#for me i don’t think it’s for the same reasons as niles especially don’t care about fame or shit like that lol

[loderlied]

i need you all to know that the main reason (besides a general hunger for attention) niles even accepts aldori’s call is because he got caught stealing his student’s work and passing it off as his own and his reputation as a teacher was obviously ruined. lmao

[nevermindirah]

Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, ���Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

[emblemxeno]

Edelgard’s Weird Family History

It’s honestly exasperating talking about Edelgard’s Brady Bunch family but like... let me explain in detail why it irritates me with a comparison to a similar situation in FE Fates. Here’s a small thesis on Garon’s concubines in Fates.

Fates Concubines

“Garon had lots of concubines who were vying for power and his favor. There were many children sired by Garon who lost their lives in various ways, the most notable of which being involved in concubine feuds and murdering one another. Along with this, Xander’s mother Queen Katerina was well loved and respected. Because of this, the second queen, Arete, and her daughter Azura were treated badly by the other concubines and Nohrian aristocracy. All of this was relatively unknown among the Nohrian common folk. The Nohrian siblings’ dynamic and way of life was shaped by these experiences.”

Supporting the Thesis

How do we know the concubines existed? They are confirmed by all of the Nohr siblings. 

How do we know they were vying for power? Many of the Nohrian siblings’ supports confirm this, among which are Camilla/Niles and Leo/Elise. 

How do we know there were once more siblings and that they lost their lives in various ways? The JP version of Leo/Elise confirms the concubines had their children kill each other, while the Fates drama CDs confirm that other siblings were lost by execution, falling in battle or getting captured by Hoshido. 

How do we know that Arete and Azura were mistreated? Azura and the Nohr siblings confirm this, and Azura’s entire personality is a result of people treating her badly during her childhood. 

How is this unknown among the common folk? Both Niles (Niles/Camilla) and Laslow (Drama CDs) reveal they never knew that such a thing occurred and react with shock when they learn. Not only that, but the common people and the Nohrian nobility are basically cut off from each other, the former living in an underground city/shutting themselves away and just trying to survive, while the latter lives above ground. 

How do we know that these experiences shaped the dynamic of the Nohrian siblings? Many supports and story moments show this. Xander’s denial and inability to question things in fear of risking his family is because of his relationship with Garon and his regret of losing his other siblings. Camilla’s desire for love resulting in her unconditionally giving love to Corrin and her retainers is a result of her mom only loving her as a tool. Leo’s need for affection and validation from the family he has left (specifically from Camilla) is a result of being aware from a young age that he wasn’t loved by his mother. Elise’s pure and innocent outlook contrasts this because her mom was the least involved in the concubine feuds.

There are multiple sources and dialogue in Fates that you can use to support the initial analysis. Let’s try to do the same with Edelgard’s family.

Edelgard’s Family History

“Ionius had many consorts but had married for political reasons. He sired eleven children, his 9th child being Edelgard. Edelgard’s mother was Anselma, who Ionius had met at the officer’s academy on a romantic evening at the Goddess Tower. They fell in love, but Anselma was content with remaining a consort. Then Ionius tried to consolidate power to throne by taking power away from the Seven Noble Houses and consort kin such as Arundel. In the ensuing power struggle, House Hrym was destroyed, leading the other houses as well as Arundel to start an insurrection. During this time, Arundel took Anselma and Edelgard to Faerghus to escape political strife. Edelgard then returns to the Empire and is then experimented on by order of Those Who Slither in the Dark and the Nobles of Adrestia. All of Edelgard’s siblings were crippled by disease, went insane or died. Ionius could do nothing but watch in horror as all of this happened. As a result, Edelgard bore a second Crest and swore to create a world where such meaningless sacrifice is never again sanctioned, for the sake of her family.”

Supporting the Thesis.

Who exactly did Ionius marry for political reasons? Beats me. Why would he have to marry for political reasons as the emperor? Was Ionius unpopular and needed to do something to fix that? I don’t know. Nothing ever clarifies that.

Why does Edelgard say that her father and mother met at the officer’s academy, when it’s noted that Edelgard is the first Hresvelg in ages to attend? Is the word ages being exaggerated here? I don’t know.

Why is Ionius taking power away from consort kin including Arundel when it would no doubt negatively affect the one that he loves, Anselma? I don’t know. Maybe love wasn’t as big of a deal for him as political power was?

Why is only Edelgard noted to be taken away from the Empire’s political problems, and nothing is said of her siblings during this time, even by her? Who knows. Where does Ionius’ wife, the empress, go during all this? Who knows.

Why are the Adrestian nobles ordering experiments to make a stronger emperor when they just took away power from the throne? The best answer that I could give is that they want a powerful emperor they can control, but nothing really supports that part of the theory because Edelgard and the nobles mutually hate each other. Couldn’t the nobles just do what they want to do if the emperor was made that politically impotent? Probably! Then if what Edelgard said was true, why didn’t they do it already? I don’t know!

Why does no one but Edelgard and Hubert acknowledge the existence of the other imperial royal kids? Wouldn’t her noble classmates like Ferdinand at least be aware of them, especially if there were that many siblings older than Edelgard? No fucking clue.

If Edelgard swore she would change the world where such things wouldn’t happen again, why is she working with the perpetrators? Because she needs their power to topple the church. But why would she need to topple the church when the church preaches against abusing power blessed by the goddess i.e. Crests and tries its best to treat everyone equally? No fucking idea. 

Conclusion

See what I mean? Edelgard’s family history is so damn sloppy. Some important aspects go unexplained and other important aspects are contradicted. In contrast, with the Nohrian royal family’s internal politics and power feuds, where everything noted to be important is supported by the text with no major contradictions in sight.

But the worst part is, that even if you go with my approach and say “Edelgard is a known fucking liar and information that solely comes from her mouth shouldn’t be taken at face value” well... then you’re left with ‘well if Edelgard did lie then what’s the real truth’ and you don’t get answers because the game doesn’t care despite those things being integral to the main cast of two routes. 

Plus you have to suspend your disbelief that Edelgard is such a genius that she’s able to construct an entire false history regarding Adrestia’s hit sitcom “How I Met Your Consort Mother”. And Edelgard has her moments yes, but I don’t think she’s really that smart. Or maybe she is and I just can’t wrap my head around it.

So, yeah. Pick your poison. Suspend disbelief that Edelgard is such a fucking genius and/or liar or resign to the fact that the game’s writing can be really sloppy. Or pick both.

Or pick none, and believe that Edelgard is actually telling the truth about everything in regards to her family and what happened to them, with explanations that would make even a hardcore Watsonian like me dizzy with confusion.

[qqueenofhades]

hilary listen the old guards slayed me. I mean the plot the pacing the writing the acting?? the diversity that didn’t feel like lip service? tHAT ENDING??? Charlize Theron also knocked it out off the park. like the bone weary fatigue that comes with seeing too much and for too long could’ve been played as that snarky cynical and jaded god. but she dIDNT. and it was such an impactful and nuanced performance. Agh I’m running out of characters gdi moving over to another ask (1/2)

ALSO BOOKER. I fucking love when they make a characters actions reasonable. like the man is clearly depressed. he’s tired and he wants some sort of agency back in the face of devastating loss over and over again. like waiting for your friends to heal themselves each time they die?? my god that amount of stress has to get to you at some point. which also lends to this self-awareness and surety among all of the characters (especially Nicky omg Nicky you beautiful cinnamon roll). GDI no space (2/3) 

RIGHT. Nicky! what a compassionate but ruthlessly efficient solider (also that part near the end where he puts the gun over his shoulder for joe to take was kinda hot ngl). the juxtaposition is so interesting and compelling and we see it throughout the movie with all of the characters too. even their relationship as a team. it’s odd because they’re really professional with each other but still choose to be a family from the get go. it’s even more profound when you think about it (NO SPACE Y) 3/4 

because that’s the one thing they truly have a choice over. they’re going to see these 4 people for the rest of their long longgg lives and they can very easily say no. I’ll find others and lose them but I refuse to be forced to get stuck with you instead of someone else. they don’t though and such props to the writer who didn’t go down that traditional path of conflict. aggghh I could on about how andy didn’t die either but I’m running out of space Again and have spammed you enough lolollll 

LOOK.

It was as if ye olde Netflix Powers Thatte Be said “look we know 2020 has been a flaming hellpit dumpster of Why God Why, so we’re gonna give the gays everything they want”

There was world-weary ancient Greek warrior short-haired lesbian Charlize Theron (that scene with the hot French pharmacy lady tenderly patching up her shoulder in the bathroom and the obvious sexual tension was SO UNNECESSARY BUT ALSO COMPLETELY NECESSARY GOD BLESS THE FILMMAKERS!) She has lost her equally hot and badass wife and there was Angst and Feelings and now we have Drama with said wife returning from the sea floor and I don’t know what’s gonna happen but my body is ready and I need the sequel immediately.

There were Joe and Nicky, the most beautiful devoted interracial/interreligious mlm immortal husbands who are still completely gaga for each other after hundreds of years, there are absolutely no gay “jokes” or even any calling attention to their status, they whup ass and they make out in front of stormtroopers because why not get you a man who can do both. We have already discussed the fact that I am Deep down the rabbit hole for them.

There was Nile (NILE! I WOULD DIE FOR YOU!) the most PRECIOUS immortal bean, who is a Black woman who literally cannot be shot down, who takes the hits from the military (DON’T THINK I DID NOT NOTICE THAT THE US ARMY WAS ALSO GOING TO PUT HER IN A CAGE/INSTITUTION ONCE THEY FOUND OUT ABOUT HER) and from the white supremacist violence but GETS BACK UP EVERY TIME BECAUSE THEY CANNOT STOP HER WITH THEIR USUAL MINDLESS STATE SPONSORED MACHINE GUNS. She gets to rescue the whole team like a BADASS and go into the lab with the action-hero angles almost ALWAYS received by the Hard Bitten White Man, she gets to tackle the main villain off the top of a goddamn skyscraper and walk away from it while he’s dead, she is nonetheless Sweet and Vulnerable and in need of Protection so she gets to be BOTH the damsel in distress and the hero and I just... I have a lot of feelings about Nile okay.

Even the Hard Bitten White Man we did get, i.e. Booker, is the guy who makes painful choices and is driven by the pain of having to watch his children die and yet also still displays emotions and cares for his other family and awfully regrets what he did to hurt them (and when he realizes Andy’s not healing he PANICS) and now he’s met Quynh and oh the dramaaaa.

I VERY MUCH NOTICED THE CIA AND BIG PHARMA/AN INSUFFERABLE KNOW IT ALL RICH BRITISH WHITE MAN BEING THE VILLAINS UNDER CLAIMING TO DO “GOOD.” THANK YOU. (And good on you Chiwetel Ejiofor, I knew you wouldn’t let Dudley Dursley actually get away with it)

THE ADVENTURES ACROSS HISTORY TO BE! GOOD! PEOPLE! NOT GRIMDARK POINTLESS ANNIHILATION! THEIR HEROISM MEANS SOMETHING IN THE END!!!

THE FOUND FAMILY OF IT ALL. As you note, they completely avoided the “oh no they all hate each other and snipe over petty things and try to kill each other” and went “nope they are a family and they watch football together in their loud church in France where they like to live and all sleep in the same bedroom” LIKE UP YOURS MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE oops

And Andy DIDN’T die and is gonna see her wife again and now has to reckon with that and has to figure out how to fight when she’s no longer completely invulnerable and has to mentor Nile and figure out how to be part of the team in a different way and and and

(I CAN’T BELIEVE I ORIGINALLY FORGOT TO MENTION IT WAS DIRECTED BY A BLACK WOMAN AND A LOT OF WOMEN WORKED ON IT)

/breathes deeply

Anyway I liked it a normal amount.

[andtheywerecocaptains]

@cantteachanoldguardnewquotes​​ my dear ♥♥♥ and nonnie! thank you for sending this! I’ve decided to go with 7 because I have thought long and hard about 49 but I couldn’t come up with anything that I like. So I hope this one is just as good! I promise it’s a happy ending!

Send me kaysanova prompts from this list!

7. “When you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Joe was an agglomerate of character traits that Nicky had learned and knew like the back of his hand. Nothing could be kept hidden from him. He was able to read Joe’s smallest facial expression, the most invisible eyebrow twitch, a change in the volume of his voice, different ways of holding him that meant different things.

Joe was Nicolò’s favourite book - and right now Nicky was trying to read through the chapters that were leading the plot somewhere he was really not sure about. 

Not that the narration was any different. The words were very familiar to Nicky. Joe’s silence was being narrated inside Nicky’s head, but like every other time, he didn’t know how the story was going to end.

Yusuf had spoken very little and very softly for the past couple of days. Anyone else would’ve said that this was very out of character for him, but not Nicky. No, this was part of who his husband was, just as much as his laughter and endless stream of words and his smile that lit up the room and Nicky’s soul.

It had been a couple of months since they’d left Booker behind and, maybe for that exact reason, Andy had thrown them straight into the next mission, which she’d found herself, rather than waiting for someone to ask for their help. Everyone in the team knew why she’d done it. It was her way of coping when losing a soldier. However, she hadn’t asked for anyone’s opinion and that had caused some bubbling resentment, which was never vocalised anyway.

Nile had barely had the chance of settling in and warming up to them. They had only managed to share a few details about themselves, but now they were getting ready to leave for Sweden to meet Andy’s contact and Nile was already learning the basics of the weapons they had and which ones to bring and to leave behind. She wasn’t complaining: the Marine still in her was telling her to be quiet and listen to Andy, even though she might have been feeling a little bit out of place still.

Joe was being quiet too, but not in the same way. Nicky had been following him with his eyes for the whole day, silently checking on him in between one bag being packed and the other. His husband had only made eye contact with him for a total of possibly 3 times, which was the main thing that had prompted Nicky to gently pull him aside at one point and lock both of them in the bathroom.

“My heart, I need you to either tell me what’s going on or start smiling for me again because this day has been absolutely insufferable.”

One corner of Nicky’s lips lifted slightly, whilst he put his hands on his hips. He wasn’t mad at Joe and Joe knew. He was just trying to get him to talk now, before they got on a plane for Stockholm and had to dedicate themselves to the mission completely. 

