He had been dismayed, thinking she didn’t like it, but her hugs and kisses had reassured him that she did.

She was going to have 15 students in all; the oldest was Brianna, (who was not happy about taking orders from her sister), and the youngest was the 4-year-old daughter of one of the tenants whose Mother had been very excited for her daughter to get educated.

Faith sighed softly and turned to head where she collided into Ian.

“What in the world?”

“I was just bringing ye some wood.”

“Oh, thank you.”

She moved aside to let him in and sighed softly.

“Getting nervous are ye?”

“How did you know?”

“Ye have a tell.” He set the wood down and turned to her. “When ye get nervous, ye twist your hair out of yer bun.”

He walked over and twirled the strands of hair hanging from her bun around his fingers.

“Ye have no reason to be nervous, the bairns will adore you.”

“I am not worried about them adoring me, I am worried about them obeying me.”

“They will do that as well.”

“Well-”

He blew out a breath. “Faith, ye are a learned woman from the Colonies, they know to heed yer word.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’. Ye are gonna be wonderful, and if this doesn’t pan out, ye will be marrying me in a years’ time, so no need to worry.”

Her eyes narrowed and Ian felt his balls shrink a little.

“What do you mean, ‘no need to worry’?

“Well, I uh just figured ye would no be interested in teaching after we marry. Ye will be busy with our house and bairns.”

“Excuse me? Why would I suddenly be content just to sit around the house, wait for my husband to get home, and get pregnant? I have better things to do, you know.”

“I just assumed that…”

“That I would just roll over and spread my legs after you praise my housekeeping skills?”

“Uh…”

She doesn’t let him finish his sentence, instead, she storms past him out of the cave and to her waiting horse.

She says nothing, just mounts the horse and rides off, leaving Ian with his mouth hanging open.

“What just happened?” He asked to the empty air.

He jumps back on his own mound and hurries after her, “Wait!” He calls out as he catches up to her. A sharp order in Gaelic halts both horses.

“Let me be Ian Murray!”

“Nae, I said something that upset you and I shan’t leave until I straighten it out.” She huffs as he dismounts and lifts her off her horse also, “I dinna ken want it be like in the colonies so please, my heart, tell me what ye expect after we be married?”

She bites her lips as tears tinkle out of her eyes and start to run down her cheek. She has to recall that her expectations and his are going to be different. “I expect to keep working at least until our first is born. I expect to return when are bairns are old enough to join me in the classroom.”

It seems reasonable to him. “Then that is what you shall do.”

She exhales sharply. “Truly?”

“Aye. You are more then just my intended and my Laird’s daughter. You are Faith Fraser, yer own person.”

She throws her arms about him. “Thank you Ian. I love you.”

“I love you.” He hugs her tight.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐂𝐄𝐎!/𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨) 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐞𝐨/𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)× 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑𝐊 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲/𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭), 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez @yunhoiseyecandy @atiny-ahgase

⊱✿⊰─━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━─⊱✿⊰

After arranging and rearranging the boxes and bags layed out on the king sized bed, Yunho calmly took a step back to make sure everything looked ok. He let out a frustrated groan as he began second guessing himself.

"What if she doesn't like them?"

He had no time to ponder more on that question as the doorbell rang, letting him know the very person he was talking about was already there. He scurried out the bedroom, as he passed the living room, he stopped and ran back inside it to pick up the bouquet of roses that he nearly forgot about. Making sure to straighten out his posture, he nervously reached for the handle before turning it to open the door, hiding the bouquet behind his back.

"Hi." The person standing there waved at him, her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

"Hey you....." He had an equally flustered smile plastered on his face as he gazed down at the pretty face in front of him.

The girl shifted awkwardly in place, looking side to side as she waited for him to say something.

"So.....did you have fun on your trip?" She finally asked.

He let out a chuckle.

"Hardly. It was literally all work the entire time and I was just frustrated and stress and- Oh! I'm sorry Y/N. Please come inside."

He stepped aside to let her enter into his penthouse apartment, which she hadn't been in for the 4 months he was away on a business trip. Closing the door behind him, he faced her and produced the flowers he was hiding up to the point.

"Here. I brought them for you." He held them out towards her.

"Oh my gosh they're beautiful! Thank you!" She thanked him as she admired the gift he'd given her.

"And that's not all! I got you a few other things while I was away!"

Taking her hand in one of his large ones, he excitedly led her into the room that had been specifically decorated, prepared and set aside just for her whenever she'd come over and stayed with him for long periods of time. Standing behind her, he led her inside, his hands now covering her eyes as he whispered tiny instructions on how many steps to take and where to turn.

"Ta da!" He cheered enthusiastically.

Opening her eyes, she was bewildered by the dozens upon dozens of designer and luxury named bags and boxes that no doubt contained clothes, jewelry, shoes and probably a few articles of lingerie. She smiled softly at his kind gesture

"It's wonderful.....thank you." She turned to him.

"Do you want to look through them now?" He was already reaching for one of the bags.

"Oh....perhaps later..." She suggested.

Sensing something like disappointment, Yunho sighed.

"Don't you like them? Were they not what you wanted? Was there something specific you would have rather liked?" He was ready to give her the world, all she needed to say was the word and he'd bend earth and sky for her.

"No! I love them, I do! It's just...." She looked down, somewhat afraid of saying out loud what it was she really wanted.

Wanting to soften her up, his fingers cupped her chin, lifting it up so he could look at her eyes.

"Tell me babygirl. Just ask and it shall be yours." He assured her.

She bit her lip, that action alone making him lick his own and wish it was his own teeth that were fulfilling that action instead on her.

"I really just wanted to spend time with you.....maybe watch a movie together and.....cuddle?"

Without realizing it, her hands began pinching at the soft material of his black turtleneck, bottom lip pouting upwards like a child awaiting to be refused. The tall male let out a soft and low chuckle.

"That's it? Is that really all my darling wants?" He kissed her forehead in disbelief.

She whined in a rather cute yet frustrated way.

"It's just you've been gone for so long and I missed you. Is that a crime?" She defended herself.

He shook his head then swiftly scooped her up in his arms and began carrying her out into the living room.

"Nope and honestly I'm happy you suggested it. I missed my babygirl as well."

She blushed slightly when he pressed a rather hard and long kiss to her cheek before sitting her down on his lap and turning on the huge television in front of them. They both agreed to watch a new movie that had just recently came out, all of their friends having been raving about it making them curious and wanting to see what it was about. From the looks of it, it seemed to be another typical romantic movie, which neither of them minded. Neither were hardly paying attention to the movie, one more occupied in poking either side of her ribcage or pinching her thighs, while she playfully slapped his giant hands away, often whining which resulted in him wrapping his arms more tightly around her, face pressing against her shoulder as he bounced her on his lap.

When they finally decided to just stop and watch the movie, it had suddenly taken another turn that was not very PG at all. A rather erotic and explicit R rated scene came up, leaving them both gulping and making them both sweat nervously. They both thought it'd be over soon, like any other cliche Hollywood sex scene that would only last a minute or two, but they were surprised that almost 10 minutes later, it was only getting more and more kinky which had both of them awkwardly sitting there.

Y/N could feel the way Yunho's fingers began to slowly rub circles along her hip bones, sometimes digging harshly into her skin. She began to think of all the other places she'd rather have his fingers in, like her mouth, around her neck or slipping inside her womanhood which was getting more wet the more sensual his touches became. The fake moans coming from the actors on screen made her think of all the times Yunho had gone rough on her, teasing her relentlessly and making her have one orgasm after another because he always wanted more, never satisfied with having her cum just once. Those thoughts were so wrapped up in her mind, she didn't realize she had began grinding herself against Yunho's lap until his hands suddenly held her in place, stilling her movements.

Inhaling a raspy breath, her eyes fluttered close when he began pressing open mouth kisses to the side of her neck and shoulder.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you.."

One of his hands moved to slip inside her shorts, pushing past her cotton panties to start stroking gently at her little nub, eliciting soft moans and breaths to protrude from her lips.

"So let me show you princess just how much daddy missed you."

She let out a pleasured hum at having him call her that nickname that he reserved especially for these moments. With his hand buried in between her legs, he moved his fingers down further, slipping one of his long fingers into her entrance, probing around her walls as his kisses to her neck became more sloppy and hungry.

"You're already super wet. Did you miss me that much? Hmm? Did my little princess miss her daddy?"

She couldn't help but nod.

"Y-yes, I missed you so much daddy." She gasped when a second finger entered her, speedily thrusting in and out of her. She couldn't help but grind down onto his hand.

Yunho let out a groan.

"Do you like my fingers that much princess?" He cooed in her ear.

"Yes! Oh my God! I love your fingers so much!" She cried out.

Snorting softly, he used his free hand to trail up her neck before running his thumb across her bottom lip. Knowing exactly what he was hinting at, she obediently opened her mouth.

"That's it princess. Such a good girl. Suck on my fingers....fuck- yes, just like that."

She didn't protest as he slipped 3 of his fingers in her mouth, she just enveloped them inside her wet cavern and sucked on them as though they were one of the delicious candies he often brought her from some foreign country. She moaned around his fingers, as his other hand worked her closer to her incoming orgasm. Although she wanted to hold out a little longer, it had been far too long since she'd had something that wasn't her own fingers, or one of the many toys she'd been spoiled with, inside her pussy. And Yunho's touch was so addicting, always knowing exactly how to push her over the edge in such little time. He could feel it too, he knew she was ready to burst at any second.

"Cum...cum for me princess. You deserve it."

His fingers pushed deeper in her mouth, making her release a series of choked out moans as her hips shook, liquids pouring out of her and covering Yunho's hand in a sticky mess. Although his fingers stopped moving inside her, his thumb continued to rub at her clit, helping to ride her out of her orgasm, only stopping when she finally stopped moving her hips.

Pulling his fingers out of her soaked hole, he brought them up to his lips and shamelessly sucked off the secretions left on it.

"Still tasting as delicious as ever." He purred in her ear.

His immense hands suddenly turned her over, placing her on top of his thigh.

"Ride it baby. Put on a little show for me."

Although she was always shy about riding his thick thighs, she never refused him, knowing he was always gentle and helped her throughout it since she was still pretty new to it. Her hands grasped at his shoulders to help stabilize her as her hips began rutting against his clothed thighs. Her ruined underwear was now painfully clinging to her soaked pussy, only attaching itself more to her skin the more she grinded herself against her lover's body.

Yunho watched with hooded eyes as her head fell back, exposing more of her beautiful neck, eyes shut tight as she fucked herself on his thigh. His hands went over to grab at her ass cheeks, kneading her soft flesh in between his fingers, massaging them gently and guiding them to help her find the best pleasure possible.

"There you go baby, keep doing that. You're doing such a good job my darling. Look at you looking so pretty."

She couldn't control herself as she began riding his thigh with more intensity, loving all the praises being spilled out of his mouth just for her. Yunho knew it too, knew how much she loved to be dotted on in such a way by him.

"Yeah you like being called that? Like being daddy's good little girl? Cause that's what you are right?" He flexed his thigh, slightly rubbing more against her, a wet patch becoming visible on his trousers as she began soaking through her clothes.

"Yes! I'm your good girl daddy! Wanna be good just for you." She cried out as she began to frantically hump his thigh, another orgasm fast approaching her.

"You're such a good girl princess..just for me right? Be my good princess and cum again, can you do that again for me? Yes you can, go ahead."

His hands flew to grasp at her waist, holding her in place as her arms fell back onto the leather couch beneath her and held her body up as she came on top of him, her hips unable to ride her through her orgasm so Yunho continued rubbing his thigh in between her legs so her orgasm wouldn't be ruined. He loved watching her eyes shut tight, the corners spilling out a few droplets of tears as an overwhelming pleasure took her over countenance, leaving her breathless for a few seconds.

Once she recovered from that high, she opened her eyes to find Yunho staring at her with such ardent passion burning in his eyes. His lips flew up to kiss hers fervently, his body pushing her down onto the couch. His hands entangled themselves on hers and held them up above her head. She shivered when she felt his bulge rub against her inner thigh, making her excited at the thought of having it inside her once again.

"Such a pretty and beautiful baby. I know I say it a lot but I truly mean it."

Tilting her head to the side so it'd be easier for him to leave marks along the side of her neck, her smiled at the loving compliments he kept showering her with.

"You're such a sight to behold." He was practically growling as his mouth ravished at the tender skin of her neck, marking as he pleased, after all.....

She was all his and belonged to him and him only.

"My beautiful little princess."

Sitting up, he began ridding her of her shorts, her panties dragged along with them, tossed onto the floor. Yunho groaned at the sight of her glistening folds, looking plump and pink hued from the previous administrations he had placed on it.

"Fuck....I really need to be inside you.. ....

Right. Now."

She let out a squeal as he turned her to her side, laying down beside her in a spooning position. She giggled as she heard the sound of his belt being undone, followed by his trousers being pulled down to his thighs so he could take his cock out. Pumping himself a few times, he lined himself up against her entrance before pushing in, barely fitting the enormous head in.

"God princess! You're tighter than usual."

She bit down at her shirt sleeve in an effort to quiet down her whimpers as he slowly pushed more of his length in her.

"You ok? Want me to stop?" He rubbed her cheek in a soothing motion.

Shaking her head, she urged him to keep going.

"P-please...w-want daddy's monster cock inside my tiny pussy." She begged, her ass pressing back onto him to fit more of him in her.

Yunho hissed as he moved forward, finally fitting his entire length inside her warm and inviting walls.

"Fuck, you're practically squeezing the life out of me. I'm not sure you'll be able to take me."

Of course he was just taunting her at this moment, wanting to get her begging for him to fuck her as he wanted to.

"Yes I can!" She refuted his statement.

"Oh? But I don't think you can princess. I can barely move inside you. You're such a small and tiny doll compared to me.....I'm afraid I might break you." He teased her.

She whined, enjoying how he used his size against her.

"I'm small but I can take daddy's big cock. Please, break me, I can take it." She wiggled her ass to get her point across.

Getting the ok, Yunho began to slip in and out of her slowly, her walls stretching out to accommodate his length better. They both released a series of sinful sounds, both overjoyed at being connected once again after being separated for too long. Y/N's stinging in her core was replaced by ecstasy as Yunho began to speed up his thrusts, her body once again familiarizing itself with his size.

Yunho's hand that was resting on her hip moved to cup her lower abdomen, muttering curses as he felt the bulge protruding in her.

"Feel that my little doll? You're so small I can feel all of me move in and out of you."

She had tears trickling down her cheeks from the immense feeling his cock and words were giving her.

"Fuck! You're so tight little one! One might believe I don't fuck you enough." He giggled as he began nibbling at her earlobe.

Her breaths became more ragged and shaky as she approached her third orgasm of the day, walls clenching around Yunho. His hand that was on her abdomen, grabbed her own and placed it where his previously rested.

"Feel that princess? Feel me in you? Can you believe that it's really you taking me so well?"

She was releasing whimpered yelps at this point, hips snapping against her at a rough and deep pace, his gigantic length fucking her out of her mind.

"Daddy! I'm-I'm-"

His hands reached inside her shirt, groping at her soft breasts, fingers pinching at her nipples as he fucked her into another orgasm that had her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Feeling her spill in him made him desperate to chase his own release.

"Princess, gonna cum- wanna cum in you. Please tell me you've been going to the gynecologist like you're supposed to." He desperately pleaded at her, his thrusts getting more erratic, hair sticking to his forehead.

Y/N nodded furiously, affirming she had been getting her contraceptive injection specifically for this reason.

"Oh fuck! Fuck!"

Yunho grunted harshly as he spilled his cum all over her walls, making sure to fuck all of it in her. He panted softly as he tried to catch his breath, his partner next to him already worn out from that intense love session. Carefully he pulled out of her, smiling in an accomplished manner as he saw her hole be filled up with his sticky white substance.

"Beautiful." He whispered mostly to himself than anything.

Turning her over to lay on her back, he smiled down at her tired and sleepy figure. Leaning down, he began placing tiny kisses all over her face.

"I love you so much my little princess."

Too tired to even mutter out a sentence, she merely let out a tiny grumble which he giggled at.

"How cute. Come here princess. Daddy will take care of you."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, his hands lifted her up, legs wrapped around his waist as he began carrying her towards his bathroom to indulge her in a warm bubble bath to soothe her tired and sore body.

"You're so good to me Yunho..." She mumbled in his ear, her nose nuzzling against his neck, sending him into a flutter of soft panic.

"Well...you are daddy's princess after all."

⊱✿⊰─━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━─⊱✿⊰

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Fade

CW: Stab wound, descriptions of wound-packing and stitches, brief reference to child abuse, blood, passing out, talk of going into shock

Follow-up to Jake Being Stabbed

Everything smells like blood.

The smell of it is thick and sticks to the inside of his nose, coats his tongue with the memory of copper-salt-sweet, like when he lost a tooth as a kid by pulling it out, too impatient to wait. Every breath comes with an answering flush of agony radiating from the blurry handle he can see sticking out of his shoulder, he feels sick with pain down to his fingertips, out through his chest.

His heart beats in hammers, working too hard to keep pushing blood that doesn’t want to stay inside him.

His eyes are on the ceiling fan spinning lazily above his head. He needs to change those light bulbs, he thinks. Soon.

“Ne dvigaytes', Misha,” Antoni says, leaning over him, shaggy hair over distant dark brown eyes. Whatever Antoni sees, it’s far, far away from him. But his fingers move quickly, don’t press too hard. “Eto budet bol'no.”

Bol’no. Jake knows that one.

“H-hurt,” He repeats, eyebrows furrowing a little. The ceiling fan is starting to make him feel dizzy.

Or maybe that’s the blood loss.

“Hurt... p-painfully.”

“Da,” Antoni murmurs, emotionless, flat as the side of the knife, and Jake turns his head a little - oh, the world spins when he does that - and sees Antoni’s long fingers closing around the handle of the knife.

“Shit,” Jake whispers, realizing a half-second too late - or early, it doesn’t fucking matter, does it? - what Antoni is about to do. “Wait, Ant, don’t-”

“Nyet doktora, nyet bol’nitsy,” Antoni whispers. “Tol'ko brat'ya.”

