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grecoisms · 5 months ago

Text

title: a heap of broken images (1/3)

pairing: kim wexler x lalo salamanca

rating: M

summary:

"They told me you're also on the De Guzmán case. There has been an... incident and we need someone from his legal team, pronto."

Kim Wexler takes on the Salamanca's case in Jimmy's absence.

"What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish?" t.s.eliot - the waste land

Defeat has an ugly taste.

Smoking doesn’t really help, but Kim lights a cigarette anyway, wary of her fingers, and the slight tremors in them. It’s still hot, hotter than May should be, but she feels strangely cold, as if all the metals from the facility had found a way inside her bones.

She doesn’t want to be in the present or be presentable (not yet), so she calls Jimmy (again), the act more of an instinct than a conscious choice; something to pass the time as she walks back to her car, so tiny. A dot in the death throes of the setting sun.

Jimmy doesn’t pick it up. It’s no surprise: he hasn’t picked up since yesterday morning, since he bid her goodbye in bed and went out to the desert, not to return.

Kim isn’t sure he is alive at all.

The thought almost makes her want to go back to jail, to him, to shake out some answers instead of mockery, but as she blows out the last of her smoke through her nose, she knows it’s pointless. Why give Lalo Salamanca more weapons?

Sensible Kim, her better self, knows all she must do, all she can do right now, is to wait.

But there exists a shadow self, too, in the narrow corridors of her mind, a rotten self, a bitter self. Some might call her ugly and impetuous. But this side of her made her survive, made her thrive for more. And now it is creeping back, this voice, strangely reminiscent of her mother, long dead, whispering.

There is a long beep in the line: a clear sign there is no point in calling now.

Kim lowers her phone, the movement more defeated than before – and having just arrived at her car, sees her reflection, wide-eyed, ageless in the blur of the tilted windows. She feels like she has run a mile and looks as if the heat struck her too suddenly.

You still have weapons, y’know, says this dark and dead voice, this other. Think fast, Mrs. Goodman.

Instead, Kim bites down her tongue and drives home.

All sensible.

All slow.

It’s shrill, the ringing that awakes her. Strangely alert, Kim reaches for her phone on the nightstand, unbothered to even check the calling number, hoping against all odds.

“Jimmy?”

“Kim?” it’s a woman’s voice, nasal, as if she’s been crying. “It’s Laion from County.”

For a ridiculous moment, apparently still half-asleep, Kim thinks Jimmy went straight to work after his desert trip. That somehow he borrowed or bought a suit and whistled his way onto the courthouse, the bail money already deposited, and his work done. And soon, soon he will come home, to bed, to her, smiling with relief.

But then she checks the digital clock on the stand.

It’s six in the morning. The sudden weight on her chest isn’t from the pack she smoked while waiting in the dead of the night.

“What has happened?” she asks. Puts the phone closer to her ear.

“So sorry to bother you so early" Laion mumbles. "We tried reaching Jimmy several times, but he isn't picking up."

Yeah, tell me about it.

"Jimmy got some time off to prepare for his cases" the lie comes out easy. "But if there is anything you'd like me to deliver him..."

"Well" the clerk's voice trails off, then there is the sound of shuffling papers. "You might just do the trick..." then the line gets fuzzy, and the next moment, she can hear Laion much more clearly. She must have put her own phone much closer to her ears too. "Pete told me you're also on the de Guzmán case. There has been an... incident and we need someone from his legal team, pronto."

"Pete?"

"New guard at the MDC."

"What does this have to..." Kim starts, dread forming in her stomach. She would rather never see Jorge de Guzmán again.

"Are you on the case or not?" Shuffling sounds again. "Says here you're on his legal team."

Fuckola, thinks Kim, remembering the form she signed. How careless. Seems like panic bested her, but that was then. What matters is now. Across the line, someone else is talking in the background.

"Is she coming?" says a voice far away. A man's and it is impatient. "What a goddam-"

She can't catch the rest, because Laion starts to soothe him.

Meanwhile, Kim has started to sweat. If she denies her involvement, she has to explain her visit. If she admits it, then she is in. All in. No return.

Talk about finality.

Come on, she thinks, pushing her nails into the curve of her palms, listening to the sweet nothings of the clerk in the line, in the dull dawn of light. She sees the sun peeking from behind the leaf-patterned curtain. New day, old hopes. Morning found her in bed without proper sleep. Where could it have found Jimmy?

Time is a-wasting, says her sensible self. Focus.

Once again, there are a mingle of noises, static, then a big gulp of breath.

Laion is back.

"So" her voice sounds urging. Urged. That invisible man - probably her boss or a police officer, may be breathing down her neck. "Are you on the case, or is it just gossip?"

Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones, she hears Sensible Kim. And you still have to choose.

"I'm on, yes." her voice sounds calm, clipped. Good. "What's this about?

Adrenaline has its uses. Kim doesn't have time to think while she gets ready. Shower, makeup, brush of teeth, brush of hair. White shirt, black skirt, hiding most of her. Her owlish face now has a sharp edge: her nerves.

It takes her half an hour to get ready, another to print everything she needs for the meeting, and yet another twenty to get the Detention Center, south of town, bulky and gray: a gravestone on the horizon. She was in such rush yesterday that the similarity escaped her.

"The dead tree gives no shelter" mumbles Kim out loud, out of nowhere, to herself and her car. What is it from? Maybe an old movie they recently saw with Jimmy.

She grips the wheel tighter.

Stop.

After repeating the warning twice more and chiding her breathing to slower pace do her muscles relax. Like her clothing, she has to be black-and-white now, a matter-of-fact, blank professional with an on-and-off switch. And anyways, no space for feelings in legal matters, no space for bravado or jitters. Do the job, and do it right. That's all.

Although she passes several coffee shops, she stops at none of them. Whether it's fear or something unnameable she cannot (dares not) name it, focusing on the task ahead. They hadn't left her (and Jimmy, wherever he is now) many options, so she will have to wing it, as soon as possible. But first and foremost, she thinks with some familiar bitterness, I will have to talk with our client.

The parking lot is practically empty, it's easy to find a spot near the entrance. One last conscious inhale-exhale and then she is already inside, looking for Laion's gossip.

"Miss Wexler?" says a lanky young man who must be Pete. "Miss Delape told me you were coming."

He has kind eyes, this gossipy guard, and an up-turning mouth which Kim is certain that in normal circumstances would melt into a smile. But this situation is far from normal so both Pete and her remain somber.

"Call me Kim, please." it's impolite, but she wants to get over the hardest part. "Where is he now?"

"This way" Pete points, then shows him the way by walking ahead. "We uhm... decided to shut him in an empty interrogation room until your arrival" then, as he notices Kim's expression, he quickly adds. "Please, it was for his own safety, there were at least two assailants. There might be more."

"Two?" They passed two laughing orderlies with coffees in their hands. "I heard only of one."

She can only see a slice of the guard's face against the familiar green colored walls and surgeon-lit corridors - and his face is colored by contempt.

Now, Kim could have probed then and there, but from experience she knows silence and listening to be a better strategy in the aftermath of shock. This was something her mother never realized. Never practised - even when Kim asked her to.

Pete turns left, then right, and then to a narrow corridor with one sorry-looking, chipped door at its end. He leads her almost till the treshold, but something makes him decide against it: so he stops halfway, just under a cheap-looking corkboard with several flyers on it.

"Look" Pete sighs, clearly debating how much to tell her. "I told Laion only the essentials so that she could get us Goodman."

"Well, he is otherwise busy, so you'll have to contend with me." her voice is even. Calm. She really hopes she can learn something from Pete or else face Salamanca with a handful of nothing. Again. "Look, if you dragged me here, you might else well tell me. I'm not gonna judge. That's not my job."

Come on, come on, she pleads, voiceless.

Puzzled, Pete searches for something in her face, and then apparently finds it, because he looks up at the ceiling as it were the heavens (Bingo, thinks Kim), and then looks her straight in the eyes.

"At two in the morning we got a call from graveyard shift that there is a problem at number twelve." he points at the chipped door, points at the man sitting behind the door. "The cell which de Guzmán and a poor old sod Adamick occupied. Adamick was in for manslaughter, but since he was sixty-something year old, the judge wasn't convinced he actually committed the crime he was charged with."

Kim's brain shuffles through the folders of her memories. What Laion mentioned -

"Your lot told County that it was probably supposed to be an outside job."

"Yeah" Pete leans back to the wall, near a yellow flyer which highlight the local suicide prevention hotline. "But he was in it, it seems. The hit man posed as a cleaner. Blended in easily, knew the shift's routes, and when there was no one else between cells ten and twenty, he let himself in their cell."

"Did de Guzmán tell you that?" asks Kim, feeling her throat dry. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to skip breakfast.

"De Guzmán told us shit" snaps Pete, then lowers his voice into a sharp whispers as he sees an officer walk past. "We can only guess what happened. And let me tell you, it wasn't easy, cause the hit man was already unconscious when we got there, and..."

He falters for a moment. Realized there is no going back. Kim feels the same: as if she stepped into quicksand.

"Adamick?" she presses, fearing the answer. If she had the luxury of not caring, she would turn her head now. But Jimmy awaits, and it's Saul Goodman's name on the line in this corridor, past that room with the ugly old door.

It's Pete's gulp that drags her back.

"Adamick was dead, and the cell covered in blood. And you know who was the only man left mostly untouched?"

Fuck this, thinks Kim, her face showing complete serenity. Attempted assassination is one thing, but surviving said attempted assassination was another. Jorge de Guzmán, upstanding citizen of Albuquerque, loving husband and step-father of two, wouldn't have known how to defend himself.

In fact, he wouldn't have gotten a murderous overnight visit from a hit man to begin with. Fucking shitstorm of a fucking case.

She wants to scream, but opts to clear her throat instead.

"Self-preservation by definition leads to extreme acts. I'm not sure what I would be capable of if someone would attack me with... what did they attack him with?"

"With a shiv" scoffs Pete. "But Miss Wexler, I'm not sure you understand. De Guzmán didn't even bat an eye. He was found casually sitting in a pool of blood that wasn't remotely his."

"Sorry, were you there?"

"No" Pete admits grudgingly.

She folds her arms.

"Then it's but hearsay, wouldn't you agree?" and when she sees Pete open her mouth, she adds. "And if it isn't, then it was probably the shock."

"Whatever you say, counselor" Pete shoots him a strange look before pushing himself from the wall. "We cuffed him just in case, yes - and don't give me that look - for our safety. I will be just outside the door, knock on it three times when you are finished."

"Is this room soundproof?"

"What do you think? It's the same age as Adamick was" Pete says darkly. "Just try talking in a low voice."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Kim braces herself, walks before the room where Jorge de Guzmán waits, and opens the door with a calm that is anything but real.

The room is small. Bare, were it not for the metal table and two pairs of chairs facing each other. There is also an odd smell permeating the air. Kim hears the lock behind her click, must be Pete following protocoll, signalling they can start talking.

Speaking of talking.

Her client sits at the far end of the table, looking awfully smug.

"Well, your husband doesn't seem very eager to come home." Lalo Salamanca rasps in a low voice. Kim can see dark bruises having bloomed all around his thick neck. One of the two must have tried to choke him while the other held the knife. "Que cabrón, eh?"

Stops when he notices her staring.

"This?" he points as much as he can with his hands tied. There is a smile in his voice, on his face - all mercury, expressions ever-shifting, ever-moving. Lalo reminds Kim of a viper. "It's nothing. You should see the other guy." his grin widens, deepens. "Bastante feo."

"Which one?" Kim steps closer, further from the door, hands on hips. "The one you put into a coma, or the one you killed?"

Something shifts in the black of his eyes but his shrug is careless.

"They attacked, I defended myself. Survival instinct."

There is no natural light here, in this bland and blank room which feels like a cage; no, is a cage. So why doesn't Lalo look like he is a prisoner? Sitting there, long legs stretched, mouth curled in a bored kind of amusement, eyes so dark, eyes so alive.

All tan and tall - much like the land around the city.

"You look pale, Mrs. Goodman" Lalo says, still low. They must have squeezed his neck quite hard. "You sure you don't want to step out for some fresh air?"

Three heartbeats of a pause.

"And now what?" Kim finally asks, looks at the door and decides to step to the chair next to Salamanca's, instead sitting in front of him. Still, she makes sure to keep their distance at least an arm's lengths. The strange smell is stronger here, in his corner.

Lalo blinks slowly, head in a mock-tilt. Clears his throat.

"Now?"

"Yes. Now that your cellmate is... gone. Now that they will obviously look into your profile, because even the dumbest person in the police force will ask himself: Who the hell is this guy to warrant such attention?"

His fingers tap a messy rhythm, and his calculating eyes follow it; glued to the table where he makes the sound.

"Can they force a retrial?"

"Retr-" Kim wonders how Jimmy could talk with him. "No, but MDC higher ups will certainly want an explanation. Today, I'd wager. Not to mention prosecution will be all over this."

"Prosecution" Lalo scoffs, still at the table. "Bunch of payasos."

"I wouldn't be so sure" Kim says coldly. "If they didn't find your innocent, blue-collar family man act suspicious until now, they will certainly do it as soon as they hear about this little 'self-defense'. "

He finally looks up, face trenched by the shadows of the surgeon-light, myriad of lines crossing his hard face.

"Would you have advised me to die?" he says without the trace of a smile, mocking again. "Have me put down and stay down, Mrs. Goodman?"

Kim's mother would have called him a handsome fella, were it not for that ugliness in his stare. His soul, if Kim or her mother had been sentimental types. But alas.

She finds herself holding his stare: a bottomless pit.

"I wouldn't have advised you anything" says Kim. "Because I'm not your lawyer. Remember?"

Lalo bends closer, confidential.

"Yet here you are." he says, but quickly continues. "So can you make it to that MDC thingy?"

"Are you asking me to?"

There it is. That gleam again in his expression. Kim can see it now, name it now.

Cruelty.

"Do you really have a choice?" Lalo asks, almost softly. "Or does the infamous Mr. Goodman so far away have nothing to lose?"

You sick fuck, Kim wants to say and can feel her usually careful facade slip where it should not. Might be from exhaustion or worrying too much, but she feels her fears fade, and hate taking its place - all that rage spilling out from her eyes. She has to turn her head lest she does something regrettable, like finishing the hit man's job.

When she turns back, she finds Lalo is looking at her, mouth half-open, teeth gleaming, wolf-like.

"Bien, bien" he breathes with something akin to admiration. "We have a fighter here."

Don't you give him the satisfaction, chants Kim to herself. You have seen worse than this. Now get it together.

"If I were to advise you, I'd advise you to be one step ahead" she says collected. Makes no indication of the scene before. "Let's ask for an appointment and say that de Guzman used to be in debt, but is not anymore."

Lalo makes a noncommittal hum which earns him a raised eyebrow from Kim.

"Look, it's either this or... we say they mistook you for someone else. But that is blatantly lazy. Whom else they could have looked for?"

Silence.