Joe sighed, resting with his back against the bathroom door, his arms crossed on his chest. He was looking at the floor, but it only took him a few seconds before looking up to meet Nicky’s eyes. His eyebrows were lifted and his forehead was slightly wrinkled, which meant something was weighing on his shoulders and he needed to talk about it. Nicky knew. Joe... Joe always needed a little bit of prodding. He always thought he was the one appointed to listen to other people’s problems and that no one had to be put through what was troubling his mind instead. 

“I just thought... I just thought I was going to be given some time.”

The smile faded from Nicky’s face, but he didn’t move. He knew exactly was Joe was talking about. Booker’s ghost was still floating around in between them, everywhere they went, but the fact that Andy had been so hellbent on finding another mission for them hadn’t given them the chance to actually sit down and talk about it. That, and the fact that she didn’t want to sit down and talk about it.

“You’re troubled.”

It wasn’t a question. Nicky knew Joe more than anyone in the world and they very rarely needed to ask questions anymore.

“I am.”

“Is this why you haven’t been sleeping much?”

“I think so.”

Nicky pressed his own lips together, but only had to think about it a few instants and he had already reached Joe, his hands cupping his bearded face, bodies gently and lazily pressed against each other.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not... not now. We need to pack our things, we need to go to Sweden.”

Joe was right. The flight was booked for 7am the following day and they had too many things to bring with them.

“Joe, we’re not going back to the other room until we’ve settled this.”

Nicky’s thumbs started moving lightly on Joe’s skin, trying to soothe him, trying to gently massage the thoughts out of his head and his mouth. 

Nicky knew how unbearably overwhelmed with emotions Joe could become and how hard it could be for him to put it in words when he was feeling so much, so he needed some encouragement.

“We can’t, Nico, you still haven’t packed your sniper rifle...”

Nicky sighed loudly, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, then rested his forehead against Joe’s, pressing his fingers a bit deeper into Joe’s skin. It was a way to tell him to stop being silly, without actually telling him off.

“What do you need?” Nicky asked, the voice reduced to a whisper.

“Time.”

Nicky nodded, still not pulling away.

“But we don’t have any.” Joe added, eyes now closed, hands gently on Nicky’s sides.

“We do.” Nicky replied, touching the tip of Joe’s nose with his own. This prompted Joe to look at him again, and Nicky welcomed him with a warm smile.

“How? The plane...”

“We’re not going anywhere. Actually, I’ll do you one better. You and I are going to Malta.”

Joe’s eyebrow lifted upwards a little bit and his lips parted ever so slightly. He was confused.

“You are overwhelmed.” Nicky explained, separating their foreheads only to give himself room to caress Joe’s curls on his forehead - gestures that oozed affection, affection that Nicky only reserved to Joe and especially in these moments, when Joe was so vulnerable. “None of us have had time to process what happened and I cannot bear to see you like this any longer. We all need a break and I am sure Andy and Nile will come to that conclusion soon for themselves, but if you need to go, I am coming with you.”

Nicky could clearly see tears pooling up inside Joe’s eyes, but his husband didn’t flinch. He just kept looking at him, like one would with a deity.

“But the mission... It’s an observation one, you can do your sniping work as much as you want, I can’t take this away from you...” Joe whispered, his voice trembling. Nicky stopped him halfway through, grabbing his face again.

“Yusuf. Stop. I don’t care. When you’re happy, I am happy. And you are not happy. So we’re going to Malta. Have I made myself clear?” Nicky asked, lifting one eyebrow, but with the shadow of a smile clearly clinging on his lips. 

Joe kept his eyes on him for a few seconds, then relaxed his shoulders, closed his eyes and nodded. He then proceeded to lean forward, hunching himself against Nicky so that he could end up with his forehead on Nicky’s shoulder. Nicky was ready to hug him, to wrap his arms around Joe’s shoulders. One hand ended up in Joe’s hair at the nape of the neck.

Joe wasn’t crying, not yet. Nicky knew that he would probably find the strength to let his emotions come out once they would be alone in Malta.

For now, he was going to keep being his pillar - for as long as Yusuf needed it.

[cdyssey]

Regret

Summary: When Fran doesn't come down to breakfast after spraining her ankle, the whole house is concerned for her—especially Niles and Mr. Sheffield. Set after "An Affair to Dismember."

A/N: Okay, so I've binge re-watched nearly four seasons of The Nanny in four days, and had to get at least one fic out of my system, lmao.

Fran Drescher's acting in "An Affair to Dismember" when she suddenly broke while talking to Maxwell made me sensitive. ;-;

AO3 Link

—

Breakfast is a remarkably boring affair without Miss Fine bursting through the door, raising her arms in a floral robe, and proclaiming, with signature adenoidal stylings, “Good moooorning, everyone!” 

The clink of silverware, the scraping of ceramic plates, the ruffling sound of Mr. Sheffield anxiously attacking the New York Times like a new Andrew Lloyd Webber play has just dropped—all of it is so terribly drab that Niles spends the first fifteen minutes of her pronounced absence coughing loudly in the hopes that his employer will pick up the hint to do something about it.

“Oh, do go get a bloody cough drop, old man,” he finally snaps, smacking his newspaper down on the table. “You’re driving me mad.”

“Sorry, sir,” Niles arches a brow as he refills Mr. Sheffield’s coffee mug. “I have asthma.”

He turns away to replace the coffee pot on the side table.

“And half a mind to kick your tetchy derrière,” he mutters under his breath.

“What was that, Niles?”

“Nothing, sir! Just saying thank you for your attentive care.”

“Dad,” Master Brighton thankfully interrupts, “where’s Fran, and what have you done to make her mad this time?”

Niles immediately turns around again in time to see his boss’s shoulders straighten in that way they often do when he’s indignant.

Or guilty.

Or some mixture of them both.

“I beg your pardon, Brighton,” he replies stiffly. “Why do you immediately assume I’m the problem here?”

“Process of elimination,” Brighton shrugs. “Fran’s not mad at me, Maggie, or Grace, and Niles is one of her closest friends.”

“You’re so astute, Master Brighton,” Niles smiles wryly as he moves to the left to get a better view of Mr. Sheffield’s face. The vein in his temple is beginning to throb, which is always a good time.

“She hasn’t dated anyone recently,” Miss Margaret pipes up.

“And she’s always fighting with her ma,” Miss Grace adds, “but that's never kept her from Belgian waffles before.”

“So, Dad,” Brighton grins, patting his father once on the back, “unless our math is wrong, that leaves you.”

“Goodness me,” Mr. Sheffield mutters, angrily stabbing a piece of link sausage with his fork. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of the lost Hardy Boy.”

“So you did do something!” Margaret exclaims. 

“No! I bloody well did not, Nancy Drew. For your information, Miss Fine accidentally hurt her ankle clubbing last night with Val. I don’t think it’s broken, but I’ve called a doctor to come by just to check.”

“Tsk, tsk. And you didn’t offer to pick her up Cinderella-style and swoop her downstairs so she wouldn’t miss breakfast?” Niles asks chidingly, only to be greeted with a nasty glare.

“Yes, I did offer to bring her down to breakfast as a matter of fact... but Miss Fine seemed strangely subdued when I spoke to her through the door... I didn’t know what to make of it to tell you the truth...”

Mr. Sheffield’s brow contracts as he searches Niles’s face for an answer, and Niles stares back just as studiously, observing the profound concern in his employer’s dark eyes.

The gentleness.

The romance.

The stunningly oblivious care.

Niles sighs fondly.

Unlike Miss Babcock, he’s never had the heart to kick poor puppies when they’re down.

“I’ll bring her Advil and a fresh ice pack,” he promises. “Perhaps some pain relief will help her to regain her spirit.”

“I hope so,” Mr. Sheffield replies, self-consciously turning to his plate again, the tips of his ears rather pink. “I hate when Miss Fine isn’t feeling well.”

“Here, here,” the whole table concurs.

—

Twenty minutes later, Niles is at Miss Fine’s door with a silver tray laden with all the essentials: painkillers, an ice pack, a mug of coffee (milk instead of cream and extra sugar), and a copy of the new edition of Gloss. He lightly taps on her door with the side of his loafer.

“Miss Fine, can I come in?”

“No,” comes an immediate and sharp reply. “I’m not dressed!”

“How discouraging,” Niles sighs smilingly. “What ever shall I do?”

“Suff’a, and at least give me a minute to find a brassiere.” 

“Oh, we’ll be here all day then.”

He hears a strange thud, a collection of evaluations (“dirty, dirty, slutty, Maggie’s, dirty”), and an assortment of Yiddish curse words he now vaguely recognizes from being friends with Miss Fine for nearly four years now. And then finally— 

“Come in, Jeeves, but shut the door behind ya ‘cuz I haven’t applied a morning layer of lipstick yet.”

Niles elbows the knob and pushes with his shoulder until the door lights open to a peculiar sight. Far from being neat, Miss Fine’s room looks like Macy’s after its annual Black Friday sale with clothes strewn everywhere—from the dressers to the wardrobes to the floor. An empty suitcase is lying on the bed next to Miss Fine, who is sitting in bed wearing an oversized t-shirt, her injured ankle propped up on a pillow. Niles can tell, even from the doorway, that it’s red and swollen, but to his satisfaction and relief, it doesn’t appear to be broken.

“Welcome to the jungle,” Miss Fine mutters when she notices his incredulous gaze. “We got all the animals out t’day.”

“I can see that,” Niles replies, placing his tray on her bedside table and shutting the door. With his usual efficiency, he then walks back over, retrieves the ice pack, and gently places it on the affected area, frowning when she flinches.

“Mr. Sheffield said that the doctor was coming at ten,” he says as he gently lowers himself onto the bed, clasping his hands primly on top of his lap.

“Mm,” Fran grunts noncommittally, grabbing the two Advil pills and knocking them back with a swig of coffee.

“What? You’re not curious as to whether or not said doctor in question is single, Jewish, and living in a Manhattan penthouse? Miss Fine”—Niles reaches over and places the back of his hand on Fran’s head—“do you have a fever?”

“Oh, Niles,” she swats his hand away, “I’m not in the mood.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve heard that one.”

“Niles!”

“Sorry, Miss Fine,” he withdraws his hand with a laugh. “You know I have to warm up before Miss Babcock arrives.”

“Glad to assist,” Fran quips, taking another sip of coffee, and it’s only as she closes her eyes to savor the taste, that he notices there are lines beneath her eyes from what seems to have been a sleepless night. 

The smile sinks from his face.

“You know,” he says quietly, “in all of our acquaintance, I’ve never known of you to injure yourself while dancing.”

Fran opens her eyes only to immediately glance away, tapping her long nails against her mug.

“Val tripped me up when she thought she saw Elton John,” she shrugs dully. “Turns out it was just a really lifelike poster of him behind the bar...”

“I see,” Niles returns, raising a brow. “It was nice of Miss Toriello to forgo her weekend trip with her parents to come back and… boogie woogie oogie with you.”

“Dammit,” she pouts, scrunching her nose. “I didn’t think I’d told you that.”

“You didn’t. I overheard you and Miss Toriello gabbing on the phone about it yesterday morning.”

Fran can’t seem to help herself; she smiles crookedly, even as she shakes her head.

“I dunno who’s more absorbent sometimes—you or the dish sponge.”

He smiles back at her, patting her uninjured leg gently.

“Me, naturally."

"I can believe it, Chatty Cathy," she sighs.

"Now tell me, Miss Fine"—he regains his solemnity quickly, unwilling to let her deflect with jokes—"why does your room look like a tornado went through Loehmann’s?”

Her dark eyes immediately glance around the messy room, as though looking for an excuse and failing to find one.

It’s only now that Niles is sitting down, taking everything in, that he notices that most of the articles strewn about are her favorite clothing items, from her holographic Versace dress to the black tube top that Mr. Sheffield can’t pry his eyes away from every time she wears it.

“I almost did a very stupid thing, Niles,” she half-whispers, looking down into her coffee cup, her fingers tensed and shivering around the handle. “And the thing is, maybe it wasn’t really all that stupid? Maybe it was the smartest thing I could of done in a lifetime of doin’ so many stupid things.”

She pauses briefly before sardonically adding, “People included.”

Though Niles doesn’t have enough dots to connect the full picture, he has what he needs in the way of evidence to get the basic gist: Nigel being in town, the two of them going out, Nigel leaving town, the suitcase, the swollen ankle, and Miss Fine's uncharacteristic melancholy, smeared across her face so sharply that it may as well be lipstick.

He swallows thickly, suddenly grasping how close that they had all been to losing Fran forever.

“Well,” he says, making an effort to hitch an oblivious smile on his face, “isn’t it your mother who says that everything happens for a reason? It seems as though you’re right where you belong.”

“Yeah,” she snorts indelicately. “Twenty-nine multiple times over, single, and livin’ in a mansion with a man who won’t even commit to his meal orders at restaurants, much less his very available and desperate nanny.”

“Beautiful, young, and living in a mansion with three children who love you, a butler who’d be lost without you, and a man who won’t commit to his tie choices either but still cares for you deeply all the same,” Niles corrects her softly. “He was very worried for you when you didn’t come down to breakfast this morning. He didn’t even do the crossword on the Times.”

“Gee,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “how romantic.”

“Very,” Niles grins, “a modern day Romeo—emotional hangups and all.” 

With that, he pats Fran again and stands up; he has no doubt that Mr. Sheffield will be calling for him soon to interrogate him as to Miss Fine’s wellbeing. 

Maybe he can even get C.C. on speaker phone to rub it in her face.

“Y’know, Niles,” Fran smiles at him fondly, “if this whole Mr. Sheffield thing doesn’t work out, we should elope in Vegas in ten yea's.”

“Only if you wear this little number,” he says, bending down and picking up a black cocktail dress from the floor, folding it neatly over his arm.

“You wish you could be so lucky.”

“If we’re going to be in Vegas, anything can happen, I suppose.”

After he retrieves the silver tray from the bedside table, he bends down and kisses Miss Fine lightly on the head, his heart hurting when he notices the way that she closes her eyes beneath the gentle touch—young and vulnerable and terribly hurt by something he can’t quite fix with a well-timed witticism.

“Get some rest, Miss Fine," her murmurs against her head. "I'll check on you a bit."

“Thanks, hubby."

—

Scarcely ten minutes later, he’s down in Mr. Sheffield’s office as per usual, offering the producer a fresh cup of tea even though he had already drunk his traditional two cups at breakfast. 

He insisted, though, on a third, for some excuse he couldn’t quite come up with.