“Oh, fuck, no.” Jake allows himself the whimper that escapes without his consent, he tells himself he allows it. His uninjured arm tenses as he closes his hand into a fist, closes his eyes, tries to shut out his knowledge. “Antoni, it’s gonna-... I’ll fucking b-bleed out-”

“Nyet,” Antoni mutters. “Etot byl slishkom napugan chtoby ubit' tebya, ya dumayu.” He pauses, and Jake cracks an eyelid to see Antoni holding out a cooking spoon, the handle horizontal in front of his face. “Bite down,” Antoni says in English, his accent heavier than Jake has ever heard.

But... he thinks... Chris has probably heard him speak like this.

He opens his mouth, obedient and terrified, and the wooden tastes odd against his tongue as he closes his teeth around it. 

“This will hurt,” Antoni says, and picks up the towel again, hovering it over the knife he is gripped tightly onto. “Very much. Bite down.”

He pulls the knife out of Jake’s shoulder in one smooth motion.

Jake’s back arches off the floor, his head jammed back against the tile, as he screams around the spoon, veins standing out in his throat. Antoni jams the towel against the wound in nearly the same second the knife exits and the sharp pain of the blade is replaced by the overwhelming throb of cloth being forced not on but in to the bloodied gash.

Jake keeps screaming, eyes wide open now, vision white and gray and sparking every color there is and several he’s pretty sure he can’t usually see, as Antoni packs the wound with careful, precise, efficient speed.

“At first I think it go through,” Antoni says, almost idly, as if this is nothing more than the average Saturday night for him. “But I see now is blood from front pooling on floor. A good sign. Tonight we fail. What if you leave fingerprints, hm? What then?”

Jake’s screams taper off into grunts, forcing air through his nose, his hand in a fist beating ineffectually against the floor just to have something to do. He’s going to black out. He’s going to black out. He’s going to-

“Yeshche raz, Misha.”

Antoni pushes the cloth viciously further into the wound and Jake’s world goes dark.

-

He swims up from darkness to pain he can’t understand, that his mind simply sets aside and refuses to acknowledge. His shoulder burns like it’s being slowly torn off of his body and he whines, eyes still closed, afraid of the light that turns the backs of his eyelids red. 

It was bound to happen eventually. 

He’d gotten worse and worse.

They didn’t leave in time.

They can go now, though. Right? This will be enough, right? He shudders as his arm is jostled a little, tears running from the corners of his eyes to soak into the short hair by his ears, run further, drip to mix with the blood on the floor below.

This has to be enough to be worth leaving for good this time, right?

“Mom-... fuck, Mom, y-you okay? Shit, shit, h-hurts, Mom, we gotta go, we gotta go-... he’s gonna kill you-”

“Sssshhhh,” She whispers, running her fingers through his hair. Her voice is deeper, but he knows who it is, then. Where he is. When he is. “It’s okay, Jake. I’ve got you. Dr. Masood is here. It’s okay.”

Jake’s eyes open and her brown hair swings around, in waves, she must’ve taken her braid out before someone called her. Nat smiles down at him, concern written in the way her eyes travel over his face, in the tightness of her jaw and the way the lines of her face stand out more than ever, etched in stone. 

“Nat-... h-he didn’t do it on p-purpose, he thought-”

“I know,” Nat says, softly. There’s a spike of pain and Jake turns his head to see the flash of light off a thin needle and unmistakable stiff black thread. He stares at it, barely able to comprehend what’s happening.

Dr. Masood doesn’t look at him. He is far to focused on stitching closed Jake’s shoulder. His own lips are a thin line, and there is nothing but determination in his dark eyes, in the swift motions of his hands, expert, unshaking. 

“Chris told me,” Nat says, running fingers through his hair again, reaching to gently turn his eyes back to her. “That, um, he said his name is Jameson... thought you were someone else. I don’t care about that right now. Just look at me, Jake. You’re not going to bleed out, I don’t think, but you sure gave us a fright.”

“All... all in a day’s work,” Jake says hoarsely, and Nat smiles for him, shaking her head slightly. He blinks a few times - the sharp pain of the stitches is... less present, somehow. Less insistent. He feels a little distant from it, drifting somewhere just beside his own body, not really inside it.

That’s probably not good.

“Where-... where’s... Chris, Ant, everybody-...” He trails off, unable to find the energy to keep asking.

“Chris is in your room with Kauri,” Nat answers, reaching over to take his good hand, right hand, his uninjured arm, closing her fingers around his. He can barely feel her grip. “Ant... I don’t know. I think in the bathroom upstairs. Everyone else is in their rooms.”

“Kauri.” Jake tries to move, and then groans and collapses back to the floor again. “Kauri, shit, he must’ve come back and seen-”

“Kauri called me,” Nat says quietly, evenly. Her voice is careful, not exactly emotionless but not shaking, either. There’s nothing but warmth and certainty there, and Jake lets himself rest in it. “He wasn’t making much sense, and I got here as fast as I could. Chris filled me in once I did. He was-... having some trouble, but he got the words out. Dr. Masood is going to get you sewn up and stabilized.”

“Antoni did excellent work packing the wound,” The doctor is murmuring to himself. “Quality work. Fresh clean cloth, not sterile but better than anything else in your average household... this is shockingly clean for a stab wound, the assailant missed major... everything, really, what absolute good fortune-”

“Dr. Masood?” Nat raises her eyes, and the doctor pauses in his meticulous work to look at her. “His fingers are cold.”

“Numb,” Jake corrects her in a mumble.

“What?” Dr. Masood’s eyes move to Jake, now, but there is no change in his expression of focused scrutiny. 

“M’fingers... numb. Can’t really feel Nat’s hand.”

“Hm.” Dr. Masood goes back to work. Jake thinks he’s working more quickly now. “Natalie, what is Jakob’s blood type?”

“Uh...”

“O positive,” Jake manages. He remembers having to know this for the hospital as a kid. “’M O positive.”

“Lucky you,” Dr. Masood says quietly, and then sits back on his heels, looking up at Nat. Looking at him to jake feels like looking through a campfire, everything wavy and woozy and strange. He feels drunk, and cold. And like he’s looking at himself from across the room. 

He tries to waggle his fingers in a wave. Hey, me.

Dr. Masood is frowning now. “Go to my car and bring in the cooler you find there. It’s not too large, it shouldn’t be hard to carry.”

Oh, the white around his eyes is back, pushing in on his vision, wiping it clean. White and gray and black and red.

What’s red and black and white all over-

“Fuck,” Jake whispers. “Chris is... gonna freak out.”

“Too late for that,” Nat says, matter-of-fact. “We can handle that later. Doctor Masood, why-”

“Jakob needs blood,” Dr. Masood says simply. “And I have been told there will be no visit to a hospital. I can provide some care here. Call your friend who does EMT work, they will be better at emergency stabilization than I am.”

“They might be busy-”

“Then tell them to stop being busy. Jakob Stanton needs blood.” Dr. Masood’s eyes are on Jake’s face again, and his lips thin even more. “I do believe he needs it right now.”

Jake stares back at the doctor’s wavy, shivering face until his vision fades to black.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @endless-whump

[meltingheartsandcores]

This is just something that came from a different story I’m writing, so, it’s just a one shot. And it’s not really editted (sorry). 

 This is A/B/O, with Omega wwx and Alpha lwj, but honestly it doesn’t really show up much, like it’s not a focal point of the story for the most part, it’s just kind of, there. There’s minor NieLan, and past wangxian with hopeful future wangxian (hopeful future IMO), and it’s modern non cultivation!

 Other than that, enjoy? And if you have questions feel free to hop into my inbox.

It had been years.

Five, to be exact.

Wei Wuxian wouldn't lie and say Lan Wangji never entered his mind, he did almost constantly. But he had long accepted he would never see the Alpha again. Lan Qiren had made it rather clear he was to never contact Lan Wangji again.

That hadn't been a pleasant conversation. Well. Argument.

For once Wei Wuxian was glad he was no longer in contact with the Jiangs, even if it wasn’t for long, he'd hate for them to have been involved. He's not entirely sure who's side Madam Yu would've been on, but he hoped she would've been on his. Although, if she was, he's not entirely confident Lan Qiren would still be walking around. Lan Qiren might be a hard ass, but he had nothing on Madam Yu.

He should write Nie Huaisang. See how the Jiang's are doing.

"Are you alright?"

Wei Wuxian blinks, brought back to the present, silently filing the idea to write Nie Huaisang for later, and looks up at Lan Xichen. Who he had just run into. Literally.

Wei Wuxian ignores the hand and stands on his own, "Perfectly. Just distracted. Sorry to bother you." Wei Wuxian says, nodding and turning, deciding he could get A-Yuan's candy later, after the milk. He had made it a few steps before Lan Xichen grabbed his arm. Wei Wuxian tenses, snapping around with a glare on his face before he registers that Lan Xichen isn't going to attack him. Not physically at least. So he lets the glare fall. "Sorry."

Lan Xichen drops his hand, "No, I should not have grabbed you. I apologize." An apology from a Lan. Maybe he died.

A-Yuan would be heartbroken. A-Yu probably doesn't know what Death is and probably wouldn't understand for a few years.

Lan Xichen was talking. Wei Wuxian should be listening, not thinking of his death. Lan Xichen smiles, as he normally does, "You were not listening."

"Sorry. My brain drifts, it pissed your uncle off to end, remember?" Wei Wuxian says, shrugging.

Lan Xichen nods, "Uncle seemed to anger easily around you, yes. I was wondering if you had the time, we could talk. Perhaps over tea?"

He can't ask for alcohol instead. For one, Lans don't drink. For two, he has to pick A-Yu and A-Yuan up in half an hour.

"I have a half hour, I guess we could finish up shopping and go to the Starbucks down the block." Lan Xichen's eyes tighten at the mention of Starbucks, which makes Wei Wuxian remember the heavily disturbed and deer-in-headlight look Lan Wangji had when Wei Wuxian dragged him there. Repeatedly.

Lan Wangji never seemed to get used to Starbucks.

None of the Lans seem to like it either.

Lan Xichen nods though, so Wei Wuxian does a U-turn to grab the candy he promised A-Yuan and then made a bee-line for the two other things he was missing. He loses Lan Xichen at some point, but when he gets to the check out, Lan Xichen is waiting by the door with a bag.

Wei Wuxian smiles at the Cashier, Mingyu, who seemed slightly concerned for him. But Wei Wuxian waves off the concern, even when Mingyu decides to ask, "Is he a friend or should I call security?"

Wei Wuxian considers this, Lan Xichen isn't a friend, but security isn't necessary. Wei Wuxian grins when he comes to a response, that's both honest and fun, "He's Daiyu's uncle." Wei Wuxian informs, finishing with his payment and taking his items. "See you in a week Mingyu!" Wei Wuxian calls as the other man is clearly trying to figure out how he hasn't met this uncle until now.

"A friend?" Lan Xichen asks as they walk down the road.

"Eh, more I'm a regular." Wei Wuxian shrugs. He only talks to Mingyu when he buys groceries. Not much other reason to talk to the teenager.

Especially since he tends to remind Wei Wuxian that, uh, he is only twenty-two.

That's not something he particularly likes to remember. Especially when he's on his way to pick up his kids. He looks older enough that none of the other parents comment on him being A-Yu and A-Yuan's brother, and none of them comment on the utter shame of having a child at seventeen. And presumably fourteen if A-Yuan was actually birthed from him. As he so often jokes, especially after A-Yuan learnt where babies came from.

A-Yuan thinks it's funny.

Wen Qing thinks it's stupid.

But it's meant to entertain the eight year old so it's not a problem.

"So you live around here." Lan Xichen comments, more to himself than to Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian has to mentally curse himself. For five years, no Lan has known where he lived. No one from that life knew where he was except Nie Huaisang. And for all he can be a coward, Wei Wuxian knows he wouldn't have given away his location to anyone.

But he just confirmed to Lan Xichen that he lived in this town.

Fuck.

"What're you doing here?" Wei Wuxian asks, opening the door for Lan Xichen and gesturing for the man to enter the Starbucks. Lan Xichen gives him a tight smile and enters, clearly not liking being inside the store.

Tough. Wei Wuxian doesn't want to be having this conversation, neither of them get to be comfortable. Wei Wuxian follows Lan Xichen in, walking up to the register and ordering a drink with a smile before turning to Lan Xichen for his order. Which he gives with a tense smile. The barista nods, repeats the order back and then Lan Xichen pays, because this was his idea and Wei Wuxian would much rather be at home right now.

They amble over to a table to wait for their drinks to be made. Well. Lan Xichen got his at the till since it was just a Green Tea, but they have to wait for Wei Wuxian's. Might as well get this chat over with.

"The Nie have a lakehouse a mile out of town." Oh right. Oh fuck. "Mingjue and I are having a little vacation." Lan Xichen says in response to his earlier question.

"And you came to get some groceries."

"Just a little. Mingjue will be back for the rest." Lan Xichen winces when he sips at his tea, clearly not liking it. He sets his cup aside, "You know, Huaisang seemed very against us going to this partical vacation house."

Oh for fucks sake. "Huaisang's specialty isn't subtly." Wei Wuxian says with a shrug, then stands and gets his drink when the barista calls out his name.

Lan Xichen waits for him to sit back down. "No, it isn't. Might I ask, why Huaisang knows where you are when no one else does?"

"I don't like the Jin. I don't want to burden the Jiang. The Lan want nothing to do with me." Wei Wuxian shrugs, "Nie Huaisang is the only friend I have left." Outside of the friends he now lives with. Wei Wuxian sips at his flat white.

Lan Xichen's brows twitch in a furrow before smoothing out, "What do you mean we want nothing to do with you.

Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow, "Was there a part of Lan Qiren's order that was unclear?"

Wei Wuxian's response only seems to confuse him further. "I believe, there has been some miscommunication." Lan Xichen suggests politely.

"Not really." Wei Wuxian refutes. "Lan Qiren told me to get the fuck out and never contact any of you again. Not much room for miscommunication."

"He said what?" Lan Xichen asks, sounding light and a little confused. But Wei Wuxian had spent enough time around Lan Wangji, and hence Lan Xichen since Lan Xichen was Lan Wangji's favoured company, to know he was getting very pissed off.

Huh.

Wei Wuxian shrugs, too little too late, in his opinion. It's been five years. "It was shortly after I left the Jiang, I went to stay with Lan- Wangji." Wei Wuxian catches himself before using the familiar address. Lan Xichen seemed to catch the slip up too. "Just for the night. The departure went a little more explosively than I meant for it to, I came to spend the night. Lan Qiren told me to leave and never return, that Lan Wangji wanted nothing more to do with me. Not to contact anyone in the family. Obviously I argued, but I had already argued with Madam Yu and Uncle Jiang that night, so, he won. I left. And then a week later he sent me two hundred thousand Yuan." That wasn't a pleasant night to remember. It wasn't a pleasant week. He found out he was pregnant, then the Wen shit happened, and he was moving across the country with Wen Ning and his family. Wei Wuxian shrugs again, drinking his flat white.

Lan Xichen's brow furrows slowly, and he shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Uncle told us nothing about this. All Wangji and I have known is that you left the Jiang and disappeared. Wangji certainly didn't say anything about not wanting your company anymore." Lan Xichen seemed offended at the very idea.

Oh.

Huh.

Lan Wangji doesn't hate him.

Oh fuck.

Lan Wangji doesn't hate him.

But he probably will. When he tells him about A-Yu.

Fuck.

"Is everything okay?" Lan Xichen asks, making clear that Wei Wuxian's panic is clear on his face.

"Um." Wei Wuxian swallows, twisting the paper cup in his hands, "In theory. If, uh, when I left, I had been uh," No. Nope. He can't think of a good way to say this. He checks the time. "Uh, do you have twenty minutes?"

"I'm supposed to meet with Mingjue in ten."

"Great. Uh. Meet me at the park with the giant octopus sculpture in fifteen, bring Da ge, I need to drop my groceries off at my house." Wei Wuxian doesn't wait for Lan Xichen to agree, picking up his groceries and hurrying out.

When he gets home, he dumps the groceries on the counter, giving Wen Qing a quick, "Lan Xichen's in town and he's metting A-Yu and A-Yuan, see you in fiften minutes. Thanks bye!" before running back out, not responding to her shout of 'what' that followed.

When he gets to the octopus sculpture, he doesn't have to wait long fo Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue to show up, thankfully. He bounces over to them, the nervous energy coursing through him a little too much to keep still. "Hi Dage."

"Wuxian." Nie Mingjue greets, as if Wei Wuxian hasn't been off the grid for five years and was still popping into his house every other weekend to do weird shit with Nie Huaisang.

Nice to know somethings don't change.

"What is it you wanted to show us?" Lan Xichen asks politely.

"Um, this way." Wei Wuxian takes them to the school, which was only a few minutes away.

"A school." Nie Mingjue deadpans.

Wei Wuxian looks at the other parents waiting, a few of them looking back at the group with furrowed brows. One of the mothers makes a very harsh 'come here' gesture, so Wei Wuxian turns to Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, "Uh, I'll be right back. Don't move." He was clearly confusing the pair, but they nod so he rushes off to Mrs. Yang.

"Is that Daiyu's father? Other father?" Mrs. Yang demands, almost glaring at Lan Xichen.

"It's his older brother." Wei Wuxian corrects with a tight smile. "Please don't go yell at him."

"Oh, his family decides it's okay for you to raise a child for five years on your own, and I shouldn't yell?" Mrs. Yang demands, already gearing up to go.

"Uh, I'm, about to tell him Daiyu exists."

Mrs. Yang blinks, clearly taken aback. "Wei Wuxian." Wei Wuxian flinches at her tone, oh no. He's in trouble. "Did you not tell the Alpha family you were pregnant?"

"In my defence," because he needed one if he wanted to survive, "their uncle had already told me their family wanted nothing to do with me before he found out I had gotten pregnant. I don't think that opinion would've been changed in my favour. Given we were seventeen, and unmated."

Mrs. Yang hmphs, but nods. "Fine. But if he seems anything less than overjoyed, I'll be having words."

"Yes Mrs. Yang. Thank you." Wei Wuxian says, nodding. He meant it. Mrs. Yang was one of the more supportive parents. Like Granny Wen she had more or less started treating him like family.