She feels her patience thinning.

"Look, if you don't like either of the plans, you are very welcome to-"

"No, it's good." Lalo clasps her hands together, mirth in his eyes. "Well, y'know, as good as it gets."

"Which plan?" asks Kim, confused.

"The first one. The debt one. I can even make a call to make it bulletproof."

"Okay" says Kim not liking this one bit, but gets out two request forms and a pen nevertheless. Amazing how routine overrides annoyance.

"This" she holds up the first form. "Will get you a hearing today before shit hits the fan." She holds up the other. "And this will get you a new cell, hopefully one without a roommate. Check your... whichever personal data you have and then sign here and there."

But it turns out to be difficult, because he is still chained to the table, so Kim - without any enthusiasm - has to stand and then move closer to him so as to place the papers and the pen in his hand.

"Left hand" Lalo singsongs when she places it in his right.

"Right" Kim grits out, tone acidic, and bends to help with the papers.

The smell is almost unbearable here, and then, then, from above, looking down and over him, finally she notices. There are stains on Lalo, dark and dried, metallic.

Blood.

Blood on his pants, and the inner slopes of his veiny arms, and his palms, and under his fingernails.

Blood that is not his.

"Jesus" she says despite herself, stepping back, almost to the corner.

Lalo has the audacity to laugh.

"Mrs. Goodman" he grins so wide his face might tear. "Seems you forgot the most important law there is."

"I have to get some water" Kim says, trying not to run out the room.

But he doesn't stop.

"It's a law as old as humanity. Aren't you interested?"

She is at the door, fists clenched, body alert. Holds up one hand to hammer on the door, a needless act of control.

One.

Two.

Three.

#lalo salamanca #kim wexler #lalo x kim #my writing #bcs fic #bcs #better call saul

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ragnarssons · 2 years ago

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Hi! Can i send another small rant?

I still get annoyed when I think about the hypocrisy in episode 6. The way Maria judges Joel. There is no way that she didnt do anything wrong in the years before Jackson. In this world one thing is certain that being a good person doesn't save you. In this world you have to do what you can to survive. And it's easy for her to judge Joel because she now lives in the comfort of Jackson and not in the world where morality has a different meaning now. And it seems like Tommy didn't even tell Joel that he was alive and well, because in the first episode Joel and Tess were looking for a battery for a car to find Tommy. And Maria protecting Tommy by saying "Tommy just followed Joel" He is a grown adult! Joel didn't force Tommy to join the Fireflies and he sure as hell didn't force him to kill people. We can't compare the world in tlou with our world.

Oh anon, the worst part remains the whole "only people who you trust can betray you" and then dun dun duuuun! Joel did exactly that! At least that's how the writing of the show wants you to see, like they're gonna rub everyone's faces in that Maria quote: "wELL MARIA WARNED ELLIE!!" *shrugs*

And then they certainly won't have the time to delve into that, Maria and Tommy's relationship cuz *checking watch* we gotta speed through yknow, the awesome events of TLOU2 and we sure aren't gonna adress Joel's brother backstory or his relationship, huuuh! (even tho by the time of the beginning of TLOU2, and Joel's confession to Tommy, Tommy will probably be a father too... but oh will they adress that? Nooo because we gotta paint Joel AS THE BAD sElfIsh GUY- and yknow, he'll have enough on his plate, hum)

Dark!Sasuke Neil Druckmann thinks his story about revenge bad, violence bad and girls suffering is so gRoUndBrEaKiNg, what you gotta do, good writers who can maintain consistent writing and respect their characters for more than 2 seasons tops, aren't on HBO *side eyes at D&D*

The most brutal part really tho, is the fact that they literally said they don't want to steer from the source material (so the games) but even if they take idk 5 years to adapt TLOU2, there still won't be enough time for a new game to have come out (if ever). So they're literally end their show Like That. I really hope Neil Druckmann gets torn to shreds by public humiliation.

Anyway, to come back to your rant, anon: don't you get it? You're supposed to think that Maria was actually right! Because see, she threw a prophetic quote at Ellie!

(Also yes I do think how Maria was presented on 1x06 was a little too black and white for the whole setting of the show, the fact that they made her into a prosecutor being like... "i put bAd gUyS in jail" didn't help either...) (cuz rotten prosecutors don't exist *cough*) (cuz at this point she seemed so self-righteous and preachy that I was like "how the hell did she end up with Tommy??" because that's some heavy mental gymnastic you gotta do to see that man as an innocent baby dove who was just forced by his brother yknow) (I do hope they give her, and the relationship, more depths later on the show, but me thinks they'll barely care)

#anonymous #answered #tlou2 spoilers #anti tlou2

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that-was-tedious · 6 months ago

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Bobby is my favorite character and I will not be taking any notes at this time.

I love every single other character/regular in this show. Buck is definitely a close second, also Chimney. I love them all tho. But Bobby is so human, and flawed, and he’s been so traumatized I’m unsure how he isn’t in a mental hospital (thank god for TV magic) but he still is everyone’s dad and he loves them all so much.

He adores his wife, he loves her kids as his own, he’s bffs with her ex husband, he’s adopted everyone at his fire station as his children and he loves them so much. He pushes Buck to be better, but also gives him the support he so desperately craves. Buck is just as good for Bobby, as highlighted in the lightning episode. Hen is seemingly always so sure of herself, but Bobby helps give her the validation she needs and support! (Athena Grant, you are also a wonder and Hen couldn’t have better friends.) And he treats Hen like the important member of the team that she is, no questions asked. Chimney’s life would be so drastically different without Bobby (as would all of their lives tbh) but he’d probably be dead so like. This one is slightly different from the others I understand but it’s early please forgive me. And Eddie! It seems like the epitome of “hey you’re my father in law and my own dad is kind of iffy so could you adopt me?” (Look, even if Buddie never becomes canon they’re a little married, to quote Turk from Scrubs. Buck does help raise Christopher and is an integral part of Eddie’s life as his best friend). But Bobby gives Eddie the truth when he needs it and he just loves his kids so much. He gets to be a dad, even after what happened to him. After EVERYTHING that’s happened to him. He’s in a happy, stable relationship, has a bunch of kids that love him to death, and he’s so human.

It’s not every day that a television show has characters that are this complex and human. Sure, they’d all be dead ten times over in real life (or in jail, or in a hospital, mental or otherwise) but the way they react to things is so much more realistic than most tv shows.

Also Athena and Bobby? Dream team. Crime solving duo. If they ever do another spinoff, please just let it be Bobby and Athena being “retired” and solving the most ridiculous crimes and cold cases wherever they go.

I miss his dynamic with May (and Harry, but he and May were much closer cause of the season where she was home and not at college) and I hope we get to see it again.

I just have a lot of feelings about Bobby. All of them really. (He doesn’t really interact with Maddie. She actually doesn’t really interact with anyone but Chimney and Buck very often which is kind of weird but also not? Idk she and Eddie should get together to make fun of Buck more often. Just two people, drinking beer and talking about one of the most important people in their lives and how he’s an idiot.)

Anyway, this has been a long rant to say that Bobby is one of my favorite characters ever and if anything ever happens to him I will sob like a baby.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

PS: let that man treat Ji like his granddaughter. He MARRIED them, give him the baby to cuddle and spoil rotten. Her real grandparents kinda suck and live far away.

Okay NOW I’m done. 💜

#bobby nash #captain bobby nash #911 text posts #911 abc #911 show #evan buckley #henrietta wilson #chimney han #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #athena grant #may grant #harry grant #maddie buckley #i love my dad #the new storyline worries me

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sakaiyuji234 · 5 months ago

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The Scholar Has Kindness

Chapter 2

*MTL*

"Don't worry, sir. Everything will get better slowly." Tofu Xishi comforted.

Su Xian felt that the bed was really soft and fragrant, so he hugged the embroidered quilt, rolled around twice, closed his eyes and said in a daze: "Madam, is there anything to eat? I'm so hungry!"

lady?!

Tofu Xishi was stunned, and her bright eyes flashed with confusion, shame, anger, and entanglement.

Although Su Xian used to call her "Mrs. Liu", she was very sensitive and could tell that "Mrs. Liu" meant wife.

The female man with a face full of flesh walked to the bed in two or three steps, opened the quilt and pulled him off the bed, and shouted angrily: "Who is your wife? Come down!"

"What? You are not mine..." Su Xian was dragged off the bed, stunned. Was he being too self-indulgent?

"Mr. Su, my husband has passed away for six years, and I have been a widow for six years."

Tofu Xishi seemed to be sad, excited, weak and helpless. "Today, Master Su fainted in the street, so I resorted to this desperate measure...but I didn't expect that Master Su would speak such rude words. I hope Master Su...respect yourself!"

A flash of lightning flashed through Su Xian's heart, and he remembered.

This tofu beauty is named "Liu Huixiang" and she is actually a widow!

Six years ago, although Liu Huixiang was a young lady from a prominent family, her parents promised her to a sick man to bring good luck to the bride. On the wedding night, the groom died before they even entered the bridal chamber.

The etiquette at that time was not very strict, and soon after, a matchmaker came again to propose marriage.

As a result, two days before the wedding, the groom was robbed and killed by bandits.

Later, she was preparing to marry again. A few days before the wedding, the groom's family was thrown into jail...

This happened several times, and anyone who was introduced by the matchmaker either died or suffered a disaster.

So for six whole years, Liu Huixiang still hadn't gotten married.

Matchmakers who came to visit also met with accidents one after another, either falling into a pond or being hit by a carriage...

Later, people in her mother's family died abnormally or became bedridden, which was very strange. The situation did not improve until Liu Huixiang was driven out of the house.

So now Liu Huixiang is not only "unlucky in marriage", she is also unlucky in marriage to matchmakers and anyone who is close to her.

As a result, even though Liu Huixiang was only twenty-five or twenty-six years old and beautiful, still a virgin, no one dared to approach her anymore, let alone a matchmaker.

Fortunately, thanks to the loyal and protective woman with a waist as thick as a bucket and a face full of flesh, she was able to set up a tofu stall in Leshou County, and her life became more and more prosperous.

However, her bad reputation of "bringing bad luck to husbands, matchmakers, and anyone close to her" became more and more mysterious as it spread, and neighbors near and far were all afraid of her.

Liu Huixiang rarely went out, and the tofu stall was almost entirely left to the tomboy to manage...

And Su Xian is Liu Huixiang’s neighbor!

The two houses are next to each other!

After realizing this, Su Xian bowed and apologized, saying, "I'm sorry, Madam Liu, please don't blame me. I forgot a lot of things and didn't think of them for a while, please don't blame me..."

Under the gaze of the fleshy-faced macho, Su Xian ran out of the door and onto the street.

It was already dark, and the streets were deserted and quiet.

A cool breeze blew, and Su Xian shuddered all over and woke up.

He scanned the strange yet familiar streets left and right, and finally, his sight stopped on a two-story wooden building. That was his home.

He walked over quickly, took out the key and opened the door.

Fumbling to light the oil lamp, looking at the familiar rotten wooden benches, old tables, broken doors and windows, the memories of the original body gradually emerged -

It turned out that Su Xian came from a prominent family in the capital.

But from the perspective of his father, he is just an insignificant bastard.

When Su Xian was born, he was a bastard's son and was extremely unpopular.

Later, due to being ostracized by the family, my parents simply set up their own business and moved far away to a place called Yingzhou to settle down.

A few years ago, his parents passed away one after another. Their wish was that Su Xian could study more and preferably pass the imperial examination to become a "Jinshi" or "Mingjing" to wipe out the shame of being ostracized by the family!

Su Xian is really a nerd. He is really devoted to studying and has no knowledge of worldly economics. As a result...

He stood there for a long time holding the oil lamp, and was finally awakened by the growling of his stomach.

"I'm so hungry, let me make some porridge first."

I followed my memory to the kitchen on the first floor and opened the lid of the rice jar. It was empty, without a single grain of rice.

Su Xian was stunned for a moment, remembering that his family had run out of food a few days ago!

He also used the last copper coin in the house to buy a steamed bun two days ago...

Su Xian did not give up. He held an oil lamp and searched the house inside and out, but he did not find a single copper coin.

"Oh my God!"

Su Xian sighed to the sky: "I am Su Xian, a landlord with a monthly income of tens of thousands, and a well-known scholar in the local cultural circle... Why did you let me come to this place!?"

"Forget it, let's sleep until tomorrow."

I went up to the second floor along the creaking wooden stairs, opened the door, and saw a bed, a set of chairs, and a wardrobe as tall as a person.

When I approached the bed, I saw a tattered quilt with holes on it, and I could see the bed board underneath through the holes.

"Rubbish!"

Su Xian pulled up the tattered quilt and threw it on the ground.

As a result, all that was left on the bed was a bed board made of several wooden boards and a pillow that had not been washed in many years.

Fortunately, the weather has been hot recently, so it is okay not to cover yourself with a quilt. Su Xian lies down with her clothes on and forces herself to close her eyes and sleep.

The night is cool as water.

“Dangdang!”

"It's dry, be careful with fire..."

There was the sound of night watchmen beating in the distance, occasionally mixed with the barking of dogs.

The faint moonlight shines through the window, vaguely showing the mottled texture on the wall.

"well!"

Su Xian became more awake as he slept. He gritted his teeth, turned over and got up, cursing, "Is this bed made of steel? It hurts my back."

Su Xian was used to sleeping on a soft mattress, so he felt uncomfortable sleeping on a flat and hard wooden bed.

He got up, put on his scholar's robe and cloth shoes, glanced at the tattered quilt on the ground, resisted the urge to pick it up, opened the door and went downstairs with the oil lamp.

He planned to borrow a quilt from his neighbor and put it on the bed board which was as hard as steel.

As Su Xian walked down the stairs, more memories came to his mind, which were related to the current situation in the world:

"This is Yingzhou of the Daliang Dynasty. Across Cangzhou to the east is Bohai."

"South of the Qinling Mountains and the Huai River, there are three countries: Shu, Southern Chu, and Southern Chen... This obviously does not match the dynasties in history!"

After going downstairs and casually placing the oil lamp on the old wooden table, Su Xian suddenly realized: "Oh, the trajectory of history has changed since the end of the Eastern Han Dynasty."

"According to the timeline of official history, it should be the Wu Zhou Dynasty with Wu Zetian as the emperor..."

"Wait, the current emperor of Daliang is really a female emperor..."

"In the feudal era, there was no sense of security. Now I have problems eating and sleeping!"

Open the door and come to the street.

Su Xian made up his mind: "Since I'm here, I'll make the best of it. Let's not talk about having many wives and concubines and living a shameless life. But at least I have to ensure my personal safety. I don't want to be arrested and beheaded for no reason."

Leshou County, Yingzhou, is a "central county", but perhaps because it is located in the southeast corner of the city, Su Xian did not see anyone on the street.

He glanced at the door of Liu Huixiang's house and turned to walk to the other side.

At the same time, he thought, "Don't worry about that for now, let's find a way to solve the problem of food and clothing first."