And instead of coming up with an excuse, he immediately asked for all the particulars of Miss Fine’s health.

Predictable chump.

“Thanks, old boy,” Mr. Sheffield frowns, returning to his crossword, tapping the end of his pen arrhythmically against the paper. “Let me know when the doctor for Miss Fine arrives. I want to be there when he checks her over.”

“Ooh la-la-la,” Niles hums, dropping a sugar cube into the tea with a zesty plop.

Mr. Sheffield places his pen down on the desk angrily. 

“Not like that… I just want to ensure she’s going to be well… you know, for the children’s sake.”

“Yes,” he sighs theatrically. “How will the children ever be able to bear their nanny having a twisted ankle?”

“Oh, shut up,” Mr. Sheffield snaps. “I don’t pay you to be sarcastic.”

“No, sir, you pay me to help you with the crossword when you’re missing three-across,” Niles smirks knowingly when he glances down at the incomplete puzzle. “What’s the hint?”

Mr. Sheffield adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose before looking down again.

“A word that means feeling bad for not doing something that you should have done all along. Disappointment. A sense of shame.”

Niles straightens up with a long-suffering shake of his head.

“Oh, sir, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

[adivinationwitch]

(2)a) he's protecting meta's from laura's competency record streak sending them to war, telling the DoN what they'd find alarming or b) he's not yet protecting meta's and is telling the DoN her disloyalty extends beyond the mailroom group she's now given up, which could be very interesting. She's clearly not succeeded at protecting anyone long term and has been ground down into a collaborator regardless. But it might leave a question on why she gave up the dada's, for herself or for other goals.

You tagged about wondering when Niles wrote the letter. I think this; "It has come to my attention that Laura de Mille is being considered for elevation within this organization for delivering actionable intel regarding a certain subversive element." refers to her finally being considered for a promotion now that she's given up her mail room pals, something that seems unlikely before then considering being seen as keeping valuable assets from the arms race called into question her commitment. 

 (1)Also about the letter, it was written by Niles to the bureau of normalcy, which makes the accusations interesting. Disloyal, self-serving, "evidence I have accumulated, which will demonstrate all she has done to besmirch this agency" "astounding lack of character and integrity." "For the good of our work" are all accusations that against an evil organisation are not necessarily bad, maybe good. This is around the time of Niles' change of heart, so it's hard to say if he's writing this because

Yes, I think my whole query about the timing of the letter was the fact Laura says ‘careful Willy, making enemies around here won’t advance you, trust me’ which seemed to imply she’d been denied an advancement (i.e a promotion) due to an enemy intervention which would tie in with the fact the letter is about stopping a promotion, and then it would also suggest the reason Laura was burning the midnight oil at the Bureau (being the model employee in the hopes they’ll leave the sisterhood alone, as it was clear it was the last resort choice she went for). And I also wasn’t certain whether the Sisterhood would be considered subversive since until the very instant they were captured as weapons, they weren’t doing anything except getting very drunk and very depressed. But at the same time, we saw in the most recent ep that she was fired due to Niles Caulder which implies the letter came after. Or maybe it did come before and we’re getting red herrings, I don’t know, haha. 

But yes, the whole content of the letter gives me the frowny lines, because as we know Niles rarely does anything without his own ulterior motivation (even on the occasions those motivations are good intentioned) and also we know he was having his own reluctance against the agency around this time, and starting to pull away, and eventually quit. But in that case, why would he care whether Laura was loyal to them or not? Why would he care anything about her position, role or advancement?

And as you said, a lot of the things he lists would probably be considered assets to the Bureau...unless, like you also said, he knew about other ‘subversive’ elements she was linked to, that it was more than just the Sisterhood she was hiding. As she said to Rita ‘I’m a tad more complicated’. It does feel, regardless, that there’s still mystery and answers to be found around this letter, particularly Niles’ motivation, and why it was enough to convince the Bureau to fire her. Especially as they seemed to have successfully broken her spirit enough, pushed her into a corner and ground her down into a collaborator....why would you fire someone you seemed to have finally ‘trained’? Unless, yes, there’s much more going on. 

I want my answers, haha. 

[poirott]

This is the 2nd part of the "Riddle of the Spinx" interview with Death on the Nile cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos for British Cinematographer November 2020 issue (part 1 transcribed here). The full interview has now been released on the British Cinematographer website. I've included some of the text below!

In Part 2 Zambarloukos talks about shooting with the cast on location in Egypt and doing a particularly complex single shot of them on set, how they did the opening b&w sequence of young Poirot as a soldier, and built sets of Abu Simbel and the pyramids, the use of realtime footage projected on LED screens to make the studio sets look more realistic, what part of the Murder on the Orient Express set they recycled for Nile, etc.

Q: This was shot like Murder on the Orient Express at Longcross Studios with plates filmed on location in Egypt. Was it ever a possibility to shoot entirely on location?

Haris Zambarloukos: The issue is that 1934 Egypt barely exists today. For example, in the 1960s they moved the Abu Simbel temple 300 metres away so that the Aswan Dam wouldn't flood it. So, we built the entire four-storey high Abu Simbel at Longcross, complete with banks of water. The same with Giza and the Sphinx. In the 1930s the Nile went up to the feet of the Sphinx. Now all you see is the concrete expanse of Cairo.

Secondly, it's difficult to shoot complex shoots on a river while floating, taking all the cast down there and scheduling them, on top of ensuring everyone's safety on such a high-profile project.

Our whole design and research went into creating a set. We wanted to build a life-size boat inside and out; not to break it down into small sets but to shoot it as if we were on a boat. That’s a huge undertaking. Jim Clay built an amazing set to scale for the Karnak. It was so big we needed to build a temporary sound stage around it. We also wanted to use some real daylight when we got great sunlight in Longcross and use a little bit of water to basically film the boats carrying guests to the Karnak.

We recycled the railway from Orient and built the boat on that so we could wheel it in from outdoors to indoors. We built a very elaborate lighting rig that you could pull back and see the entire boat in one shot. You could step onto the boat and walk through all the rooms which were all lit for an analogue film f-stop. It was complicated and took most of our planning but I personally don't think you can tell the difference when we cut - even from a shot filmed outside in real sunlight juxtaposed with one in apparent sunlight on our sound stage. It's seamless because we took such great care and a detailed approach to our rig and construction.

In Orient you created some stylish direct overheads of the train carriage. You've told us of the Steadicam dance sequence in Nile. Were there other stylistic flourishes?

Inside the sound stage we went twice round the Karnak with the entire cast all choreographed for this one great reveal of a murder. It was really hard work to do. I understand why it was cut in the edit although they have kept a lot of other single long takes and there are lots of places where you see the whole cast in a single shot.

However difficult you might think setting up a long single is in terms of lighting and operating, it is equally, if not more difficult, to block a scene with multiple actors, keep the audience engaged and choreograph it in a way that is exciting and at the same time reveals things gradually. There's a lot of pressure on a lot of people in shots like that. Everyone's got to be on top of their game. Because we're all so interdependent, it's a domino effect in that the further you go in the take, the bigger the responsibility is for not getting it wrong whether that's the operator, focus puller, the actor saying the final line, the gaffer lighting a corner at just the right time. We always get excited about those shots but also very nervous.

You augmented the studio work with plates photographed on location in Egypt. Tell us about that.

We filmed on the Nile from a boat with a 14 8K Red camera array. We had a 360-degree bubble on top of the boat and two three-camera arrays pointing forwards and backwards as we travelled up and down. We specifically chose areas where modernity wasn’t present (or where it was, we removed it in post) and we also shot plates from the point of view of passengers onboard the Karnak.

VFX supervisor George Murphy edited the footage and stitched the plates together into an essentially very, very advanced virtual reality rig in which I could pan my camera. We did that before principal photography, so we never had to guess a month or so later what to put there. That’s a big help. Most shoots do their plate photography afterwards. It meant I could pretty much place the camera on any deck of the Karnak for any scene and know what the background would be.

As with Orient, did you play back footage realtime on LED screens outside the boat set?

I'd love to have done it live but on Orient we were only dealing with one wagon's windows at a time. It was still the biggest LED set-up ever done to that point, but the Karnak set is 20 time bigger than that. There aren't enough LED screens available – plus it would have been prohibitively expensive.

Instead, I went for a much larger version of a technique I'd used on Mamma Mia which was to hang back projection screens all around the boat – 200m in circumference, 15m high. We used Arri SkyPanels at a distance to create a sky or a part of the background. It could also be converted into a blue screen when we needed to. It meant that if I had a shot looking above the horizon line into the sky then it could be done in camera.

How confident were you of retaining colour and contrast from set to post?

I took stills on the recce and we used those to the create colours with this back projection for our skies. I take prints (not digital stills) so there is no misinterpretation. A still is a piece of paper that you can see. Once something is emailed across and seen by someone watching on another screen the information can get lost.

At the same time there were a lot more checks and balances put in place. We had a projector at Longcross and I watched dailies with (dailies colourist) Sam Spurgeon every lunchtime. With Kodak and Digital Orchard we have a very quick process to convert analogue filmmaking into digital by the next morning. Film is processed at night, they scan at 4am and by mid-morning those digital images are transferred to our dailies suite at Longcross. At lunch we’d watch it digitally projected, having been processed, scanned and graded at 2K.

I check that first and give notes to Sam and those get transferred onto our dailies which is what Ken, the editorial team, VFX and studio team sees. That's a major check. It's me with someone in a room, rather than me talking over the phone which is a big difference. I have a very good relationship with Goldcrest and (DI colourist) Rob Pizzey who also sees things along the way. I supervise the grade at the end. So, there's no need for anyone to interpret anything. It’s a collaboration in which we all look at the same images.

Did you shoot black and white for the opening scene or convert?

We shot colour for a couple of reasons. Although Kodak could manufacture BW 65, there is no lab in the world to processes it. Plus, there’s a certain skill to grading BW using colour negative and the added benefits are that that you can place a grey tone to a colour. For example, you could take red and decide it will look a very dark grey or a light grey, so you get very detailed tones. Ultimately, I get much more control in the DI this way. They were very monochromatic battlefield sets and costumes so it was quite limited in this case. The Germans wore grey and the Belgians wore dark blue and it’s a dark sooty gas-filled battlefield but you could manipulate the blue in the sky a little bit more and certainly manipulate the intensity of people’s eyes - especially if they had blue eyes (which Branagh does).

How did you handle sound sync?

To do sound sync work on Orient we used sound cameras that are twice as heavy as high-speed cameras, so I wanted to develop soundproof housing (blimp) for our camera on Nile. I took the problem to Stuart Heath at BGI Supplies at Longcross. They've made all sorts of props for us before, from Cinderella’s carriage to the furniture on Nile. I told him that I needed it really quickly. All my other attempts had failed. Stuart suggested using a material that they soundproof the interior of helicopters with. He brought a draper in who basically measured the camera as if making a dinner suit for it and quickly made a couple of versions for us. It was very effective and really opened up the Steadicam possibility for us. All from just wandering onto a workshop on the lot and asking a friend if he had any ideas about how to achieve something. In the old days that’s what everyone did – the answer was somewhere on the lot.

Finally, after six films and 14 years working with Ken Branagh, could you tell us what makes your relationship tick?

It is a fantastic friendship. To begin with you must be able to maintain a professional friendship with any cast and crew which is all about doing your very best and understanding where you have common aesthetics and shared thoughts about humanity. Ask what kind of world you want this to be, because that will come through in your filmmaking.

As you say, I've spent years working in close proximity to Ken and we have a mutual affection and admiration for each other otherwise we wouldn't be doing it for so long. He is relentless in pursuit of perfection and in his advancement of storytelling and is inspiring to work with. It means you have to be as relentless in your area of craft.

I think we both like making the same kinds of films. I'm a Greek Cypriot who grew up with Greek myth and tragedy. Ken's love of Shakespeare is legendary. You can easily see the lineage between Aeschylus (the ancient Greek creator of tragedy) that goes all the way to Shakespeare. Perhaps that appreciation for the human condition in its best and worst forms is the tie that binds.

Photo credit: Rob Youngson

Source: britishcinematographer.co.uk - February 4 2021

[elizabeth-mitchells]

supercut of us - The Old Guard (2020) - TOGFemslashFortnight

@tog-femslashfortnight - Saturday's Prompt: Free Choice

This is especially for everyone at the TOG Femslash Discord <3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Andy | Andromache the Scythian/Quynh | Noriko, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Nile Freeman & Quynh | Noriko Characters: Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Quynh | Noriko, Nile Freeman Additional Tags: TOGFemSlashFortnight, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, ish, Headcanon, Friendship, Team Bonding, World Travel, Fluff and Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff Words: 3517

Inspired by 57 headcanons shared on the TOG Femslash Discord... (which you can find along with their creators here)

After Andy and Quynh are reunited they decide to travel the world with Nile. Andy deals with her uncertain mortality, Quynh deals with the twenty-first century, and Nile... deals with both of them. It's fun, exciting, sweet and never boring.

There was just something about the way Quynh was holding Andy’s hand, which was perfectly complemented by the exact pressure of Andy’s hold, but defied by the purposeful pattern that Quynh’s thumb was drawing on the back of Andy’s hand. Then, of course, there was also something else to be said about the particular arch of Andy’s eyebrow, or just a flash of a frown in Quynh’s face, followed by Andy biting her lip, and answered with a brief pout from Quynh. Which lead to-

“What are you guys doing?” Nile blurted out, finally exasperated by the way the two women had been silently staring at each other for four minutes doing nothing but exchanging microexpressions and holding hands. “Did you guys changed your mind?” she tilted her head.

“No,” Quynh replied slowly, “I was just asking Andromache if she’d like me to stab her just once more to check if she is still immortal.”

Andy rolled her eyes, not very happy to be reminded about the fact that she still couldn’t figure out if her immortality was back or not. She had scars now, but still healed much faster than she should. It was complicated. “We’re ready to go, Nile,” Andy grumbled, as they finally followed the younger woman to the plane. With just one look Quynh had let her know she wasn’t feeling particularly great about being locked in that small plane for a long period of time. Andy was comforting, and reassuring, let her know that she disliked it just as much. “It’s safe though, trust me, I’ve only crashed one without meaning to once, or twice. And it was back when they were considerably less safe,” she added.

“Without meaning to,” Quynh shook her head fondly, “And that wouldn’t even be you at your worst now would it, my heart? You love falling from high places.”