It probably helped that her eldest was only two years younger than Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian smiles and then hurries back to Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue as the elder grades started to be let out.

"I'm sorry, do you babysit?" Lan Xichen asks, clearly very confused. Nie Mingjue doesn't seem to be much better.

"Uh. Sometimes." Wei Wuxian shrugs, "Not today." His answer only served further confusion, but he wasn't paying much attention to the pair. Instead to his incoming missile.

"Xian-gege!" Wen Yuan yells, and Wei Wuxian picks up the eight-year old as the boy had launched himself at Wei Wuxian.

"A-Yuan! My, I think you've grown!"

Wen Yuan pouts, "You saw me this morning gege! I haven't grown at all!"

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, "Hmm, nope! You've grown a full inch! I know it."

"No! A-Yuan hasn't grown at all!" Wen Yuan counters, pouting more deeply. Ah, not in the mood to be teased today. Okay.

"Ah, ah yes. A-Yuan is correct." Wei Wuxian agrees, and puts A-Yuan down. "A-Yuan, this is Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue. They're old friends." Wei Wuxian introduces.

Wen Yuan was half through a bored wave when he actually looked at Nie Mingjue and his eyes utterly lit up. "You're so tall!"

Nie Mingjue barely blinked, very used to this reaction, but he seemed delighted at A-Yuan's very prescence. "Yes." Seeing as A-Yuan was practically vibrating, Wei Wuxian gently encourages him, and really that was all that was necessary before A-Yuan was attached to Nie Mingjue's leg and asking a million questions a minute.

Nie Mingjue seemed amused, and politely answered every question he caught.

With A-Yuan distracted, Wei Wuxian looks around the schoolyard for his other charge. Normally Daiyu would be attached to his leg by now. He finally spots her hiding by a tree, or, behind a tree. Her eyes widen when they meet his, and he waves her over. She hesitates, but eventually decides to come over. She walks, and then runs the last little bit, entirely hiding behind Wei Wuxian's legs, peeking a little to look at Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue.

Lan Xichen had frozen.

As expected, given Daiyu's golden eyes.

"Daiyu, this is Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen is your Bobo." Daiyu seemed very doubtful of that, making almost the exact same expression Lan Wangji did when Wei Wuxian had tried to convince him necromancy was a perfectly viable career path. Wei Wuxian would like to be offended. "I'm telling the truth."

"I thought Baba's family didn't want anything to do with us." Daiyu counters, doubt clear.

Ai. Who told her that? They didn't but still. "Who told you that?"

"Qing-jie."

...Ok. Wei Wuxian wasn't going to yell at Wen Qing for telling Daiyu that. Even if he wanted to. He was going to call her a liar.

"Well, she's wrong." Wei Wuxian crouches, turning to pick Daiyu up before standing straight. "It's complicated, and something I'll talk to you about in private. But Lan Xichen hasn't been able to be around until now."

Daiyu narrows her eyes but shrugs, "Fine." She didn't sound fine. But Wei Wuxian was not about to argue with a five year old. Not in public.

"Ok. Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, this is Wei Daiyu."

"Hi."

"Hello."

Daiyu looks at Wei Wuxian before responding, "Hello."

Well. This was awkward. And Lan Xichen looked like he was about to faint. "Why don't we go to the park?" A-Yuan seemed all for that idea. A-Yu looked like she'd rather not but when Wei Wuxian put her down she ran with A-Yuan toward the park. Wei Wuxian lead the adults in following after them.

While the kids played at the Octopus park, Wei Wuxian and Lan Xichen sat down at a bench, as Wen Yuan had dragged Nie Mingjue into their game.

"You were pregnant."

Wei Wuxian nods. "Lan Qiren didn't know. I, didn't know, until a week after that argument." Wei Wuxian shrugs, "I took Lan Qiren's words to heart, and didn't contact Lan Zhan about her."

"But you told Huaisang." Lan Xichen states.

Wei Wuxian blinks, "Huaisang doesn't know. I only talk to Huaisang for updates on the Jiang." And other things, but, mostly the Jiang. Once or twice Lan Wangji, but not all that often. He probably wouldn't take it well if Nie Huaisang sent back that Lan Wangji had gotten married.

"You, didn't tell anyone?"

"Nope. You're the first person outside of this town that knows." Wei Wuxian shrugs, and Lan Xichen just, stops. Wei Wuxian worries he's broken him, but soon enough Lan Xichen shakes his head.

"I can't- Apologies, this is a lot to process."

"How do you think Lan Zhan will react?" He's expecting anger. That's what some of the other omegan parents tell him to expect, whenever he considers sending Lan Wangji a message about Daiyu. No Alpha ever takes a pup being kept from them well. That's what they always say.

Lan Xichen's eyes widen, then he winces slightly, "I imagine, you are the not the one to worry about Wangji's reaction." Eh? "I'm sure he'll be happy. Saddened to have missed her first few years, but happy none the less."

Wei Wuxian opens and closes his mouth, trying to figure how to phrase his question before giving up and just asking, "Is he with anyone?"

Lan Xichen blinks and turns to look at Wei Wuxian, confused for a moment before understand dawns and he shakes his head slightly, "No. Uncle has tried for arrangements, but Wangji refuses them all. but I'm certain if you contact him, he'll be happy to see you." (Lan Xichen does not mention that he's rather confident Lan Wangji will immediately run to Wei Wuxian's side and help in raising Daiyu if Wei Wuxian even hints that that is what he wants. That seems a little much for right now.)

Wei Wuxian nods, not entirely believing that, but not willing to argue. "Now I just have to get Daiyu to come around." He did not expect his daughter to be the stickler here. Then again, Wen Qing had made her opinion on Lan Qiren years ago and wasn't quiet about it.

"She's aware of what Uncle said?" Lan Xichen asks.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, "Uh, my friend, Wen Qing, yeah, that Wen Qing, I'm living with her family, long story, anyways, Wen Qing knows, and she holds very unfavourable opinions about it and she's not quiet about them. So, even if Daiyu doesn't know the full story, Wen Qing has given her enough to go on that she's formed her own, unfavourable opinion." Wei Wuxian shrugs, he couldn't really argue against it. Up until half an hour ago, he was rather confident the Lan's hated him and wanted nothing to do with him.

Now he has to explain a five year misunderstanding to his daughter.

Fun.

“I have to tell Wangji what you just told me.” Lan Xichen states, clearly not looking forward to that conversation.

Wei Wuxian shrugs, “It’s Lan Zhan, he’ll make a displeased face and not talk for a week.” It wasn’t that big of deal. Lan Wangji doesn’t do grudges, not really. At least, he didn’t five years ago.

Lan Xichen’s face was pure pity, which Wei Wuxian didn’t understand but it was gone before Wei Wuxian could formulate a question. “Do you want us around or shall we leave you alone?”

Oh. Wei Wuxian hadn’t considered that. “Um, maybe leave us alone for tomorrow? I guess I can give you my number and, if A-Yu is agreeable you guys can hang around. If it won’t mess up your vacation.” Because, who wants to spend their vacation with their little brother’s ex and daughter?

“That would be wonderful.” Lan Xichen says, pulling out his own phone and letting Wei Wuxian type in his number. Wei Wuxian then texts himself so he’d have the number on his phone too. “We should be getting back, I believe Mingjue wanted to stop by the butcher and they close at five.”

“Yes, they do. Because he needs to eat supper and spend time with his kids.” He kne Changpu, he was nice. Stodgy, but nice.

Lan Xichen nods and stands up, walking over to the playing trio and speaking quietly to Mingjue, he bids goodbye to the children, before the pair start walking away, they wave goodbye to Wei Wuxian, which he returns, and then they disappear.

Then, Daiyu runs up to him, “A-Niang, does that mean A-Die doesn’t hate us? Will he come live with us? Will we see Xi-bo a lot? Are they going to live with us? Like Granny and Uncle Four?”

Fuck.

Upon returning to the cabin, Lan Xichen’s day wasn’t going any better. Nie Mingjue was cooking supper, so Lan Xichen was alone with the decision to call Lan Wangji about Wei Wuxian. Obviously, he would. How much to say though?

Wangji, as it turns out, would make that decision for him.

After exchanging greetings, Lan Xichen barely got out, “So I ran into Wei Wuxian today in the city near where Mingjue and I are vacationing.” Before the call was dropped. Lan Xichen blinked, staring at his phone where it said ‘Call Ended’, meaning Wangji hung up on him. Lan Wangji hung up without a word. Without letting Lan Xichen finish. He was never so rude. He normally at least made a sound to indicate a goodbye. Nie Mingjue laughed at him when Lan Xichen explained why he was so flabbergasted.

Lan Wangji showed up the next morning.

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

In honor of wee Faithie’s birthday...

I’m reposting an excerpt from chapter 6 of my fic The Best by Far is You when it’s Faith Fraser’s first birthday. Sweet bb angel deserved the whole world so here’s some happy headcanons to cope :) 

A soft thump landed on Jamie’s chest and woke him suddenly from his sleep. He breathed in sharply and raised his head, taking in the sight of a half-awake Faith before him. Her hard head was resting on his chest and her little feet were digging into the mattress to try and propel herself further onto him, leaving her diapered rump wagging in the air. She did all this with her eyes screwed shut against the morning light and her head trying to burrow into him. 

“What are ye trying to do, wee lass?” He laughed. Faith grunted and squirmed, trying to get comfortable. Upset that she even had to be awake and trying her damndest to rectify that, it seemed. “Ye dinna like mornings much, do ye?” Jamie helped scoot the baby up so that she was draped over him. She let out a big yawn and looked to be almost asleep already. “Just like yer mam.” 

His gaze flicked over to his wife and found his comment had gone unnoticed by her. If any two souls ever loved an unhurried morning to sleep as late as they liked, they were his lasses. But while the baby was working at falling back to sleep, Jamie had been woken in the process. It wasn’t as easy for him to drift back to sleep once the sun was up and the day could begin. It also wasn’t the first time Faith had done this since she had become too mobile to be left in her wee crib. They only needed to see Faith pull herself up and flip herself out and over the shallow wall of her cradle one time before they decided to bring her into their bed at night ‒ a decision they knew was safest, but had thus far taken some adjusting to.

But this day was special and the weight of the baby keeping him in bed was exactly how he would have this morning go. 

Jamie sat up slowly, scooching back against the headboard. He cradled Faith against him and shifted her head up onto his shoulder once he was upright. He felt her sleepy huff against his skin. His precious, wee bairn. His and Claire’s.  

His hand still cradled the back of Faith’s head and the other helped steady her fidgety body as her legs kicked and wiggled for a moment longer. At last, she settled in against him and he turned his face into her little head where it rested on his shoulder and kissed her hair. 

“Tha gaol agam ort, a chuisle.” He kissed her hair again, unable to help himself. She was warm and snug against him. “I do love you. Happy birthday, my wee lass. I canna believe‒” He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat as he was confronted with memories of this day last year. The day he believed he had lost Claire and their baby. 

But the baby in his arms was very much alive, against all odds. And though he’d had a late start in being a part of Faith’s life, he had never let a day pass since then without telling her every morning that he loved her, and praying protection over her sleeping form every night. And he dedicated his time in between just trying to be worthy enough for the life he’d been given with Claire and the family they were building together. He didn’t often allow his mind to drift to those first three months for the sake of the dark memories that haunted that time for him. But with his child’s birthday came a natural desire to reflect and look back.

“No, I truly canna believe you’re still here some days. Ye’re a strong wee thing, that’s for sure.” He rubbed her back in slow circles, feeling the baby go completely lax with sleep. “I’ll never forget the first time I held you. Ye were the smallest bairn I’d ever seen. So delicate and pale. I was so scared of losing you still, even though you’d survived that long already. Ye broke my heart open wi’ how much I loved you, a leannan.” 

He became aware of Claire’s waking presence before her hand reached out blindly for him, her head still buried in her pillow. She caught his thigh and, not expecting that to be level with her, lifted her head to squint at him in the morning light. He watched her take in the sight of him and Faith, and caught her sleepy smile before her head dropped back to the pillow. His hand left the baby in favor of brushing aside the wild curls that had fallen over Claire’s face and obscured her from him. She hummed at his touch and he smiled widely, though neither of his lasses noticed. His touch lingered on Claire, tracing the slope of her cheek until she abruptly captured his hand with her eyes still closed and brought it to her lips for a kiss. 

He couldn’t reflect on the beauty of Faith’s life without the immediate swell of gratitude for Claire. She had changed his life so completely and set it on a path he never dared to dream of. 

“Good morning, my beautiful wife.” 

He was rewarded with another sleepy smile from Claire as she stretched like a cat and propped herself up on one elbow. 

“What does that look mean, Sassenach?” 

She startled slightly as he called her out and she scooched closer so she could join them. Her arm slung around his waist just below Faith’s little feet and her head came to rest on his shoulder. “I was remembering that first night you came home and waking up to find you sitting up like this with Faith asleep on your chest.” She turned her face into his shoulder, as she had done that night as well, and kissed him there softly. 

“She was frightfully small then.” 

“Yes, she was,” Claire agreed. She reached out and covered his hand with her own, both of them now resting on Faith’s back. Jamie let out a sigh as something eased in his chest. He pressed a kiss to Claire’s temple and then met her gaze when she tilted her face up to him. They didn’t speak further on the subject. They didn’t need to. The fear and the gratitude and the absolutely overwhelming love for Faith that Jamie felt was echoed in his wife’s eyes. They’d almost lost Faith once and there wasn’t a day of her sweet life that they didn’t feel exceedingly grateful to still have her with them. 

Perhaps it was the sound of both parents’ voices that woke Faith from her brief sleep. After a moment, Jamie and Claire, with their palms still resting on her back, felt her breathe in deeply and then let the air out in a long, slow sigh. Her head popped up from Jamie’s shoulder, one hand rubbing furiously at one still-closed eye. 

“Well, good morning.” Claire’s voice had a soft lilt to it, and Jamie tore his eyes away from the baby to see the radiant smile on her face. “Happy birthday, my darling girl.” 

 She leaned over Jamie and kissed Faith’s round cheek, still flushed from sleep. Jamie felt his breath snag at the sight. It didn’t matter that it was a moment he’d been privileged to see a million times over; he never loved anything more than bearing witness to the bond between Claire and the child they’d created together, the living testament of their love. 

Faith leaned sideways, chasing after Claire with her lips almost in a pout and her face tilted up expectantly.

“Ye want tae give a kiss, a leannan?” Jamie asked softly. 

Claire pressed a kiss to Faith’s pouty mouth, coming away with a bright smile. “What about for Da? Does he get a kiss, too?” 

Faith turned immediately to Jamie at that suggestion and jutted her lower lip out in the only way she had sorted out how to give a kiss. He obliged that sweet, upturned face with a kiss and then ducked his head to mockingly nibble at her neck. She let out a burst of giggles and squirmed away, her shoulder pressed up to her ear in reflex.         

“You love your da, don’t you?” Claire gently stroked Faith’s cheek.

Jamie felt his heart fit to burst at his wife’s words and Faith’s bright-eyed gaze back at him at the mention of “da”. It was the strangest, most wonderful feeling ‒ to love this child with everything that he had and to then realize, as she grew, that she loved him, too.    

“Ah Dhia,” he murmured reverently. “Ye dinna ken how much I love you, M'annsachd.”

[Read the whole chapter on ao3]

[pochiperpe90]

Points of view – The Interview: Luca Marinelli

How do you approach your characters. 

Sometimes I also wonder how I get to the character. For “Non essere cattivo”, I had a very detailed script and a fascinating director at my disposal, so I didn't struggle to relate. It was a very brave script for the way it dealt with reality. At first my auditions went in the direction of Vittorio's character but also knowing the figure of Cesare, more than once I thought I would like to play him. I saw the auditions of others and I stopped to think how I could have done Cesare. Then at a certain point I remember that Claudio looked at Valerio and told him that it would be better to reverse the roles, to let me try Cesare, and so it went. When I read the script of “Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot”, the first thing that struck me, besides the courageous imagination, was to understand how a film of this kind could be made. 

In the first part of your career, you brought an image of introverted and staid youth to the screen. Was this a choice. 

Absolutely not. Or rather yes, it was the choice of those who met me first. Perhaps a part of my personality has been seen that could best marry the characters in question. It happened both in “La solitudine dei numeri primi” by Saverio Costanzo and later with Virzì in "Tutti i santi giorni", then it can be said that with Casare of “Non essere cattivo” and the Zingaro of “Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot” I was allowed to turn things around slightly, to play a character who had a disposition and behavior that was completely the opposite of what I had faced previously. 

What do you remember about your debut with Saverio Costanzo. 

He was my initiation into cinema, I came from the Academy and I had no idea what it was like to work on a set. The best memory, in addition to the experience of the film with him and Alba, is the first meeting, the first audition, where I really understood that I strongly wanted to work with him and that if this had happened I would have ended up in the hands of a great author. 

With that film you found yourself in the main competition of the Venice Film Festival. What memories do you have of that first time at the lido. 

Of a huge confusion and a big headache. We were tossed around from one interview to another and not only that, because the worst thing was always answering the same questions, and I was terribly worried not to make the situation even more boring for the machine operator, who never changed, and I don't think could take it longer to hear the same phrases over and over. Fortunately, Alba was there as well and saved me in more than one interview. The experience helped me because the following times I knew slightly more what I was going through and how to manage situations and keep stress at bay. Or maybe not yet, it's a long way. 

I noticed that when you talk about your job you do it using the verb “to play” (giocare). Is it a coincidence or the choice has a precise meaning. 

Perhaps it’s not a coincidence that in English the term recite is said precisely in this way because in my opinion to play, or the French jouez, represents the feeling of freedom and fun that is inherent in the job I do, better. As far as I'm concerned, the moment of the take is when the actor has to stop thinking, abandon worries, to be able to bring out the energy of his character. He has to play with the same seriousness and commitment with which a child does. I remember a piece of advice from Carlo Cecchi on the fact that in acting counts listening and the here and now. Being actively present to oneself and to others at that exact moment.

You have a method for achieving this condition. 