Bang bang bang!

Su Xian knocked on a neighbor's door and called out, "Uncle Liu, Uncle Liu, open the door."

"Who is it, so late at night..."

"Uncle Liu, I'm Su Xian."

"Su...Su Xian? Oh, I'm sorry. I just broke my leg and can't get out of bed. I'm sorry..."

Su Xian knocked for a while, but no one answered.

He scratched his head and knocked on the door of another neighbor: "Manager Luo, open the door. Your student Su Xian wants to ask you something."

"There's no one in the room!" Shopkeeper Luo shouted, pinching his nose.

"I go!"

"Uncle Zhang, I have something to ask you, please open the door."

"My dear nephew Su, just go with peace of mind. I will burn paper for you...May the Bodhisattva bless you, may the Buddha bless you, my nephew Su, just go with peace of mind..."

Su Xian: “?”

He didn't believe it and knocked on the doors of all the neighbors around him, but no one responded, as if no one was in the house.

He left a sentence "People's hearts are no longer the same as they used to be" and returned to his dark and dilapidated home.

Lying on the wooden bed as hard as steel again, Su Xian tried hard to adapt.

Adapt, adapt, and adapt again...

"Damn it! I can't adapt!"

He turned over and stood up again, looking at the hard bed board and felt like crying but had no tears.

At this moment, he couldn't help but think of the bed in Liu Huixiang's home, which was soft and fragrant, and the quilt was embroidered with silk silk ribbons.

Although Liu Huixiang has a bad reputation, her tofu stall business is booming and she makes a lot of money. Compared to Su Xian's shabby bedroom, her living environment is like heaven!

Just now, Su Xian knocked on the doors of all the neighbors around, but he didn't knock on Liu Huixiang's house.

After all, she is a widow living at home and is not easy to disturb.

But... Su Xian rubbed his aching back and shoulders, and said with a wry smile: "My delicate back, what can I do to save you?"

After hesitating for a while, Su Xian finally went downstairs again, opened the door, and sneaked to the door of Liu Huixiang's house.

Boom boom boom!

"Who is it?"

The tomboy with a waist as thick as a bucket spoke softly and nervously.

Yes, there were two women living in this room, one of whom was a stunningly beautiful widow. Besides, it was late at night, so they had no choice but to be careful and cautious.

"Sister Zhang, it's me, Su Xian." The female man's name was "Zhang Cuihua".

The footsteps approached, and soon, Zhang Cuihua's voice came through the door: "Mr. Su? What do you want so late at night?"

"I'm sorry, I want to borrow a quilt. My bed is too hard and I can't sleep." Su Xian didn't beat around the bush.

There was silence behind the door for a while. Zhang Cuihua probably felt that the request was too abrupt.

Borrow a quilt from a widow?

After a while, Zhang Cuihua said, "Wait," and the sound of footsteps fading away was heard from inside the house.

After waiting for a while, footsteps were heard getting closer in the house. The bolt was pulled open, and one of the two doors opened, and Zhang Cuihua stepped out.

She held a quilt in one hand and a food box in the other.

Looking at Su Xian, he said, "My young lady has agreed. We are neighbors, so there is no need to talk about borrowing. This quilt will be considered as a gift to Mr. Su."

Su Xian took the soft quilt and was about to thank him when Zhang Cuihua handed him the food box and said, "My lady knows that you didn't have lunch or dinner, so you must be very hungry. Although this is leftovers, it is clean. I hope Mr. Su will not dislike it."

"Of course I won't mind. Thank you, Madam Liu, and thank you, Sister Zhang."

Su Xian was so hungry, but it didn't matter as long as he had something to eat. He hugged the quilt and bowed before taking the food box.

Having gained a lot, Su Xian turned and left.

After taking only two steps, he found Zhang Cuihua following him carrying a large wooden barrel.

"Sister Zhang, what are you doing?"

"Oh, these are rotten tofu. They can't be sold. I suggest you throw them away."

"Stinky tofu..." A flash of lightning flashed through Su Xian's mind, and he said happily: "Sister Zhang, have you heard of 'stinky tofu'?"

"Stinky tofu? I've never heard of it. How can tofu be smelly?" Zhang Cuihua shook her head.

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silvanoir · 7 months ago

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The Situation

Off to MRI #2 in a few minutes, this time on my neck. I hope they find the source of the pain in my head/body, because its been getting worse.

Also, the other "SITUATION" has gotten worse (I said I'd post about it when it resolved, it hasn't resolved, but it's getting to a breaking point. literally)

I've told you before that Work Friend is in a really rotten living setup. but after getting sober (mismanaging things when he was drinking, plus a bad case of multiple someones using his cards putting him in debt) all he can really afford is this horrible dark basement apartment.... no not even that, it's a lumpy couch with a tiny kitchen and a bathroom where the hot water doesn't really work most of the time. And so, so many spiders.

And the landlady from hell. A pill addict that screams and stomps around and occasionally bursts in and takes or breaks his stuff. Including HIS medications (I bought him a little safe to keep them in). In February she was particularly high and drunk and stomped down and screamed at him, tried to break his keyboards (he used to play bass in metal and punk bands but he's trying to get away from that because that scene has alcohol ... he can't play in bars and dark clubs anymore... ) and he was practicing his music with headphone so he didn't bother anyone (and of that he was teaching himself oldies and church music). Not good enough! She also took a bottle of gingerale, poured it all over his bible and other stuff and ridiculed him for being sober now.

That tipped him right into being suicidal. It was bad. I (and his therapist) helped get him through it but it was BAD.

He also named me his official new sponsor (aka the person he talks to to make sure he STAYS sober) because the one he had wasn't working out.... he didn't ask me if I was ok with this, but I wasn't going to refuse either. It seems like I might be one of the few people on the planet who actually cares about his wellbeing.

It's all backwards! He's trying to be good now and those around him are treating him like a criminal or something! When they are the crazy/violent/drunk/high ones!

He already has PTSD because of multiple awful things that happened to him in his past (can't type up any of that) and anxiety, how can he heal in an environment like that? The reason why his drinking got so bad, bad enough it nearly killed him a few years ago, was the stress of everything.

He came to work today with a bloody nose because the landlady's daughter clocked him with his phone (the phone I gave him after his flip phone died... the phone he has now was one of my dads old phones that we call the brick phone because it is a 4g pay-as-you-go cellphone that is the size shape and weight of a small brick.... but its an old style that still has buttons, which he likes).

I knew! I knew things would go from emotionally abusive to physically abusive! Breaking his things to breaking him! (Landlady's husband has also broken most of his tools... makes it hard for him to do his side-gig as a handyman).

I tried to warn him but he said it wasn't bad as all that when I did.... well it's as bad as all that. Of course, he's strong and over 6 ft tall and could easily pulverize them both, but he's a middle-aged man and they are women and an old man and if the cops show up he's the one who'll be hauled off to jail.

Me and other coworkers are trying to figure out a way to get him out of there. It's tough because he lives week-to-week and has ruined credit.... where else is he going to rent....

if i didn't have my elderly dad with me I'd give him my guestroom.

#personal #work friend

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tinatribeca · 10 months ago

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Life Update 1/14/24

12:50am.

First and foremost I'd like to thank God. I made it into another year. I'm listening to a worship instrumental right now that has several quotes from the book of Psalms. I haven't been on here in a while, maybe I haven't been as inspired to sit down and talk about my life.

Maybe today is different.

One of my closest friends is moving to San Diego. I was hit with a sudden feeling of sadness. Loss. I nearly cried when I found out the news. I literally texted her the words "This is shit..." Followed by a bunch of turd emojis. I know our relationship will change... No more planned brunches or late nights out. I wish her happiness nonetheless. We have so many memories together. She was a great addition to my life but I know she'll be happier there. Permanently happier? I don't know.

My father had a brain biopsy for a tumor in his brain. Not cancerous but it's still scary. He's in recovery. I can't say he's the same man I remember which is scary. I'm afraid he'll disappear on me. I'm not ready to lose him but I'm afraid.

No one knows about his condition other than my mom and whomever he has decided to tell.

I wish we had more time. He's apologized many times for not being around when I was a kid, a delayed start to our relationship due to incarceration.

I'll always wish we had more time. I'll never have those moments on the swing, the walks to school, any of those moments most children have. Sometimes I wonder if he'll even be around for my future.

I hope he can be. It's hard to see him suffering, in pain, not himself... not the happier version of him.

I met my father for the first time when I was about 8 or 9 years old. I say that because he was placed in the prison system when I was a toddler and I was too young to remember him. But I remember the first time I saw him. I was living in the red hook projects. He walked in looking the size of a giant and I was the happiest I could be. In walks the man I had been wondering about for years.

I have many pictures of my childhood, some of them without him. I tossed the ones of me visiting him in jail. Straight to the garbage. He's so much more than his past. Those pictures are a reminder of all the times he wasn't around. All the times he was away.

I'll always wish we had more time.

I wonder sometimes if thats why I either fall too easily or not at all. Abandonment wounds that have healed but come back in different forms. To be left and returned to is a different type of pain. To rebuild and regain is a different type of healing.

I don't expect many to understand.

I adopted a kitten. Oliver.

He has been in my apartment for a few months now. He's spoiled rotten. I got his name from the movie Oliver and company. A movie about a homeless street cat. I like to believe he has the same edge.

I'm still single, not much has changed. I wonder sometimes if I'm the problem. If maybe the many months/years in therapy weren't enough to fix me. Maybe there's something about me that I'm just not aware of. Maybe I'm broken.

Maybe I'm a different type of lover and my person has some work to do before we cross paths...

I pray for love often. Truth is, I now understand the true meaning of loss. Loss of love and being grateful for those long term relationships when you have them. I realize now that when I did have love I should have probably held on a little tighter, fought a little harder, cherished a bit better... Although it may have not been meant to be it still should have been felt a little deeper because:

Who really knows when I will find romantic love again.

#thoughts #love

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weirdlyfitting · 2 years ago

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I've seen ant man and the wasp quantumania anddddd I HAVE THOUGHTS EEEEEE

Conclusion : it's decent 💖✨️

Thoughts :

spoilers below obvi >:)

This movieeeee IS OKAY. Not as bad as multiverse of madness because for fucking finally NO CAMEOS OH MY GODDD! And yeah this an ant man movie not a kang movie, take notes multiverse of madness!!!

I was genuinely concerned with how the movie would turn out to be cause what the fuck is that rotten tomatoes rating bro 😭 but when i watched it, no??? This does not deserve THAT bad whatttt

Also little sharing here i'm almost late when the intro started rolling 😭😭 i was having uni class until 4 and the movie started at 4 goddamn pass 15 AND MY LOCAL CINEMA TOOK KILOMETERS PLUS IT STARTED RAINING 😭 I WAS TRULY IN A RUSH LMAOOO, once i got into the ground floor of my uni i still had to rush out to the basement USING THOSE STAIRS oh my god lmaoo

Aight back into it i was already prepared if scott or anybody's going to die ngl but i'm also genuinely shocked that NONE OF THEM DIED???? GODDAMN THESE FAMILY RULESSSS

Another surprise is that sidekick girl and the civilization?? (Idk/forgot what they called i'm sorry 😭) brooo i love them all!! When i saw the trailer promos i expect i'd get bored but holy crap these characters really are survivors and they're NOT BORING at all! Still missing luis and the bois tho :')

Ohhh another thing i noticed (for why it's good) is at least, AT LEAST it has a consistent theme, THIS IS A FRIGGIN HEIST MOVIE.

Time is kinda like another theme that sadly tho took the spotlight here, and suddenly i miss doctor strange so much lmao :( i really feel that quantimania should have these emotional moments AS EMOTIONAL in doctor strange, i mean it's also my favorite movie soooo 👉👈

Ugahgsgsgs i wished this kang learn those "we don't get to choose our time" scene from doctor strange, especially the quote "it's not about YOU", imagine how pissed off he'd be lmaooo 😩😩

Oh yea i forgor to talk abt modok, naw man because WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS 😭😭

I am.....

Absolutely horrified 😀

Also he's annoying as hell like leave scott and cassie alone bro what 😭 then he's like "idk what i'm going to be" like- okay bro that's really sad but...so random?? 😭😭 what's all that abt from the first movie huh 😔

Mmmm there's also janet which HOLY CRAP MOMMY?!?!? I thought that she USED to work together with kang as in she choose to do it that way but noooo, as she saw the chaos and monstrosity from kang she backed up and wasn't even hesitate to join in, like after all those times that's it right in front of her is a ticket to home, but she knew better and she's an icon frrrr 🥺💖💖

I think hank and hope could've had more character development but i'm okay with what i got, i think it's more of a support player?? I'm really glad to know that janet had both hope and hank because they both are what she needed and she is what they both needed.

And then we got scott and cassie ehehehe!! Ngl scott, he's the real daddy like when he's dissapointed yes he is but- my god he's just soooo kind??? His daughter went to jail and in the end still could ease the situation with playing his audiobook in the radio car 😭😭💖 i don't blame cassie tho cause ehh she's a teen and is a blip survivor those are a very tough times :(

Anddd oh yea that final battle...

Scott oh my fucking god somebody help him pleaseee😭😭😭😭😭 i'm genuinely so terrified like NO, NO GET UP, FUCKING GET UP SCOTT YOU GOT THIS 😭

I was expecting a cliffhanger ending but oh well family dinner lol, for a starting of phase 5 i'm pretty fine by the use of these lighter tones in some scenes like this, before the dinner scott was having some overthinking moments yet he decided to not think abt it too much lmao, that's just scott being scott jajajajjaa

Anddd lastly THE post credit scenes!!!!

I DID NOT EXPECT IT'D BE THIS GOOD HOLY SHITTT

ARE YOU FRIGGIN KIDDING ME ALL OF THESE KANGS WHAT THE FUUUUUUUCKKK

AND HOLY FRICKITY FUCK RAMA TUT??!??!?!?! DOES THIS MEANS MOON BOIS WILL BE BACK?!?!?!?! FUCK IT HELL YEAH THEY'LL BE BACK IDC IDC IDC GIVE ME MY MOON BOIS KEVIN OH MY GODDDD

I WAS GENUINELY SHOCKED I WANNA SCREAM SO BADLY 😭😭😭🤌🤌

This is so insane cause before i watched the movie me and my friend were indeed expecting a rama tut appearance but we didn't have high hopes for this to even happen 😭😭 HOLY FUCK THAT PRAYING CIRCLE WORKED-

ANYWAY FOR THE SECOND POST CREDIT SCENEEE

I literally jumped at my seat and said "HUH LOKI??!?!?!?" 😭😭😭 my cousin was so confused cause she hasn't watch loki lmaoo

I WAS SO HAPPY CAUSE HOLY SHIT A LOKI S2 CLIP PLAYED IN THEATER?!?!? THIS IS MOBIUS' THEATRICAL DEBUT HOLY SHIT YASSSSSS

Aight maybe that's it??? I'm really tired on writing these y'all i'm sorry bhahahah

#ant man and the wasp quantumania #ant man and the wasp quantumania spoilers #mcu

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smolstarthief · 3 years ago

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Persona 5/Persona 5 Strikers: Pro-Police or Anti-Police?