Before Andy could protest, Nile was exclaiming, “Oh you have to tell me about that Quynh.”

“Not again,” Andy groaned, falling into her seat in the plane.

Once inside, it was obvious that Quynh’s anxiety of the reduced and unfamiliar place was kicking in again. With a smile as kind and bright as ever, Nile offered her her phone and headphones and said, “You know what I think could help? Music. And I have just the right-”

“Just the right kind of meaningless, over simplified, repetitive-”

“Oh, excuse me, I forgot classic rock was the only valid form of music. Andy, you’re a cliche grandma.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Quynh agrees with me!”

Their always-loving, never-ending bickering stopped for a moment, so they could both look at the third member of their group looking for her evaluation of the argument. Quynh, who had been so completely engrossed in Nile’s favorite playlist of pop music that she had missed the take-off of the plane entirely, only looked up when she took notice of the silence around her. “Hm, what?” she took off one earbud, looking from one face to another and nodded, “Yes, my heart, you are too old to understand. And this is actually really good.” She went back to her music and, by the end of the flight, she may or may not have accidentally started listening to a jazz music playlist, and ended up absolutely loving that too.

--

During the first hour of their hike, Nile tried to remember that she was exploring the world with the two oldest women on Earth, women who could teach her absolutely everything, women with knowledge so invaluable it was difficult to comprehend. Women who, also, sometimes acted like annoying children. 

“You slipped on a little bit of mud and broke your skull when you fell down, that’s worse,” Andy argued.

“Not as bad as dying because you failed to balance your own axe on your head! Even after I told you not to do that, Andy,” Quynh insisted.

Teasing each other like that was as natural as breathing, but that little detail of Quynh calling her just Andy, it had the oldest woman narrowing her eyes and suspecting it was better to give up the fight. “Anyway, it was Nile who shot herself in the foot for no reason at all,” she mumbled, attempting to change the subject.

Except, “Yeah, but it didn’t kill me,” Nile raised her hands in faked innocence while the three of them started laughing. As annoying as it could be to travel with the oldest couple on Earth, it was also a lot of fun.

--

Quynh had opted to stay behind to rest and look over their camp, so it was just Andy and Nile slowly riding their horses around. 

“You’re doing great, kid,” Andy sent a smile her way, “Just a little more practice and you can join me on the Mongol Derby next year.” The younger woman replied with a genuinely frightened expression. She was just learning how to do that, she didn’t need to think about the absurd things that Andy, who apparently had loved and befriended horses before anyone had even thought about domesticating them, would do. Still, she knew she’d probably end up joining her and being dragged into whatever chaos that experience would entail. “I hope Quynh will join too, she’d be amazing. Though, I didn’t tell you this but, she used to be terrified of horses,” Andy finished with a soft chuckle.

Nile laughed along with her and as a reflex she looked back in the general direction of where they’d last seen Quynh. When she looked back at Andy she was surprised to find a not entirely unfamiliar look of melancholy on her friend’s face. Before Quynh came back, that was Andy’s usual look, but it had been a while since Nile had seen her like that. She took the risk to say, “I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for you, when you lost her.”

For a second, Andy looked surprised to hear those words. “Good,” was the first thing she replied, wholeheartedly hoping the young woman would never even have to imagine that sort of pain, that absolutely devastating loss of having your universe ripped to shreds, decades of looking over your shoulder to find out your better half is no longer there.

But, on second thought, she remembered how closed off she had been when they all first met Nile, and in a matter of months Quynh was back and everything had changed too quickly. Perhaps she owed her some part of the story.

“I never really stopped looking for her, you know?” Andy took a deep breath, her heart warmed by the genuine interest in Nile’s gentle eyes. “Just weeks before we found you I was still trying… It was hell though, back then, when it first happened. I got my revenge and a little too late I found out there was no one alive who could tell me where she was. Then I had to accept she was impossible to find, and accept I’d never be the same again. I shave this whole thing off,” Andy ran a hand through her hair, making the most of that brief moment to try to soothe her raging emotions, and remind herself she was just remembering, and this time Quynh really was back, waiting for her nearby. “I got into piracy for a couple of years, still bent on revenge and staying closer to, you know, the ocean. And a lot of regrets.”

“It brought all of us here though, right? She’s back,” Nile added with a smile that she hoped could cheer up her friend at least slightly. It worked though. Andy, not for the first time, found herself not only endeared by the young woman’s optimism, but surprisingly agreeing with her.

--

This time it was Andy and Nile waiting for Quynh by the beach. The island was just big enough for the three of them to hide without worrying that someone would figure out if was Quynh it was who had just killed one of the wealthiest men in the world. When she arrived at their spot on the beach and took a seat by the fire, she was still impeccably dressed, barely a hair out of place.

“Well, that felt good,” she sighed, getting comfortable in the sand, “Also, you’re welcome. Unless you had stock in his company. Actually, I don’t know how that works. It doesn’t matter to me, and I bet it doesn’t matter to any part of him left.”

Despite Nile’s shocked, slightly disturbed, and somewhat confused expression, Andy smiled, completely smitten by the woman beside her. “Take a look,” she told her lover, nodding her head toward the sky, not taking her eyes of Quynh, “Beautiful, isn’t it.”

“Mesmerizing as always,” Quynh replied in a whisper, leaning back on her hands to look up at the stars above them as the two of them always loved to do. “Always changing…”

“Wait, what?”

Smiling at the younger woman’s confusion, Quynh added, “Hey, Nile, bonfires are perfect for some good stories. What do you think, are you interested?”

Nile agreed immediately and Quynh expertly launched herself into dozens of epic tales that, with the power of only her words, took the three of them all over the world and all over history. She reminded Andy that this wasn’t the first time they took care of greedy dictators. She talked them through the discovery of lands for the very first time. She brought legends back from the dead and left Nile speechless. She even indulged herself in sharing one or two of her favorite stories of Andy and her, including her time spent as a sculptor with her obvious muse being Andy, and also all the myths she personally started with one of the many special swords Andy singlehandedly created for her.

A very important part of the stories was the interaction between Andy and Quynh. It didn’t take long for Nile to understand how whenever Quynh hesitated on some part of her magnificent stories, Andy was always there ready to provide the missing piece of the puzzle. It might have to do with some part of Quynh’s mind perpetually lost to the unforgiving ocean. But, judging by the way it looked like Quynh expected Andy to fill in the blanks for her, it suggested that this habit of sharing their memories as one wasn’t new at all. 

Quynh was an expert in the art of storytelling. She knew exactly how to tease the knowledge only she had about Andy’s life before immortality, including their birthdays, and yet keep it all still a mystery. She knew just how to bring Nile close to tears with the tale of the Scythian warriors’ welcoming arms giving Andy her first family, and her longest-lasting name, and yet keep to herself the memory of it being just the last name Lykon got to call her.

When Nile can’t help herself anymore and falls asleep, Andy half expected Quynh to be just as tired, but she wasn’t all that surprised when instead the love of her life stood up and offered her a hand. “Are you joining me?” Quynh asked, nodding her head toward the sea, the gentle waves crashing on the shore.

“Are you sure?” Andy asked, but immediately took the hand offered and followed the other woman’s lead in taking off their clothes and walking to the shore.

“It’s terrifying, I admit that. I wouldn’t dare do it without you,” Quynh looked unusually bashful and vulnerable for a moment, the moonlight catching the precious light in her eyes just right, “But there’s just something about it… I need to prove I’m stronger, you know?”

“I am completely certain of that fact, my love,” Andy replied with a smile, taking Quynh’s hand and going into the water with her. And she meant her words. Five hundred years of torture beyond human comprehension, and Quynh was still here, still alive, still herself. There was nothing in this world stronger than her, Andy knew that as a fact.

--

Taking some time to finally stand still and relax in a safe house was a great idea for several reasons. Firstly, Nile would be lying if she said she didn’t miss a stable internet connection, which she made quick use of to sign up for an online Art History course. Plus, the isolated charming little cabin near the woods was the only place where Andy could possibly get away with adopting an actual wild bear cub.

“You stole a baby bear?!” Nile exclaimed, lowering the sword and giving up her training for a moment, because the sight of Andy arriving at the house carrying a bear in her arms was a little too much to easily comprehend.

“She lost her mother,” Andy shrugged, as if it was the most common thing to go around the woods picking up orphan bears to raise like pets.

“She does this often,” Quynh mentioned to Nile, lowering her own sword and instead picking up her recurve bow, “Personally, I prefer big cats. But it’s cute, isn’t it?”

Nile narrowed her eyes and looked at Andy. “I mean… look, that’s not normal. I love penguins, they’re my favorites and I’d love to have one, but they’re not pets. Dogs are my favorite pets, that’s normal!” Before she could get to her arguments about bears not being fit for keeping as pets, she was interrupted by Andy’s newest friend running toward her and instinctively hugging her leg. “Oh… okay, fine, it’s cute but…” But this was her life now, and she wasn’t exactly complaining.

--

Life in the various safe houses they stayed was fun, pleasant, and a very particular kind of peaceful that was only possible when living with actual immortal warriors. It was, at least, never boring. And sometimes it was also surprisingly sweet.

Nile had the brilliant idea of introducing Quynh to many, many things about modern culture. This included a quick review of the twentieth century, and Quynh reacted horrified by world wars, fascinated by 1920’s style, and skeptical about the moon landing. This, somewhat accidentally, involved introducing her to hitmen, leverage, other shows and movies that she passionately loved or disliked, and it was hilarious to watch Andy and Quynh bicker about how attractive or definitely-not-attractive the actors and actresses were. And there was also the occasional video game. Though Quynh definitely developed a love-hate relationship with Candy Crush, often saying to Nile “I’m your friend, your family, I teach you archery tricks that no other person alive knows, and this is how you repay me? You give me this devilishly addictive little game?!” 

Later, Nile was pleased to find out that both women were skilled in doing hairstyles for her, and, even better, since they had learned with Lykon thousands of years ago, they knew ancient styles that thoroughly impressed the young woman. Cooking was, more often than not, a struggle for the three of them. Baking, on the other hand, was a wonderful experience. Maybe Andy didn’t do much beyond distracting Quynh and eating the majority of everything they made, even before it hit the oven. But it was still a good time and, judging by the way Andy nearly burst into tears whenever Quynh offered her any sweet pastry, it was easy to guess there was some sort of meaningful history behind it.

Nile was also lucky enough to witness the moment Quynh found out that same-sex marriage was a perfectly legal thing in some places. Maybe she couldn’t marry the love of her immortal life as soon as she would have liked, maybe they would need to fake a few documents or even try to take advantage of some odd American laws, but she couldn’t wait for the moment it’d finally be official. Andy perfectly understood how she felt. Maybe they had absolutely no need for anyone or anything to certify their love for each other, but it would surely be fun to get to do something that for centuries was denied to them. That was partly the reason why Andy had attended college a handful of times, as soon as it was legal for women to do so, just to proudly get kicked out.

As perfect as the dynamic between the three of them was, they all needed their moments to themselves, and Nile had learned when to give the couple the space they needed. Plus, she also got time to herself. This entire life was a, literally, never-ending adventure, but it was necessary to take the time to breathe, take a step back, and think about things. One of Nile’s favorite things to do to achieve some peace of mind was journaling. Truthfully, it started as a desperate attempt to write letters to her family that she would never send. But it soon became a helpful habit that kept her grounded. And also busy, on those times when Andy and Quynh disappeared for a handful of hours at a time.

--

It was starting to happen less and less, but it was still a common occurrence for Quynh to wake up feeling the weight of the entire ocean on her chest. She’d wake up startled, a desperate scream already halfway through her throat, and already halfway prepared to die again. Some nights were harder than others, some nights it took several minutes for Andy to convince Quynh she was safe and alive and far from the sea, and get her to calm down. But then, of course, there were some easier nights, when the warmth of Andy’s body beside her would quickly bring Quynh back to her reality. She’d be shaking, frightened, afraid. But she’d turn to Andy, even with tears and in her eyes and smile in relief.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe Quynh,” Andy immediately whispered in the softest tone she could manage, wrapping her arms around her lover, bring her closer, letting her find comfort in her touch and the sound of her heartbeat.

After a few moments, with her face pressed against Andy’s chest, Quynh wondered, “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Andy promised, kissing the top of her head, “And no, as a matter of fact, you didn’t. You fell asleep and I was just reading.” That got Quynh’s attention, getting her to finally meet Andy’s eyes. “It’s been a long time but… The Odyssey, remember that one?”

“Your favorite,” Quynh said softly, granting the other woman a genuine even if small smile, before cuddling closer to her. “Read it to me?” she asked, knowing nothing would make her feel safer, feel better than that. This moment, this connection brought by holding each other tightly, reminded both of them of a time in their past. Shortly after losing Lykon, they would embrace each other just like this, usually after a battle, and it was the only way to soothe their fears, it was a silent promise. The painful memory was gently replaced by Andy’s words recounting her favorite story, a different reassurance, a sweet gesture, and everything Quynh needed at the moment.

--

“You,” Andy said, and kissed her, “are wearing my shirt,” she added, kissing her again.

“Well,” Quynh returned the kiss, “It’s obviously not mine, Andromache,” she teased her, and bit her lip. Pleased with Andy’s eager reaction, Quynh continued kissing her, and let her hands start roaming her lover’s body. She was sitting on Andy’s lap, always more comfortable there than anywhere else. She kept one hand on the other woman’s short hair, since both equally loved it when she played with her hair, and with the fingers of her other hand she caressed Andy’s jaw, her neck, shoulders, and finally arrived at her upper arm. Then she pulled back from the kiss just enough to say, “You have a new scar.”

“Do I?” Andy replied and when she tried to go back to another kiss she was gently rejected.

“I notice, you know?” Quynh added. She had a somewhat complicated relationship with Andy’s scars. They represented a new and interesting part of her lover for her to cherish, so she enjoyed checking up on these small changes every now and then. But it was impossible to ignore that they stood for the love of her life getting hurt, and being, more or less, mortal. She still healed, slowly but surely, and certainly faster than regular people, but… Before her thoughts spiraled out of control, Andy’s gentle hand on her cheek brought her back to their conversation. She had been mindlessly tracing one of Andy’s scars with her fingertips, a new habit that turned out to be comforting for both of them.

“I know,” Andy said with a small smile that was quickly returned. There was more she wanted to say, both of them, but in their case, it could perfectly well be said silently. Starting with resting their foreheads together, taking a deep breath, and holding each other just a little tighter. It was enough, because their love was loud enough to fill the silence for thousands, and thousands of years.