If someone asked me something about technique, I wouldn't know what to answer, apart from listening. On the set of Andrea Molaioli's film in which I am the father of the young protagonist, the actor who plays him, Ludovico, who is really good, full of talent and very smart, once asked me what was the technique to make the best of the character, and the only thing I felt able to advise him was to try to be present in that moment and then to let go, listen and not think about the rest. 

But I imagine that there are also practical aspects in the preparation that precedes the start of filming. 

As for me, I try to prepare as much as I can before arriving on set because at the start of the shoot it would be good to be ready. But not everything happens automatically, in the sense that you can’t always find the character immediately. However, I have always been lucky enough to have more or less long periods of rehearsal before starting a film. I remember this moment with Saverio and Alba, where we spent weeks among us and also with the kids who would have played us as children, to try the various scenes and to create a union and harmony between the characters. The same happened with Paolo Virzì, Thony and I, more than once we gather, facing the script, to clarify all the passages and moments of the scenes. 

And how did things go with Claudio Caligari. 

The same thing also happened with Claudio even though the illness made everything more complicated for him. He asked us to change our bodies, to participate in the auditions of the other actors. This allowed all of us, the cast, to integrate and develop a unity of purpose and a truly rare familiarity. So in front of the camera it seemed to me that the gang, to which Cesare and Vittorio belonged, was really part of my life, that it wasn’t hard to pass from Luca to Cesare, because I had found him. And always to identify with the environment of the story, I preferred a house in Ostia, and Alessandro often came to me from Rome to spend time between the two of us. Claudio, in addition to having reading meetings together, also showed us films that were a source of inspiration for him for this film, such as “Accattone” by Pier Paolo Pasolini, “Rocco e i suoi fratelli” by Luchino Visconti and “Mean Sreet” by Martin Scorsese.

Instead, I wanted to ask you what happens between takes, for example when you come home after a day of work. You stay inside the character as it happens to Daniel Day Lewis, or you put it aside and think of something else like Marcello Mastroianni did. 

I try to disconnect from the set. I try. I go home and try to do something else, but the last thought before falling asleep always goes to the next day's work plan and I leave myself a few minutes for the memory and concentration useful for tomorrow and then I close my eyes.  

We asked Roberta Mattei and we ask you too. During the processing you were aware of the exceptional nature of what you were doing. 

Yes. Let me explain: I saw with my own eyes that what was happening was exceptional, a man who was dying wanted to give his latest work to the public, to his audience, to his people, to people. This has no equal for me. Don't think about yourself in such a situation but about others.

Then it was the turn of Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. 

I shot Jeeg Robot in March 2014, and therefore before “Non essere cattivo”. The fact that Mainetti's film is only coming out now is due to the long post-production period necessary to assemble the shot with the special effects present in the film. 

Here as well it was an interpretation and a character who completely overturns the transparent and pristine image of the first part of your career. 

To make Jeeg Robot we had to convince each other, Gabriele Mainetti and I, about my success in the character. I pushed him towards a theatricality and Gabriele towards a real madness, a pure pain. In the end, I think we have found the right amount. 

The construction of the Zingaro was already very clear in the writing and it was up to us, however, to find its true aspect. 

Guiding him is this crazy and boundless ego, and the obsession with having to leave a mark. The Zingaro's eccentricity is partly reflected in his look, halfway between a rock star and a suburban bully. For the costumes and make-up we were inspired by the great rock icons. We dared in some choices, such as the black coat with pink leopard lining that characterize the wardrobe. For the aspects related to the way of performing, his model was Anna Oxa and in particular the video of her at Sanremo, when she sings “Un’emozione da poco”. 

In part you have already answered, but I wanted to know how you choose to accept the proposals that are made to you and if you have any foreclosures towards television, or more generally towards commercial cinema. 

I choose the proposals on the basis of love at first sight that must happen with the film, with its screenplay. Then figure out who will be leading the film, meet the director. I don't have any kind of foreclosure, let's say that if I don't like something I don't do it and if I like it I do. And it doesn't matter if it's cinema or television. 

As a spectator what is the cinema you love. 

I like films that have something to say and that I also choose based on who directed and starred in it. Usually when they ask me to name some titles I have a void. Think that the same thing happened to me also during the audition to enter the experimental center, when Lina Wertmuller asked me the title of a film I had seen recently. I was struck by a cosmic void and instead of naming her an authoritative and important film I left her stunned by citing Batman, I think Nolan's first, still a good film, but I still had Wertmuller in front of me... But to go back to what you asked me, I tell you that in general I always like to watch films that come from Sundance, of which I remember, for example “Like Crazy”, which I found disarmingly beautiful, the films of P.T. Anderson, Wes Anderson, the Cohen, there are many, and among the Italians those played by Alba Rohrwacher, Valerio Mastandrea, Elio Germano, Kim Rossi Stuart and directed by Alice Rohrwacher, Costanzo, Virzì, Sorrentino, Garrone, Salvatores. Without forgetting those of the great Joaquin Phoenix. But in reality I look at everything, let's say that I try not to lose anything of these. 

Despite the certificates of esteem you have received for your performances, the impression is that of an understatement that almost seems not to be aware of what you have achieved so far as an actor. 

Whenever I see a film of mine I always think there is something I could have done better. But basically I'm happy with what I've done so far. Having said that, I think that the films alone should be enough to explain everything and that the interviews don’t add anything new to what there was to say before making them. But when I am in the dance, when I need to promote, I am committed to doing it in the best possible way. I strongly think that in life and at work it’s important to demonstrate that you know how to do and not to show at all costs that you do.

DREAMINGCINEMA

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)

[zaddyzemo]

helmut zemo x reader x heinrich zemo

⚔

cw: power imbalance, sexist language, abusive behavior, emotional manipulation, dub-con, attempted impreg

summary: your loyalty to the House of Zemo is tested when the 12th baron travels through decades to aid his son in restoring their legacy and carrying on the bloodline

author's note: for more context, check out this Avengers: Ultron Revolution clip and the two pre-serum Helmut Zemo x Reader drabbles written in that universe

as an octogenarian, Helmut Zemo is now older than his father ever was. however, watching Heinrich remove his purple cowl for you to assess the damage done by Captain Roger's fist to his face, he saw that thanks to the Super Soldier serum and time displacement, the two of them were physically the same age. "the swelling should go away by morning, sir," you smile at the face you've become familiar with through faded photos and the genes his son inherited from his side. "there is no damage to your cranium." Heinrich hissed when you touched up his stitches. "if it weren't for Zemo 2099, a little bruise would've been the least of my worries."

he wasn't talking to you, however, and he hadn't been since Helmut had brought him back to his now old castle along with the cyborg Zemo 2099. he ignored you in favor of berating his son, and you hadn't seen the baron look this humbled before. his mask was still on his hanging head and you suspected he kept it on to hide his pained expression. "I am grateful for his assistance in our battle against the Avengers. and for keeping you safe, Vater."

"his assistance? he practically fought every single one of them off on his own while you stood there like the weak link you are." Heinrich pushed you aside so that he can properly yell in Helmut's face all the insults your master would've plunged his sword through the one speaking them, but he didn't dare move a hand against his father. standing perfectly still and silent, he was falling back into the role of the perfect soldier since he failed at being a good son. he only shifted when the man screamed "the only reason you're still standing here is that you're my true heir's great grandfather."

the thirteenth baron was nobody's great grandfather. truth be told, he was nobody's father. in eighty years, there's been no shortage of women between his satin sheets and there's been more than a few men. however, there's never been a baroness. so preoccupied recreating his father, Heinrich Zemo's work and restoring their legacy he was that he ironically didn't spend a single second on producing an heir. you suspected that he didn't wish to subject his supposed brood with the same trauma he went through. he's always had a soft spot for children and you only found out once he took you in that the orphanage you grew up in was one of his many estates. he grew up an orphan himself, but he's always had his blue blood to help him gain access to all the resources he needed. as far as he was concerned, every child in every orphanage he ever built was his heir.

however, Henrich Zemo didn't see it that way. he saw his son flinch at the mention of offsprings and figured out that he doesn't have a grandchild in this timeline. "you've not produced an heir?" when Helmut couldn't meet his eyes and the shame in them was visible through the mask, Heinrich raised his voice again. "YOU HAVEN'T EVEN GIVEN ME AN HEIR? HOW IS THE HOUSE OF ZEMO SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE WITHOUT AN HEIR?"

"Vater-"

"did you try and fail as you do in everything? did you not even try?"

"Please, Vater-"

"what about das mädchen?" he pointed you out as you were packing the medical supplies. "did you not sire a child by her? i'd even name a bastard born from a bed wench my heir if it meant the Zemo name will survive until 2099."

"she is not a bed wench, she is my apprentice-"

his attempts at protecting your honor were weak and so was his voice. as powerful and proud of a man he was around his allies and even enemies, he was pathetic in front of his parent. he was silenced with nothing but a slap.

"how you survived all these decades without me I do not know and, truth be told, I do not care to know." Heinrich Zemo watched his son straighten his crown on his head and his mask on his face. he was not just disappointed, he was downright disgusted. "if it weren't for my title, my fortune, and my Super Soldier serum, the house of Zemo would've died with me."

"with all due respect, baron," you snapped, smoothening the bed sheets where he sat earlier. "your son has sacrificed everything for the survival of the Zemo name. if it weren't for him, you wouldn't be here in the first place."

he looked at you as if you were a stain on his boot. "how dare you speak to me that way? Helmut, how dare you let her speak to me that way?"

"you are dismissed, mein fräuline."

"even if she were a lady, she should know not to speak unless spoken to."

that was when Heinrich Zemo acknowledged you. and approached you. his eyes he had passed on to Helmut, but you've never seen them look down on you as if you were the dirt under his sole before.

"I'll see to it that she never speaks to you that way again, Vater," Helmut made one last attempt at deescalating the situation, but he already had you backed against the bed. his old bed. "she will be punished for her insolence."

"yes, she will." Heinrich raised his hand up in the air and struck you across the face with the back of it. "she will learn her place in my palace." the lesson seemed to be going well as you were too shocked to say a word and your master was practically mute where he stood frozen in place. the sting of the slap didn't hurt nearly as much as the shame. "she belongs beneath us." he grabbed you by the jaw and forced you to face him again. "and she will not speak over us. do you hear me, madchen? you are never to speak unless spoken to. is that clear or are your little peasant ears so dirty and clogged that you haven't heard a word I said?"

you tried looking back at your master, the thirteenth baron, but the twelfth wouldn't let you. he squeezed down on your jaw. "yes, sir."

"now was that so hard?" he loosened his grip and stroked the handprint he left on your cheeks and the tears that fell on top. you nodded instead of opening your mouth again. "of course not. you were born to obey, mein kleines lamm. and i was born to lead you lest you wander astray. no harm will ever come to you as long as you do as you are told. you will be safe, as long as you serve the house of Zemo. have I make myself understood or should i speak plainly so that you can follow along?"

"I've read all the books in the castle library, sir, including your journals. I can follow along with your words just fine."

when you saw him smile for the first time, you recognized it as Helmut Zemo's lips stretched across a row of carnivorous teeth. they were lions who've developed an appetite for lowly little lambs like you. "she's a mouthy one, isn't she? clever, too." father then turned to look at his son as he pushed the hair off of your shoulders and exposed your cleavage. "I see why you'd keep her close and even let her wear your own mother's clothes." then, he yanked your hair back and twisted it along with the rest of your body. when your back was against his chest, he came close to your ear and caught it between his canines. "you're lucky us Zemo men have a weakness for reckless women. you're always asking for it and we're always willing to set you straight."

"Vater, what are you-" Helmut found his voice, but he had yet to find the strength to step in between you and Heinrich.

"if you won't make a baroness out of this peasant girl, then I will." he licked the bitemark and buried you face-first into the bed covers. "my lineage will not end with you," he held your head down while lifting your skirts. "if you are too weak to sire an heir, then I'll do it myself."

you struggled, but he was too strong. his hands on you had a powerful grip as they parted your legs and ripped your underwear on the furst try. his hands also awakened the same ardor his son's did whenever he touched you. you were burning with shame and need in equal measure.

"you've kept a young, clean and ripe little cunt in my castle for years and you didn't even once consider it," Heinrich placed his pelvis between your thighs which were trembling in fear and anticipation. one of his fingers, his thumb, traced the lips and the leakage they were covered in. he did this several times, testing you. "look at this, Helmut. she's already wet and ready to receive me. she was made for this," he sinks his finger in and your cunt closes its warm and wet wall around it. "look at how she swallowed me whole. she was made to carry my royal brood," he chuckled, ecstatic to be so enthusiastically enveloped by you. "as lowly as you are, I'll turn you into the lady this fool never could, little lamb," he addressed you, but his words were meant to provoke his supposedly foolish son. still, you moaned into the mattress and even moved against his thumb, your body ready to be bred just like he said.

you almost missed the sound of Helmut hitting his father across his already bruised face, you were that preoccupied with whining pathetically at the loss of the feeling if being penetrated. all of a sudden, you were flipped over, your spime sinking into the mattress as your master - your true master - looked down at you with a bare face and a lustful gaze.

you sucked in air, breathless from Heinrich's ministrations and Helmut's manhandling. you didn't dare fight him ripping open your corset. finally, you could breathe snd he could behold your heaving breast which he marked as his with his teeth every night.

"I never impregnated her because I didn't want to, not because I couldn't," he looked back where his father lay on the floor. "i watched her grow under my own eyes, under a microscope, and I am very much aware of her fertile womb, father. and it is mine to turn into a bed wench, servant, assistant and even the mother of the next generation of Zemos, if I so desire." his large hands grabbed you under your knees and spreading you wide enough for him to slot himself between your legs. "she is mine."

"finally," Heinrich found his voice and his footing again as he stood up. "a show of strength," he watched you surrender to his son fully, arms flailing as you scratched the sheets in search of a grip. Helmut had entered you up to the hilt and split you open in one stroke. seeing his boy bury himself into your belly fully and noticing the bump his cock created in your abdomen, he grabbed him by his wide shoulders from behind. "you sound like the lion cub i never got to raise. you almost make me proud."

Helmut was heaving, his wide chest expanding as he lost himself in the luxury of your luscious cunt. he turned towards his father and his words of praise. "I am not a child anymore, father. I am a man. I take what is mine and tear apart all those who stand between me and what is mine." at this, he pulled out only to plummet back in. in a flash, his pace was fast and you found yourself mewling, a cat in heat or maybe a sacrificial lamb. you were his to devour.

"yes," Heinrich rubbed at Helmut's shoulders as his breathing got heavy. "yes, that's it," his hands moved lower, sliding down his spine and holding onto his lips. when the song stopped to slap the underside of your thigh, the father chuckled. "that's my boy," he squeezed his sides as they snapped against you, the sound of skin slapping against skin bringing the smirk back to his father's face as his son chased his carnal release. "mein guter junge," he nuzzled his ear. "now, come inside. come inside that cunt. that's your cunt, my boy, now claim it."

you tossed your head back as he lifted your hip up in the air and slid his cock so deep in your cunt, you saw stars on the ceiling.

"fräuline," Helmut grunted, burying himself deep inside your guts. "fräuline, you're mine." he tossed his head back against Heinrich's shoulder. "give me a son, mein fräuline."

"yes," your tongue lolled out as your eyes rolled back. your brain was a blur as you agreed to be a broodmare for the house of Zemo. "yesyesyes."

"come inside," his father pressed his lips against his earlobe. "make me proud," he kissed the shell of his ear. "come inside that cunt and give me an heir."

there's nothing he wanted more than to spill his seed inside of you. well, maybe getting more of his father's praise. once he emptied himself inside your womb, he got a pat on his head, sweaty head slicked back as you got a pat on your full tummy. "mein guter junge."

"Vater."

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: Episode 5

I thought this would be a shorter recap. Ha!

Every now and then throughout this show we are getting CGI wide shots of the Dragon City, mostly establishing the time of day. They have three settings: nighttime, daytime, and sunset/sunrise. While quality-wise those wide shots would not feel out of place in a video game from ten years ago, with buildings looking all rubbery, I actually really like this sunset sky. I also appreciate that they firmly establish that this is city is not, in fact, a real place. I almost wish the architecture was a little bit less familiar, but making the city look truly otherworldly here would make location scouting much harder. As it happens, the buildings on the forefront have a very 60’s art deco revival inspired feeling, and there are some distinctively neoclassical buildings peppered around as well. We can also see that the roads are very wide, and generally there is a hint of Stalinist grandioseness about the downtown. Unfortunately, it looks nothing like the locations and sets the characters are running in; we also get a feeling that the Dragon City is very large, which is not entirely consistent with the very few locations that were available when shooting the series. This shot does, however, remind me the city I grew up in (Moscow).

The actual plot of the episode centres around Huang Linqi and his fiancé, Li Jiaqi, going missing - it will be important, because their disastrous wedding will produce the most Clark Kent moment that Shen Wei will ever have. We also meet the parents of the couple, who are stinking rich and extremely unpleasant. It also introduces us to Butler Wu (Wu Tian’en) and his son, who will become important in later episodes. Butler Wu is not actually the villain of the piece, despite this shot clearly telling us otherwise. 

Back at the university, Shen Wei is having a morning tea with his dean. He holding his teacup with almost god-like elegance, very close to actually covering his mouth when he drinks, which is extremely old-fashioned. This is in stark contrast with him brazenly and un-gentlemanly showing his ankles. 

Shen Wei is asked to move off campus, because, apparently, having a chief of the special task force showing up at your office is bad for the reputation. Since the professor does not look surprised, and states that he has already found a flat, I’m guessing that he was clever enough to have predicted this turn of events, and used it to secure the place a breath away from Zhao Yunlan. It is up to speculation as to when he started scouting for an apartment: it could not have been more than a few weeks since he met Zhao Yunlan, and finding a flat can take a while. 

At the SID office, we are treated to a lovely moment between the team members, crowding around Lin Jin’s new invention: a popcorn-specific microwave.

It’s very sweet to see the team indulge in some nonsense outside of their case work, made even better by Wang Zheng being there. The fact that Zhao Yunlan is on board with his department’s time and resources being spent on a popcorn maker only makes this scene better. He is crouching on the table, because chairs are for the weak.

After inspecting the crime scene, Zhao Yunlan is spending some time outside chatting to Buttler Wu, and comments on Li Jiaqi’s good looks, since Zhao Yunlan is a man who can appreciate beauty.