Hoo boy... So this honestly has been a LONG time coming on my end because I have seen so much of that debate on social media (Twitter namely) and I can see the points of BOTH sides but there have been moments where it just got out of hand... Especially whenever people tried to put in a more grey/nuanced take only to be slammed and taken out of context. Even repeatedly mentioning the interrogation at the beginning of P5 which, I will admit has gotten tiresome. At least for me, I do still feel for Joker and I wished the game acknowledged his trauma more but there's a thing called, "beating a dead horse" and this is one along with "Haru says ACAB" in Strikers (which was done THREE TIMES in the same arc and it got annoying fast, like shut up already! We get it!). So, let's dive in a little bit:

MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!

Persona 5/Persona 5 Royal

Now let me just say I know! Police in Japan are just as bad if not worse than the West and I STILL hate the idea of Makoto wanting to become a cop for such naive reasons (especially with what happened to Sae, her own sister!)... But there are at least some of form of nuances sometimes and by that I mean, I can see what they were trying to do? I do agree that P5/P5S backpedaled SEVERELY by deciding to sweep issues under the rug after addressing them and not continuing from such. In fact I feel like it could have been a hell of a lot better. But P5 did something different compared to previous games and addresses the issues DIRECTLY right at the beginning of said game! It was tense and horrifying, but needed. Of course... They then sweep it under the rug and act like nothing traumatic happened to our protag which is NOT a good look at all and I'm still pissed off about it. In the main game's case, it's portrayed as more black and white with only a SMALL amount of nuance like that cop that was trying to help Futaba when she went out by herself and got lost (which people ignore entirely by the way). So I CAN see where people got the "anti-police" message from... But that's only the tip of the iceberg as it's ACTUALLY more about Systematic Corruption, not exactly or JUST police corruption. Namely in politics with Shido and the Conspiracy (which is apparently still somewhat around in Strikers until Owada's downfall) controlling everything all the way to law enforcement. The force had been basically under his payroll (including the corrupt SIU Director before his death) whether by force or not (mostly not in this case though). Now honestly, the police depicted there are undoubtedly rotten to the core save for a VERY SMALL handful (the cop that was trying to help Futaba which, again, gets ignored by several). Look at the interrogators who ruthlessly beat and drug a minor without any second thought or remorse for example. But again, the black and white narrative the game kept unwittingly doing ended up being to its detriment in a way. I'm not defending those assholes AT ALL! They deserved every punishment given to them! But for a game that goes on about grey morality... It doesn't quite deliver on that. Still though, it does emphasize that it's more of the fault of the whole corrupt system, not just one part of it. There needs to be change and reform which is what our MCs were trying to do in a way (more like inspiring change but still). In the end, it's all about the following:

Corruption and abuse of power.

Again the police depicted in this game were incompetent at best, corrupt at worse with very few silver linings. But it's not just them but rather the one person responsible for the whole mess. Who had them under his payroll? Who controlled them and by extension all of Tokyo? Who was willing to dispose of anyone who "outlives their usefulness" or is perceived as a threat to what he wants (including his own family)?

SHIDO AND BY EXTENSION THE CONSPIRACY

Bottom line: They are definitely a problem but it's not just them.

"But, Joker and his trauma?"

I definitely understand that and still do. I fully believe he has and still has trauma with the police. Easy! But... I do feel like people go too far with it sometimes. It's hard to explain but there have been moments where people either use it as a justification/argument against someone trying to provide a more nuanced view of things or... Dare I say, depict him like a "uwu soft traumatized boi." Like I said, it's hard to explain on my end so feel free to ignore it. Everyone deals with trauma differently so there is STRONG chance that I'm overanalyzing it. I just remember moments where I just feel a little, I guess annoyed? I'm not sure exactly but final thing: I understand what he went through and I can't imagine how long it would take to recover but I hope he DOES overcome it.

"Sae? Akechi?"

Yep, even though their jobs are different, they are by and large members of law enforcement no matter how you spin it. Both were broken in a way. Akechi is pretty easy to explain with how Shido negatively impacted his life but not much about Sae, who dealt with sexism/misogyny at her workplace along with the trauma of her father's (also a cop) death. She no doubt had some idealism only to be hit with the fact that she's gonna have to use underhanded/downright illegal tactics to get by and even rise up the ranks. She, therefore ended up (well, nearly) corrupted herself before coming to her senses. That's honestly one of the BIGGEST REASONS why I felt like Makoto joining the force to become a police commissioner isn't a good, even a downright naïve, idea. I honestly would have been somewhat fine with it if it weren't for that fact among other things. Regardless of her willpower, it will go south fast.

Now... Onto Strikers!

Persona 5 Strikers

Since the game came out and I started playing it, I still feel like the system is still beyond saving, especially when attempting to do it from the inside. But I don't mind the added nuances that P5 didn't do much of. It's still continuing the critiques, just shows more of what does happen within said system and even has an ACTUAL officer (Zenkichi) say, "Yeah, my job sucks, everyone's corrupt, there are much better ways to do things and make a change but not this. I'm only staying because I have a daughter to take care of and it's all I know. I'm no different from them." Was it all handled well? I wouldn't say "yes" (Joker's trauma is BARELY addressed at all of course) but a little better than what P5's narrative did which only addressed the issues but not exactly follow up on them. Now to be fair... In the system, regardless of where you live, any one within it who remotely tries to do something or speak against it either lose their jobs or even go "missing" irl. Those have happened and it's more proof that yeah, it's rotten to the core. There's no denying it but regardless, that's NOT what the game is about at all. At least that's what I feel about it as it's only PART of the narrative. I think Zenkichi puts it best here:

Speaking of Zenkichi... Oh boy... Now I definitely understand some of the criticisms with him but honestly, he was the best written (PT) character I've ever encountered! He was honestly the perfect representation of those that genuinely want to help and do good, only to be held back by an extremely harsh reality. It was already hinted at with Sae but here? It 100 percent confirms just how harsh and even cutthroat it can be if it could break someone's idealism so badly. Even Kaburagi of all people thinks the same thing Zenkichi said:

Then there's his past and it's a tragic one! But let's look more at the decisions he ended up making:

While it was no doubt done to protect his daughter, he ended making a selfish decision along with a selfless one (which was brilliant!) with not only allowing the cover up of his wife's death and denying justice for her, but also ruining an innocent person and their family's lives.

It's horrible, but also... There's a grey area/nuance as with the rest of his character. It was both understandable, but also wrong as he, as Akane's Shadow puts it:

He sacrificed his values, his morals, all for the sake of having a peace of mind. Speaking of Akane, she's also an interesting case in a way that she more or less perfectly represents the more "black and white" views on justice in general. Namely the more toxic/biased kind. Her reasons are also understandable but she was also acting selfishly by only focusing on how SHE was effected by Aoi's death and not even considering those that were also grieving her death and/or that people grieve/handle grief differently than her. But back on topic.

Her own views and beliefs that law enforcement basically SHOULD be dismantled (mostly out of said childish bias and black & white views) and it's framed as WRONG and it's very much correct on that. Chaos and order are two sides of the same coin, one can't exist without the other. When I say ACAB, I'm calling for reform, defund, have the corrupt held accountable for EVERYTHING and even face jail time for their crimes! Defund the police, have the ones that arrest, harm, and even murder out of bias (race, gender, etc.), lose their badges/jobs and locked up, make improvements! It's saying that there IS still corruption out there and there's no denying it. But fully eliminating the law in general will just lead to more problems. Now granted, she's young and clearly doesn't fully understand why those views are ultimately wrong but still... It was a very interesting subject to tackle and I feel like they handled it well.

Now back to Zenkichi, he was at first in denial about his decisions ultimately being the wrong ones too and even tries to justify it. Of course, his Shadow said otherwise and that was when he finally admitted that he really did act no different from the criminals he despised. But it also doesn't mean he can't redeem himself and that's what ultimately leads to his new resolve:

That right there along with everything else! There's the nuance! And ultimately despite some hiccups, Strikers handled the grey morality and nuance beautifully! Especially regarding law enforcement! Dare I say, even better than the base game! It continues the critiques with no problem but also showing different sides and areas of it! There is good and evil, but what about in-between? What about the more greyer area? It still says that there IS corruption, sometimes even beyond saving but... Sometimes a small silver lining is hidden somewhere.

Now, the ultimate question:

Is P5 & P5S (namely the latter) Pro-Police or Anti-Police?

Personally, my answer is this: Neither.

Why? What theme do they both have in common?

JUSTICE

Someone puts it best on Twitter that the games are more pro-justice and I fully agree!

P5/P5S gives the idea about following your OWN justice, your OWN moral code and rules, paving your OWN path and not let others dictate it! That's what the MCs ultimately start to learn in both games. Therefore it's pro-justice. Again, do I agree that the system is beyond saving? Yeah. Do I at least acknowledge and understand what the narratives are trying to say and nuances regardless even if I don't agree with some writing decisions (ex: Makoto wanting to become a commissioner despite everything)? Also yes. But at the same time, don't judge a book by its cover for other people (not just law enforcement and politics mind you). Especially some that genuinely DO want to help at best. That there is nuance and greyness, just have to look closely. Some of the MCs are still TERRIBLY written and executed (even annoying) but the message was still somewhat there.

Final Thoughts

Now I fully understand how you all feel of course! I still believe in ACAB and even I agree that maybe I'm one to talk and have a lot more to learn about the world... This is just my own attempt at putting my own two cents in. If you disagree, that's fine! This is just what I've felt should be at least talked about more often. And I tried to phrase it as best as I can without coming off as insensitive or ignorant and if I did, I sincerely apologize for that! I'm not trying to say, come off as a "bootlicker" or any of the sort. I'm just trying show discuss more of the grey areas and nuances that are, more often than not, constantly overlooked. How one interprets both games is ultimately up to them. You, the player. And this is my own interpretation. Simple as that. I hope you all have a good day/afternoon/evening!

#starchild rambles #analysis #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #persona 5 strikers #p5 #p5r #p5s #p5s spoilers #p5r spoilers #p5 spoilers #long post

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trekkiepirate · 4 years ago

Text

Master of All

My Witcher Secret Santa gift for @motionalocean! @thewitchersecretsanta

Crossposted to AO3 HERE

nearly 9.2K of BAMF!Jaskier and Geralt being progressively more smitten. 5 Times Jaskier Is Good At Things Geralt Didn't Expect And The 1 Thing He Knew Jaskier Was Good At. PG-13 for bad words, canon-typical violence, and the +1 Under cut because it’s hella long.

1. Pickpocketing

“Well,” Jaskier huffed, “I sincerely hope you missed one of those ghouls and they come back and eat this whole rotten village. Starting with that alderman. No, starting with his appalling son who has the AUDACITY to claim he was a better singer than me. My gods, Geralt, I don’t even think I’ll complain of the lack of a roof and a bed this evening. Sleeping under the stars with my very dear friend-“

“-not friends,” Geralt huffed.

The interruption entirely ignored by Jaskier. “-who is twice, thrice, no no no ten, a hundred, a THOUSAND times the man that they could ever dream of being. Asking a man-“

“-not a man,” Geralt said, expecting, correctly, Jaskier would ignore this comment too.

Jaskier, instead, whirled and looked at Geralt like he had punched him. Actually, he looked more upset than when Geralt has, in fact, punched him. “Of course you’re a man.” Jaskier tilted his head. “Well, I cannot say for certain as I have not yet seen you… in a state of undress. Though not that the having of a penis makes one a man. It’s more about your own identity-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed, sliding two now-skinned hares onto sticks over the fire.

“You’re a man because that’s who you tell the world you are.”

“I don’t.”

It seemed only every other sentence was going to get through Jaskier’s tirades as he stopped speaking.

For a few blissful seconds. “Geralt,” Jaskier put his hands on his hips, voice exasperated as if he were a teacher who expected better of his pupil. “Geralt,” he said again, “you are the best man I have ever met. Smarter than any scholar, kinder than any priest, more noble than any titled twat.”

Geralt blinked. Jaskier seemed so sincere. “We’ve just met.”

“Right, well, we’ve actually been traveling together for four months, but I imagine time feels different when you’re basically immortal, so we’ll let that slide.”

A frown twisted Geralt’s face. “You’re young. You can’t have met that many people.”

Jaskier pursed his lips and put on what he called his Viscount voice. Though why he’d pretend to be a Viscount was beyond Geralt. “I studied for years at the most prestigious and widely attended university on the Continent. I have met plenty of people, Geralt. And you are still the best one I know.”

Geralt hmmed. “Your good opinion won’t buy us a roof and a bed.”

A grin like a succubus, pretty and dangerous, spread over Jaskier’s face. He reached into his trousers and produced a bag of coins. “It might do.”

The same bag of coins that the alderman had refused to give Geralt after he cleared a nest of ghouls from a field. He’d taken three crowns and told Geralt that it couldn’t be worth the whole bag if it only took him an hour.

As it was, most of that hour was building the bomb he’d need to destroy the nest. The ghouls had been sated by feeding on villagers who’d tried to kill them and were slow.

“Where-” Geralt shook his head, he knew the answer to that one. “How?”

Jaskier tossed the bag in the air and caught it. He continued doing so as he spoke. “Remember when I gestured around his, frankly gaudy and most certainly fake, prized vase?”

Geralt stared at the boy. “You distracted him by making him think you might break his vase and then stole his coin out of his pocket.”

“Exactly! Really it’s his fault for so blatantly putting the coin away while looking down his nose at you.” Jaskier grinned bright and extracted one coin from the bag before handing it to Geralt.

“Thief’s fee?” Geralt nodded at the coin.

Jaskier’s smile got even more mischievous. He balanced the coin on his thumb, then flicked it.

It hit Geralt in the chest and fell into his lap.

“Well, tossing a coin is the chorus of the song anyway,” he winked, then spun around, grabbing a cooked hare and blowing on it before taking a large bite. “They’ll see,” he said as he chewed, “my song will become a hit! ‘Toss a Coin’ will be sung the entire length and breadth of the Continent and men like that will be the pariahs, the outcasts. Anyone who denigrates a witcher will be spit upon in the streets. See how they like that!” Jaskier’s next bite was near savage, tearing the meat from the bone. But the next moment, he grinned over the fire at Geralt. “And until it does become a hit and you are lauded as the hero you are, and don’t say you’re not a hero, I see your mouth opening and you can very well shut it again for all the credence I’m going to give you saying you’re not a hero.” He gestured wildly with his hare, grease dripping slowly down his hand and forearm, on display since he’d rolled up the sleeves as his chemise on such a warm night.

Geralt found his next breath a little harder to take as he stared at the bare forearm. He hmmed and took up his own meal.

“So until that day, I will gladly make sure you are properly paid for your work,” he waggled the fingers of his left hand at Geralt. “One way or another.”