[fluorescencefuture]

Homestuck^2: How I’d write the Omega Kids (and the Candy timeline villains)

I haven't reread Homestuck nor the epilogues in a while so correct me if I'm wrong with anything here. This was all in one go, too, so I probably missed something here or there. I'm also not a native English speaker so pardon some grammar errors.

In General

I’d give them a five-letter name scheme. Names of a group being the same length was a big deal in original HS (human first names had four letters, troll names had six, Ancestors had eight-letter titles, Cherubs had eight letters too, etc.), so it’s odd seeing this new group have names of varying length

I’d also give them all shirt symbols. It’s odd that something so iconic to Homestuck isn’t present in the new kids, either.

I'll write for both the canon post-canon with evil Jane and for my own version with different villains. Evil Jane happens because a highblood troll who hears of the old ways of Alternia attempts to kill her and take her crown, as she's technically the heiress. Jane wins, but she starts to see trolls and Alternian culture in a different light from then on. At first she was only trying to prevent the worst parts of Alternian culture from coming back, but over time grew to despise trolls, and ended up trying to force human culture onto Alternians.

The other Candy villains are a dangerous terrorist rebel group that wants to overthrow the creators and destroy them. They say the creators made the people, abandoned the people for years, then suddenly came back and decided they control the people. The group is made of humans, trolls, carapacians, and even consorts. The mysterious shadowed leader claims to be doing this for the people, but really, all they want is to have control for themselves, and they don't care if any innocents get in the way.

Harry Anderson

Has nothing to fix, he’s perfect as is

Okay but seriously, the guy is the kid with the least questionable things around him. He has no baggage from sharing the same name as an established character (ICP Harry Anderson doesn’t count), and he didn’t come from infidelity.

He also has actual color to his personality. He likes musicals and sewing. He has a good relationship with his dad. Like many kids with divorced parents, he wishes his parents were together again. What do the others have? Vrissy is just a slightly less aggressive Vriska. Tavros is just OG Tavros and Jake combined. Yiffy’s thing is being a dog girl named Yiffany Longstocking. The others could be fleshed out eventually, but with the slow pace and meandering plot we have right now, I doubt it.

If Jane's the villain, things would mostly go the same way. If Jane isn't the villain, it goes two ways: he decides to join Vrissy's guerilla anti-anti-creator group and fight because he wants to protect his parents, or he's just very anti-conflict and avoids the fight because he doesn't think he's up to it. He's frequently threatened but doesn't tell his parents about the threats. Eventually, he gets convinced to join and fight.

Vrissy

So Vrissy’s in relationships with guys who are technically her cousins. At first I was like “well, they’re not biologically related nor were they raised as family so it’s not weird”. But then Tavros called Kanaya “Aunt Kanaya” and now I’m thinking “oh god, that’s really weird”.

Now she’s just a troll girl from school. She's just close to Kanaya and Rose, but isn’t their kid. She isn’t related to anyone. Anyone except Vriska, who she was named after. Vrissy’s new nickname is just Vriss.

Alternatively, her name is something completely different. Honestly, it just seemed like a way to shoehorn in a Vriska for the story. Only for actual Vriska to come back anyway.

Uhh, Eshtha (from Jyeshtha, a Hindu nakshatra Scorpius is associated with)? Oriona (from Orion, the myth where Scorpius is mostly attributed to)? Naiaka (from Manaiakalani, as Hawaiians saw Scorpius as the demigod Maui’s fishhook)? Oh wait, I’ll have to make nicknames for those names too. Uh, Eshty, Riona, and Naiah.

Maybe have her have a personality that’s rather opposite to Vriska’s than have her as Vriska 2. She's more a perky goth, more cheerful and sweet. More "I knew you could do it!" than "So you can do something after all." A beast in battle, of course. She doesn't like to use her mind control powers, because she finds them disturbing.

If Vriska had to come back, the conflict would come from their conflicting personalities. Vriska would pretty much act the same way she did to (Vriska), but this time, Vriss doesn't take any of it and stands her ground.

Whether the villain is Jane or not, she's the one who decides to fight back, and she gets her friends and others to join her. The creators have been nothing but good to her, and she cares about them a lot, especially Rose and Kanaya. Not to mention they're also her friends' parents.

Tavros

Yeah, we’re gonna have to rename that kid. It never made sense to me why Jake and Jane named their kid after some guy they don’t know that well. I don’t remember everything from the Epilogues, but I’ll assume the reason was Gamzee or something. Also weird that Jane, who’s supposed to be racist to trolls, would just...let her kid be named after one.

Something old-ish would work. Flynn? Silas? Avery? Clyde? Niles? Louie?

He's moirails with this Vriss instead of kismeses. The Vrissy/Tavros kismesis also felt like re-hashing the kismesis that Vriska and OG Tavros kinda had.

If we went post-canon villain Jane, he'd be reluctant to join the rebellion and is more of a pacifist who would rather try to talk his mom out of it.

Alternatively, Jane and Jake are separated (but not divorced) and he lives with Jake. Because Jane was never terrible to him and Jake doesn't tell him how bad she's gotten, he disagrees with her but still tries to justify and rationalize that Jane's really doing it from a place of good intentions.

If the villain isn't Jane, then Jane and Jake have been hiding him away, and his friends can only see him when they visit him at his swanky home. You might say he's...housetrapped. He joins because his friends are in it, and doesn't quite grasp how serious things are until the rebels try to kill Jane (the rebels try to kill Jane first because you always kill the healer first).

He's in contact with a mysterious guide who's kinda spacy and a little terrifying at times. His friends think the guide might just be some creepy predator. It's revealed to be Candy Gamzee, out of the fridge and legitimately harmless, but untraceable and doing mysterious things behind the black. Again.

Come to think of it, Dirk's missing too...

Yiffany Longstocking

Yiffy is now the ectokid of Dave and Jade. She looks more like a DaveJade kid than JadeRose, really. Dave and Jade are also either happily married or coming close to an amicable divorce. Yeah, the toxic shit Jade did and the erasure of Dave's bisexuality also don't exist here. Jade, Dave, Karkat, and Terezi are backing Vrissy's anti-anti-creator group.

Her new name is something unisex. Riley? Logan? Robin? Sloan? Salem?

She spends a lot of time outside doing sports and doesn't talk much. She's not very close to the other three kids, but she's surprisingly pretty close to her Aunt Rose.

While Jade and Dave are out on a mission for Karkat (this is the mission Candy Dave dies), she gets kidnapped by the opposing force (Jane/the terrorists). She gets a shock collar forced on her, then is hidden away in a Boarding School for Inconvenient Girls, enrolled under the name "Yiffany Longstocking". Jade comes home to find that her family's been taken from her. Again.

Yiffy almost escapes, but she gets knocked out and taken back to base, where they lock her in a cage and treat her like a dog. She's still defiant to the end.

If Jane's the villain, Jake is inspired by Yiffy's defiance, grows some balls, exposes Yiffy's treatment to the press, and sets her free. She beats up the guards trying to stop her. Jake gets surrounded by more guards. In response, he pulls out his pistols and a one-liner, and bam, cliffhanger.

If it's the terrorist group, Terezi picks up on Yiffy's scent when they're in a base, and she's saved by the other three kids, where she immediately turns around and beats the crap out of the guards. They become proper friends from there.

The reunion panel still happens and this time it's her reuniting with her loving mother and aunt instead of...y'know.

BONUS: Sadstuck

Harry gets his own “im not a hero” speech after trying and “failing” to be the hero that John was

Vriss is eventually forced to use her mind control powers. It’s either a “Katara using bloodbending" situation, or she forces her friends to leave her behind when they want to stick by her.

Tavros finally witnesses his mother’s true nature when Jake defeats all the guards, but is stabbed from behind by Jane and killed. In the other version, it seems Jane is finally safe and able to come home to her son. Then she’s killed right in front of him.

After the big hug with Jade and Rose, Yiffy pulls away. She smiles, looks around behind them, and asks “Where’s Dad?”

So, please tell me what you think!

[in-tua-deep]

I sent an ask like this before but I think tumblr ate it so I guess I’m sending it again. I love your tog/tua crossover! It was the post that made me watch the old guard and I’m v happy abt that. I was thinking about Booker ‘I have trauma about my kids growing old and dying’ Le Livre and I can’t help but think he’d go full dad mode on Five at all times. Five gets the father he deserves and Booker gets an undying child. Everyone wins.

oof yeah it would be... complicated to say the LEAST

I’m not sure Booker would be ready in any sense of the word to be a father again, and having an immortal child would be,, really painful honestly, especially when he had to watch his children grow old and die and now there’s this child who gets to live and it’s not fair

and Booker is... a normal father, for lack of a better word. He loved his children. He told them stories and swung them into his arms and pressed kisses against their rosy little cheeks, he held them when they cried and joined in with the laughter, and he loved them

and so he looks at this - this child, because Five is thirteen and he doesn’t deserve this

but Five is not familiar with the idea of a normal father. His father was cruel, was very forthright in the fact that he did not care about the children as human beings. It’s laughable to think that Reginald Hargreeves would ever tell them stories, would ever hold them or kiss their cheeks or laugh with them. Reginald Hargreeves avoided even touching them. A father to Five is monumentally different than what a father is to Booker

they bright side is that if Booker ever acts fatherly, Five doesn’t clock it as fatherly. He might accuse Booker of mothering him? But honestly Booker probably is like “we can’t let Five do X dangerous thing, he’s baby” which,, Grace helped the kids get ready for their missions, she never tried to protect them from their ‘work’

and some of the things are so far outside of Five’s frame of reference that he just assumes they’re an Old Guard thing or something, like when Five gets a smear of dirt on his cheek and Booker automatically grabs a handkerchief to scrub it off

(I can claim this because Five has such non reactions to the same thing in the s2 gifs I have seen that I can only say he’s just like ??? the whole time and just chooses not to address it, especially bc it happens both with a family member AND an enemy and he doesn’t react either time)

To be fair, they all baby Five to an extent, but it looks different for each of them

Andy doesn’t know what to do with a child? She hasn’t really,, been around children for extended periods of time honestly, she’s used to saving kids and is honestly pretty good at awkwardly talking Five through panic attacks. But she’s kind of tough love, and would probably cheer Five up by giving him weapons and letting him blow stuff up tbh

Nicky and Joe are kind of like fun uncles? they tease Five a lot, and he can’t even argue with them because they’re both like 900 years older than him but also they are very emotional and touchy and they like to ruffle his hair and lean on him and give him hugs that pick him up and swing him around. It’s weird and he isn’t sure if he likes it, but it’s kind of nice to be included?? They never had kids so they’re kind of indulgent with him tbh, kids like taking down horrific time based organizations as a pass time right?

Booker is awkward because he is a father and so he does things like ruffle Five’s hair on autopilot or pile more food on Five’s plate or anything, and he freezes because - it’s something he did with his own kids, and,,,,, he might get more than a little emotional about it. which weirds Five out. Booker is definitely one of the more protective of them though and dislikes putting Five in the line of fire

Nile has Big Sister energy, despite being younger than literally anyone else in this au technically considering that the umbrella academy are 3 years older than her. She has what is vastly lacking: emotional maturity. She sort of adopts Five as a kid brother, which makes her nostalgic for her own brother but also Five is so different it’s not a big issue, but Nile used to babysit for money as well and knows how to handle difficult kids and just applies that to Five

(and it actually works more often than not, five is not immune to Nile’s impeccable logic - mainly because Nile doesn’t order Five she lays out her reasoning in a way that he can’t even argue with)

booker has issues, he has a LOT of issues especially regarding kids and stepping into a fatherly role that I’m not sure he would comfortable with for a long time... but he has a lot of time to wrestle with those issues and eventually step into a more parental role since they have... literally hundreds of years together in the future lmao

five has to learn to actually be a child and not just a child soldier, which isn’t exactly easy considering he’s now going to part of the immortal ‘army’ 

honestly i think a good healing part of this au is just... the og squad learning that surviving isn’t the same as living, and even though they still have to be careful about their footprints even with Copley erasing them... I think they have a lot to learn about living

and having normal human ‘sponsors’ to help out... well I mean - the Hargreeves are super wealthy now that their dad kicked the bucket and are probably very willing to go on camping trips or go to Disney World or drag the squad paintballing. When was the last time the og squad just had fun? no worrying about missions and saving people or saving each other, just pure silly nonsense fun

and the Hargreeves are learning to have fun for the first time as well, even if it means Klaus aggressively putting Mickey Mouse ears on everyone and Diego cheating at paintball and Nile teaming up with Allison to get everyone to go to various plays and musicals

the Hargreeves aren’t immortal but they also aren’t helpless either, and I could see them tagging along on any cool missions for a while. Especially Diego, tbh, with his discount batman schtick he has going on

(honestly if anyone would remind Booker of his kids, it would... probably be Klaus? His children were adults when they died, and he saw them dying, and Klaus is skinny as a rail and sickly looking and probably has health issues thanks to the extended drug use and withdrawal going on

so consider: Booker telling Klaus to sit down and let him cook, get some soup in that boy he’s way too skinny, booker is FRENCH he WILL cook for this beanpole. His mama’s stew could knock the plague right out of a person, probably. 

Booker: that is far too heavy for you let me take it

Klaus: oh! no dude it’s fine - 

Booker: sit down !! you look like a strong breeze could knock you over. I will bring you some soup.

Klaus: I’m fine !! Don’t worry about me - 

Diego: don’t listen to him!! he absolutely needs minding 24/7 or he WILL find a way to get hurt

Booker: !! are you hurting right now? Sit down! Honestly -devolves into muttered french curses as he bustles off to the kitchen-)

but yes there you go the og squad and umbella academy combine into the ULTIMATE FAMILY due to shared custody of Five for the duration of the academy’s lives

[historic-old-guard-lover]

What are your thoughts on the old guards and literacy ( past and present ) ?

I've reblogged some posts here (on why anything goes for literacy in medieval Europe), here (which touches upon oral history), here (a heartwarming take on reading aloud), and here (a humorous take), but I'd love to go in depth for you! As usual, the mega-post with pictures and more detailed explanations is below the cut-off.