As Xiao Guo is awe-struck at his boss’ ability to note someone’s prettiness from a distance, Chu Shuzhi literally rolls his eyes calling those “instincts of a beast”, and Zhao Yunlan fails to reprimand him for the remark, because… fair enough. Very fair enough. It’s hard not to relate to Zhao Yunlan, a self-admitted bi disaster. 

Shen Wei is being shown his new apartment. He does not even look around it, staring instead at Zhao Yunlan’s front door across the hall from him.

Moving here is a completely senseless thing to do. How on earth is he planning to hide his Hei Pao Shi persona while being a next door neighbour to the chief of SID? My conclusion is that from a character stand-point, it’s nothing but an act of desperate devotion; from a narrative stand-point, this codifies that their relationship is about to get very intimate indeed. 

The SID members are interrogating Buttler Wu: as is often the case, instead of bringing him in, like they did with Shen Wei, they hijack a cafe nearby to have a more relaxed conversation. As they talk, Shen Wei is making his way past the cafe, which both Wu Tian'en and Shen Wei notice. 

Shen Wei proceed to follow Butler Wu, who calls him out on it. This leads to a removal of his glasses so epic it warrants a jump-cut to close-up, on top of the dutch angle used mere seconds prior to it.

Instantly recognizing Shen Wei as Hei Pao Shi, Wu Tian’en sinks to his knees in reverence. Again, fair enough. After having a brief conversation about their shared history, Shen Wei states that Butler Wu is not allowed to lay a hand on Zhao Yunlan. 

“Chief Zhao? You’re stalking him?” 

“You don’t need to know more.”

That is not a no. Mostly because that is a yes. 

Shen Wei promises to not take Wu Tian’en away before the man resolves his current problems, adding that he hopes his old acquaintance won’t have any regrets when that happens. As Shen Wei walks away, he muses “Then how much time is there left for me?” 

(And I have to fight an uncomfortable sinking feeling in my stomach, which is occurring a lot as I rewatch those series.) 

The same evening at the SID offices the team is struggling with the case so much Da Qing suggests asking Hei Pao Shi’s help. Zhao Yunlan bristles at the idea, and… calls Shen Wei instead. Of course he does.

To be fair, he does so to check whether the other man is stalking him, but he also calls him by his given name rather Professor Shen, reinforcing that he makes this enquiry as a friend, not at as the chief of the Special Investigations Department. 

During the phone call Shen Wei is absentmindedly playing with the corner of the publication he is reading. 

While Yunlan does not deny that he still thinks Shen Wei is potentially up to something dodgy, he still proceeds to ask his advice on the case. This continues the dynamic from the previous episode: it’s not that Yunlan is completely blind, it’s just that he trusts Shen Wei regardless of the secrets he might be hiding. 

Moving on, here’s what I have to say on he topic of bad CGI. There are several reasons in the world for a piece of visual media to have a poor quality computer animation. It could be laziness, or it could be absence of imagination, both of which are inexcusable. It also could be absence of funds, as is the case with the Guardian. And, honestly, I am alright with that. It’s not their fault, and I would much rather see this drama as it is - bad CGI and all - than none at all. 

And, the quality of CGI here has energy similar to Live Action Sailor Moon (PGSM), which I honestly find both nostalgic and endearing. 

That show also has a talking cat, but it’s performed by a literal plush toy on strings, so Guardian certainly wins here.

While Huang Linqi and Li Jiaqi are being kept together (possibly in an alternate dimension, seeing as how they have emerged from the lake completely dry), they talk through their relationship issues, and the audience finds itself with a sugar-sweet take on the arranged marriage/strangers to lovers trope. I feel a little bit bad about their disaster wedding now. 

At the same time, Xiao Jun and Wu Tian’en’s story is a tiny echo of Shen Wei end Je Zun: the son thinks his dad left him to fend for himself when he was young and vulnerable, and distrusts the very concept of love because of that perceived abandonment. Unlike Je Zun however, he stops to have an actual conversation, which ultimately forces him to quit his senseless act of revenge, and make the first step on the path of reconciliation and redemption. This is Guardian telling us that communication skills do, in fact, matter. 

He also drops this bombshell of a line, which hurts my heart a lot.

“In the face of death every love in the world is mere foam”

On an entirely separate note, I am very glad that the actor who plays Butler Wu is wearing nice thick knee pads. 

They are very visible, and they make a little “boing” when he hits the ground, but the actor has to fall to his knees twice in this episode, both times on hard surfaces, one of which is literal gravel, and I’m happy that the production is being considerate of their actors’ physical well-being. 

While this episode does not mark the first time Zhao Yunlan is being understanding to the Undergrounders in pain, this is the first time anti-Unvergrounder bigotry is explicitly framed in a negative light. The two evil businessmen, who cast a child aside just because he has special powers, are shown as unquestionably in the wrong. Xiao Jun is lightly scolded for his rash actions, but he is not brought back to SID in cuffs, and he is not immediately given away to Hei Pao Shi. Far from that: he is brought in softly, to spend some time at his dying father’s side. 

As Butler Wu slipping away, we once more see Guo Changcheng being recklessly heroic, as he is prepared to use the Longevity Dial to share his life force. Instead of letting him do it, Zhao Yunlan snatches the Hallow away and decides to perform this particular miracle himself. This is the same man who will later sacrifice his eyesight to bring people’s lives back. Bai Yu’s acting in that moment is utterly phenomenal, showing a whole range of emotion from horror to determination to dismay in mere seconds. 

Hei Pao Shi teleports in, and, without a preamble, scolds Zhao Yunlan (the first episode in the series-long “don’t touch the Hallows” saga), and then asks him whether it’s worth shortening his life for an Undergrounder. This is in equal parts a provocation and a test, because I’m fairly certain that Shen Wei was going to save Wu Tian’en anyway. 

As SID members beg Hei Pao Shi to save Butler Wu in perfect unison, Zhao Yunlan states that a person is a person, regardless of their origin. Shen Wei notes inwardly that SID had changed, and, as expected, heals Butler Wu, while Yunlan stares at his power with relief and awe.

Since I have talked about the wide shot of the Dragon City, let’s talk about its counterpart in the Underworld. 

I have failed to notice before that there appears to be a vast city next to the volcano river, some way away from the royal Palace, looming over it. Geographically, this makes little sense: we will see characters leave the Palace and instantly end up in a city square throughout the series, but I still really enjoy this wide shot. It is also interesting to see the architecture of the place. It is somewhere between (western) medieval abodes and futuristic shipment container blocks, with living spaces built on top of each other, crammed-in, and unpleasant. I also love the lighting here, contrasting blue and red.

Hallows random power #n: projecting their brethren. Imagine how useful it would be if they also did that for the Brush and the Lantern.

The next day, Zhao Yunlan and Da Qing are on a leisurely morning jog, while Yunlan is wearing bottoms that my partner refers to as “sheggings” (as in, shorts + leggings)

They are talking about Shen Wei, naturally. In my head-canon, Zhao Yunlan is driving his colleagues nuts because can’t help himself but bring the good professor up every goddamn minute of every goddamn day.

As they turn the corner to go home, they bump into the subject of discussion, who informs them that he moved into the building, and leaves abruptly looking more than slightly pleased with himself. 

Finally, we are treated to Guo Changcheng’s surveillance exam. I don’t know why he thought this outfit would make him look less conspicuous. 

Eventually, the SID will learn that some of their staff members don’t have to be fighters or detectives. In Xiao Guo, they have found the heart of their team, and that is enough. 

Next up, Episode 6: The Coat Zhao Yunlan Will Buy

—

PS: I have mentioned earlier, that I have a sinking feeling as I watch Guardian, and I would like to elaborate on that. You see, I am very scared of flying. It’s an irrational fear, but it is the one I nonetheless have. There is a very specific feeling I get just as the plane starts gaining speed on the runway: there is joy, because at the end of this journey they is something to look forward to (my parents’ hugs, a drink with a friend, a favourite place, a new city to explore), but there is also a painful anticipation, as I brace for the moment the aircraft will tilt upwards, knowing that I will be pushed back into my chair by gravity, battling against an onslaught of a panic attack, shaking, learning to breathe, fighting with everything I have to keep my heart rate down. Watching Guardian from the beginning, knowing where the story is going, mirrors that feeling perfectly.

PPS: The following conversation happened with my partner as I way typing this recap.

My partner: Do you think Shen Wei ever wears sheggings?

Me: Sweetie, I think he would rather die. 

[songofclarity]

What's your opinion on Huaisang going :3 in his quest for world peace?

Hello, Anon, that is an excellent question! Because I am of a mixed opinion in that I want to have my cake and eat it too! The short answer is that I think Nie HuaiSang going :3 is fanon and then there is canon Nie HuaiSang but I adore them both ♡

On the one hand, I love a Nie HuaiSang who is healthy, happy, and confident enough to go :3 in his quest for world peace! He set aside his grief, got all his ducks in a row, and now he's living his best life. After all the angst and cruelty that's happened, it's refreshing to get a good cat-and-mouse game where it's the bad guy running from sharp claws reaching for his rotten tail. Nie HuaiSang is intelligent and clever enough to manage it all, too. We saw he's a little schemer in his Gusu days so have at it, Director Nie! After all, the first step to getting revenge for your late Da-ge (may he rest in peace) is to have fun with it!

On the other hand, and this is where I'm going to be real about it, that's not a Nie HuaiSang I've come across in the actual content... Donghua Nie HuaiSang (in the two seasons we have) has a depressing cloud hanging over his head, novel Nie HuaiSang is brimming with well-concealed rage, and CQL is a wonderful mix of the two. For the most part, he parodies Jin GuangYao's pitifulness with his "I don't know" x3, but even that could easily come from something real.

Just as we witness Lan XiChen crushed under the wheel of realization, Nie HuaiSang was crushed by it, too, albeit off page/screen. He's gone from worrying about his grades, being yelled at to do his saber practice, and organizing his fan collections to confronting his third-brother-by-proxy's betrayal, deceit, manipulation, 1st degree murder, child murder, incest, rape, coercion, unlawful imprisonment, and whatever else. Nie HuaiSang learned he was used by Jin GuangYao to kill Nie MingJue. That's some really heavy stuff!

Nie HuaiSang going :3 in his quest for world peace also kind of does a disservice to Nie HuaiSang's development, characterization, and actions -- at least how I've come to understand them. There is an innocent delight in going :3 that I feel Nie HuaiSang is no longer capable of when Wei WuXian returns. This leave us with him going :3 out of some darker enjoyment that I just can't see. Nie HuaiSang is all about that righteousness anger. He refers to Jin GuangYao as an immoral man. Less than being cute and mischievous about it, I think Nie HuaiSang shows more signs of wanting to tear Jin GuangYao’s throat out with his teeth lol

But Nie HuaiSang is weak physically, his cultivation is poor, and he’s not a genius. He’s clever, though, with the ability to read the room! And the writing on the wall says that accusing Jin GuangYao of his crimes is dangerous. Jin GuangYao is not above murdering innocent children, for goodness sake, and if they end up in a direct confrontation, Jin GuangYao will make Nie HuaiSang’s death look like an accident. It’s just... not a good stage for expressions of :3 and Nie HuaiSang seems to be in a higher percentile for self-preservation.

This ties in with my other probably unpopular opinion: Nie HuaiSang depended on Lan XiChen from beginning to end and never stopped thinking of Lan XiChen as his brother. It's his brother and Da-ge's brother, with Jin GuangYao delegated as "the other." Nie HuaiSang going :3 during events behind Lan XiChen's back when Lan XiChen suffered is a cruelty all its own that I don't recall seeing evidence to support  -- and I also hope doesn’t exist where I haven’t looked lol

Like I've seen the theories that suggest Nie HuaiSang blames Lan XiChen for Nie MingJue's death, but I've never really seen it talked about that Nie HuaiSang would be blaming himself. Not only was Nie HuaiSang aware that Jin GuangYao raised Nie MingJue's blood pressure, Nie HuaiSang continued to 1. accept all the gifts from Jin GuangYao despite it making Nie MingJue angry 2. delighted whenever Jin GuangYao arrived in the Unclean Realm because Nie MingJue would have someone else to yell at 3. left Nie MingJue's anger as a Jin-GuangYao-and-Lan-XiChen problem and thus left Nie MingJue entirely in their care.

(In Nie HuaiSang's defense, he did not know about the saber spirit and its effects until after 1. Nie MingJue told him shortly before Nie MingJue died and that was one of the reasons they had another big argument 2. after Nie MingJue died and either Lan XiChen, Jin GuangYao, or the Nie family in general had to tell him. Nie HuaiSang is the poster child of “Ignorance is Bliss” and then he had to tear the poster off the wall when he found out.)

Like a little child, however, Nie HuaiSang played Jin GuangYao and Nie MingJue off one another for his own gain. So all the times Jin GuangYao came to play murder music for Nie MingJue, Nie HuaiSang was happy and being :3 for all the wrong reasons.

Once the truth came out, I think that would have been a very, very hard lesson to bear. That would have been the loss of innocence and likely the loss of being :3 about things in general.

So when Nie HuaiSang is going about his revenge scheme, he's no longer a child about it. He knows now that when he starts playing Lan XiChen and Jin GuangYao off of one another that he's playing with his life and with Lan XiChen's. In the past, Nie HuaiSang would run off with his presents and let Jin GuangYao and Nie MingJue sort themselves out. In the present, Nie HuaiSang tries to be there for the conflict. In the treasure room scene, he reinforces what Lan XiChen needs to know in order to stand his ground versus Jin GuangYao -- you're doing this for our dearly departed Da-ge who is my brother and also your brother -- and then he faints before anyone can tell him to leave the room.

But his life is still in danger. He's always in danger on this hunt for world peace. Lan XiChen was Nie HuaiSang's sword and shield. CQL did a mighty disservice to Guanyin Temple, I feel, because in the novel Jin GuangYao was effectively, "Fuck you for stabbing me, Lan XiChen" and then Jin GuangYao only has eyes for Nie HuaiSang. Jin GuangYao is so furious and petty that even when he'd been poisoned, lost an arm, was “betrayed,” and was stabbed through the chest, he was still probably going to try to tear Nie HuaiSang limb from limb.

And if Lan XiChen hadn't been 100% ready and willing to stab Jin GuangYao, Nie HuaiSang would have died instead. If Lan XiChen gave Jin GuangYao even a second of leniency after that "Behind you!" then Nie HuaiSang would have died instead.

There's really no chance to be :3 about the situation when Lan XiChen is over there telling Jin GuangYao not once but twice to STOP impaling himself further on Shuoyue, because that's how much much Jin GuangYao wanted to get his hands on Nie HuaiSang in that moment. And even though Jin GuangYao is impaled, he’s still not dead! He’s getting to his feet now and he still wasn’t dead! He’s walking around now and he’s still not dead...!

There's bound to be less :3 and more choking on the heart in his throat when Nie HuaiSang's life is literally in Lan XiChen's hands in that moment. Considering how well that went for Nie MingJue, just -- yikes! The trust Nies have in Lan XiChen is unfathomable!

And then (and then!) only when it’s done, only when Jin GuangYao’s neck is snapped and the threat is gone, does Nie HuaiSang let the smoke of his anger show. Nothing cute, nothing sweet, nothing mischievous comes out. Nie HuaiSang wanted that man dead and he was likely terrified about it and he looked ridiculous maintaining his cover to do it but he took it very, very seriously.

For all the things Nie MingJue tried to teach Nie HuaiSang about using his saber, the one lesson that stuck was this:

Nie HuaiSang knew to respect the business edge of a blade.

King. We stan.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #127: Leonardo Da Vinci

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making the one person with enough free time to be both a universal genius and the best ninja turtle, Leonardo Da Vinci! Like many casters you’re super power is Being Adaptable, so just imagine every level summary ends with “Adjust your spell list to fit what your party needs” a lot.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Tamamo... 3!

Race and Background

Like a couple other servants you’re technically a homunculus, but we need that feat bonus, so we’re making you a Variant Human. This nets you perception proficiency, +1 Intelligence and Dexterity, and the War Caster feat. This gives you advantage on concentration checks, the ability to use cantrips for your attacks of opportunity, and the ability to use somatic components with full hands. That glove’s cool, but it’s probably hard to flash gang signs in that thing.

You’re Chaldea’s resident Izzet Engineer, giving you proficiency with Arcana and Investigation. You also get the ability to look up public building’s schematics to look for secret entrances and the like (it definitely would make the opening to Descent into Avernus a lot easier...) You also get enough background-based spells to make your first level spell list look downright silly. We’ll get into those at the levels section though.

You should probably try and keep that “Izzet” part under wraps. Mixing servants and mizzium could only end in disaster.

Ability Score Improvements

As the poster child of the Renaissance Woman, your Intelligence and Wisdom should be pretty goddamn high. After that is Dexterity- you literally made your body, and your craftsmanship is impeccable. Your Charisma isn’t amazing, because despite your body being a literal work of art you get a demerit due to the writing team’s transphobia, and also the standard array’s inability to give you all 20s. Your Constitution isn’t great for the latter reason as well, but we’re dumping Strength. Once again, the caster class’s 90% damage modifier is not going to help you get buff.

Class Levels

1. Wizard 1: You’re smart and magic, that’s a wizard. You get proficiency with Intelligence and Wisdom saves, as well as two wizard skills. History and Insight would be my pick, but you’re good at everything, so pick your poison.

You also get an Arcane Recovery once per long rest, allowing you to regain a couple spell slots on a short rest as a freebie, but their total level has to be half your wizard level rounded up. Oh yeah, you get spells too. They use your Intelligence to cast.

As the Universal Genius, your entire schtick is about being adaptable, so I’m not going to list spells in the breakdown this time around. If you want them, my personal picks are in the character sheet. 

That being said, you do get some guaranteed spells from your background. Thanks to being an Engineer, you get Produce Flame and Shocking Grasp as cantrips, and Chaos Bolt, Create or Destroy Water, and Unseen Servant at first level.