“Don’t get caught,” Geralt said. “I won’t break you out of any jail cell you land in.”

Jaskier laughed. “That is a bald-faced lie. You did the exact thing two towns ago and that wasn’t even me risking my freedom and safety for you to be given all you deserve.”

Geralt looked up at Jaskier, then quickly back to his hare when he found the expression on Jaskier’s face too… too much like something warm settling in his stomach. He ate the rest of the hare as fast as he could.

No one had ever said Geralt deserved anything. Not anything nice, anyway. But Jaskier seemed to think that Geralt was a kind of hero in a tale and wanted him to be treated as such.

Fool’s errand, he thought. Jaskier was young and didn’t know how the world worked outside of the high walls of a university. He’d learn. Until then…

“Fine.”

Having gone back to eating, Jaskier was silent for a moment as if trying to recall where the conversation was picking up from. “What’s fine? Oh! Me stealing when people refuse to pay you your just wage. Of course it’s fine. Don’t worry your pretty head for a moment; I’ve never been caught yet.” He waggled his fingers in Geralt’s direction. “Dexterity is name of the game when one spends one’s life dedicated to possibly the most delicate and finnicky instrument known to man.” He looked down at his gifted elven lute like it was his flesh and blood child, so loving and soft.

When he raised his head and looked at Geralt, his adoring expression didn’t change in the least.

Geralt cleared his throat and threw the hareless stick onto the fire. ‘Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

A few more large bites and Jaskier did as he was told, snuggling into his bedroll. Which Geralt had bought him when Jaskier proved that no amount of silence or disinterest would keep him from staying at Geralt’s side, praising every deed in song. He picked up the bag of coin and wandered over to Roach to tuck it safely in her saddlebag.

The horse nickered softly and seemed to throw her head repeatedly in Jaskier’s direction.

“Don’t get attached,” Geralt scolded.

Roach tilted her head in Jaskier’s direction and kept it there.

Geralt sighed and whispered into the still night air. “Thank you, Jaskier.” He patted Roach, now seemingly satisfied, and made his way to his own bedroll, set a bit behind Jaskier’s so the bard was close to the warm fire and that anything that leapt at them from the woods would have to get through Geralt before it could get to Jaskier.

He laid there, thinking about how quickly making sure the boy warm and safe had become a priority.

2. Knowing Who The Nobles Are Everywhere They Go

“Nope,” Jaskier plucked the sun-faded paper from Geralt’s hand, ignoring Geralt’s exasperated expression. “Oh no, no, no, no. Nope, you will not be taking this. Well, you will not be taking this contract with Duke Hereward. He’s an absolute bastard and will quite surely stiff you of your deserved coin. No, we’d best find where,” he squinted at the ink, “Meadwood Farms is and go straight to the farmers themselves. Hereward will weasel his weasely way out of giving you anything. I’d gladly steal anything he might have of worth-“

Geralt glanced around, hoping no one who worked for the Duke was listening, as Jaskier did not seem to understand what the word ‘discretion’ meant.

“-alas the double-edged sword of fame means if something were to go mysteriously but deservedly missing after we took our leave, I’d find my lovely new position as a professor at Oxenfurt suddenly taken from me.” He smiled at Geralt. “I need something to do during the winter while you hide away in your Witchery mountains to do… mountainous Witchery things.”

Suppressing the urge to smile, Geralt nodded towards the inn. “I’m sure someone will know who owns the farm in there.”

Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm and began to drag him (well, steer him as if Geralt had truly not wanted to be led, there was no way the boy, barely into his twenties, could move him) towards the inn. “Good people of Ellander!”

“Jaskier,” Geralt nearly rolled his eyes.

“Your prayers to the Great Meletile have been answered,” Jaskier continued. “Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself, has come to aid you with your monster problems. Merely point us to Meadwood Farms and you shall soon see why Geralt is the hero of the Continent.”

Geralt was strangely glad his body no longer had the ability to blush. Jaskier’s absolute faith in Geralt was steadfast and it made something heavy and warm settle in Geralt’s chest. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be able to feel this way, to be so… cared about.

A pretty-eyed maiden made her way over to them. She smiled brightly at Jaskier. “I work at the farm. I’d be ever so glad to lead you… and the witcher there.”

The eye rolling couldn’t be controlled this time, as Jaskier immediately brightened under her attentions. “Well lead on, good miss. I presume it’s miss?”

“It is,” she giggled.

Geralt was rather glad they barely paid any heed to him as they flirted their way across town to the countryside. “What is it?” Geralt eventually asked.

Both Jaskier and the young woman, Elzbet apparently, startled as if they’d forgotten Geralt was still there. They probably had.

“The monster,” Geralt clarification. “What is it?”

Elzbet shrugged. “I didn’t see it. I do not know. Master Prospero was the one who saw it. He’s in the big house.”

Jaskier grinned. “Yes, yes, Geralt head up to see Master Prospero. Elzbet has promised to show me a most charming little corner of the barn. Apparently, there’s an owl’s nest there.”

Geralt would turn over every coin he received for the contract if there was actually an owl’s nest anywhere in the barn. All Jaskier was likely to see was up the girl’s skirts. Stomping away with a little more force than he probably needed to use, Geralt found the farm owner and got the information he needed.

It was a nest of nekkars and Geralt has cleared them all out by that night. The reward scraped together by the workers was only a third of what Hereward had promised, but it was given in gratitude and with open hands. Prospero himself was so grateful, he offered Geralt and Jaskier a room in his home for the night, as well as their dinner that night and breakfast the next morning.

Jaskier spent most of the night trying to find a suitably dirty rhyme he approved of for owl.

“Howl. Or yowl, which I will make you do if you do not put that candle out.” Geralt said at last.

“Oh you,” Jaskier tsked as he quickly scribbled down a few more lines. “You know what that Witchery magic does to me.” He winked.

Geralt buried his head further into the pillow. “Didn’t get enough with your farm girl?”

Jaskier gasped, affronted. “Excuse you, Elzbet is more than a farm girl, she is the love of my life.” He sighed dreamily. “I might stay, you know. With her.”

“Better her than me,” Geralt grumbled.

“I know you don’t truly mean those words or I’d be heartbroken beyond repair to hear you say that,” Jaskier shrugged out of his doublet and pinched out the candle flame between his licked fingers. “But what if I did? Stay?”

Geralt huffed. “You’d make a piss poor farmer.”

Jaskier laughed lightly. “Probably true.” He sighed. “Would you miss me?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt said in lieu of an actual answer. “If you’re to be a farmer, you must get used to early mornings.”

Humming thoughtfully, Jaskier settled down, the line of his back just an inch away from Geralt’s in the bed. “Good night, Geralt.”

In the morning, Jaskier packed and took his place at Geralt’s side. He tried out lyrics and chords and by the time he and Geralt made camp that night, Jaskier had a new ballad. It was about love between a wanderer and a maiden, whom he loved but left to follow the open road he had long ago promised his heart to, his truest love.

Though he never actually sang the word road, Geralt realized as he watched Jaskier sing it a week later in a tavern. The song itself was called Walking The Path.

3. Gwent

“Dammit,” Geralt growled as he threw down his remaining card. A clear weather was useless when there were no weather cards in effect. The score was tied, but his opponent played with a Nilfgaardian deck and therefore won all ties.

The smarmy git was smiling at him like a smarmy git. “Fair is fair,” he held out a hand, “I’ll be taking your unique card now.”

It was lying next to the card the other man had anted up in the center of the table, but clearly humiliation was part of his winnings.

Geralt picked up the card and dropped it into the other man’s hand. “Here.”

“Better luck next time,” the bastard called out and he gestured another player to take Geralt’s place.

He still had all the coin he’d won, the cards had been the only prizes in that last round, so Geralt went over to the bar and ordered two ales and a glass of wine.

By the time he was picking up the second mug of ale, Jaskier had finished his set and bounded over, downing the wine in one go as always and ordering himself another.

“What’s this face? Is my singing truly that bad? Please know, if you say anything about pie, I will be forced to waste this lovely wine on your rude head.” Geralt grunted. “Singing was fine. Lost my game is all.”

Jaskier tilted his head. “You were winning when I last checked in on you.” He looked at his glass. “Do you need some coin? I got a fair amount tonight, people around here are very anti-Nilfgaard and my lovely little ditty went a treat. You must have heard the cheers.”

Geralt nodded. He had. In between games, he’d kept his eye on Jaskier. The djinn incident was two weeks ago, but this was Jaskier’s first performance since he almost lost his voice. And life.

The bard had been nervous and Geralt hadn’t even started playing gwent until the anxious scent faded into his usual confident burst of sundried linen and mint. The crowd was just as adoring, just as loud as always. Jaskier’s voice hadn’t suffered any permanent damage and Geralt was relieved. After all, his unthinking words had been the reason Geralt had almost lost… that Jaskier had almost lost his voice.

“Not coin,” Geralt said at last, draining his mug. “Lost my best card though. Drew an unlucky hand and couldn’t seem to bring it back around. Ended in a draw, but the bastard played as Nilfgaard so he took the tie.”

Jaskier frowned. “No chance to get it back?”

Geralt shrugged. “He plays here a lot, apparently. Has rules about only one match per opponent.” He shook his head. “Nothing for it.”

Putting down his half full glass, Jaskier nodded. “Right, well then.” He turned and headed towards the tables set up for cards.

“Jaskier?” Geralt blinked at the space the bard had occupied a second ago. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier was already standing in front of the bastard.

Geralt couldn’t remember his name, wasn’t even sure he’d been told who he’d been playing against.

Jaskier’s relaxed ease was gone, instead his shoulders hunched up, making him look for all the world like an angry cat about to take a chunk out of the next person who tried to pet it. “Valdo Marx,” Jaskier hissed out like the very letters of the name offended him.

Huh. Geralt looked at the man who’d defeated him.

Valdo looked up with a beatific smile. “Julian, is that you? I did think I heard your particular brand of empty words and trite notes in that boyish tenor of yours.”

Now no longer just upset about the card, Geralt’s fingers twitched towards his sword. Sure, he’d not exactly complimented Jaskier’s songs recently, but his insult was born of trying to offend the man into shutting up so Geralt could find the damnable djinn and get some fucking sleep.

Which, looking back, was a useless attempt as Jaskier had been drunk and Drunk Jaskier was even more prone to rambling than Sober Jaskier.

“Normally, I’d be quite glad to just punch you in the nose,” Jaskier smirked, “again.”

Taking a closer look, Geralt did notice that Valdo’s nose was slightly crooked. As if broken a few too many times.

“But if seems you have some pretentious rule about not allowing people to win their losings back from you like an honourable gentleman would.” Jaskier crossed his arms. “So I’ll play you for Geralt’s card.”

Valdo blinked blankly. “Geralt?”

Jaskier clucked his tongue as he sat down. “My goodness, you are out of touch. Everyone on the Continent knows I sing of Geralt of Rivia, heroic Witcher of legend and my very best friend in the whole world.”

Geralt didn’t bother to object.

“Then again, you rarely get to leave Cidaris, don’t you?” Jaskier produced his gwent deck and began to shuffle it. “I often wonder how you’d do in a town you didn’t grow up in? But then your father’s money wouldn’t be there to buy you a court position now would it? Has he bought you a title yet?”

Though Jaskier couldn’t see it, perhaps because Jaskier couldn’t see it, Geralt grinned broadly at that.

Valdo grinned back nastily, revealing he had a missing canine tooth as well. “If he did, at least one of us would use their title to make a difference to their homeland. Tell me, Julian,” he laid out his deck and dealt himself a hand, “when did you last visit Lettenhove? Or do you still think wandering amongst the common folk singing dirty songs in dirty taverns is the proper way a viscount should behave? Whatever would your mother day?”

Geralt watched Jaskier’s grip on his own hand tighten, just slightly. “Just play, Marx.”

Huh. Apparently Jaskier wasn’t making the whole viscount thing up.

“Oh now now,” Valdo laid down his hand, “we haven’t set terms yet. You want the Witcher’s card, right? This one,” he picked it up and flipped it along the back of his hand. “But what will you bet? I never play for anything as gauche as coin. Some of us get wages, not a handful of coins in a dusty lute case. Actually,” Valdo leaned forward, “that’s what we’ll play for. Your pretty lute. See if you can perform in royal courts without your maaaagical little instrument.”

“No.”

Jaskier and Valdo both snapped their attention to Geralt.

“No,” he repeated. Jaskier’s lute was his livelihood, his most precious possession. Geralt wanted his card back, but not at that price. Jaskier was a clever player, Geralt knew, but Valdo’s deck was evil, full of spies and scorch cards. “Not the lute. Choose something else.”

Valdo shook his head. “Don’t think I will,” he turned back to Jaskier. “You bet your lute or I walk away and your witcher never sees his card again.”

Geralt put a hand out to grab Jaskier’s shoulder and urge him up to their room, but Jaskier just nodded. “It’s a bet. Play, Marx.”

Worry came over Geralt and he found himself pacing behind Jaskier, trying not to look at his cards because then he’d know if Jaskier had a good hand and if he didn’t…

If Jaskier lost his lute, he’d be crushed. Geralt would buy him another; he’d have to. But to lose the lute Filavandrel had given him… Jaskier always said it brought him luck, sounded sweeter than all others, even when slightly out of tune.

“It will always remind me of the day my life changed forever,” he’d smile at it, then at Geralt.

Geralt still hadn’t worked out whether he meant the day he wrote the song that made him famous or the day he learned the world was much more complicated than his human-written studies might have led him to believe.

Geralt watched as Jaskier’s hand dwindled to two cards.

Valdo still had half a dozen.

It was the last hand; both had won a turn and this would decide the winner.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Geralt closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to meditate or at least clear his mind. He still had his winnings from the other matches he’d played tonight. He had no idea how much a lute cost, but he’s fairly sure he’d be able to cover it. Did this town even have a shop that might carry one? It was only just inside the borders of Cidaris, not a particularly large village now that Geralt thought about it.

“You,” he heard a hiss, “cheated.”

Jaskier was smiling. “I did no such thing. I merely used your same tactics against you.” He held out a hand. “The card. Unless you’d like to try and win it back?”

Valdo spit out some words in Elder as he threw the card at Jaskier and stomped out like a petulant child.

Geralt was rusty and only caught every few words. Something about Jaskier’s bedroom habits and something else about being a pathetic, he thinks the word was supposed to mean hound or something like that. One phrase that Geralt did catch, as he’d heard it assigned to him once or twice before translated to ‘unlovable’.

Jaskier sat frozen through the tirade and when Geralt rounded the table, he found Jaskier’s eyes to be far more full of wrath and pain than it ought to for someone who had just won a game against a rival.

His face schooled into a triumphant grin, though there was still a sheen of sadness in his eyes. “Your card, Geralt.”

Geralt took it gently, sliding out his deck into order to tuck it away. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, if I lost I was thinking of just stabbing him and making a run for it,” Jaskier waved a hand.