TL;DR Summary of Literacy for Each Member:

Lykon: never needed to read or write, probably did neither

Andy: we see her read in the film, but might have only picked up reading in the last few centuries; doesn’t necessarily know how to write but would also be a fairly recent skill*

Quynh: may read or write, but similar to Andy would have been “recent” in the terms of her lifespan*

Yusuf: likely can read and write Arabic before his death, values literacy

Nicolo: total wild-card for either reading or writing, but we see him reading silently in the film so he has learned to read at some point; unclear whether he values it

Booker: very background-dependent for reading and writing, but values literacy as a social status symbol and clearly enjoys books from the film

Nile: can read and write and views it as an essential skill, but likely knows people who are illiterate and understands the socio-economics behind US literacy

*This is based on the fact that they never needed literacy to go about their lives, but they could have learned to read and write by the time that Yusuf and Nicolo die if they enjoyed it.

First off, what is literacy? If you ask someone or google it, chances are you’ll encounter the definition along the lines of “you can read and write.” This is a definition of literacy. The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) defines it as “ability to identify, understand, interpret, create, communicate and compute, using printed and written materials associated with varying contexts.” To summarize academic arguments, “literacy” could mean anything from “is able to read a newspaper” to “understands internet meme language” to “understands the doctor’s write-up after a visit.” For this post, I’ll broadly address the ability to read and the ability to write in an character system since that is what I imagine you are asking.

You can’t have someone read something if you don’t have someone to write in a mutually-intelligible language, so let’s start with the history of writing. The invention of writing has been awarded to Sumerian Cuneiform in ~3,100 BCE in southern Mesopotamia (modern day Iraq and Iran near the Persian Gulf). It was done on clay tablets by trained scribes, primarily for boring things like business and government. Below is a picture of a tablet so you can see what cuneiform looked like. They eventually settled on writing left-to-right and didn’t have any punctuation (not even spaces between words!).

[ID: “Sumerian cuneiform tablet, probably from Erech (Uruk), Mesopotamia, c. 3100–2900 BCE; in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City” from here. The Met attributes it as “administrative account of barley distribution with cylinder seal impression of a male figure, hunting dogs, and boars.”]

Another notable old language is (Old) Egyptian. The first complete sentence dates back to 2690 BCE and was done using hieroglyphs (shown below). This language was used throughout Egypt and Nubia, which translates to modern-day Egypt and Sudan. The language didn’t really pick up, from what archaeologists can tell, until around 2600 BCE where writing starts proliferating...and then is soon replaced with Middle Egyptian. Fun fact: the word “hieroglyphs” comes from the Greeks, but the Egyptians referred to their script as (transliterated) “medu-netjer” or “the god's words” because it was a gift from Thoth (yes, that guy with the falcon head who may also be accredited as Thot).

[ID: picture of a seal impression from the tomb of Seth-Peribsen. It reads “The Ombite (i.e. Set) has given the Two Lands to his son, Dual King Peribsen.”]

Skipping over a few more writing systems developed in the Middle East and surrounding regions, we finally get to the first records of Old Chinese in 1250 BCE with the inscription on oracle bones shown below. From the get-go, there were at least three different scripts of Old Chinese: oracle bone, bronze, and seal. I’ve also added a bronze script so that you can see the differences.

[ID: ox scapula oracle bone from the reign of King Wu Din. The fragments read “ ...divined: in the next ten days there will be no disasters...  (day 40) Zheng divined: in the next ten days there will be no disasters. (day 41) ... cleaved to (day 42) ... fifth month, in Dun...  (day 50) Zheng divined: in the next ten days there will be no disasters. ...   (day 50) Zheng divined: in the next ten days there will be no disasters. Third day, (day 52) ... (day 54) ... The Gui will also have sickness ...” ]

[ID: Rubbing of an engraving found on multiple objects which notes the appointment of a man named Song as supervisor of the storehouses in Chengzhou.]

As you can see, early writing would not have interested the earliest members of the Old Guard. The things that were being written down were things that were important to those governing and those in business. I really don’t think that Lykon, Andy, or Quynh would have cared much about the barely distribution or who’s in charge of the storehouse, and they wouldn’t have been important enough to keep their own oracle on retainer. If we use the timeline I developed for my history of language asks (~8,000BCE - 7,000BCE Horn of Africa Lykon, ~5,000BCE - 4,000BCE Caucauses Andy, and ~3,500BCE - 2,500BCE Southeast Asia Quynh), then they all predate the invention of writing excluding the younger range of Quynh’s possible birth which places her after the invention but still culturally separated from it. Lykon could have died without ever having to learn how to read or write, Andy was old before it was invented let alone became popular, and Quynh is from a time where writing was not common. This is a hot take, but there is a non-zero chance that if Quynh disliked reading/writing and resisted learning it, she could have been locked in the coffin without being solidly literate. Imagine the first language you really have to read after 500 years now that literacy is a requisite for society is French, which doesn’t even sound how it looks (I’m looking at you, silent -ent at the end of most present-tense verbs). Painful.

This brings us to the next question we should answer for these older members: when would reading or writing have become useful and important to them? This is obviously much more difficult to answer. Because of oral history traditions, they wouldn’t need to read for entertainment (that whole concept must be mind-boggling). Because they probably didn’t do much large-scale trade coordination, they wouldn’t need to write for business. I can’t see any of them working for the government. As much as I love the joke about Quynh recognizing wanted posters, that wasn’t a thing until right before the 19th century in Europe. Quite frankly, I don’t think Andy or Quynh has a compelling interest in learning to read until the 1700s at the earliest unless they want to and enjoy the idea of writing (perhaps introduced by the younger immortal couple?).

Yusuf and Nicolo are a different story altogether, as they were both born after the invention of writing had become fairly common (ie. books were a thing and people used them, though they were rare and expensive). A longer and far better post than I could write explains that literacy in medieval Italy was in no way uniform: Nicolo is a total toss-up. He might have only known how to write, only known how to read, done both, or done neither even if he was a monastic priest or even a scribe who copied manuscripts. As a member of a merchant family, this still holds because 1) he might not have been the child raised to take over the business; and 2) you could pay people to do that pesky writing thing for you if it was absolutely necessary.

Yusuf came from a society which valued reading, especially in religious contexts. It’s called the Islamic Golden Age for a reason! Young children were schooled in Arabic and the Quran, though it might have been memorization-based. Older students would be taught to read and possibly to write as well in order to engage in scholarship around their sacred texts. He is from the beginning of the creation and popularity of madrasa (literally just “place of study”) as institutions of learning. He probably had an entire curriculum he studied, like modern schooling. Given that we can all agree that Yusuf comes from a wealthy background, it is a safe assumption that Yusuf can read Arabic and it is probably also safe to assume that he can write in it. I’d say that, if you are writing him as particularly wealthy or scholarly, he is probably even trained in the art of calligraphy (see an example below) which is to say he can write BEAUTIFULLY. The example picture is simply words on paper like we’d expect of a modern book, but calligraphy would be integrated into architecture and pictures. Don’t tempt me to make another post on this beautiful art form.

[ID: Maghrebi script from a 13th-century northern African Quran, thanks to Wikipedia.]

Moving on to 1770s France, literacy was becoming common but still varied with social class (especially before the Revolution) and it’s not clear whether Booker would have learned to read and write. It’s ironic that many areas of the country did not have had more than 40% MEN’S literacy while at the same time the country was considered a hub of the Enlightenment with it’s institutions of higher learning. The North/South cultural divide that I’ve hinted at here and here, shows up in the literacy rates as well. As a Southern sharecropper or laborer, he would be very likely illiterate. As a Southern peasant, we approach a 50/50 chance as he becomes more wealthy. As an artisan (if anyone headcannons this), he most likely is literate though the extent varies with wealth. Whether Booker knows how to read and write before his death is closely linked to class and wealth, but he would value literacy as a major social status signifier and be motivated to learn if he didn’t already.

[ID: four maps depicting “men” and “women” literacy rates for the period of 1686-1690 versus the period of 1786-1790. Adapted from "Reading and Writing: Literacy in France from Calvin to Jules Ferry, 1982."]

This brings us to modern history for Nile. Compulsory schooling for children is present in the US and being illiterate is (unfairly) associated with being unlearned. She was definitely taught to read and write in school, and literacy has been an essential skill throughout her entire life. This doesn’t mean that she is necessarily disrespectful of any illiteracy, because thirty percent of Chicago adults would “benefit” from literacy instruction. Literacy is still tied to class (and thus race) for a lot of Americans, though less strikingly for 1770s France. Nile probably knows some adults in her life who are illiterate or struggle with literacy and would understand that this is tied to socio-economics.

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #57

Prompt number: 18 - “You don’t see it?”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: Joe and Nile, Joe grabs Nile’s wrist (below cut)

AN: Kind of a Dead Like Me AU. Gets real choppy below the cut, so here’s your warning. 

“You don’t see it?” Nile asks, following the little demonic creature with her eyes. She’s been seeing those damn things ever since she woke up in the infirmary at the base. They’re nasty little things, two feet tall, spikes on their head and back, a Voldermort’s nose, and an overall sickly appearance. Just looking at them makes her skin crawl. 

“See what?” Joe asks, following her line of sight. “The man in the green pants? I mean, it’s kind of hard not to see him. I’m pretty sure the grinch uses less green than that man.”

“What? Oh, wow, that’s a lot of green.” She knows several people who would kill to have their lawn be as green as that man currently is. She doesn’t think she’ll ever understand America’s obsession with perfect lawns. She shakes her head and drags her eyes back to the creature. It’s climbing up a tree at the moment. “No, I keep seeing these small demons. They knock shit on the ground, shove things in the way, they’re like a bad cartoon if I’m honest.” Tom and Jerry was more original than these guys. 

The demon is bouncing on a branch now, each bounce making the branch sway a fraction more than the last. Nile doesn’t know when she started holding her breath, but now that she’s aware of it, she couldn’t suck in a breath if she tried. She’s unable to tear her eyes away from the demon that’s getting more fervent with his movements. 

It’s a relief when the branch finally snaps, barely missing two bikers on the trail as it crashes to the ground. She watches the bikers turn around, realization slowly dawning on them of just how lucky they are. 

It happens so fast. 

The warning builds in her throat like molasses. By the time it passes her lips, both bikers are on the ground in one bloody mess. 

Nile’s up on her feet, phone in hand, ready to call an ambulance when a hand wraps around her wrist. She turns to look at Joe, “We have to help them!” 

Joe swallows and he looks pained for some reason. “Nile, it’s their time.”

“What?” She tries to break out of his grip but Joe tightens his fingers and starts to tug her away. “What are you doing? Let go!” What the hell is wrong with him? “Joe! They’re hurt!”

 “I know,” Joe says, continuing to guide her away, “there’s nothing you can do.” Nile digs her heels into the ground and yanks on her arm, forcing Joe to stop and look at her. She’s going to have strong words with him later about what’s appropriate and not. 

“You better fucking explain and let go in the next five seconds because I’m getting really pissed off.”

Joe blinks at her, looks down at where he’s still holding her wrist and releases her as if she electrocuted him. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Joe quickly apologizes, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Nile experimentally rolls her wrist, sees the way Joe is watching the movement with a guilty frown and she thinks, good. Her wrist is already fine though, any potential bruising or swelling gone. “We should go,” Joe says after a pause, glancing around the park. There’s a crowd forming around the two bikers, people frantically shouting at each other to get help and call an ambulance.  

“Why?” Nile almost shouts, managing to lower her voice to a hiss at the last second. Why are you acting this way? Why do we need to leave? What aren’t you telling me? 

“You’re seeing death and death doesn’t like us.” Nile squints at Joe. Did he eat crack for breakfast? 

There’s a crazed energy building within him and Nile doesn’t want to see what a 900-year-old man looks like when he snaps. Joe crosses his arms, “Quynh had your gift. Those things you’re seeing? They’re sadistic little bastards and they love us. So we need to leave before it clocks us and we wake up in a morgue,” Joe says, his voice tightening near the end. 

None of what he just said makes sense. She’s got more questions than before he started explaining, but Joe looks genuinely freaked out that she lets her sympathy momentarily win and nods, letting him set the pace as they exit the park. 

They don’t talk the entire walk home, hell they don’t even so much as glance at one another and she hopes he doesn’t think he’s off the hook. They still need to have words about grabbing her and whatever the hell she’s seeing. 

When they get to the empty house, Joe motions for her to follow him into the kitchen. He pours them both a drink and Nile takes her glass with a ‘thanks’ before sitting down at the table. 

Joe sits down in the seat in front of her and hangs his head in shame. “I’m sorry for grabbing you without your permission. That was very wrong of me,” Joe quietly says, looking up at her at the end. He looks genuinely sorry, and not like he’s only saying what Nile wants to hear. “I got scared, I know that doesn’t excuse what I did, and I wish I can take it back, but I can’t. I acted poorly, I hurt you and I’m sorry about that.”

Nile lets his words sink in. 

She fights back the instinct to immediately accept the apology. This isn’t something they can skirt around, not if they want to remain as teammates, much less as friends. “I’m more upset that you made a choice for me.” 

She can practically see the entire replay in his mind and she knows when he sees her point when he winces. “I’m new, Joe. I haven’t known you for two-hundred years, I can’t tell yet when to follow you with no questions. You have to explain stuff or at least say ‘Nile, danger. Explain later.’ I trust you to have my best intentions but you can’t—you gotta let me make that choice.”

Joe nods, hunching further into himself. “I understand. I’m really sorry, Nile.”

Nile reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, “We’re going to be fine, Joe. I just need time to get on the same page.” She gently squeezes his shoulder, “I’m going to have this conversation with Nicky and Andy too. This was inevitable, looking back.” 

Joe huffs, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “I’m really happy you’re not afraid to set us straight. Booker,” Joe pauses, a flash of anger crosses his eyes, but as sudden as it appeared, it’s gone, leaving a trail of sorrow in its path. “It’s hard to have boundaries when you don’t care.” 

Nile doesn’t know what to say, and maybe there’s nothing to say. Booker is such a sensitive topic that it feels taboo to even think of his name sometimes. She gives his shoulder another squeeze and drops her hand onto the table.

Joe clears his throat, “Right, and onto the next topic. Quynh,” Joe closes his eyes, lets out a raspy laugh, and opens his eyes again, reaching for the drink. “We’re just going through all the difficult topics today, aren’t we?”

“I can wait,” Nile starts, she can tell how drained he already is and what’s a couple more days when they have billions more? 

Joe shakes his head. “This is important, will put you in danger for not knowing, important information.” 