2. Wizard 2: Another problem with being a renaissance woman is that there’s no “everything” specialty for you to grab. That being said, the Transmutation school will help make your body a bit stronger on a more permanent basis than bladesinging would. You become a Transmutation Savant, meaning it takes half the time and cost to transcribe transmutation spells into your spell book. You also learn some Minor Alchemy, spending ten minutes per cubic foot of your target object, turning a nonmagical item made of wood, stone, iron, copper, or silver into one of the other materials on that list. This lasts for an hour, or until you drop concentration. I’m sure you can come up with fun ways to abuse this.

3. Wizard 3: Third level wizards get second level spells, including your background spells Heat Metal and Rope Trick. Everyone needs a bit of alone time. And also to slowly set people on fire. Also, you should probably grab Enlarge/Reduce. It’s a secret tool that will help us later.

4. Wizard 4: Your Ability Score Improvements are all going to intelligence, but we can be smart about it. Your Keen Mind gives you a small boost to Intelligence, but it also helps you navigate, tell time, and be a jerk to your DM by forcing them to keep notes on literally everything. Use this power wisely.

5. Artificer 1: You’re not just a mage, you’re also an inventor. And an artist, but we’re sticking with int casters today. Maybe for rider. With your Magical Tinkering, you can add minor effects to tiny items, because it’s not like you’ve already got prestidigitation or anything. Speaking of, you get another Spell list, which also uses your Intelligence to cast and prepare. Again, you’re a caster-almost literally any spell is canon for you, aside from maybe the divination ones. Specifically the futury spells.

6. Artificer 2: Second level artificers can Infuse Items, allowing you to create magical items for your party. Again, you can make almost anything, so take some liberties. Or check the character sheet. Either or.

7. Artificer 3: As an inventor who’s specialty is “inventing”, you’d think picking a subclass here would be hard. Normally you’d be right, but I want to make the Bastenyan X, so we’re going Battle Smith. This gives you some specialty spells, like Heroism and Shield, as well as making you Battle Ready. This gives you proficiency with more weapons, and you can use your intelligence instead of strength when using magical weapons. You also get a Steel Defender, a construct to help you in battle. You have to use your bonus action to command it, but you weren’t using it for anything else, so that’s fine.

You can also make the Right Tool for the Job after rests, creating a set of artisan’s tools until you make another.

8. Artificer 4: Another ASI, and another half feat. The Observant feat rounds out your Intelligence, allows you to read lips, and gives you a +5 bonus to perception and investigation checks.

9. Artificer 5: Fifth level battle smiths get an Extra Attack with each attack action, for when you really want to slap someone with your giant hand. You also get second level spells, like Branding Smite and Warding Bond. 

10. Wizard 5: Third level spell time! You also get your background spells, Call Lighting, Elemental Weapon, and Glyph of Warding. And that’s not even counting your normal spells.

11. Wizard 6: Sixth level transmuters can make a Transmuter’s Stone over the course of eight hours, and a creature holding possessing the stone gets one of several benefits. These include darkvision, and extra 10 feet of speed, proficiency in constitution saves, and resistance to acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder damage. If you’re holding onto the stone, you can even switch up the effect every time you cast a leveled transmutation spell.

12. Artificer 6: Hopping back into artificer gives you Tool Expertise, giving you doubled proficiency with any tool. I’m not sure if I was explicit enough here, but you’re very smart.

13. Artificer 7: So smart, in fact, that you can use your Flash of Genius to add your intelligence modifier to a nearby ability check or save, a number of times per long rest equal to your intelligence modifier. You might not be great at athletics, but you do know a lot about the technique!

14. Artificer 8: Nope, we’re not maxing out intelligence yet. Use this ASI to become a bit Tougher. No real reason for it, but you’re kind of a melee fighter with less than 100 hp at the end, which isn’t good. This gives you +2 hp every time you level up, and a nice +28 hp immediately.

15. Artificer 9: You get third level spells again, including your specialty spells Aura of Vitality and Conjure Barrage. You also learn how to add an Arcane Jolt to your magical weapon attacks, either dealing extra damage or healing a nearby creature. You can use this once per turn, and a number of times per long rest equal to your intelligence modifier.

16. Artificer 10: Tenth level artificers see a lot of their infusions become a bit stronger, and they become a Magic Item Adept, which gives them an extra attunement slot and makes building magic items from scratch much easier.

17. Artificer 11: Eleventh level artificers can make Spell Storing Items at the end of long rests, allowing you to give your Bastenyan a Knife of Enlarging so you can ride in style by hasting and growing it at the same time. Despite the name, these items have to be weapons or focii, you can only have one item at once, and they only hold a number of charges equal to your intelligence modifier.

18. Artificer 12: With our final ASI, we can finally max out our Intelligence score for the best spells, the strongest hits, and the most effective magic items.

19. Artificer 13: With your fourth level spells, you get specialty and background spells at once, netting you Aura of Purity, Fire Shield, Conjure Minor Elementals, Divination, and Otiluke’s Resilient Sphere. And again, these are all spells that don’t count for your prep.

20. Artificer 14: Your capstone level makes you a Magic Item Savant, allowing you to attune to five items at once and ignore all requirements for using magic items. True genius knows no limits, after all.

Pros:

By mixing some wizard levels in with your artificer, you can learn a frankly silly number of spells by default, allowing for a lot of magical versatility. Multiclassing also lets you steal higher level spells from other spellbooks, negating some of the weaknesses you’d normally get from multiclassing. By the end, you can still copy over seventh level spells! Not bad for someone who just got fourth level spells on paper.

With pseudoproficiency and advantage in concentration saves, you’re pretty good at holding onto spells even with your lackluster Constitution score.

Your DM’s going to have a really hard time keeping secrets from you with a maxed out Investigation checks, plus good insight and perception, plus the ability to perfectly remember everything that happened in the last month. Proficiency is +6, intelligence is +5, Observant is another +5, Flash of Genius is another +5... That’s a base of 22, even if you roll a one. Rogues aren’t that good at investigation. Okay, maybe rogues are, but still. 

Cons:

Multiclassing still has downsides. You don’t get ninth level spells, which is a bummer, and you also don’t get the capstone ability of Artificer, which is downright broken. That being said, it’s not like most games get to level 17-20 anyway, so it’s probably not that big a deal.

I don’t like making builds that rely on DM fiat, and this build kinda does. In a low magic setting, or against a DM who just doesn’t like you, you’re stuck with, at max, fourth level spells. A situational weakness, but one you should be aware of.

Despite having tons of abilities to join in the melee with your other party members, you’re actually pretty bad at surviving there. You have an AC of 15 with mage armor (the in-character option), and your HP is probably somewhere in the 130s without a magic item we get at level 20. That’s not to say you can’t get in a fight, you just really don’t want to stand out.

[guqin-and-flute]

Jin Guangyao supervises a-Fu and a-Ling's first sleepover while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are night-hunting

[Well, this was SUPPOSED to be just fluffy, but that’s a little hard inside of JGY’s head]

A-Fu bounded his way into the room and flung himself into Jin Guangyao’s arms with such force that it nearly knocked him over. “Oof--my child, please--” he chuckled as he caught him and A-Fu rubbed his face all over the embroidered Sparks Amidst Snow peony on the front of his robes, likely wiping his snot off on it. His clothes were still cold and damp from their flight.

“We--” A-Fu reared his head back, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. “Are gonna stay up all night!”

A-Yuan appeared to have stayed behind by Lan Xichen’s side, because the pair made their entrance at a more measured pace as Lan Xichen reminded, patiently, “While the rules of Carp Tower may be different than Cloud Recesses, staying up all night is not good for you.” 

Rather shyly, A-Yuan bowed in greeting to Jin Guangyao and he nodded back, smiling down at the boy. It had always been vaguely amusing to him that A-Yuan had more patience and decorum than A-Fu, who was born a Lan. One had to wonder if it was the influence of the slightly more rowdy Nie Clan exposure or simply innate. “Seeing how I am the one watching you and I cannot stay up all night, I’m going to have to disagree with you, Fufu,” Jin Guangyao slotted his gentle negation right alongside Lan Xichen’s and braced for the inevitable pout.

Instead, he received a sunny smile. “Oh, okay, then you’ll just go to bed at the Lan time and we’ll stay up to help the sun rise!”

A-Yuan was looking between the adults with a rather furtive smile, as if trying to silently communicate that he did not, in fact, condone this plan and would not like to be a part of the repercussions. Jin Guangyao grinned and hefted A-Fu over to his side to brace him on his hip, his back beginning to complain. “Ah, what a creative set of ears you have, Fufu--we say ‘you’re not staying up all night’, and yet they hear ‘you’re allowed to stay up until sunrise’! Truly remarkable.”

Quite dramatically, A-Fu sighed and smushed his hands up onto Jin Guangyao’s face, smearing his cheeks around. “Dieeee, don’t be a party pooper, it’s our first Jin sleepover with all of us!”

Gently, Jin Guangyao shook his face free of his cold fingered grasp and turned toward Lan Xichen to receive the kiss to his forehead. Despite A-Fu beginning to wiggle, he leaned into it, let himself inhale the scent of ozone-sky, clean wind, and sandalwood that clung to his robes and hair. The habitual tension torqued at his core loosened, like a sigh. “Easy trip? You’re not too tired after carrying them both, are you?”

Lan Xichen chuckled, slid to kiss his temple. “I’m fine, A-Yao. I’m sorry again for the short notice--Wangji is off on his own night hunt and this cannot wait.”

Shaking his head, Jin Guangyao smiled. “It’s no trouble. A-Ling is very excited.”

“And you?”

“Also very excited--ah!” A-Fu made a lunge off of his hip, not being content to simply wiggle his displeasure at being kept from pelting about and Jin Guangyao had to stoop to catch him before he hit his head on the ground. “A-Fu!” The boy froze, guiltily, and let himself be lowered down to his feet. Jin Guangyao crouched down and straightened his robes and headband with little tugs to lessen the sting of his scolding, brushing his hair back over his shoulder. “Patience is valuable. You’ll hurt yourself that way.”

As soon as no more admonishments came, A-Fu brightened immediately. “You wouldn’t drop me. A-Yuan!! Let’s go find A-Ling!”

Darting away, he seized A-Yuan’s wrist and dragged him out and down the hall, already excitedly chattering about the plans of the night as Lan Xichen chuckled and shook his head, winding an arm about Jin Guangyao’s waist when he rose. “Good luck. He couldn’t keep still the entire trip and told me the same thing when I reminded him that dropping from my arms in the sky was a bad idea.”

“Aiya,” he shook his head and, since they were alone, turned inside his embrace and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he murmured against him. “But you will be careful, yes?”

“Mm,” Lan Xichen tilted his head, pressed a firmer, more complete kiss against his lips, slipping his arms fully around him before pulling back to smile down at him. “I always am. Da-ge will be with me.”

With practiced ease, he swept aside the tangle of anxiety, old hurt, regret, and darker things the mention of Nie Mingjue bubbled inside his gut and smiled back. “Of course.”

The boys were already fighting by the time Jin Guangyao found them in Jin Ling’s toy room down the hall--something about the colors of toy swords--but quieted down fairly quickly when he mildly suggested that perhaps they wouldn’t need more sugar after dinner because they were already so lively. Eating went well, as both A-Ling and A-Fu were too busy inhaling food like they were starving and A-Yuan was making like a good Lan child and not talking during meals. He contented himself watching them dart around afterward, announcing in grandiose little voices the various heroes they were and what monsters they were battling. Without direct adult interference, A-Yuan grew a little more vibrant and playful, and though he never reached the same volume of the other 2, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Soon, Jin Guangyao faded into the background for them like so much furniture. He smiled as he watched them play. It was funny how sometimes it worked on children as well as adults. 

That is, until A-Ling twisted around like he suddenly realized something. “Hey, you’re a hero of the Sunshot Campaign, right, shushu?”

Jin Guangyao blinked and smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say all that.” Modesty was a good trait to teach your children. In any case, his father would certainly agree with his hedging and Madam Jin would certainly take exception if her grandson began calling such a bastard a hero in her presence. “Most people of my generation were a part of the Sunshot Campaign. Why do you ask, A-Ling?”

“Well, you just seem so normal.”

Jin Guangyao did not let the slightly darker, wry humor he felt coil in his chest bleed into his perfectly reasonable smile. “I’m pleased that you think so.”

“But heroes aren’t normal, though, they’re heroes,” A-Fu seemed to understand whatever A-Ling was failing to adequately explain. “They aren’t moms and dads and stuff.”

“What should they be instead, then, A-Fu? Simply stories?”

His son squinted his eyes at him, like he was solving a particularly difficult equation and looked over at A-Yuan and back. “But...you didn’t have...like...sleepovers and things, right?”

Jin Guangyao was silent for a moment, keeping his expression perfectly balanced. There had never been another child to whisper the night away with. No adult in the corner to watch him play. Nights were not a time for fun. “No, A-Fu, I didn’t. But plenty of others have.”

A-Fu cocked his head. “Why not?”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Why don’t we see if the cook has any sweet buns leftover? I know she baked them fresh this morning.”

After the hunt and acquisition of their prize and after the children had licked their hands clean, A-Fu looked up at him with a few crumbles of sugar stuck to the tip of his nose and said, “You can be part of the sleepover if you want, though, die, ‘cause this is our first one all together too!”

Heart pinching, flooding with warmth, he reached out and brushed the little crystals off with his thumb, tilting his head. “So thoughtful, xiao-Fu. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.”

“You’re fun, die! Right, A-Yuan?”

With a shy smile, A-Yuan nodded. “I liked when you taught us about the plants in the woods, that one time.”

The time in question had been more than 2 years ago when they were quite a bit younger, not too many months after the boy had recovered fully from his illness to be well enough to leave the Hanshi where he was staying with Lan Xichen and A-Yuan for extended periods of time. Even as A-Fu screwed up his face in confusion, the strange buzz of realization that he lived in the minds of these children in ways he did not control rushed through Jin Guangyao. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know this, cognitively or as if this wasn’t true of everyone, but...when they were small and unsteady on their feet, still learning the ways of the world and the words for things, one forgot to consider them people on the way to becoming themselves. Recording and collecting moments that were inconsequential to their grown ups. When he considered his own childhood, there wasn’t a boy who lived there, but himself, as he ever was, reflected back through time, the story written and unyielding. He had never felt particularly like a child.

And yet, here was a boy who remembered him fondly from an insignificant walk from some recordless day for pointing out a few edible plants along a path. 

He found himself wondering if his mother had ever been taken out of her own head for a moment, watching him watch her, not knowing the picture she painted across his memory. For good or for ill. 

Always good.

He blinked back to himself and made sure to smile at A-Yuan. “I’m glad.”

“I don’t remember that,” A-Fu complained just as A-Ling said, “I didn’t get that! Shushu, tell me about plants!” 

That startled a genuine laugh out of Jin Guangyao and he knelt down. “I’m no expert, but in the morning, what if I took you all out to the gardens and told you about some of the plants that we have growing here in Carp Tower? Would you boys like that?”

The answering, competitively loud yells of YES from both A-Fu and A-Ling had him wincing but A-Yuan’s eager nod made him smile. 

There was whining and stalling at bedtime, misuse of soap, and a hastily declared armistice of a mutinous pillow fight because there are lanterns in here, A-Ling, you know better, but, finally, they were tucked in, 3 dark little heads on the pillow with the blanket pulled up to their chins. “Are we going to greet the sun?” Jin Guangyao asked with knowing patience, kneeling beside their bed, leaning with his elbow in his own nightclothes.

“Nooo?” A-Fu widened his eyes, as if his own father didn’t know when he was trying to be innocent.

Smoothing a palm over his forehead, bare of its headband, Jin Guangyao raised his eyebrows. “What happens if I find you trying to stay up to greet the sun, A-Fu?”

“Youuuu...join us!”

Jin Guangyao blinked slowly, smile still fixed on his face. A-Fu sighed grumpily. “I probably have to clean dishes for a month or something.”

“Or something,” he agreed. “I’ll leave it up to your blue father.”

A-Ling snickered as A-Fu stiffened. “Nooo, don’t tell him!”

“Then I will advise you, Fufu, to not do it at all,” he replied indulgently, stroking his thumb between his eyebrows.

Tucked in the middle so the other two didn’t fight, A-Yuan piped up, saying, “I won’t let them, bo-fu.”

When A-Yuan gave him a smile, he felt his own soften without his say so--but here, with uncalculating eyes and sleepy shadows, he supposed that was alright. He reached over and patted A-Yuan’s round cheek, resisting the illogical parentally-encoded impulse to pinch them. “Thank you, A-Yuan.” Then, he reached farther to do the same for A-Ling. “Goodnight, boys. Sleep well.”

As Jin Guangyao rose and moved to the door, A-Fu chirped, “Love you.” He paused as the other 2 echoed the same words, like A-Fu had reminded them of an important ritual. 

Drawing in a deep breath around his suddenly tight throat, he turned back and smiled. “Love you, too.”

[let-the-dream-begin]

When the World is Free Chapter 3: I’m At the End of Myself

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

John and Claire’s delicate dance continued into her seventh and eighth months of pregnancy.  Since that day of shared private pleasure, nothing much had changed between them. They maintained their chaste kisses on cheeks and heads, holding hands and sharing amicable silence.

And occasionally they would pleasure themselves in each other’s company.

By the middle of the seventh month, Claire could not comfortably reach around the swell of her belly to touch herself. John had watched her try one night, feeling himself grow hard as she did, and then she sighed with frustration. It wasn’t long before she had another idea, however, and she was suddenly sitting astride one of her pillows, undulating her hips as she grasped the headboard with white knuckles. John could not take his eyes off of her as he began palming himself and then pumping furiously, finishing only just before she did.

John could not make any sense of it.

She was a woman. John had known since quite an early age that he was not like other boys; he did not desire the company or touch of a woman the way he should. The older he got, the more it clicked in his brain that he desired men in the way he ought to desire women. And he'd done all in his power to rectify it, to change who he was, but to no avail. His confession to Jamie had come about as a result of his wishing to deny it to himself no longer. Jamie had flipped a switch in John’s heart, and John suddenly knew that if he were lucky enough to love a soul like Jamie’s, that being who he was could not have possibly been so terrible. It could in fact have been…absolutely wonderful.

But then there was her.