“It’s not that important,” Geralt insisted, ten minutes later as they readied for bed. “It wasn’t worth risking your lute. If you’d lost it. It’s more precious to you than everything, else you’ve said so yourself.”

Jaskier looked up from folding his doublet and smiled, not his cheeky performance grins but a small, genuine thing. “Not everything. Now,” he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots, “may I see the card I won from Marx in what is going to be immortalized into an incredibly epic song as soon as I come up with a rhyme for ‘thrice broken nose’?”

Geralt took it out and handed it over.

It was a fairly new card for the Northern Kingdoms deck. An ashen haired little girl pouted in a frilly pink dress, clearly displeased at being painted.

“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Princess of Cintra,” Jaskier read. He handed back the card but his hand hovered, as if he might reach out for Geralt’s shoulder or even his cheek. “Yes, this is something worth taking a risk for, no question. …15 points and all,” he said after a moment, when he realized Geralt wasn’t responded. “Course I missed the opportunity of stabbing Marx, but I’ve no doubt the chance will arise again someday.” He laid down and stared at the ceiling.

“Jaskier,” Geralt began, finding his words dry up when those beautiful (when did he start thinking of Jaskier’s eyes as beautiful?) blue eyes blinked up at him. “I… th- you played well.”

A pleased and nearly shy look came over Jaskier’s face. “I know how much you enjoy it. Just wanted to be sure I’d be a worthy opponent for you, dearest witcher.” He stared at Geralt a moment longer, as if looking for something in his face. He shook his head slightly as if coming out of a dream. “Goodnight, Geralt.” Jaskier turned and faced the wall.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed as he laid down, facing the opposite wall. “Goodnight. Jaskier.”

4. Sailing

Geralt surveyed the people sitting around the table and frowned to notice one missing. “Where’s Jaskier?”

“Went fishing,” Eskel said off hand, jumping right back into his conversation with Coën.

“He what?”

Lambert looked up from his gwent match with Ciri, “He took my boat and went fishing. Said he wouldn’t be much help in a hunt, but this way he wouldn’t be and I quote, ‘useless’ and he could be a ‘worthy winter companion’.”

Geralt winced. He’d apologized for his harsh words on the mountain and Jaskier had forgiven him. But it seems some of the hurt from that day still lingered.

“Where did he go?”

Eskel and Lambert exchanged a look.

“I don’t know his coordinates,” Lambert answered.

“Dammit!” Geralt barely kept himself from hitting the table; he didn’t want to scare Ciri, who had put her cards down and was watching the scene with interest. “You know what’s out there. Drowners and bears and I’m not sure we entirely destroyed that harpy nest from last winter and-“

“And he assured us he could handle it,” Eskel said.

Geralt growled. “He’s human! He could get hurt.”

Coën piped up at last. “Jaskier went north from the lakeside hut.” When all eyes turned to him, Coën shrugged, “He wanted to know where the good fishing spots are. I told him.”

Spinning on his heel, Geralt headed for the door to the keep, grabbing a silver sword from a rack of them on the way. He had a location and a direction. He could pick up Jaskier’s scent from there.

Geralt hadn’t bothered to grab a coat and the winter winds bit through his leather and linen clothes almost immediately. It didn’t matter. Jaskier had been alone in the wilds for who knows how long and even without the monsters and the beasts, there were dangers. The bard could overbalance and tumble into the icy waters. What if he hadn’t thought to grab warmer clothes? Geralt picked up speed, wishing he’d thought to bring Roach. Wishing he’d thought about anything other than running to get to Jaskier and…

And he wasn’t sure what would happen after. He just… needed to know that Jaskier was all right. That he was safe. He hadn’t been safe, Geralt sighed to himself as he ran, after Geralt had snapped at him.

Geralt was sure it was just another spat; that he’d arrive back at camp and Jaskier would be there very pointedly writing a song about a heartless cad who was mean to his very best friend in the whole wide world. Jaskier had a good half dozen songs like it already, this would be one more.

Only he wasn’t there. Geralt arrived to find Roach eating the last of the apples Jaskier had packed just for her and giving Geralt a very judgmental look. “Leave off,” he growled at her as he packed up what was left and led her down the mountain. “We’ll pick him up in town and you two can whisper about how mean I am.”

But Jaskier wasn’t in town either. Nor could anyone say which way he went. Geralt cursed then like he cursed now, seeing the roof of the hut by the lake and yet no sign of Jaskier.

Bad things happened when Jaskier went off alone. Geralt shook his head to rid himself of the image of Jaskier, strung up by his hands, those beautiful talented livelihood-making hands threatened and Jaskier said nothing, gave no secrets away. Some because he didn’t know and some because he…

Geralt doesn’t know why Jaskier didn’t break, except he does. The man is brave, he’s stupid and criminally loud, but he is also the most loyal man Geralt has ever known. Steel dressed in silk.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Geralt picked up Jaskier’s scent. It’s his soap and sweat and Geralt knows it like he knows his own.

Jaskier has the only boat and Geralt doesn’t fancy a swim, so he sticks to the shoreline, eyes casting about for any signs of danger or Jaskier.

Geralt very specifically tries to avoid thinking about danger AND Jaskier, which means that is all his brain will show him. Images of Jaskier surrounded by drowners, of a boat floating listlessly because the man at the rudder had been torn to pieces by harpies, a bear raising its blood-covered maw with a scrap of bright fabric caught in its teeth.

The last thing he’s thinking is that he will come upon Jaskier peacefully hauling a net of fish into the boat, adding the larger ones to a bucket next to him. So of course, that’s how the story goes.

“Geralt?” Jaskier called, eyes as round and surprised as the fish wriggling its last throes in his hands. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”

Jaskier dropped the net thoughtlessly onto the boat’s hull and with a series of quick and efficient movements, had the boat floating over to where Geralt stood on the shore. The bard hopped over the side and hurried to Geralt, hands twitching as if he wanted to check the witcher over for any injuries. “Geralt?”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

A frown coming to rest on his face, Jaskier put his hands on his slim hips. “What was I thinking? What were you thinking? You’re going to catch your death without a coat, yes I know,” he said as Geralt opened his mouth, “witchers can’t catch colds, immune systems, mutagens, blah blah,” he went back to the boat and finished sorting the fish, “blah. What could possibly have happened that you hurried all the way from Kaer Morhen without so much as a single piece of armour or a cloak?” He turned, suddenly serious. “Is everyone all right? Is Ciri all right? She’s not ill, is she? Did she take a tumble on the training course?”

Touched by how much Jaskier cares about Ciri, despite having known her a relatively short time, Geralt shook his head. “She’s fine. Everyone is fine.”

“Then what in the name of Meletile, Freya and any other four gods you would care to name are you doing here?”

Geralt wished he’d spent less time thinking about the past and more time thinking about the future as he ran. He’s starting to get used to that feeling in general. “You weren’t there.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened, then softened. “Surely someone told you I’d gone fishing? I let everyone know. I didn’t,” he smiled sardonically, “think you’d even notice.”

“Why?”

Head tilted like a puppy, Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Why did I go fishing or why did I think you wouldn’t notice? I went fishing because everyone does something at Kaer Morhen. I don’t,” he sighed, “have anything but music to offer and I’m well aware of your opinions on that. I assume your fellow witchers share them and also your witcher hearing, hence my lute case gathers dust. I do, however, know how to sail a boat, catch some fish, and cook said fish. So I thought I would make myself useful. As for you not noticing, well, I’m hardly your first priority here and,” he quickly added, “I understand completely. I shouldn’t be. Ciri comes first, always, of course. Hell, I wasn’t your first priority when we traveled together. Roach was. Speaking of, where is she? You couldn’t have tied her up too far away now.” Jaskier looked at the tree line as if a large mare would suddenly appear.

“I… didn’t bring her,” Geralt said, shame slowly rising in him at Jaskier’s words. Geralt couldn’t refute any of them. He hadn’t noticed the lack of music, assuming Jaskier still played in his room. As for when they travelled together, it hurt deep in Geralt’s gut that Jaskier thought he wasn’t a priority to Geralt. His words were often harsh, but Geralt made sure Jaskier had enough food and hunted more to ensure that he would. He bought Jaskier a warmer, if less stylish, cloak that had seen the bard through most of his twenties.

Jaskier had hefted a bucket of fish in his arms and just stared blankly at Geralt. “You… didn’t bring Roach? You, what, walked all the way here?”

Geralt’s eye twitched. “I ran.”

“For Meletile’s sake, why?”

“There’s…” Geralt cleared his throat, “drowners around. Sometimes. And bears. There might be some harpies left over from a nest we destroyed last winter.”

Jaskier settled the bucket back into the boat. “Were you… worried about me?”

Geralt nodded. Words were awkward and he wished to use as few as possible.

A look not unlike something like wonder crossed Jaskier’s face. “Oh. I… oh. I’m,” he spread his arms as if presenting himself, “fine. As you see. I… guess we should head back.” He gestured towards the boat. “I’ve a decently sized haul. I can make use of this for a while.” Jaskier stood in the shallow water, “Climb on in, and I’ll take us back.”

Geralt didn’t move.

“Oh,” Jaskier looked abashed. “Unless you’d prefer to steer?”

“No,” Geralt shook his head. “You can steer.”

He could. As Geralt had seen, Jaskier clearly knew his way not only around fishery, but sailing.

Jaskier nodded again to the boat and Geralt stepped in, settling at the bow.

Proving him right, Jaskier shoved them into the water and hauled himself over the side, quickly settling at the rudder and turning them around to head back towards Kaer Morhen.

Geralt cast a glance into the bucket of fish, seeing a few other smaller ones surrounding it. Several fish stared unblinkingly at Geralt as he stared back.

Jaskier hummed then cut himself off when he realized he was doing so, with a nervous glance at Geralt.

He wanted to say something. Tell Jaskier the humming was fine with him. That he should get out his lute and play for them. That Geralt wanted to hear his music, his voice. That the fillingless pie comment all those years ago hadn’t been a slight to Jaskier’s singing but the content of his songs, so many full of dirty humour or exaggerated lies.

All he could manage was “You sail good.”

Staring just as wide-eyed and unblinking as the fish, Jaskier slowly said, “Thank… you… I, uh,” he looked back at the water, “grew up on the coast. Been sailing since I was strong enough to move a rudder. Fishing even longer.”

“Why didn’t you fish that day? You could have caught your own.” Geralt winced as his words were said. Jaskier wasn’t focusing on that day with the djinn. He’d need to be specific.

But Jaskier was already answering, “I was heartbroken and near blind drunk,” he laughed, light and slightly forced. “I’d have fallen in as soon as I bent over to grab the net, hence why I was hoping you would share your haul.” He pursed his lips. “Rather wish I hadn’t, looking back.”

Geralt found himself stuck for words again. They came easy with his brothers in arms. Even with Ciri, he found himself managing to find words of comfort or encouragement when it seemed she needed them.

But Jaskier had always made things complicated for Geralt, since the day they’d met. He could annoy Geralt like nobody and nothing else; Jaskier got himself into trouble on a fairly regular basis, was fussy about his clothes and hair, and could talk the hind legs off a donkey while never saying a blessed thing of worth.

But damn if Geralt didn’t want him there, in all his messy and loud glory. He wanted Jaskier safe and, as recent events had shown, Jaskier was safest at Geralt’s side, because Geralt would move heaven and earth, call upon any help and damn the cost, to keep Jaskier so.

Geralt was in love with Jaskier. The revelation felt both sudden and slow at once. Like he’d been falling in love so quietly and steadily, there was no way to point to the day or hour that he’d actually fallen.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier, lost in daydreams, started. “What’s the matter now?”

“I,” Geralt scrambled for something to say. Should he tell Jaskier he loved him? No, that was absurd. Jaskier, for all his lingering stares and the near constant scent of lust that used to surround him, didn’t love Geralt as more than a friend, if that. Lust was not love, Geralt knew that well. He was with him for the songs and the safety. Sure, Jaskier cared for Geralt, he said it often enough, but he didn’t love him. Like how Geralt was realizing he loved Jaskier.

Who was staring at him expectantly.

At least this time, Geralt kept his annoyed at himself ‘fuck’ inside his head. “I was thinking of all the times we could have taken the river, instead of the roads.” He found words, though he wasn’t sure they were the right ones. “If I’d known you could sail. We could have… sailed. Before now.”

Jaskier dropped his eyes to the bottom of the boat, then turned away as if needing to check where he was going, as if he hadn’t been steering blind for the past several minutes, instinctive. “Ah. I’m sorry. Maybe I should have told you. Though we weren’t often by the,” a slight hesitation, “the coast.”

“You’re doing very well.” Geralt twitched his lips into as big a smile as he could manage and still felt it came up short.

But Jaskier’s visible cheek rose in a smile. “Thank you, Geralt.”

5. Sword Fighting

A whirl of light green and silver flashed from Geralt’s side, a movement near dancelike in its fluidity, accompanied by a whisper that sounded almost like counting.

Geralt turned just in time to see the bandit’s surprised face before his cleaved straight through torso fell, leaving the remains of his trunk and his lower body to fall to the ground a couple seconds after his head and shoulders had.

Jaskier stood behind the now deceased bandit, blood splattered all over his outfit and his face, still twisted into a mask of wrath. The sword in his hand was red with blood, silver glinting through the drops.

Geralt thinks it’s possible he has never been so turned on in his whole life and he’s going to have a good long talk with himself about why that might be later on.

The moment passed and Jaskier lowered the sword, wiping it on the deserter’s trousers. “Oh blast, sorry about that Geralt, I’ll clean all the blood off properly once we get back to camp. No worries. I know it’s silver for monsters,” he sneered at the dead man and then at the others who had foolishly decided to try to rob a witcher and his companion, “but I rather think it’s still apt. I’ll pay for the repair at the next blacksmith we come across if I damaged it too much.” He held the blade at eye level and examined it. “I think it’s mostly all right and Geralt are you okay? They didn’t manage to knock you in the head, did they? You’ve been staring at me for the past few minutes.”

Geralt was trying to sear the image of Jaskier looking over the blade as if, as if he KNOWS what to look for in a damaged sword. A sword he had used to kill a man creeping up on Geralt. A sword he had welded with deadly and graceful precision. Geralt’s own sword.

A very, very long talk. Possibly in the cold stream they’d just come from before they’d been ambushed.

Jaskier leaned past Geralt to sheathe the sword into its place across the witcher’s back and the spicy smell of anger had dissipated completely into Jaskier’s usual chamomile and honey concern scent. Underlaid by the copper of the blood.

It took a good deal of self-discipline for Geralt to not outright whine when Jaskier laid a warm hand on his cheek, tilting his head to check for injuries.

“Your pupils are very round, darling,” Jaskier said, the endearment he used so often sounded like music to Geralt. “Are you injured? I could grab you a potion if you are. Or maybe you’re just tired.” Jaskier dropped his hand and turned back to where they had laid down their belongings when the first men broke through the cover of the trees, using speed and surprise over strategy.