She remembers Joe’s earlier words. Sadistic bastards. They love us. 

Joe sips at his drink and Nile mirrors the action. “Quynh called the things you see death’s helpers. They don’t directly kill people, they just set death into motion,” he pauses until Nile’s looking at him again, “Nile, whenever you see one, get out, especially if you’re in a public place. They know when they’re spotted and they know we’re special.”

Nile frowns, she has so many questions, she doesn’t even know where to begin. Why does she see them and they don’t? Is she in more danger because she can see them? Will those things attack her just because she can see them? 

Joe scans her face, “I can see you have a lot of questions and I do want to help, but I think you should ask Andy.” Ask Andy about her lost lover? The one she still feels extremely guilty about? Maybe Joe did eat crack for breakfast. “I know but she’s known Quynh the longest, she has the most information on this. I only know the bare minimum, Quynh didn’t like talking about it and I didn’t like asking about it.” 

Nile already knows this future conversation is going to be a painful one. Andy clams-up tight when she wants to and no amount of prying or crying can get her to open up. 

“It’s alright, you at least answered the big question,” Nile says, and she wonders if this is going to be a theme. The what always being answered but the why remaining a mystery. “Thank you for filling me in.” 

“Yeah, and I’m sorry once again-“

 “Joe,” Nile interrupts with a shake of her head. “We’re moving past that.” 

“Right, of course.” Nile rolls her eyes, reaches out to ruffle his hair just like how her brother hated. Joe hates it too and she grins as he smacks her hand away, smoothing the curls back down. “Brat,” he mutters, it’s all reluctant fondness and the tension in his shoulders is gone, so Nile’s counting it as a win. 

They’re going to get there one day. 

[tog-resources-archive]

Hello fellow fan who has been here since the beginning! I come from the “other side” I suppose, in that I do think the top/bottom discourse is worth talking about. It has to do with the elephant in the room which I haven’t seen anyone touch on – self-identified top!joe fans (in contrast to simply fans who enjoy or prefer content where joe tops). I remember the original top/bottom discourse coming out of a more general conversation about trends in fic (1)

Thank you fan!anon for sending me such a long, detailed message! Never apologize for writing me an essay since I always seem to be writing essays for other people in return lol. Also sorry it took a while to get to! This required a bit of preparation. You’ve given me a lot to respond to. I’m going to be putting the entirety of the ask under the cut and the tl;dr because this one is very, verrrryyyy long. 

Tl;dr- fan!anon talks about the history of top/bottom discourse in TOG and the issues of racism in our fandom. My response: my own feelings on the history of the top/bottom discourse in TOG and the current state of it. General issues I’ve observed in this fandom and the current discourse. Also, we shouldn’t ignore fandom racism, but I don’t think we should be looking at it through the lens of top/bottom, AND I think we should be focusing on misogyny, homophobia, etc. in addition to racism. Not ignore one for the other. 

Bottom line though, don’t harrass people, block people if you need to, focus on what you love, support fan creation and let’s try to be a better fandom. 

Okay, time to dig in!

Hello fellow fan who has been here since the beginning! I come from the “other side” I suppose, in that I do think the top/bottom discourse is worth talking about. It has to do with the elephant in the room which I haven’t seen anyone touch on – self-identified top!joe fans (in contrast to simply fans who enjoy or prefer content where joe tops). I remember the original top/bottom discourse coming out of a more general conversation about trends in fic (1) wherein Joe was more violent, less empathetic, often not religious, more aggressive in sexual scenarios, and also most often topping. People asked the fandom in general to simply consider, if that is how they perceive Joe, to reflect for themselves about implicit biases that could be colouring that interpretation. The self-identified top!joes used that conversation as a starting point to argue that the above interpretation of Joe, (2) and writing/drawing Nicky as smaller, almost twink-like, demure, more feminine (or writing fic where he was de-aged) was justified by canon (if you recall the multi-day argument about the approximately 1 inch height difference between Marwan and Luca) and connecting those ideas to top!joe just “making more sense” to them. In the hands of a good writer (of which we are blessed to have many in this fandom!), which character tops in an explicit fic is of no consequence to me. (3) But the concept of top!joe has, in my mind, become so closely tied with those fans who, a) interpret these characters and actions in a way that seems influenced by racial stereotypes and tropes and b) use that characterization as “justification” for top!joe. All this when I thought we all agreed that position preference has nothing to do with personality? (4) If someone sees Joe as a very masculine, aggressive, dom-type character (which is a bit of a one-note characterization to start, but I digress), that shouldn’t be related to him being a “top”, correct? Yet that is the interpretation and connection that the top!joes themselves make. So that’s why to me, the top/bottom framework continues to have some value, eve though in an ideal world it wouldn’t: (5) because some fans connect what should be a neutral sexual position preference to an interpretation of Joe’s character, an interpretation which I think doesn’t do him justice. I understand if you don’t want to publish this but I’m hesitant to talk off anon due to how heated this whole conversation is. I also don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or make them feel bad about how they are participating in the fandom, but I do think self-reflection in terms of how we engage is valuable. (6) And just to fully reiterate in case it wasn’t clear, my above points are specifically referring to who I think of as “top!joe only” fans as opposed to fans who enjoy or prefer content in which joe tops – only the former of which I am wary of. Anyways, sorry for this long message, and I hope I've been able to explain my reasoning. If we continue to disagree, thanks for reading this anyways and continuing the dialogue. Thank you also for promoting femslash events and content! (7)

So....I did say in a previous post that I’m not a big fan of hearsay, and I’m sorry but… that’s kind of what you’ve given me. A lot of “this is what Top!Joe Only people have said” and “this is what the rest of the fandom has said back.” I have to ask, who are these “Top!Joe Only” people that are on the other side of this fandom war? Who are the people representing the “rest of the fandom”?  The only names I could really come up with myself are the Top!Joe Server mods as top!Joe only fans, and they haven’t exactly been active recently. Not to mention the Top!Joe server mod @karanoidandroid was the focus of the Art Theft and Bullying debacle a while back (here) which even if you disagree with her… that’s not the way you treat people. Full stop. 

But anyway, to break this down, you’ve said that top!joe only fans wanted to interpret Joe in a way that was “more violent, less empathetic, less religious, more sexually aggressive, and topping (most of the time)” and that Nicky is “smaller, more twink-like, more demure and feminine” and that the hardcore top!joe stans are using this interpretation as a reasoning for liking top!joe explicit fics (and for underage fic?)

Er, honestly, I’ll have to disregard the “less religious” comment in this one. Lucyclairedelune has talked about it very eloquently here. As for the rest, let’s say these opinions were expressed on tumblr in July, just when the fandom was getting started. However, after personally going through all the Explicit July fics, I gotta say, the overwhelming majority of writers are focused on romantic Malta sex vacations lol. 

From my personal observations (I started reading fic on ao3 in August), I’ve seen some stories that cater to very… specific tastes (mostly kinkmeme fics so I’m not going to touch that) and some that have…. been written in poor taste perhaps. But, honestly, the majority of fics (aka G, T, M rated) that I’ve seen? I would say that they were written with care and concern for the character’s portrayal. 

Now, some fans (usually older fans) are very focused on “your kink is not my kink” and other fans feel this is an inappropriate way to view “racist, homophobic, islamophobic, etc” fics. And I agree with that. If people are using kink to excuse racism, homophobia, islamophobia, transphobia, antisemitism, misogyny, etc, in fics: Fuck that. But I think there’s a lot of misunderstanding flying around when people react to ‘ykinmk”. This fandom likes to assume the worst of their fellow fans imo, and I honestly don’t think that when a person defends kink that they’re trying to defend racism. They’re trying to defend their kink community which, historically, has been attacked and misunderstood by the purity police. Look into the Livejournal, ffnet, and even the Tumblr purges if you don’t believe me. 

For the record, I don’t know anyone on tumblr personally. We’re all effectively strangers talking to each other on the internet, so I’m not going to make assumptions about people from stories they’ve posted on AO3 or the kinkmeme. If you want to talk about the issues those fics represent, that’s cool, but don’t harass people whose life stories you don’t know (and don’t vagueblog about them). (This is just a general statement, not saying this about you anon! I feel really strongly about this.)

Now you say, “some fans connect what should be a neutral sexual position preference to an interpretation of Joe’s character” and I hate to say it, but there are ALWAYS going to be some people who have awful opinions. Ones that are either truly terrible, or kind of in poor taste, or maybe you just don’t vibe with them. Personally, I don’t have enough time in the day to address every weird thing that a person spews on the internet. I won’t judge if you want to take them on, but, personally, I haven’t seen any recent militant top!joe only posts that are calling for racist portrayals. I see people referring to past conversations, for sure, but again, I can’t do anything with hearsay. 

And honestly, we keep bringing up the top/bottom discourse of early TOG fandom, and we’re just not the same fandom we were then. SO MANY people have left the fandom in that time-- a lot of big name (or simply well known) fans and a lot of MENA fans. Regardless of what “side” you’re on in this, we all lose by focusing on the positions, by dividing everyone by “top” or “bottom” or “switch” fans, and by bringing up what people said in July, or August, or September.  It’s exhausting, especially because I think a lot of people have done exactly what you said. Many authors HAVE self-reflected, they’ve thought about trends, the implications, and are contributing/interacting with the fandom as best as they can. Do I think we should stop focusing on self-reflection? That we should stop being careful about writing potentially damaging portrayals of our favorite characters? NO. Let’s keep at it! Let’s encourage others to do the same… but not with top/bottom discourse.

Let it be known that I don’t think racism is a topic we should disregard to focus on other things. Honestly, I would be happy if people gave some of the energy they have for “top/bottom” discourse to talk about the portrayal of Nile Freeman or Lykon or Copley or Quynh… the other POC representation in TOG that usually gets ignored. You may interpret this as me going “but what about??” and that’s fair. I just think that we talk about Joe ALL THE TIME in this fandom. There is an avalanche of conversation and content for this man (who I love, don’t get me wrong) and it just feels really disingenuous (to me) to talk ad nauseum about racist portrayals of Joe, but then to ignore Nile Freeman and wlw fics when Nile is the rare Black Female Action Protagonist and Andy/Quynh is an extremely rare interracial canon lesbian couple. And I’ve been trying to use my blog here to bring attention to this, think of me what you will because of that. (Again just a general statement anon! Not directed to you XD)

And from what I’ve seen in this fandom (and many others to be fair) is that we care about racism SO MUCH…but only when talking about how a man has sex.  It speaks of a lack of intersectional understanding of these topics, disregarding the misogyny that IS ALSO inherent in fandom, and disregarding the homophobia of overfocusing on the top/bottom dynamics. BUT I’m not asking you to ignore racism; all I’m asking is for you to focus on the other issues too. 

Bottom line though… the discourse is not what it once was.  A lot of people, on whatever side, have left the fandom, or have taken a break, or are vocally tired of “top/bottom” discourse. Personally, I think we should talk about racism… but not through the lens of explicit mlm fic sex positions. Let’s talk more about race, gender, sex and sexual orientation, but not in a way that divides the fandom, in a way that makes people sick of being here, in a way that kills our content creator’s passion. Honestly, I think it can be done! But only if we work toward that goal together. 

I would like to focus on encouraging events in our community, such as the ongoing Old Guard Big Bang 2021 event and the upcoming Femslash Fortnight Spring Solstice Edition event. If anyone is organizing other events, let me know and I’ll hype you up! But as for the rest, I’m tired, you’re tired, we’re all tired. Let’s try and work harder to be a kinder, more inclusive fandom in the future, for everyone’s sake. 

[stillchaoticlogic]

Stumbling: Chapter 9

Pairing: Raihan X Reader X Leon

Your life hadn’t gone exactly as you planned…

This is why when an old rival walks into the coffee shop you work at he gives you an offer you just can’t refuse. Finally, a chance at the League. Suddenly you are thrust into the spotlight and a world you thought you had left behind. Dreams aren’t always what they are cracked up to be though, especially when you find yourself the tangled up with the champion and a certain gym leader.

Has all your dreams come true?

Or is this your worst nightmare?

Masterlist

Blast from the Past

The next morning is tense as you pop out of your bedroom and into the common area. Leon and Raihan are sitting at the table pointedly ignoring one another, and honestly, you don’t really know why. You sit down in the vacant chair with a coffee cup in front of it and gaze between the two men. After several moments of silence from Leon and Raihan awkwardly avoiding your eyes, you stand up. 

“I’ve got training to do, when you two have dealt with yourselves we’re leaving,” you say in annoyance as you make your way into your room. You emerge about 10 minutes later fully dressed with your pokemon belt stocked with your team. You had sent Queenie, your Vespiquen, to your box and pulled out Arum, your Bounsweet. The Egg is in your backpack nice and snug while both Nile, your Vaporeon and Bastet, your Eevee follow along behind you. You know you are going to have to trade out some pokemon soon, but you wanted to assess your team before you made any decisions. 

Once outside you release your team and introduce them to the new pair or members. They all seem pretty happy with one another. 

“Alright, everyone! Let’s line up and do some assessments! We’ve got the Hulbury gym next. It’s a water type gym so I’ll need Arum and Axel front and center!”

The duo takes a step forward and you chuckle as Axel lays his head on top of Arum causing the berry pokemon to squeak in indignation. 

“Nile, you’re going to be going up against Kabu at the Motostoke Gym in about a week, so we need to get you used to your new form and get some formal training in!”

Nile yips in agreement and you chuckle as he swishes his fin-like tail around. Bastet is standing next to him and you laugh as she scolds him for almost hitting her with his much larger tail. He has the grace to look apologetic at his mate and sits still. 

“Bastet, have you given any thought to your evolution?” The Eevee nods her head decisively and steps up to you. You sit on the ground and pull out your Pokedex with all of her options. When you get to Glaceon she puts her paw on the screen indicating that the ice Pokemon is her choice. 

“So you want to be a Glaceon? What a perfect little pair the two of you make!” She yips happily and jumps around before going to stand back with her mate and new team. 

“Alright, I’ll have to get my hands on an Ice Stone soon!”

Turning your gaze to the last three Pokemon you smiled as Serenity bounds up to you and plops herself onto your head. You had a feeling she would be evolving soon and indulged her whenever she wanted to ride with you now. Davine and Hades lumber over and you regard them critically. Why don’t we see how you two are doing with a battle? Davine pouts up at you while Hades just lets out a little roar of happiness. However, before you could start the battle a commotion in the trees alerts you to some visitors. 