She, this woman who shared his home and his name, was making him question everything all over again. At first, she had been something to cling to as he floated adrift in a sea of grief. She was his one tenuous link to Jamie, the one thing keeping alive the miracle the man had done to his soul. Even after that first night of their marriage where they’d used each other so grossly, John still could not separate her from Jamie. It was like she herself had so bluntly said:

“We were really fucking Jamie.”

But then she’d offered to touch him…and he’d agreed. And they’d come to this place where they could watch each other in the throes of passion and be spurred even further into their own haze of pleasure.

“It makes me feel…very good to give a man pleasure.”

John quickly learned that Claire carried a great sense of erotic pride in her own abilities, and he had to admit there was something enchanting about it. Since that first time, it was rare that she touched him, but damn him if having her watch him do it himself didn’t light him afire.

And he couldn’t bloody make sense of any of it at all.

And then there was the child.

They’d been sitting and reading as they did every night, and Claire had very suddenly thrown her book aside and grasped John’s hands, causing him to drop his book as well. Before he could find the words to ask what in the world she was doing, he felt it.

“He’s saying hello,” she’d whispered, her eyes flicking back and forth between their hands and John’s face.

John could not stop staring at his hands, hands that could literally feel tiny feet pounding against them.

“I’m so glad you’re finally here for this. You’ve missed it a fair amount of times.”

John had to blink fairly quickly to clear his eyes of tears.

“See, lovie? I told you that you’d get to say hello to Daddy soon.”

John had looked up at her in amazement as the weight of her chosen word sank in, and was surprised at the tears on her cheeks, the pain in her eyes.

I know, my dear. I know you wish it was him instead.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Claire,” is what he’d said instead.

By the eighth month, words like Daddy and Mummy were regularly exchanged between the two of them, as well as little one and sweetheart.

And Da.

John came home to the sight of Claire on the sofa, legs stretched out over the cushions, Jamie’s rosary in one hand, the other stroking her round belly.

“And then, your Da said to me: you need not be scared of me, nor of anyone here, so long as I'm with you.”

John smiled wistfully as he hung up his coat and hat. They’d decided early on that the child would know his father. John would be Daddy, of course, but he would know the brave man that loved him from Heaven. John and Claire would create that presence for him together.

It gave her comfort to talk to the child, especially while he worked when Geillis could not give her company, and it was more than natural for Jamie to be at the forefront of her mind while she did so.

John heard Claire sigh, and she pressed a kiss to the rosary before tucking it back into the box she kept it in, which she’d brought from the bedroom and put on the coffee table.

“Good evening,” John said warmly, unsure if the moment she’d just shared with the father of her child was meant to stay between them, or if she would bring him into it. Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t; it depended on the day as to which option it would be.

“Good evening,” Claire answered, both hands on her stomach now. “How was your day?”

Leave it alone, then.

“Just fine. Rather boring, actually,” he said. He sat on the coffee table in front of her, not at all surprised by the redness in her eyes or the lingering wetness on her cheeks. “Has Brian been behaving himself today?”

Claire sniffled loudly, but she smiled, seemingly savoring the sound of the name being spoken aloud. “What do you think, little one? Should I lie and tell Daddy that you were sweet as anything?”

“Oh my.” John frowned in sympathy.

“I think he’s stepped on my bladder a total of thirty-two times today,” she groaned. “And my feet hurt so bloody badly, I considered just staying here and soiling the couch an embarrassing amount of times rather than go to the toilet.”

“Poor dear,” John said, then gave her stomach a poke. “Naughty thing.”

She laughed softly. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to cook? I really don’t think I can stand another second today.”

“Not at all.” John leaned forward and kissed her temple before heaving himself off the coffee table. “Whatever you wish to eat, I shall do my best to make it happen for you.”

“Just a plate of every single carbohydrate in the kitchen,” she said dramatically, and John chuckled to himself as he started rummaging through the cabinets.

“Well, I can put the water on to boil for some spaghetti, and get you some bread in the meantime.”

“With oil? And garlic?”

“As you wish.”

He heard her moan with delight, no doubt throwing her head back over the arm of the couch, and he chuckled again. He poked his head in the refrigerator and saw that there was still some baked chicken from the other night’s meal. He decided that would pair nicely as a protein with the carbohydrates his wife so desired, and he put it in the oven on a low setting to heat up.

“Some broccoli, my dear?”

“God no. Nothing green.”

“Still? I thought you’d gotten past that by the fourth month.”

“I thought so too. But it’s come back. With a vengeance.”

“Alright, I apologize for even entertaining the idea.”

Chicken warming and water set to boil, John returned to the living room with a plate of bread and a small dish of garlic and oil, along with a glass of wine for each of them. As she dug into the bread, he began rubbing her feet almost as an instinct, remembering exactly what she needed.

“You are too good to me, darling.”

His lips quirked up and he peered up at her. “I do try.”

When the meal was made and John put a plate of pasta and chicken in front of Claire, she glowered at him, not at all unlike a stubborn child after seeing a plate of vegetables.

“Don’t look at me like that. You are the nurse, and you made me swear that I would not let you become undernourished no matter the cravings you had. So this is me holding up my end of that bargain.” He sat down across from her, unable to hold back a smile. “You said yourself you need protein.” She narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps eat it first so that it doesn’t spoil the spaghetti,” he said as if reasoning with a child of five years old. She rolled her eyes at him and reluctantly started to eat.

Claire had done exactly the opposite of what John had suggested; she devoured the spaghetti and a second helping before even touching the chicken. She shot daggers at him lest he even attempt to stop her, so he kept his mouth shut and bit his tongue to stifle laughter.

Just as she was reluctantly beginning to cut into the chicken, there was a knock at the front door.

“Who could that be?” Claire said.

“Don’t get up, I’ll take care of it,” John said. “Likely it’s nothing important.”

John pushed back his chair and made his way out of the kitchen, smiling fondly at the sound of Claire’s humming the beginning of It’s Been a Long, Long Time — one of her newest favorite records — accompanied by the sound of her knife and fork clinking on the plate.

“Never thought that you would be standing here so close to me…”

“Coming,” John called as he switched on a lamp in the living room; it had quickly grown dark since they’d moved to the kitchen.

“There's so much I feel that I should say, but words can wait until some other day…”

John opened the door, and he literally felt the blood drain from his face.

“Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again! It’s been a long, long time…”

He had to be dreaming. He had to be.

His knees felt weak, and then felt like nothing. His legs went completely numb. He had to clutch the door with both hands to keep from toppling over.

“John.”

His voice sounded far away, echoing as if through a canyon. John’s vision blurred, and the door swayed in his grip.

A pair of strong hands suddenly caught him by the shoulders and held him upright; otherwise he would have slid down the door and landed in a heap. John’s eyes bugged out of his head at the contact, and he stared at one of the hands on his shoulder for several seconds.

He’s really here.

“Haven't felt like this, my dear, since I can't remember when…”

“W…what…?” John stammered, finally wrenching his eyes away from the hands and back into his face. “You’re…you’re dead…”

“No, a charaid,” he said, his grip on his shoulders tightening. “I’m…I���m home.”

John’s eyes finally registered what he was looking at. Trembling hands left the door to ghost over his face, recently shaven — unevenly at that, sallow cheeks and sunken eyes, hair unruly and poorly trimmed…but still him.

“It's been a long, long time…”

“My God!” John sobbed, throwing his arms around Jamie’s neck.

The hands previously holding onto John’s shoulders hovered mid-air for a long moment before resting on his back, and then he waited another moment before fully returning the embrace, holding his friend tightly to him.

“Christ, Jamie…” John stammered into his shoulder. “What…how…my God!”

Jamie gave him another solid pat on the back before gripping his shoulders and pushing him away so he could meet his eye. John almost jumped when he saw what they held. Once clear, bright blue, was somehow dulled, and yet filled with electric rage that John could not place.

“You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you…”

Good Lord…Claire.

“Or just how empty they all seemed without you — Is everything alright, darling?”

Jamie tensed beneath his hands. Had he thought she was a record before she actually spoke, that he just now registered the other voice was her?

“Y-yes, I’ll be right back,” John said quickly. “Don’t t-trouble yourself getting up.”

“So kiss me once, then kiss me twice…”

“Married?”

John blinked as if it could clear the ringing in his ears. “What?”

“Ye’re married?”

John swallowed thickly, feeling needles trail down his throat as he did. “Y-yes. To protect her. Like I promised, Jamie.”

“Then kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long time!”

Jamie nodded once and then gently pushed him out of the way.

“Wait!” John hissed in a low whisper. “You’ll shock her to death. Let me…prepare her.”

Jamie’s back was to John, but he could still see how he trembled…with…rage?

“Claire!” John called, brushing past Jamie before he could protest. “Are you sitting down?”

“Yes, right in front of this bloody chicken still.” She looked up at him as he entered the kitchen. “John! You look ill! You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I’m…not at all sure I haven’t.”

Her brow furrowed, and just as he was about to elaborate, he watched the blood drain from her face and her jaw fall slack. John turned around to see that Jamie was already right behind him in the doorway, and Claire was facing him dead-on. Whatever John meant to say died on his tongue, and he stepped out of the way of Jamie’s path to Claire.

She put her hands on the table like she was trying to stand up, but she didn’t move. She likely couldn’t. The table and tablecloth were obscuring any view of the life she carried. Very suddenly, Jamie collapsed to his knees before her, and John jumped at the sound of the impact. He just stayed there, on the floor, staring up at her, perhaps not knowing what to even do with himself.

Claire’s chest heaved, fat tears rolled endlessly down her cheeks. Her lips were trembling, her hands were trembling. She slowly, painfully slowly, brought her hands off the table and toward his face. She cried out, almost shrieked when she made contact with his skin. He made a noise as well, a heartbreaking, loud sob. Claire let out another noise, almost animalistic in nature as she threw her arms around his head from above him, pressing his face into her neck. He cried out unintelligibly as well, returning the embrace from under her arms, clutching her hair.

John braced himself on the counter and covered his mouth, tears flowing freely over his hand. They were both speaking, but he couldn’t understand a word. Jamie was muttering in Gaelic, and Claire was sputtering incoherently, words that eventually just morphed into a repeated chorus:

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…”

Both pairs of hands were lost in curls as they rocked back and forth, Claire’s tears soaking his mess of red. She started kissing his head, over and over and over, every inch of it, and then his forehead, his cheeks, until finally she gripped his face in her tremulous hands and pressed their lips together.

John thought to leave, or to at least look away, but he couldn’t.

When he’d dreamed of Jamie’s fantastical and imaginary return, he hadn’t dreamed of holding the man for more than a few seconds, hadn’t dreamed of kissing him in relief, of crying in each other’s arms.

He had dreamed of this.

He had dreamed of not being able to decipher whose tears were whose, being unable to determine where she ended and he began. He had dreamed of watching them find each other again.

He loved Jamie on his own, he always would. And he’d come to love Claire, as well, though differently.

But together…it was enough to break his heart and mend it all at once. And it was all he ever dreamed of seeing.

They finally stopped kissing, and Claire half-laughed, half-sobbed into Jamie’s mouth, resting her forehead on his.

“Oh, Jamie…”

She started shifting, rotating her body in her chair, bringing her legs out from under the table. Jamie leaned back, and John could picture the exact position he was preparing for. He’d watched it all too often: Claire sitting high up and looking down at him, either on a tank or a bar counter or a fence, military grade trousers allowing Jamie to nest perfectly between her legs and hold her around the middle.

But her middle was not quite in the state that Jamie had last seen it.

Jamie leaned back again instinctually upon feeling the extra mass between them, not registering right away what it was.

Claire smiled blearily at him, her wet face now positively glowing with joy. Jamie was completely frozen in shock, his eyes locked on the large bump. Claire reached for his hands and placed them on the swell of her abdomen, letting out a beautiful, strangled cry as they rested there.

Jamie’s brow was furrowed, and he finally tore his eyes off of her middle to look up at her face, absolutely bewildered. Claire just nodded, her smile cracking all the wider as she broke into joyful hysterics, fresh tears pouring out of her. Jamie began sobbing anew as well, an even more broken, devastating sound than before. His arms were long of course, so he could still wrap them around her middle almost like before, but now he rested his cheek on her belly, weeping and whispering to it, to him.

Their child.

They started swaying again in this new position, Jamie pressing fervent kiss after kiss to her belly, and she to his head, all while sputtering incoherently to each other, the child, or to no one at all.

It was the most devastatingly beautiful thing John had ever seen. He did not belong in this moment, and yet he could not look away.

An indeterminable amount of time passed in this manner.

Claire looked up first, eyes and face swollen and red and shining. She took a stuttering breath before beaming a watery smile at John, exhaling in a tremulous laugh. He smiled back at her, his heart leaping out of his chest, his own eyes still stinging.

“It’s…a miracle…” Claire breathed, absently stroking Jamie’s head. “Tell me I’m not dreaming…you see him too…?”

John nodded, swallowing hotly. “I do, Claire. I’m almost certain we’re both awake this time.”

She bit her lip, more tears trickling down as she turned to look back down at Jamie. He had not picked his head up off her belly, had not loosened his grip. If John wasn’t mistaken, he was still muttering as well.

“Oh, my love…” Claire crooned, moving her hands down to cup his face in her hands. “Look at me, Jamie…”

She seemed to have to physically pry his head off of their child, raising him up to her eye level. She trailed her fingers over the lines of his face, weeping through a frozen smile.

“What…” she stammered, and his hands came to join hers on his face, lacing their fingers together. “How…? Where have you been…? Are you alright? Are you in pain?”

John could see Jamie’s shoulders tense, see his breathing quicken.

“Jamie…?” Claire said again, pressing her lips to their joined hands. “Talk to me, love. It’s alright.”

After a moment, Jamie’s breathing somewhat returned to normal, and he finally tore his eyes away from Claire to look at John. He hadn’t thought that Jamie even remembered he was there. He cleared his throat and stood up, not releasing Claire’s hands.

“I think…” His voice was hoarse, gravelly and low. “Ye should sit, John. You should hear it as well.”

John took his weight off the counter, swaying a bit as a result. He slowly crossed to the table and sat down in his seat in front of his cold food, across from Claire. Jamie took the seat between them keeping one of his hands linked with both of Claire’s.

“Your plane…it was shot down,” John said. “They said nobody could have survived that explosion.”

“Aye.” Jamie nodded. “It plummeted out of the sky, alright. Felt my guts in my throat. I…held onto…Claire’s picture…and I prayed…so hard…asking God to protect her.”

Claire’s knuckles went white gripping his hand, silent tears staining her cheeks.

“But the impact came and I…I woke up. I was in blinding pain, everywhere…’specially my back. My copilot, Hayes…he was alive. But he was trapped.”

His jaw hardened, his eyes focusing somewhere far off, his pupils tiny pinpricks in a sea of turmoil.

“I tried…I tried to get him out…I tried…” His voice broke.

“Jamie…” Claire soothed, lowering her head to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“I could smell the gas, ye ken. We both could. He begged me tae leave him.”

The hand that Claire was not holding trembled fiercely at his side, even as the rest of him remained still as stone. John had to fight the urge to reach out and take it.

“I would’ve stayed wi’ him. I swear I would’ve. But be begged me.”

“Nobody can blame you for wanting to live, Jamie,” Claire said fervently. “It’s not your fault.”

“So I just…I left him pinned under the rubble like that.”

He seemed to not even hear her.

“I dragged myself out like an animal. Christ, it hurt…it felt like my entire back was ripped open…and it turned out it was.”

John felt that he very soon would be ill. All the horrors he’d seen in the war…and none of them compared to Jamie Fraser thrown out of the sky, bleeding to death like a forgotten animal.

“I got out just before the explosion.” He winced, even jumped a bit, and John knew the explosion was happening right before his eyes again. It was something he’d often experienced, something Claire had coaxed him out of time and again over the past months.

“I don’t even remember losing consciousness…but when I woke up I was in a POW camp.”

“So the plane didn’t explode on impact…” John said incredulously. “And of course they thought you’d died…”

“There wasna anything to bury of Hayes, was there.”

He wasn’t asking. He knew.

“No,” John said softly. “So they…we thought you…”

“Aye.” Jamie nodded, his eyes finally leaving his living nightmare and flicking to John. “Logical train of thought.”

“So you’ve…been captive this whole time…” Claire said.

“Only just liberated,” Jamie confirmed.

“My God…” Claire shook her head, sobbing. “My poor love…” She released his hand to throw her arms around his entire frame, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “My poor, poor love…”

“It’s alright, mo ghraidh…” Jamie choked, gripping her arms as they tightened around him. “You saved me, ye ken.”

“What do you mean…?” she sputtered into his neck.

“The thought of seeing yer face again…my sorcha. Ye came to me at night…ye talked me to sleep, ye soothed my nightmares…but ye never touched me.” Tears rolled down his cheeks for the first time in a while.

Claire sobbed all the harder, tightening her grip again. “I can touch you now,” she whispered fervently.

“I’m alive because ye kept my soul alive in that horrible place. I knew in my heart that I’d live to see this day. I had to.”

John couldn’t stop himself; he reached over and put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “May the Lord be praised for it,” he said hoarsely.

“Why didn’t…no one sent a telegram…” Claire said, finally picking her head up again. “We didn’t even get a call,” Claire said to John.

“They tell immediate family first,” Jamie said, his face darkening in a different way than it had when he spoke of the war. “Neither of you are Frasers.”

John’s throat went dry, and he noticed how Claire’s eyes flicked downward in shame.

“Jenny didn’t call,” she said after a moment, her voice small and frightened.

“I asked her not to. I wanted to find ye myself.” He wasn’t looking at either of them. “Took me longer than it should’ve. Since I was looking fer a Beauchamp.”

“Jamie…”

“Jenny didn’t even know. Did ye know that?”

Claire met John’s eye, and she looked like she’d been slapped in the face.

“I was…I couldn’t speak of it to her, Jamie. Losing you…it was…God…it ate me alive, tore me to pieces…I wasn’t ready to talk to your sister and hear your voice, or look her in the eye and see you…”

Jamie didn’t respond. His eyes found that faraway place again.

“I was…ashamed…I didn’t know what she’d say about the baby, what she’d say about…marrying…so soon. I didn’t know if she’d assume it was yours or think me some sort of heartless slut…”

“I thought ye’d be there.”