Geralt was sure he’d had them all until… until Jaskier killed the man who had managed to sneak up on him. Who would have put a sword through Geralt if not for Jaskier’s quick action and Geralt circled back to the image of Jaskier, bloody and snarling like a feral animal as he cut the man down with no hesitation.

A very, very long talk in a very, very cold stream.

Jaskier whistled and Roach came from her hiding spot in the trees. He patted her neck and dug through her saddlebags. “Geralt, are you out of Swallow? We have the spirit and the celandine but I think we might need to head towards the coast so you can cut down some drowners for their brains.” He smiled brightly. “Maybe they’ll be a contract for them as well. And a tavern that appreciates fine music. We could have a va- a very nice day. Or two.” Jaskier ducked his head and pink bloomed in his cheeks.

Geralt found his hand lifting of its own accord and landing on Jaskier’s shoulder.

The bard turned expectantly, then frowned when after a moment Geralt didn’t say or do anything else. “Geralt?” His voice was soft, the scent of his concern drew stronger. “Geralt, are you sure you’re okay? You seem stunned or something. Are you sure you didn’t take a hit to the head?”

“Sword,” Geralt said at last.

“He speaks,” Jaskier smiled briefly. “He speaks nonsense, but he speaks. What about a sword? I already told you I’d take care of any repairs needed after my impromptu maneuver. I don’t think there’s any permanent damage done. It wasn’t even that difficult. You have very good moves, dear.”

Geralt blinked as he realized where he’d seen the move Jaskier had performed. It was one he’d been taught at the School of The Wolf. Jaskier used one of Geralt’s own moves. One of his Witcher moves. To save his life. “That was… that was a witcher move. How did you…” he couldn’t even finish his question.

Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve followed you for over two decades, Geralt. On and off, sure, but still. I’ve seen you fight nearly every creature you could come across. Including bastards like those,” he nonchalantly tossed his head towards the dead men on the ground, his fringe flicking back into his eyes boyishly. “I memorized the moves you use. Granted, I’ve mostly practiced on training dummies and sparring partners, but I’ve run across my fair share of evil and desperate men before.”

“That… wasn’t your first kill?”

“Gods no,” Jaskier tilted his head and scrunched up his nose as he calculated. “Maybe my… dozenth? Or so. Now I tried not to pick up a sword unless necessary but that gutless bastard,” he spit at the man’s bisected body, “was in your blind spot. You probably would have managed to parry, but I didn’t want to take the chance.” Jaskier smiled. “Good thing too, now that we know you’re out of Swallow. Here,” he held out a canteen of water, “drink this. Get your strength back.”

Geralt took the canteen and drank slowly to give himself time to readjust his worldview on Jaskier. “Did you… count? When you were…”

Jaskier nodded. “Oh yes. Your movements are so like a dancer’s that I memorized them to a beat.” He smirked. “I’ll make a ballad out of them some day. I’m still in the habit of the counting, but eventually I’ll stop needing that, I suppose.”

“Right,” Geralt said, nodding as if he wasn’t imaging Jaskier, in plain shirt and tight trousers, sparring with Geralt on the grounds of Kaer Morhen. A blink and it was a different kind of sparring. In a bedroom. “Huh.”

“Well,” Jaskier said, as he dug back through the saddlebag, “there’s some White Raffard’s if push comes to shove. Makes sense after that last nest of nekkars. Frightful creatures by the way, possibly my least favourite of them all. Though you’re low on White Honey as well, so hopefully we can find a herbalist and stock up a bit before you have to do any major fighting. ”I’m glad now that I all but raided Oxenfurt’s gardens before I joined you for Spring. Got plenty of honeysuckle in my bag and I’m sure we can find some white myrtle with no problem this time of year. Where’s your alcohest, dear? I’m sure Lambert didn’t let you leave Kaer Morhen without every type of spirit known to man.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, unable to take it anymore. “We need to get back to camp.”

Jaskier whirled around and looked at Geralt then up at the sky, the sun slowly descending in the late afternoon light. “Oh you’re right. Best head back now before we lose the light. Pity we had to have that fight after the nice splash we’d had in that stream. Do you think there’s time to wash again before we head back?”

Geralt nodded. “Yes. Let’s do that first, getting clean again. That’s a very, very good idea.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier hummed, “I didn’t expect that answer from Mr Uses Monster Guts As Shampoo.”

“We’re going to need to get very clean,” Geralt said, “because as soon as we get back to camp I am going to fuck you.”

Jaskier froze. “Whaaaat did you just say? Geralt, I think I misheard you.”

Geralt shrugged. “Or you can fuck me. After seeing you fight like that, I’m letting you choose how we do it.”

“Seeing me fight.” Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find which of the many words he had at his disposal he wished to use.

“Or I could just suck you off, if you’d prefer that instead.”

“Geralt of Rivia. Geralt… Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde and I have never been more grateful for the night Vesemir got drunk and shared stories of your youth, I need you to be very, very serious about that offer.” Jaskier licked his lips. “Because I would very much like to take you up on it and if… if it’s just for the night, I don’t rightly think we should risk our… ye gods, you’ve never even called me your friend and here you are offering sex as if… is this just because you feel obligated? I’m sure you would have moved just in time but I couldn’t risk letting that man hurt you and-“

Geralt reached out and pulled Jaskier close, which shut the bard up. A trick Geralt was wishing he’d let himself try before. “I am very serious. If you want it to be for the night, it’s just for the night. It could be a more… formal arrangement if you’d prefer that.”

Jaskier dropped his head to Geralt’s shoulder and breathed out heavily. “I died, didn’t I? I misjudged the distance and the bandit killed me and this is heaven. I didn’t think I’d go to heaven. Huh.”

“Not dead,” Geralt said, lifting a hand to thread through Jaskier’s hair. “Not letting you die. Ever. Especially now that I know how well you fight. You’re living just as long as I am. Don’t know how. I’ll ask Yen, maybe she’ll know of some-“

“Okay,” Jaskier took a step back. “Now, now you’re just being… you want to ask Yennefer, a very very scary witch that you sleep with on the regular-“

Geralt shrugged. “Going to have to stop that now that I have you.”

A high-pitched whine issued from Jaskier’s throat. “I’m going to need you to stop saying things like that if you don’t mean them… how I… ho- expe- think you mean them.”

“I mean them how you think I mean them,” Geralt said. “Most likely. I mean that I would very much like to take you back to our camp and check at least a few things off the mental list of sexual acts we’ve both been compiling right now.”

Jaskier squeaked, “Both?”

Geralt nodded. “I would very much like to do so tomorrow night and for as many nights as you want me. And to extend your allotment of nights somehow. Yennefer has been searching arcane magic things for decades, surely she’s found some anti-ageing or immortality spell by this point. She wouldn’t have needed it, but I’m sure she would have made note of any.”

“Sure she can’t make me younger before she does that?’ Jaskier asked, relying on humour to help him deal with the inrush of information he was being given.

Tilting his head, Geralt looked Jaskier over very thoroughly, noting with some satisfaction what effect his assessing stare had on the state of Jaskier’s trousers. “I like you as you are now. Not the whelp that followed me when It was stupid and dangerous. You’re a grown man now. You’ve filled out. I like how you look.”

Jaskier ran a hand through his hair. “Pardon me if this all seems very sudden.”

“Not sudden,” Geralt said. “I’ve liked how you looked for years.”

“You never said anything.”

Geralt smirked slightly. “I know you’ve lusted for me. I can smell arousal. You never said anything either.”

Jaskier flailed again. “You didn’t consider me your friend, so forgive me for assuming ‘Hey Geralt, you’re the most bloody gorgeous person I’ve ever seen in my whole life would you like to bed me and then marry me’ wouldn’t go down very well.”

“I thought,” Geralt started, “you only wanted to follow me for the songs. For the fame and coin it earns you. It’s why you started following me.”

Struck speechless, Jaskier just stared.

Geralt continued. “I’ve thought of you as my friend, but I didn’t think you thought of me as yours. Until you saved me. Until you learned how I fight in case you ever needed to save me. Until you knew what my potions do and which ones they are. All the little things you’ve done for me throughout the years make sense now. I know friendship. That’s not friendship; it’s love.”

“I have loved you since,” Jaskier waved a hand theatrically, “since you told the elves to let me go. Since you let me stay with you even though you could have outrun me easily on Roach. You hunted enough for two and laid our bedrolls close so I wouldn’t freeze on cold nights and especially after the mountain, you’ve barely let me out of your sight and… oh my gods, I am thick, aren’t I? I am so thick! I am Mr. Thick Thick Thickety Thickface from Thicktown, Thickania. You don’t talk, you do. That was your way of… of… saying how you feel. Isn’t it?”

Geralt hummed and nodded.

Jaskier’s smile could have outshone the lovely sunset happening somewhere behind them. “You love me. Geralt, you… love me. Like I love you. Oh my gods, are you sure I’m not dead? Or having the most wonderful dream? This is real,” he took a step closer and reached out cautiously to pull Geralt into his arms. “This is real, right?”

“It’s real,” Geralt nodded again.

A laugh bubbled out of Jaskier, eliciting a smaller but no less sincere one from Geralt. “If I wasn’t covered in blood, I would be kissing you alre-“

Geralt leaned in and pressed their lips together, relishing the happy gasp Jaskier made against his mouth. “Hmm, I’m bloody too.”

Jaskier kissed Geralt, a small peck and then another. “Where was that stream again?”

Geralt pulled back and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding him in the dimming light. “I won’t be bedding you and then marrying you,” he said.

Confusion scrunched up Jaskier’s face before he realized what he had said before. “Oh bollocks, I didn’t mean that- necessarily- I don’t- where would we find a priest or priestess any- I wasn’t suggesting-”

“We have to have some courting time before we should even think about marrying,” Geralt continued. “it’s only proper.”

“Right,” Jaskier nodded so fast, it was a miracle his head didn’t fly away. “Right, right, right, right. Of course, of course, of course. Proper… proper courting. Geralt?” he asked as they arrived at the stream. “I love you. I just… can I say that now? Because I’ve wanted to say it so many times and I’ve been biting it back for years and I just… I just love you.”

Geralt smiled. “I love you too.”

Wow,” Geralt said, staring up at the ceiling. “That’s how you manage to get away with those abysmal pickup lines. I mean… wow.” His heart was racing so fast it almost sounded human after the passionate, athletic and frankly innovative sex they’d just had. "I always did think it would be good."

He didn’t need to turn to see Jaskier’s smug smile, but he did anyway.

Jaskier’s grin was wide and stretched his cheeks even higher than normal. He tossed his sweaty fringe out of his face and kissed Geralt, deeply, slowly, perfectly. “You’re welcome.”

#the witcher netflic #my fanfic #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #bamfjaskier

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sly-merlin · 4 years ago

Text

Killing Me - 3 | n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au , smut

warnings : curse words, mention of murder, guns, knives. smut and drinking.

new entries : yugyeom, jungkook , wonwoo

words : 4.2k

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”

curiosity got the cat hitched!

K.M masterlist

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taglist ::t :: (not tagging the old ones because they have read it already bt if u want , lemme know! ) @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @suhweo @exfolitae @minejungwoo

{ 11:15 }

Look before you leap. Had you remembered the saying, you’d not be sitting in front of a mafia boss, regretting your former imprudent actions. Taeyong was sitting on a high back executive chair, aura screaming authority, his high and mighty self, making you feel inferior. His eyes bore into yours as if he could read your soul with his intense gaze.

Your stare equally harmonized with his fierce one.

A loud fake cough from someone interrupted you from ogling at the boss. He indeed looked like a feast, anyone would falter! Getting your much needed attention at this point, taeyong dismissed others from his office with a flick of his hand. The only ones to stay behind in the vicinity of the four walls were you, taeyong and a blue haired man. Out of all, he looked most annoyed with your presence.

“Jaehyun, sit down, it’s going to take a while.” taeyong directed him and the man occupied the empty seat beside you. You could already feel him eyeing you down.

“Miss y/n. I’m not going to beat around the bush. So, listen sensibly.”

Your blood ran cold at his cold and blank declaration. The fierceness of his eyes was seeping through his words making you cower in your position. Your firm resolve to fight for your life was already breaking down and this was just a start.

“I know this is too sudden and It’s normal being apprehensive of this situation but you are not on a very strong front here. Marry yuta or - you know the consequences. And I don’t want you to choose on impulse. This is going to be your last opportunity, so be wise! Nobody wants to die y/n and you certainly don’t! I have a proposal for you. It’s for your own good but if you still decides against me, I promise I’ll grant your last wish without any hesitance and believe me, I always keep my word” he finished, placing his gun on the table to prove his point. You nodded briefly after taking in everything. He continued-

“You will marry yuta, say by the end of this week. But as you sign the registration papers, I’ll provide you the ownership of 3 exclusive properties in gangnam with only one small, harmless condition. You’ll hold title not as miss y/l/n but as Mrs Nakamoto. Moreover, you won’t have to do any job. Your living expenses, all will be managed from our side. Yuta alone is capable of providing you a black card. You can live hassle free. A house, security, what else could anyone want! You won’t have to change a thing in your life. Think of it as an up-gradation.”

You felt like being kicked in the teeth. This man was trying to bargain your whole future with his riches.

“Sounds promising?” He enquired. You pondered over what he said to find any single error to turn the tables but that was out of question until you knew his demands fully. And it wasn’t very promising. when did choosing between life and death became so difficult!

“You can’t assure me my freedom! connecting me with neos is more like booking a room for me to rotten in jail. The security you are talking about is for you I guess. And yuta is more like a noose for me. I’ll be dead one way or another” you uttered, releasing the air you were holding while speaking.

You heard jaehyun snort beside you.

“Your safety will be my top priority and yes, you will be associating with neos, but that is something you don’t need to be worry about. For the outer world, you will be the wife of yuta”.

“What difference would it make?” his explanations going beyond your head.

“Let me explain like this. Have you ever seen a neo member’s face prior to this or heard anyone getting caught?”

“I guess no.”you answered without hesitation.

“Neos doesn’t have faces .…but these faces do have names for commoners like you.”

“You mean double-life?”

“Have you ever heard of moon industries?”

“Who doesn’t have? Moon industries are the 3rd biggest sponsors and investers for almost everything in Korea.”

“Yeah, yuta works there. Anything clicks for you?

You refuse with motion of your head.

“You’ll not be marrying yuta from neos but nakamoto yuta who works in moon industries. Like that, you won’t be getting in any trouble . A legitimate life. You can do anything you want except open your pretty mouth”.

you didn’t like being called that!

“I don’t understand, you said nobody knows you people then what am I even doing here. How that officer did even recognise yuta. I shouldn’t even be here, if your identities are so hidden.”

“See jaehyun, I told you she’s more than just book smart. Listen y/n, mafia doesn’t work like the way you might be thinking. We can’t spill everything to you even if you decide to die the very next moment.

It was hard to believe that he planned all of this while you were held captive, within 9 hours. Taeyong was extremely meticulous and expeditious as well. But there was one more question left and you knew he couldn’t answer it. Nothing came without flaws afterall!