“Or you can hand over that Deino andJangmo-o!” 

You whip your head around and see a Pokemon thief and several men and women standing behind him. 

“What are you doing here?! Did you escape!?”

“Saw your battle on TV. Good job getting your first badge! They never had me! I got away before the cops could show up!”  he says in a baby voice before he burst out laughing. 

You narrow your eyes at the male before you, “What? Do you think just because I’ve only gotten one badge I can’t take you? I beat you before with no badges…”

“Big talk for a little girl… Where’s your knight in shining armor at? The dragon trainer?”

“I don’t need anyone to beat you…”

“Wanna bet?”

The thief and his accomplices release their Pokemon. With a frown, you notice many different types of dark and poison types like Nickit, Purrloin, Stunky, and Croagunk. The leader, that can’t seem to leave you alone, sends out a Drapion. You curse to yourself as you notice your opponents’ Pokemon all take a fighting stance. 

“Well, everyone… This is the real challenge, gyms be damned. Let’s show these thieves what we’re all made of!” A chorus of cries meets your ears as they all get into a fighting stance. Your team leaps into action at the same time your opponents do. Luckily with the training, you’ve done thus far the only ones you really have to coach are Nile and Bastet. 

“Nile! Bastet! Use Water Pulse and Swift!” The duo attacks Croagunk while Hades and Davine work on the Drapion and the rest of your Pokemon take on the remaining three themselves. You aren’t surprised when a bright light glows to your left and notice Arum evolving.

“Arum! You’re a Steenee now!” you exclaim in glee ignoring the rest of the battle so you miss the moment that the Drapion breaks free from its battle with your dragons and charges at you. You go to leap out of the way of the scorpion-like Pokemon as you scream when all of sudden it stops in its tracks its stinger inches from you. The Drapion is thrown away from you and faints upon its impact with the ground. Looking up you see Serenity panting and on the verge of passing out. 

“Serenity!” you yell as the Stunky bares its teeth and bites your unsuspecting antenna pokemon. She lets out a tiny cry and you scream her name in worry. Axel throws its fists down onto the Pokemon making it release its grip. Arum rushes over and you watch in awe as leaves whip up from the ground and assault the Stunky, knocking it out. You’re surprised when Davine, with a battle cry you’ve never heard before rushes the Nickit heading butting it and sending it reeling back before hitting it with a dragon tail. 

“What is going on here!? How is some little girl beating all of us?!” he yells in anger. 

“First off!” you yell as you hold Serenity in your arms, “Don’t call me little girl. I’ve kicked your ass twice now.”

You watch in satisfaction as the other Pokemon fall to your team, “Secondly, I train my own Pokemon, I don’t steal other peoples!”

“You stole my Deino! I want it back!”

“Hades made his choice.” 

You watch in amusement as Hades whips his head towards the voice and a low growl emitted from his throat. The ring leader takes a step back in fear. 

“So you’ve named the traitor.”

“Fitting isn’t it?” you ask with a smirk. 

“You’re such a little bitch!”

“Maybe… but I still beat you.”

“You only think you have.”

Your eyes widen as several more thieves step out of the trees surrounding you. You square your shoulders and begin to call back your team knowing you’re going to have to find another way out of this.

“What? Giving up so soon?”

“Not exactly… but tell me… Why do you care so much about me?”

“Let’s just say you’ve interested someone…”

“Someone?”

“Oh yes… He’s quite interested in you and your Pokemon… And once we hand you over to him and show him what you can do… Well if you’re a good little girl maybe he’ll have a use for you. After all, he did tell us to bring you in alive…”

You let out a smirk, “Is that so?” 

He didn’t notice you switch out the Pokemon in your team, so he’s completely unprepared for the moment you threw a Pokeball into the air. Titan your Corviknight glares down at the unsuspecting group before you. 

“Let’s go Titan!” you yell as you rush to him and leap onto his back. He takes off and you clutch his feathers tightly so you don’t fall off. 

“Gust!” you yell as several of the newly released Pokemon leaps to catch hold of the two of you. The wind knocks them to the ground and you smile as you pat him. 

“Good job, Titan…” 

He cooed back at you happily, a single red eye gleaming at you as he turns to gaze at you. 

“Thank you for being here for me… I promise you I haven’t forgotten you… It’s just… Not time yet… Your new teammates have so much to learn…”

He coos back at you as if he’s saying it’s okay. You just pat his neck and tell him where you need to go. When you arrive back at the Inn you notice Raihan and Leon in the front of the building yelling about something. 

“What are you two going on about?!” you exclaim as you land. 

The duo whipped around to face you with equal looks of shock on their faces. 

“When did you get a Corviknight?! Where do you keep getting all these Pokemon at?!” exclaims Raihan. 

“Wow! So Titan evolved?!” Leon exclaims as he approaches the two of you. 

Titan dips his head down so that Leon can pet him, “Last time I saw you you were a Rookidee!”

Titan straightens up and fluffs up his feathers obviously preening under the attention. 

“I trained Titan when I was younger, I have several Pokemon that I raised when I intended to challenge the League. They mostly hang out at my family’s place, but since starting my adventure I had them put back into my storage box in case I need them for any reason. A good thing to… I needed Titan today or I wouldn’t have made it.”

“What do you mean you wouldn’t have made it?” Asks Leon his voice almost dangerous. 

“The thieves are back… You were right, they wanted revenge and to take back Hades and take Davine. Also… They wanted to take...me…”

“They wanted to kidnap you?!” Raihan exclaims as he rushes up to you his hands clenched into fists.

“That’s what they said… I was able to take out the first wave, but there was a second wave surrounding us. I couldn’t fight them all off so I ran…”

“I’m glad you did if something would have happened to you…” Leon says as he pulls you into a hug holding you close to him. 

You hear Raihan curse from beside you as he looks down the path, “I bet they’ve run by now… Damnit! I can’t believe we let you go off alone…”

“You can’t be there all the time Rai…” you say as you pull away from Leon.

“No, you need protection at all times now. We can’t let them take you, who knows what they intend to do to you…” Raihan argues. 

“I’m not a damsel, guys…”

“No one is saying you are, but you are being targeted by an entire organization of thieves and that’s dangerous,” Leon reasons. 

You heave a sigh of annoyance, “I know… I just… I want to have a normal journey… Not one filled with unnecessary danger and people trying to kidnap me and steal my pokemon.” 

 “Look, we're going to make sure nothing happens to you okay?” asks Raihan as he pulls you towards him. You nod knowing that the two of them will protect you, you just don’t want to need protection. 

“You know… you aren’t weak for needing help… if that’s what you’re worried about,” Says Raihan as he squeezes you a little tighter. You smile to yourself wondering how he could know you so well already. 

“They found me because of the televised battle, so they are going to know what city I’m in all the time.”

“We won’t have your battles televised then, I’ll talk to the League-”

“No that’s too obvious, plus I doubt that would keep them from finding me, they probably have eyes in all the cities anyway…”

“She’s right, they’re probably watching the gyms, so not having her battles televised would just hurt her career,” Raihan reasons. 

The three of you take off down the road to the Pokemon center. You allow Titan some time to stretch his wings as he flies ahead of you all, playing lookout even if you didn’t ask him to. 

“So what we don’t do anything?” Leon argues. 

“We should let the other gym leaders know what’s going on and have them on the lookout for anyone suspicious,” Raihan puts his hands behind his head and you gaze up at the tall male beside you. 

“Besides, I want to be the one to take them out…” Raihan growls, his sharp fang-like teeth showing in a dangerous smirk.

You suddenly know why Raihan is known as the dragon tamer, he may as well be part dragon himself. 

“Well, you’ll have to get in line…” Leon says with an edge to voice and glance to your other side you see the champion radiating with power, not the boy you grew up with. 

“OH! I have some good news!” you exclaim as you pull out Arum’s Pokeball, “Arum evolved! She is now a Steenee!” 

“Sweet!”

“That’s great news!”

“It is! She’s so proud!” you exclaim as you send her out. She blinks up at them with her big eyes before she giggles and begins to dance around on the path before you all. You know you’re trying to keep your mind busy. The return of the thieves is startling and you’re scared. You’re scared for your Pokémon as well as yourself. 

‘I need to get stronger…’ you think as you gaze at Arum. She is getting stronger every day as is your other Pokémon. You know you have to be patient, but you can’t help but feel pressured to be strong now. 

“Hey, nothing is going to happen to you…” Leon says softly. 

“You don’t know that…” you mutter back. 

“You’re right I don’t… but I know that while I’m around I’m not letting someone take you from me okay?”

“Okay…”

The trip to the Pokemon center is relatively quick. You all end up stocking up on supplies and you trade out Titan for Nile once again. Your team now consists of Serenity your Hatenna, Axel your Toxel, Davine your Janmo-o, Hades your Deino, Arum your Steenee, and Nile your Vaporeon. Once you have all finished up at the center you head off down Route 5 in order to get to Hulbury. You don’t like the thought of sleeping in the tent and you can feel your paranoia creeping up. 

“If we end up having to sleep in the tent tonight, we will keep guard,” Leon says with finality.

“When are you two going to sleep then?”

“We can’t not keep watch, you know this,” Raihan interjects.

“But if you’re tired will you be able to battle if something happens?”

“(Name) you need to calm down and trust us,” says Raihan as he drapes an arm around your shoulders. 

“What if they attack us again? What if something happens?”

“We are just going to have to be diligent okay? Just focus on getting stronger for your next gym battle this doesn’t change anything,” Raihan says calmly. 

You spend the rest of the day training your team and despite your best efforts to make it to Hulbury, you have to set up camp. There is a small clearing near a pond that is perfect for camping. You all fall into the same routine as you have for the past few weeks. Raihan sets up the tent, Leon starts the fire and you start dinner. The other two pitch in when needed and feed the Pokemon. Everyone is out and meandering around the clearing and whether or not you want to admit it the sky is gorgeous with its pinks and oranges. You focus your energy on the curry you’re making and Serenity volunteers to be your taste testers especially since she hasn’t left your side for hours. You notice Raihan poking around the tall grass, but you don’t pay much attention to him. Leon is at your side helping you with the vegetables and rice. 

“How are you holding up?” Leon asks as he chops the potato. 

“I’ve been better… Its moments like this that my head just screams at me to go home, but there isn’t anything left for me there…”

“No, you need to get stronger and running from this isn’t going to solve it.”

“I know…” you say softly as you avoid his eyes. 

“Hey…” he says as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your frame. He rests his head on your shoulder and you feel his warmth and his strength and you feel secure. You feel yourself lean back into him and you rest your head against his. 

“You did amazing today. You defeated them and you ran when you knew you couldn’t. That’s all you could do and that’s all I could ask you to do. I’m sorry that you were alone when it happened… It’s my fault for jumping to conclusions about you are Raihan…”

“Jumping to conclusions? Leon, Rai and I are friends and what you saw last night wasn’t anything. Nothing happened. Also, what does it matter if something does happen? Aren’t you-”

A loud squawk interrupts you and you look up in just enough time to see Axel jump back in fear. Rushing forward you watch as your baby stumbles away and rushes behind Arum who is just staring in confusion at the overzealous Farfetch’d who is waving his leek stalk wildly in the direction of the baby. 

“Axel… what did you do to it?!” you scold as you watch the bird hop about wielding its leek. 

Axel looks up at you with tear-filled innocent eyes and rubs at its head. 

“I’m sure you’re fine…” You mutter as you pick up the baby Pokemon to examine his head. He pouts at you as the Farfetch’d lunge at the two of you. 

“Oh absolutely not… Not after the day I’ve had… Serenity! Psybeam!”

The angry bird is knocked back a few feet but seems undeterred. Serenity hops to the side and hits Farfetch’d with confusion causing the Pokemon to become disoriented. With one final attack from Serenity, Farfetch’d falls back into the grass and you just chuckle triumphantly.

“Well catch it!” yells Leon from your right. 

“Oh! Right!” You pull a Pokeball out of your bag and throw it at the bird Pokemon. After it shakes a few times it finally signals that Farfetch’d is caught. 

“You caught a Pokemon the normal way for once… Good job!” says Raihan as he walks up to the two of you. 

“THE CURRY!” you yell before you can answer and you rush back over to the pot in just enough time to keep it from boiling over. Raihan picks the Pokemon up from the grass and walks over to you. 

“When he evolves you’re going to have a fighter on your hands,” he says as he hands your new Pokemon over to you. 

“What are you talking about? He’s already a fighter…” you mutter while you stir the pot. 

“You know what I mean!” he chuckles.

“I do…” 

You send Farfetch’d to your box knowing you will get him out to train later. Raihan hangs out with you while you plate the food and then helps you divvy the food out to everyone. The meal is quiet with everyone lost in their own thoughts about everything that has been going on. After dinner is over and everything is cleaned up you decide to turn in. You know that sleeping will be very difficult tonight. 

You hear the front of the tent unzip as Raihan steps in, “Leon is taking first watch so let’s get some sleep okay? You have a gym badge to win tomorrow!”

You can tell he’s trying to make you feel better about the situation, but what you don’t expect is for him to lay his sleeping bag down right next to you. 

“Rai?”

“Look I’m right here okay? Just go to sleep…”

You nod at him and roll so you are turned away from him, but you’re so restless it isn’t long until you roll to face the top of the tent and then to your side again. After a few more minutes of rolling around and just being restless and annoyed you feel an arm wrap around your waist and a chin rest on your shoulder. 

“I’ve got you…” is the only thing that a sleepy Raihan mutters before he pulls you closer to his body and slowly his warmth and the feeling of security that surrounds you allows you drift off into a fitful sleep.

Notes: Hey guys sorry for the long wait things have crazy lately... Also, if you didn’t see my post earlier about my sweet kitty baby, he’s had some blockage. If you are unfamiliar with kitties and blockage it’s very dangerous and deadly. If left untreated for a day they will die, it’s that serious... So I now have an astronomical animal hospital bill to pay but my baby is alive and recovering so I won’t complain. I think I’m going to open up commissions to help pay for the costs. I’ve set up a Ko-fi and I have no idea how it works... I think the link is hanging out in my description... I think... So look for commission information too! Don’t worry this won’t affect my other stories. Anyway! I hope you all are having a wonderful New Year! As always leave a comment below! Reblog to show some love and send an ask if you want to be tagged! 

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