His eyes did not move, but the vein beneath his right eye bulged out, his face turning red. Claire exchanged a frightened look with John across the table, unsure if she should touch him or not.

“What…?”

“I showed up at Lallybroch and I hardly even touched my own sister because I thought you were there. I was demanding to see ye so much that I didna even hear them the first three times they told me that they hadna heard from ye since I was pronounced dead.”

“Jamie — ”

“I thought I’d find ye taking comfort in my family, our family.” His voice was dangerously low. “Instead I find ye married.”

“Jamie, please, you can’t possibly understand — ”

“Oh, I can’t?” His eyes tore away from the wall and bore into her, and John could feel their heat even from behind him.

“No, you can’t!” she shot right back, not at all timid anymore. “I’ll not presume to know what you’ve been through, but I’ll not have you angry at me for how I chose to deal with this! I was pregnant with your baby, Jamie. What the hell would you have had me do?”

“It was my idea,” John interrupted before he could stop himself. Perhaps this should have been left between them, but the fact that he was the one in the middle of it was indisputable.

Jamie whipped his head around to look at John, his eyes afire with betrayal.

“I stopped by to check on her after I found out,” John continued, keeping his voice as level as possible. “She was just sitting on the floor with the phone dangling from the cord…just…staring ahead. I had to let myself in. I was terrified for her.”

Claire’s eyes burned fiercely with tears at the memory. John swallowed thickly before continuing.

“The second I touched her it was like flipping a switch. She just collapsed on me and…”

“John.” She was pleading, begging.

“No, he needs to hear it. She won’t tell you, but I will.” John’s jaw hardened. “She was ready to bloody kill herself, Jamie. She was completely distraught. When she blurted out that she was pregnant I…offered immediately. I made you a promise. And I intended to make good on it. But promise or no…I wouldn’t have let her suffer alone like that.”

Jamie was crying silently now, unmoving.

“A baby needs a father in this world. A mother needs a husband. We did what we had to do to ensure that your child would be brought up right. Christ, Jamie…we did it for you.” John’s voice broke, and he flicked his eyes away from Jamie, staring at his cold food. “We thought it’s what you’d have wanted.”

“It’s…you have to understand, Jamie,” Claire cut in softly. “You and I…weren’t…married. Not really. I know we were, but we…weren’t. Legally. In a legal sense…I was pregnant out of wedlock. I was in an awful lot of trouble without John. Not to mention I…well…he’s right. I’d have wasted away and died if he hadn’t come to check on me that day.”

Her face burned with shame, but John met her eye again and smiled softly, his eyes glistening with affection for her.

“I’m sorry that you’re…hurt, and that you feel betrayed. And I am sorry for avoiding your family. But I will not be sorry for doing it. And neither will John. Because it was the right thing to do.” Her voice was strong, but her chin trembled.

“And I don’t…” Her voice finally broke again. “I don’t want to talk about this right now…you’re…you’re back.” She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her again. “Look at me, love…” She sniffled and stroked his face with feather-light touches. “You’ve come home to me…to us. I never thought I’d be this happy again.”

Jamie was still stiff as a board, but the longer Claire spent stroking his face, John could see the tension start to roll away, see him melt against her.

And then, very suddenly, Jamie was weeping.

He fully melted against Claire, conforming to the mold of her body. She pressed his head into her breast and wept full-force as well.

“I’m sorry…Claire…mo chridhe, mo sorcha…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

John could not bear it anymore. He quietly stood up from the table and silently strode out of the kitchen, making his way into the bedroom.

Christ…was it even his bedroom anymore? He had to offer it to them tonight. They deserved it, they needed it.

Would he and Claire divorce? Would she move out with Jamie?

Christ…will I ever meet the child…?

“Damn you,” John cursed himself, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying his face in his hands. How dare he even think such things?

It’s not your baby and it never was. His father is back and you should be damned grateful.

And Lord, he was.

But his mind would not stop racing, would not stop asking: what now?

A light knock brought him from his thoughts; he hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting like this, in the dark.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Her voice, as always, was driftwood in a stormy sea, and he clung to it for dear life and allowed it to bring him back to the surface.

“I’m…” He cleared his throat. “It’s all just a bit overwhelming.”

“I know.” She turned on the light and leaned against the doorway. “I told him I was going to check on you, he’s in the kitchen with some whisky.”

John nodded. “Is he…still angry…?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, but her voice wavered. “You could come back, you know, drink with us. You’re his family as much as I am.”

John’s stomach flipped at that, and he had to focus substantial amounts of energy to calm his heart.

“I’m…I’m alright. You’ll…want to go to bed soon?” He looked up at her finally, and she was flushed head to toe.

“I’ll take the sofa until we can figure out something more permanent.”

“John, no. I wouldn’t dream of putting you out — ”

“He is your husband, Claire. Or at least he should be.” He hadn’t meant to sound so bloody pathetic when he said that, but it was too late now. “He put that miracle inside you. You’ll share a bed tonight after months apart. It’s the least you deserve.”

Claire swallowed, then crossed to the bed. She embraced John rather awkwardly, being that she remained standing and he remained sitting on the bed, and then she kissed the top of his head.

“Thank you, darling.”

After a few minutes, John heard movement outside the bedroom, so he put on pajamas and gathered an extra pillow and blanket. He shuffled past Jamie to get to the couch, and felt his pulse quicken when a large, warm hand rested on his shoulder.

“Thank ye, a charaid.” His eyes held more warmth than they had since his return. “And I dinna just mean fer the bed. Ye’re…a good man. Man of honor. Kept yer word.”

John nodded solemnly. “Of course. It has been the greatest privilege to care for them.”

Before John knew what was happening he was being pulled into a fervent embrace, strong arms wrapped tightly around him. After only a moment’s hesitation, John returned the embrace, and then it was over.

John knew that this was Jamie’s way of apologizing for his behavior, and he was more than happy to accept.

Within the next few minutes, John was lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

Claire and Jamie were wide awake as well.

If they were passionate in camp…they were explosive now. John couldn’t say he blamed them, but dear God.

Jamie was quiet for a bit as Claire cried out to the heavens, and John could only imagine what his mouth was otherwise occupied with.

Shortly after that, there was an audible rhythm set, and John thought he might just pass out.

Claire was usually the loud one, but it was almost as if they were competing for that title tonight. Jamie was crying out almost as much as she; it almost sounded like sobbing. It probably was, from both of them.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Every thrust was met with the words falling from Claire’s lips like a broken prayer.

At first it felt like a needle prick between John’s eyes.

“I love you — ” Prick. “I love you — ” Prick.

The longer it went on, however, the more it felt like a hammer to the chest. To his heart.

“Oh, Jamie! I love you! I love you!”

Over and over and over and over.

Overhearing them make love was nothing new; he and countless other saps in camp had heard it during the war. What was new was that John now knew the faces she made as well as the sounds, knew the way she tossed her head back and forth, the way her eyes hooded even as she stared her partner down, the way her lips remained parted as if in a state of perpetual preparedness for her next moan. He knew what her body looked like now, had seen it change with pregnancy. What was new was that she was legally his wife this time.

Most new was that John did not know who he envied most.

The answer had always been clear during the war. He would always listen to Jamie’s whispers of love and feel the deepest pangs of hurt knowing that they would never be meant for him, followed by guilt that he would even have a fraction of a thought of wishing to come between them.

It was foolish, anyway. When Claire touched herself for him to see, Jamie had always been there in bed with them, wedged right in between them. He’d always known that deep down. He had hardly touched her in those moments of shared intimacy; he didn’t think he was even capable. His touch could never live up to Jamie’s, even the ghost of it. He knew that. Claire’s keening and gasping and coy smiles were not for him. Could not have been.

Right?

Damn it to Hell!

Why should he want them to be? She was a woman!

Woman she may be…but she was yours. For a short time, she was yours.

And now he would lose her.

And how dare he feel grief for it? How dare he feel even remotely upset that Jamie was back? The love of her life had returned to her. How dare he feel anything but overjoyed for her?

He’s supposed to be the love of your life too, man.

Yes, yes, he still loved Jamie. He’d almost fainted dead away to see him standing in the doorway, almost kissed him instead of embracing him. As John had said, he’d probably want him until the day he died.

But he’d never had Jamie. Body or soul, he’d never been able to call him his. John cherished the kiss that Jamie had given him more than he could ever say, but one kiss did not make him his.

He’d had Claire’s body, that was clear enough. John was not fool enough to think he could ever possess her soul, not fully anyway. Parts of her that had died with Jamie were beyond reach forever. But the parts of her that remained, that smiled at him over tea in the morning, that grasped his hand at night, that called him Daddy as she touched her belly…those fragments of a woman had become his.

And he was losing it all.

The phrase “better to have loved and lost” was replaying over and over in John’s head, and he wanted to scream. No, it was decidedly not. To never know what it was like to possess somebody made it easier to part with them; in fact, there was nothing to part with to begin with. He could live with never having Jamie, because he’d never know what he was missing.

But he was not sure he would survive having Claire torn from him, now that he’d known what it was like to call such a remarkable woman his wife.

And the most damnably ridiculous part of it all was that she never loved him. How could she?

So how had he been fool enough to allow himself to love her?

It was these thoughts that carried John into a fitful sleep, into dreams of giggles and swimming amber eyes, of fiery red hair and electric blue.

——

The next thing John was conscious of was a pounding pain directly into his face.

“Jamie! No!”

If there was any mistaking it before, there certainly wasn’t now after he’d heard Claire scream. Jamie had punched him — repeatedly in the face. John’s eyes flew open, and he nearly cried out at the fury before him. Even in the dark, no light but the moon, and even through the swelling that was already present in both of his eyes, he could see the glowing red of Jamie’s face, the map of veins popping out under his eyes.

Jamie fisted John’s collar in both hands and yanked him up off his back, shaking him furiously in front of his face.

“Stop! Jamie — ”

“She’s a woman! What sort of sick pleasure d’ye get…?”

Oh…Good Lord.

“Huh?” Jamie growled, shaking him again fiercely. “What does it do fer ye to fuck my wife, John?”

“Jamie, please!”

John swallowed, tasting blood in his throat as he did, likely from a bloody nose. “You must understand — ”

“Must I?” Jamie growled, shaking him again, causing John’s teeth to rattle, biting his tongue. “By all means! Help me understand!”

“It wasn’t…I never intended for it to happen,” he stammered.

“It was my fault, Jamie, really — ”

“No, Claire, don’t,” John said frantically. No, she would not take any blame; she would not take any of Jamie’s rage. John would not allow it.

“Are ye implying that the news of my death deranged ye to such an extent that ye lost all reason and took him to bed by force?” Jamie shouted over his shoulder. “Is that what ye’d have me believe, man? Because unless I’ve been seriously misled regarding yer own nature, it would take substantial force to compel ye to any such action.”

“There was no force,” John said quickly. “From either party.”

“Ye went to her because — from desire?” Jamie actually laughed, tossing his head back mirthlessly. “And she let ye? I dinna believe ye.”

“We thought you were dead you bloody arsehole!” John spat, infuriated by Jamie’s inability to understand. “Both of us! Do you have any idea what that did to us…to Claire? We — we took too much to drink, far too much, and we spoke of you…nothing but you…and…Damn you! Neither one of us was making love to the other! We were both fucking you!”

Jamie’s jaw fell slack, but his grip did not loosen at all.

“It’s like I was saying, Jamie,” Claire’s voice punctured the silence. “It was…comfort, for both of us. For me, it was…familiar feelings in my body that I needed to feel again or I would die, even if my mind knew better that it wasn’t really you…”

“What about you, then?” Jamie shook him again, less violently, John noted. His voice was marginally softer as well. “There’s nothing familiar about a woman’s body to you, I ken it well.”

John gulped again, tasting more blood. “I…I can’t explain it.”

“Ye’d better bloody try, man.” His voice started resembling a growl again, and from the corner of his eye he could see Claire tense and step forward.

“It’s…she…” He looked helplessly to Claire, arms crossed over her chest, but she just sighed, shaking her head. She certainly couldn’t explain it any better than him. “She was yours, Jamie. I knew that. God, I knew it. Every breath she took I could hear your name in it. So it wasn’t about possessing her and taking her from you…it was about…possessing you. Through her.”

Jamie’s nostrils flared, his jaw hardened, but he did not speak.

“It’s…vulgar. I knew it then, and I know it now.” John couldn’t meet his eye. “I felt shameful for it. I knew it was wrong.”

“We both did.” Claire took another step forward, chancing a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

Jamie flinched, jerking away from her touch.

“Do not touch me.”

Claire pulled her hand back as if scalded, unconsciously resting it on her belly as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Tell me,” Jamie said, low and dangerous. “Tell me exactly what happened, ye filthy wee pervert. Every word. Every motion. Everything.”

John got just enough breath to answer.

“No.”

In an instant, Jamie had transferred his grip to one hand and shoved his free fist into John’s stomach mercilessly. Claire screamed again as John doubled into himself, coughing helplessly.

“Stop it! You bloody bastard!”

Heedless of Jamie’s earlier warning, Claire seized both of Jamie’s shoulders and shook him with a might John did not know she possessed. Jamie dropped John and whirled on her. John tried to cry out, tried to move, but he could not.

Please don’t hurt her.

“What’ll you do? Beat me senseless like you did to him?” Claire challenged, jutting her chin up at him. John swore he could see smoke coming out of Jamie’s ears as he bore his gaze down on him. “Or are you quite finished acting like a fucking barbarian?”

“Ye foul mouthed bitch! Ye’ll no’ speak to me that way!” Jamie roared.

“Fuck you!” she shot right back. “You will not speak to me that way! Perhaps you weren’t aware, but I am not your wife! The law doesn’t acknowledge bloody handfasting. My husband is swollen and bleeding because a brute beat him like an animal! And you will let me tend to him or I will walk out that door and you will never see me again!”

John’s jaw went slack. He knew it was an empty threat; he knew Claire would endure anything to remain by his side; threats, rage, physical harm. She’d not be parted from him now, not ever again.

She shouldered past Jamie and sat on the edge of the couch, gently touching the swells of John’s face.

“Rags, clean water, and something cold from the icebox,” she commanded, not unlike John had once seen her do during the war. “Now.”

Jamie swore in Gaelic and kicked over the coffee table as he went, but he did as he was told.

“Oh, John…”

Her fierce front melted away, the fear returning to her eyes. “I’m so sorry…I had to tell him. It didn’t feel right. I thought he’d understand…I didn’t think he’d…”

She silenced immediately when John picked his eyes up, seeing Jamie reenter the room with the requested supplies, flicking the lamp on.

Try as she might, Claire could not get back that cold indifference she’d regarded Jamie with just minutes before, and she wept pitifully as she tended to John. At some point, Jamie reached out to touch her, having been hovering over them uselessly all the while.

“No,” she snapped.

John’s heart was in pieces. Never had he seen them at such odds with one another. Not once in all the years he’d seen them together.

And it’s my fault.

She directed John to hold the ice she’d wrapped in a rag over his left eye and told him to lie down. She’d determined he was not concussed and that nothing was broken. Just bruised, bloody, and oozing.

“Claire…”

Jamie sounded like a wounded animal.

“What do you want to know, Jamie?” Claire stood and faced him, her voice hoarse with tears. “Do you want to hear about how I tore his clothes off like a desperate slut? Do you want to hear about how I threw him onto the bed, how I rode him? Do you want to hear about how I forced his hands to touch all the places that you always touched? Do you want to hear how I screamed your name while I came around his cock? Is that what you want?”

She was fully weeping now, and John could tell it was physically hurting Jamie to not reach out and crush her to him.

“Do you want to hear how I…I vomited my guts out the first time I called somebody that wasn’t you this child’s father? Do you want to hear that I wished I could make it go away so that I wouldn’t feel guilty about killing myself? Does that make you feel better? Does that help? To know that I would have let myself, let your child die if it hadn’t been for John? Or perhaps you’d have preferred it that way.”

“Claire!”

“He saved me, Jamie. You were dead. And so was I until John unburied me. So don’t you dare…” Her voice cracked. “Don’t you dare make either of us feel guilty for doing what we needed to survive.”

John winced as his tears burned his wounded eyes.

“Claire…mo ghraidh…” Jamie began weeping as well. “Please…”

She swallowed, looking past him at the clock on the wall.

“Mo chridhe…” He sank to his knees before her, not daring to touch her, but gathering her robe into his hands instead. “I…I dinna deserve ye, Claire…”

She still would not look down at him.

“I’m…I’m no’ worthy of yer forgiveness…God knows I’m not…” His knuckles went white gripping the robe. “There’s…there’s a darkness in me, Claire…darkness that wasna there when ye last knew me…I tried to hide it…it’s eating me alive…and it’s gonnae eat you alive, too…”

She finally moved, looking down at the top of his head, being that his face was pressed into her robe.

“I dinna deserve forgiveness, so I willna ask. Just please…” His voice cracked. “Please dinna leave me…”

A sob escaped Claire’s lips.

“I dinna deserve to ask this of ye…but I need ye…I’ll die wi’out ye as ye nearly died wi’out me…” 

“Get up, Jamie,” she said softly, touching the crown of his head. He looked up at her, face shining with tears. “Go to bed. Let me finish tending to John, and then I’ll be in.”

He maintained eye contact with her as he pressed a fervent kiss to the edge of her robe, and then departed to the bedroom. Claire sighed heavily and shakily when he was gone, and John sat up to grasp her hand.

“You don’t really mean to go in there?”

She looked down at him and squeezed his hand. “He won’t hurt me.”

He wanted to believe her…but had the man not just said that there was a darkness in him that he could not control?

“I’ve seen this war do things to men that…that are beyond comprehension,” John said, and a chill ran down his spine. “Some of them come out completely different men.”

“He’s still Jamie,” she insisted. “I’m sorry he hurt you, I am. I feel sick over it. But me…he’d never hurt me.”

John sighed and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m right here if you need.”

She nodded, squeezing him back. “I’m just there if you need. Come get me if anything starts bleeding.”

And with that, Claire disappeared after Jamie into the bedroom, and John was lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of the throbbing in his face, and the sound of broken crying from a shattered man.