“Why are you being so ‘generous’ to me? My bio data of few pages can’t make you trust me so definitely. You are practically giving me an offer to rant you all to police. I’m sure you don’t grease the palms of all officers and if I-

“Me and you both know that you won’t do it unless you are fed up with your life and that would leave to start de novo!” his words indicated conclusiveness, his raised brows challenging you to refuse him. For now his surety signalled safety, but you still had one defence left or as everyone called it – a plea. It was better to beg than to be between Scylla and Charybdis.

“Is there no other way. I promise you with my life I won’t ever say anything. You can put spies over me or do whatever you want to keep a check on me.” your desperation to fight for your life was evident in your appeal.

“Yes! There is one more solution!” jaehyun chimed, facing you from his seat. He was grinning eye to eye. “We can sell you to an underground escort ring where you’ll happily live until you die and there’d be no neo or yuta or police or career. I’m sure you are shrewd enough to survive there”. nobody mentioned this before!

“If you can’t shut your mouth, then leave jaehyun.” taeyong scolded and he went back to his original position. Jaehyun seemed to be enjoying your state. He hit you with harsh reality you were still unaware of. Maybe,you were really on their mercy now,

“He is joking right?”

“No, he is telling the truth but I want you to make a choice. That hell-hole is not for someone like you. You can do better. Take this as a shortcut to a nice life.”

“How can I believe that you won’t be putting me in the some escort ring as he said to shut my mouth?”

“If I wanted, you won’t be sitting here anymore.”he deadpanned

You were silent. Your mind went blank. No words came to grace your lips. You were trapped and though there were plenty of options, there was none for you. Either you live and marry yuta or die. There was no other way to live.

“And what if my life doesn’t turn out all good?” you asked timidly.

“Then I’ll let you leave. And without any condition”

Finally some hope. You could leave. You would definitely leave.

“Is yuta okay with it?”

“His position is not better than yours.”

“I’m not going to leave university then.”

“Suit yourself! Just don’t convert yourself into a nuisance for us.”

You nodded with head hanging low. You had been beating the air till now, which resulted in nothing but defeat. Taeyong got what he wanted in the end.

“Call jaemin and haechan. Before she goes home, we need to give her a gift. And you made a good choice, you won’t regret it, take my word for it.”

[1 p.m]

Twelve hours has passed. As you were walking towards your dorm, you pinched yourself several times but your reality was now a nightmare from which you’d never wake up. Defeated, you entered your dorm only to lie down in the bed, to regret your life decisions. Graciously, chelin was out till midnight with her boyfriend, so you had all the time in the world. The last 12 hours kept playing in your head like a broken record. You were happy in the club drinking yesterday. if maybe you’d not left them behind, you’d still be incharge of your life game. then that police officer, living off of some mafia group, doyoung , johnny,jaehyun , taeyong and him, the source of your plight. You were suddenly feeling like a kite which till now was flying freely in the air but its thread was now in the grasp of someone who wanted to tie you down by the same, if you think of it, the scales were never balanced! You were always at the losing end. Beggars are never the choosers after all. Sleep unknowingly took over your tired limb while you were wallowing in self-pity.

A ping.

The notification of a text woke you up from your peaceful sleep. You were out for about 4 hours but it felt good as your head was no more pounding. The text was from Jungkook about a party his friend group was organising to celebrate the upcoming finals. they were just partying yesterday with you and now this.

Another ping.

Same text from yugyeom. You sighed in frustration.

Both of your best friends lived in the same place and were always joined by the hip and you were sure they were together at the moment as well but where there’s a question to annoy you, they won’t let the opportunity pass.

You deliberated about telling them everything but you refrained as taeyong’s threat was not a gun without bullet. He warned you before coming and you were supposed to keep your mouth shut. It was better to keep them away from trouble. You were extremely alone.

Another ping.

They were asking about your whereabouts. You never informed them you reached home yesterday. Their worry was visible through their multiple scolding motherly texts. You would have laughed at their antics but your own humorous state rendered you incompetent to feel any joy.

It was not difficult to make them believe that you overslept as everyone knew your shitty professors treated you more like a slave and less like their researcher. But refusing to meet them and declining free alcohol was making them sceptical. You had no option other than going but you’d be anywhere than at a party right now. But maybe some commotion of drunk university students and blasting music could take your thoughts away for some time.

However, first there was another task to be taken care of! You searched ‘Moon Industries’ on naver. There were numerous articles praising their new successful new ventures. You opened their official website, the list of board of directors and associates was not too long. The photo of head director looked too familiar. Maybe it was that short man. And then him. There was no photo but his name was written just few places below moon tail. Taeyong was not bluffing. Nakamoto was an important name and maybe everyone there was, however, it was beyond your intellect as how they managed to do it. There was no way out now. One thing that wasn’t adding up was the properties .your brainwaves couldn’t find a conclusion to those. There was no reason for him to do that when you weren’t left with any choice ultimately. Maybe you’ll find out tomorrow.

You got out of clothes that adorned your body since yesterday. Their smell was enough to make you gag. How could someone fell asleep in these! The cold water of the shower eased your mind fairly. Your eyes were drooping again but sleeping would do you no good. You could run away from your problem like everybody else. Just this once. After showering, you took a brief look at your wardrobe. It was just a college party, with same people so dressing up to impress them was out of tone for you. Not that you were dolling up anyways. You could just wear your pyjama and still outshine any flashy titties out there. At least that’s what kookie and gyeom had been feeding you till now. You took out a black full sleeve v- neck blouse with white shorts. It hugged your upper body tightly leaving just enough space for some air. You looked good and felt good too. Being in no mood to do makeup, you opted for a nude lip to complete your look. You wore the bracelet that you were not supposed to part with but out of habit, you had removed it earlier to shower. Now it adorned your wrist again. It was a band. A gift by taeyong. The bracelet was a tracking device, not that jaemin wasn’t hacking your phone already but they needed to be double sure, just in case. Not like you were going to rant them out. you felt like Taeyong’s threatening voice would never leave your ears.

Yugyeom’s call replaced the voice. They were already waiting for you. You decided to drown yourself in alcohol for one day and enjoy with your friends. The party was at nearby club situated at 10 min distance. Your dorm was nearer to the gates so it was always easy to go out. Slipping into your shoes, you made your way out.

“You will regret this, taeyong” though yuta didn’t show in front of you in basement, he was furious at taeyong for making his life decisions. “First her and now this! the mistake I made was not that big. Slip ups happen with everyone here, including you. So why it’s only me, who’s getting –

“Not a slip up but a blunder yuta” taeyong fumed at him. “Last time, mark almost died because of you. It was my mistake I let it slide. You aren’t getting any more chances. My decision is final” his voice went deeper as he spoke.

“I regret it tae, you know it” his voice filled with guilt. “But don’t feed me the lies. This is not the only reason you’re doing this for. There is something you aren’t telling us”

“There might be. But you already know what you need to! So celebrate your month long vacation. Go to work with taeil hyung. She’s coming tomorrow again and we’ll discuss other matters with her. Be present here. Don’t disappear like you did in the morning.”

Yuta huffed and decided to leave instead of wasting his time on his leader.

“And leave your gun here”

“WHAT NOW?”

“Don’t shout and leave your gun. Corporates don’t carry guns in this country.” taeyong replied calmly, almost in a mocking tone. Yuta removed the gun from holster and handed it to taeyong before turning towards the door.

“Other one as well” taeyong demanded with a smirk.

“Huh, now you’ll ask for my dagger as well!” yuta sneered at him while removing the other pistol from back of the pants.

“I’m not that cruel, yu. Keep your sweetheart with you. It’ll remind you of the absence of your other toys.”. “And don’t forget. Tomorrow at 4. sharp.”

Instead of responding, yuta showed him a middle finger before actually going out.

Mark was standing at the end of the hallway, waiting for yuta already.

“What happened hyung?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing. You are going to be the best man in my wedding” yuta replied nonchalantly. But mark knew there was more to it. Yuta won’t settle down just because he was told to!

“To her?”

“Yeah, who else. Taeyong is getting short on his brain. We might need to replace him soon” he joked but mark could see right past him.

“Hyung. What are you thinking?” he asked cautiously in a scared tone.

“Ruin her life. I’ll make her regret being alive.”

And yuta walked away, leaving worried mark behind him. He didn’t go after him. He knew better not to.

The party was at full blast when you reached. It was always a nice change watching studious snu students washing away their worries. Your soulmates were nowhere to be found but you spotted chelin sitting with her friends on the stairs. It seemed like everyone who knew was there. Your classmates, juniors. Club was filled with students of all ages. Being multi-storey with a parking lot and near the uni., these factors were enough for making it a perfect party spot. After talking to a few fellow classmates, you went upstairs, brushing past chain’s group, who seemed to be too drunk to notice you. There were Jungkook and yugyeom with few others sports physiotherapy students. Being master’s students, you all just went to parties for alcohol and hook-ups and nothing else. And that’s what you were planning to do from the start.

“y/l/n” as yugyeom noticed you, he and Jungkook ran to give you a bear hug.

“I don’t want to smell your armpits, losers. Get away” you huffed while struggling in their tight grip.

“sowwyyyy, we forgot you are under average” jungkook teased you, gyeom giving him a hifi in return.

“You both are so damn irritating.”

“We adore you too, darling” Jungkook knew how much you hated being called that. But alcohol in his system was making him daring. After giving a fist hit to his gut, which did nothing to his sculptured abs, you made your way to the drinks. One, two, three, and within 5 minutes you had enough alcohol in your system to provide much needed numbness to your brain.

“Whoa shortie, what’s with you today? At least wait for us to join you.” kook chimed in with another nickname you hated with your guts.

“You both are already drunk, meaning kook your boyfriend is here and gyeom, your girlfriend. You both are going to forget me in few minutes anyway.”

As if on cue, yugyeom’s girl yeong came into view, giving you a proper hug.

“I’m so sorry y/n, but we have to go. Our department has to work for the fundraiser tomorrow and I’m a designated driver here.” she explained sheepishly. Not like you were dying to talk to them today. The loner, the better.

“Plz take them away. I’ll send you a thank you card tomorrow for your act of kindness.” you said sarcastically, resulting in both of them making faces at you.

“Bye y/n we’ll mwisss uuu” Jungkook lunged at you with a back breaking hug. Then came gyeom and in a minute they were both out of your sight.

Those being out of your way meant no one was there to stop you. Once your body was flooding in alcohol, You made your way to the dance floor. You loved music and dancing came mechanically with that. You were swaying your body, mingling with the music when you felt a pair of hands controlling your movements. You accepted his well-known touch. You both moved side to side for a few minutes before he impatiently lead you towards the back of the club. He was always an eager one, not that you ever denied him. Noticing few people already in each others faces, he moved to the other side, heading towards the car parking. Sprinting towards his car, he hurriedly opened the back car door to lead you in.

“Not here, wonwoo.” he viewed you with his raised brow. “Back!”

“Who am I to refuse you, baby” he said, directing you towards the trunk. He opened it with one swift motion. His legs were swinging outside as he sat on the edge. Pulling you towards him, he kissed you hungrily like hadn’t feasted on you a few days ago. Wonwoo loved your touch, and same was the case with you. That was it, nothing more to description.

“Looks like someone missed me” you whispered in between the kisses.

“You are at a perfect height for me here. God, why didn’t I think of this earlier” and kept attacking your lips until they were plump enough to satisfy him. His tongue asked for entrance, which your lips provided without any hesitation. Your hands were mingled in his hair tugging at the hair roots, earning few groans from him. Somewhere while kissing, you ended up on his right thigh which you were roughly grinding by now.

“As much as I would love you to cum on my thigh, I want to take you raw. So please be patient” he requested while stopping your movements with one hand. His other hand was caressing your back and waist, making you bite him on his lips.

“Shit, you can’t wait huh” he jested at you. he dropped you on your feet, one hand resting against your wet core from behind, other angling your neck to place wet kisses on your collarbones. You whimpered and squirmed against his touch. He had that effect on you. You weren’t sure what drew you both back towards each other after each week but the pull was compelling to you.

After gratified with his artwork he stood up to replace your positions. You were now sitting on edge while he towered over you. Hastily your hand went to remove his belt but seeing you struggling, he took up the task for himself. You removed your own shorts in meantime and placed them where his pants were now. Fortunately for others, the party inside was still lively to engage them and there was no fear of getting caught, not that wonwoo cared. He could take you anytime, anywhere.

He had to lower himself to hold you but he was so used to it by now. Without a warning, he slided you towards his standing body to kiss you ravenously. Your hands did their work on his boxers and started pumping his already hard length. No words were spoken as your silky underwear was removed from your hips. He backed you against the surface to the point you were lying down, his hand on back of your head to support you. His length slipped into you making you whimper loudly. He was big, from everywhere. Skin slapping was the only sound that could be heard in the quite parking lot at this hour of night. His hand on your hip was holding you tight, your legs wrapped around his waist while he fucked and kissed you in his brute mode. If it was not for his arms, you’d have collapsed then and there.

“Fuck y/n. how can you be so tight” he hissed against your lips.

“Shut u-up.” your voice got stuck in your throat. The only thing in your control were your hands on wonwoo’s nape, holding him towards you. The muscles in your abdomen, which could be felt by him, went stiff, your back arching at familiar sensation. His own kisses went sloppier indicating he was also closer. You both released at the same time, warm liquid spilling out of your conjoined bodies. He placed a sweet kiss on your forehead before removing himself from you.

Before you could touch your panties stuck between your legs, he stopped you.

“Wait lemme find something to clean you up” he quickly got dressed, while you sat there with your intertwined legs. He came back from front with a handkerchief. He cleaned you before helping you with your shorts. You were glad for wearing loose shorts as they were easy to transfer with your shoes. With his arm on upper side of trunk, his hunched figure stared you down suspiciously.

“What’s up with you today?”

Not him as well.

“Nothing, I overslept and I’m still tired. So I’ll be going now.” you declared implying that you won’t tell him.

“Okay, as you say. Are you free next Friday though” he asked taking his chances. Again.

“Don’t start again woo? At least you can leave me in peace. I’m going .bye bye. See you after finals. maybe.” you slipped away from under his arm towards the gate of parking lot, only looking behind to wave him goodbye. His followed suit.

You were gone but he’d never stopped trying.

You mentally thanked your friends for giving you an invite as many things were clear in your head now. It was definitely the alcohol and wonwoo but you were much calmer now.

A ping.

Jaemin: don’t forget about tomorrow, noona. Taeyong hyung told me to remind you.

You scoffed at his text. Noona. Some overhyped kid he was!

But his message made you understand that all this was permanent. Sober you or drunken,Your life was changing forever. The tomorrow you were waiting till now was altered.

You went home with same dejection. Taeyong’s last words echoing in your head.

“Life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can. It is the only secret for living a regretless life.”

feedback is appreciated. it serves as motivation for writers! so please leave some honest feedback to help me improve! thanks for reading!!

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